A collection of 'snapshots', short stories that represent Moments in the lives of various ponies
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The Album is a collaborative project between over seventy different authors. This project was designed to not only create something entirely unique and creative, but to test these authors to write in a different manner than they might normally be used to. The exercise was to take a single character--one per author and no repeats--and imagine a mental 'snapshot' of them during daily life, during a Moment we might not normally see or even think about, and write a story from said picture. So enjoy this collection of short Slice of Life tales--and be sure to check out each author's page and stories. They've worked hard to produce something amazing; please reward them for their effort!
Note: Individual Snapshots are posted in a random order (including my own), with one or two more added per day. Character tags and Rating are subject to change, but each individual snapshot will be marked appropriately.
There's still room for more; visit The Album and see if there's anypony remaining you would like to write.
In anypony's life, there are the big days--tragedies and adventures, moments of loss and love, treasured memories to share and never forget.
But for every single day that comes once in a lifetime, there are hundreds that pass by unnoticed. Sometimes the simplest of moments can have just as much importance and life as the dramatic ones.
Here one can find snapshots of these moments--the every day, often unseen or even unregarded days of the lives of a variety of ponies.
Because every picture, no matter how common, is worth a thousand words.
The sun hung low in the western sky and the schoolhouse had long since lapsed into comfortable silence with the hours-past dismissal of the Friday class. Well, almost silence; the particularly sharp ear could pick up the scratching of a pen across paper, alongside the barely audible mumblings of a certain raspberry mare who was even now seated before her desk.
The sunlight had crept up the schoolhouse walls unnoticed since Cheerilee had sat down to her end-of-week grading, in no small part due to her vision being initially obscured by the not insignificant mass of paper she had by now thankfully put a large dent in.
She set her pen down again and hoofed the now-graded paper to the ‘complete’ pile--
She paused, her eye caught by the name at the top of the page. Apple Bloom was proudly scrawled there, a little too excitedly to have stayed entirely in the lines, and memories of the energetic filly bounded unbidden to mind. Her prideful retelling of being the brave pony who had finally befriended Zecora, the local zebra who had been so unfairly maligned in the past, her beaming smile as she finally got a cutie mark, and then the chaos that had quickly resulted when it hadn’t stopped at just one.
Cheerilee allowed herself a quiet laugh and smiled, setting the page down and moving to the next assignment awaiting summary judgement.
The name on this one was a flowing, elegant script that spoke of private lessons in calligraphy during after school hours, which the name Diamond Tiara explained. A quick glance confirmed that yes, as expected, the similarly flowing name Silver Spoon was on the very next page. Rather inseparable, those two, but then they didn't have all that much of a choice, isolated as they'd become.
It was perhaps the one part of her class she wasn't happy with--the two young fillies of money, and their well-to-do parents passing on their lessons on 'the importance of social class'. Which had led to the two girls feeling alone among an entire group of other students that ought to have been their friends, the imperious high society masks they were forced to wear by parental expectations continuing a seemingly insurmountable barrier.
Cheerilee, however, could see past them easily enough to know that the pair weren't arrogant and mean-spirited by choice, but because they didn't think they could be anything else, and it truly saddened her that a few more years of it would begin to change those habits into natures. She could try to steer them away from it, inspire them by example...well, only time would tell, in the end. Celestia willing, they wouldn't be defined by their wealthy upbringing.
She added the two marked papers to the complete pile and allowed herself a moment of rest. Bouts of nostalgia notwithstanding, she was making good time. With a quick glance at the wall clock...why, if she was unreasonably lucky, she could make it home before dusk! But then her eyes returned to the remaining pile of unmarked student work... Well, it was still nice to dream.
With a quiet sigh, a resolved hoof brought over the next page and she took up her pen and retook her seat as the Ponyville arbiter of academic fate. It wasn't such a terrible burden, really, in no small part because her students had a lovely habit of doing well in their studies. There were times when one or another needed some personal attention, but that was to be expected; students would naturally grasp some subjects more easily than others. Not unrelated to how everypony had their own unique talents, she imagined.
The principal example of that immediately popped to mind as Cheerilee added another sheet to the complete pile; no doubt helped by her recent wave of nostalgia regarding Apple Bloom, her two co-conspirators in the much debated 'Cutie Mark Crusaders', Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo, also took stage in her thoughts. The three were such a well suited group that she had to wonder, every now and then, whether some clever magic hadn't nudged them together. They'd been immediate friends, they balanced and enhanced each others strengths. Even academically they were ideally suited. Apple Bloom, with her visual learning style and talent in mathematics; Sweetie Belle, with her auditory style and love for literature; and Scootaloo's kinesthetic style and boundless energy for physical activities.
The three of them made up a little package that could easily be called every schoolteacher's dream, save for the occasional problems they caused...but then they wouldn't be happily growing fillies if they didn't cause a little trouble now and then, right?
Granted it was easier to forgive them their...overzealousgood intentions when one was not tearing apart Ponyville under the effects of an unexpected love poison.
That particular day's memories elicited a full, hearty laugh from Cheerilee. It really was funny enough in hindsight, and everything had turned out alright in the end--the girls had, in a surprisingly grown-up moment, taken responsibility and immediate action to correct their mistake and been impressively clever about it, too.
And it had led to sunday lunches with Big Mac and those were always a lovely afternoon provided that she didn't have to deal too much with his adorable schoolcolt's crush on the butter-colored pegasus across the way. Fluttershy, as she recalled. In all likelihood, neither of them would ever breathe a word to each other on their own...
Making a note to herself about thinking up ways to meddle, Cheerilee added another page to the complete pile and moved to the next.
Ah, Hearts and Hooves day...that one holiday with which she had such a tumultuous relationship. The irony was not lost on her.
Though she would never breathe a word of it, she was to this day so very flattered that the three fillies had been willing to go to such lengths to try to make her happy. After all, it wasn't as though she was disinterested in a special somepony. But due to the demands of her chosen career, in particular that of the primary school teacher, well, she just didn't really have all that much time to get out, not without sacrificing some of the extra time that she put in for the sake of her students.
And that wasn't something she was willing to do. Because while technically none of them were her children, in less straightforward ways they were all her children. She cared for each and every one of them and wanted them to do their very best. If that meant she had to curtail a bustling social life down to a few weekend outings, well, so be it.
Setting the very last marked paper onto the now towering complete pile, Cheerilee finally stood and stretched out her aching legs, absently rubbing a hoof over her neck and shoulders. The last slivers of sunlight were creeping across the ceiling now and it was like to be dark by the time she got home. So, the schoolteacher's usual party-hearty friday night.
But you know? It didn't matter, really, that she wasn't out with fillyfriends having drinks and meeting prospects.
She didn't need to, Cheerilee decided, because she already had an entire classroom full of her own very special someponies.
An arctic blue eye opened, glaring at the clock on the wall, not knowing such a simple action would mark the beginning of a journey most harrowing, of hardship and sacrifice, of co-operation with the most unlikely allies to accomplish the most necessary of goals. The eye’s owner did not yet know that, all it did was analyze the numbers upon the clock’s face.
Six thirty two AM.
Six. Thirty. Two.
Luna's moon had fully set and Auntie Tia's sun raised for a full two minutes. Blueblood knew this, since he'd been awake for those past two minutes, awakening from habit of being woken at six thirty every day for the past four years by his servants. He would then be bathed for twenty minutes, dried for another ten, dressed for fifteen, and finally give himself fifteen minutes to get a chariot, so that he may arrive to breakfast in the adjoining mansion house five minutes late.
After all, royalty waits on nopony, his being late let them know how important and busy he is, allowed the staff and commonfolk serfs to feel good about themselves for performing for such an admirable pony as himself. Truly, it was the best effort he could exert to bring some small smattering of glory into their dull, uninspired commoner-lives.
But now... NOW... There was a flaw in the routine, an error. It happened on occasion, these things were wont to occur every now and again. But today? Of all days? Today was maple-vanilla oatmeal day for breakfast as their hot food; Auntie only imported enough beans for them to be prepared once or twice a month. Imported oats from Zebrica, vanilla beans from the farthest reaches of Dragadeus, and of course the maple was local. One must support the uncultured local mudponies, after all, and no worry, four unicorn servants sieved the liquid to ensure no low-class contagions remained within.
A fine dish, in these cooler winter months especially. But to come seven minutes late--eight minutes late--instead of his customary five, it would begin to cool and congeal before his thoroughbred enjoyment of it.
At this moment, a pleb both knocked upon his greatdoor and opened it in quick succession. Blueblood stared out the picture window towards his city below, listening for the voice.
"Royal Prince Blueblood, sir, it is time to wake, if it pleases you." It came nervously, uncertain.
The serf was a mudpony, coat as dark dirt-toned as his breed. Blueblood knew that doctors ensured none of the miscreants making a show of trying to serve him were infective, but he was glad nonetheless that he had other ponies, with commoner antibodies to fight off commoner disease, to touch that door now. He almost caught commoner disease once, it was a fearful and eye-opening experience.
Regardless, the fact it was such a subspecies made him understand, he would need to speak slowly.
"You were, and are, three minutes late to your job. I have been lying here in bed for all that time and nopony thought it pertinent to wake me." The noble unicorn paused a bit, realizing something important; always be clear with those under-privileged and under-evolved. "Pertinent means 'To be important or of immediate interest'."
The mudpony took a moment to take that in. Of course he did, they were not the brightest after all. The servant deemed it necessary to ask a question, even, when he should have been readying a bathrobe.
"If you were awake, with all due respect, why didn't you just get up?" Clearly, this poor soul was a bit slow in the head. But one can never tell with these...ponies. The slow ones were sometimes quite quick to anger when it was pointed out to them, even if he was just trying to help.
"If I woke myself up, you would be out of a job. Then you would not buy goods in the local marketplace and would not stimulate the economy of my city. But clearly this is a bit beyond your abilities, so latrine duties might be more appropriate for you." Really, the way commoners let their mouths hang open like that, trying to catch flies, in a way it almost impressed Blueblood, akin to seeing the impressive yawn of a raccoon.
Either way, time was wasting, and the base servant finally managed to bring him his bath coat. Five minutes already had passed and the prince took no time in leaving his down feather bed. It was a gift of the griffons, made of, apparently, their foes, as a way to show contempt for the fallen. More importantly, it was oh so very soft, and sewn with thread-of-gold and both red and blue silk. If griffin civil war generated more products like it, he was all for it. But regardless, bathing awaited.
At least that task had competent ponies. His four unicorn team heard of his delay and determined themselves that they could expedite his morning rituals by four minutes. That was the proper way of the servant pony, solving problems. Of course, they were unicorns, it would be unfair to compare them to those other poor unfortunates like the one awaiting his return in his room. Whatever his name was. Mudpony names all sounded the same, really.
Hygiene was very important to nobility. They were the exemplar form for ponies to aspire to. It was not so much a desire as a duty to appear immaculate for the public, to be a shining star that illuminates the dreariness of their daily lives, if only for a moment. Scrub, soap, shampoo, sparkle, shine, and many other "s" words were key in that process, and a finish with a magic-induced drying; brushing every spot on the coat one hundred times and his mane two. It was needlessly time consuming, even with his good and proper subjects doing the best they could to hurry.
...The pains we go through to help others...
Seven oh one. There was still the need to shave one minute off the routine. He returned to his room to dress for the day, uncertain on how to get this done, as that base servant began picking out his day's attire.
"Sir, if you skip the bowtie, it'll probably take a minute or two off your dressing time." Well, at least the charity case was trying.
"And attempt a straight tie instead? Those are so nouveau riche. Well, I suppose I can feign incompetence of the staff should anypony make comment." Blueblood doubted his dresser today had the intellect to grasp the irony of the statement, but one never knew.
Carefully and delicately the tuxedo was placed upon him, along with a sapphire blue tie and black shining shoes. The royal unicorn checked the clock once more. Somehow he had lost a minute!
"I've lost any time I may have gained, I am back at square one! Clearly this is your fault once more for taking so much time talking instead of moving from one spot and actually doing something about it." No time to wait on the mudpony's inept excuses, there was a carriage to catch. Oh, the poor had it so easy, they could simply teleport instead of all this pomp and circumstance, but the golden diamond-studded chariot was necessary as a display of confidence, a show of solidity of the upper class.
Blueblood left in a dignified and only slightly faster than normal canter. As the doors closed, he could hear the mudpony moan: "I swear I'm transferring to Luna, this is impossible."
No time for that to be dealt with now, though. Many were too base to realize how much like the sun he shone, so far above them that they could merely not see it. It was a good thing indeed that his carriage pullers were pegasi. Not the brightest, but they were wise enough to know their place, protectorates of the unicorns. And that included protecting his schedule.
"Go faster! We must catch up in time before coming into sight of the manse, then slow right back down!" The order was well-received, his vehicle nearly taking off as the good and proper serfs put in their 100%. And as required, slowing to a trot brought Blueblood to the front of his destination as if they were at a leisurely pace the entire way, holding back any displays of weakness from the sprint.
Miraculously, it seemed like no other terrible misfortune would befall the poor Prince as the guards opened the door. Auntie Tia was there, awaiting him as always, as was the promising scent of the vanilla-maple oatmeal. With a concealed sigh of relief, he took his spot, and the family began their breakfast.
Written by: Dashie4Pres Rated Everyone (some light shipping)
I like cupcakes, Pinkie thought to herself as she handed the fresh batch of recently purchased cupcakes to the customer. But I don't just like cupcakes. I lovecupcakes! They're so sweet and crumbly and yummy and oh so tasty! Pinkie smiled at the next customer in line and took their order, thoughts of sweet confectionery whirling through her pink head as she ran into the kitchen to prepare their order. But it's not just cupcakes I love, it's all kinds of sweets! Like cakes and pies and cheesecakes and cookies and ice cream and-- Pinkie's thoughts were interrupted as her tail started twitching furiously and she began looking around for the source of the falling object. Her eyes lit up as she noticed the pan of fresh cookies she had just taken out of the oven about to fall off the edge of the counter. As the pan tipped, she calmly pushed it back onto the counter with her nose, nodding to herself. Sometimes I wonder what I'd do if I didn't have my Pinkie Sense. So many things would be way way harder! And then they wouldn't be as fun and I like fun. I love fun, almost as much as cupcakes. Pinkie's thoughts kept swirling as she bagged the cookies, trotting back to the counter and handing them to the customer.
“Thanks Pinkie,” the purple pegasus said, tucking the bag of cookies under her wing. As she turned to head out the door Pinkie let out a huge gasp as she remembered something.
“Wait a second Kicky!” she exclaimed, running back into the kitchen. She hurriedly pulled out a few muffins from a cooling rack and tossed them into a bag before running back to the register. “I almost totally forgot that Derpy ordered some muffins today and she said she would pick them up but she called earlier and said she got really busy so she couldn't get them and then asked to pick them up tomorrow but since you two are totally a thing now could you take them to her. I bet it would make her super happy!” Pinkie grinned hugely, the bag of muffins sitting on the counter, as she finished her incredibly long sentence.
Cloud Kicker raised an eyebrow, trying to follow the effluence of words pouring from the mouth of the pink party pony. “Uh, sure. I could take them to her house I suppose. It would make her happy after a long day I guess.” With a small smile Cloud Kicker picked up the second bag and tucked it under her other wing, giving a wave before she walked out the door.
Pinkie smiled as she watched Cloud Kicker depart, her train of thought resuming about six stops down the line and on the wrong set of tracks. Those two make such a cute couple. I wonder how Dashie's doing? I should go visit her later and see if she wants to do some pranks or something. I don't get to hang out with her much lately between me working and her working. Pinkie's smile faded a bit at this realization but was back in full force before too long had passed. Oh! Maybe we'll get to go on an adventure soon! We haven't had a good adventure since the whole Canterlot wedding meany mean pants changeling thing. I wonder if there are any changelings in Ponyville, disguised as innocent ponies?! I think it would be super duper funnerific to be friends with a changeling! They could change into all kinds of ponies but duh, of course they can, they're changelings!
Having been running on autopilot since Cloud Kicker had left, Pinkie realized that it was starting to get late. The sun was hanging low in the sky and no more customers had come in for some time. She trotted to the stairs and stuck her head into the stairwell. “Mr. and Mrs. Cake! I'm gonna take off if it's okay with you ‘cause there hasn't been anypony in for a while and it's getting late so I wanted to go see what my friends are doing but if you two are busy then I can stay a little longer but it's so booooorrriiinngggg with nopony coming into the store but I guess I could start experimenting with new recipes and--” At the mention of experimentation with baking the couple rushed down the stairs, patting Pinkie on the head as they passed, a look of consternation on the face of Mrs. Cake and one of flat worry and panic on Mr. Cake's.
“Oh don't worry about all that, deary. You can take the rest of the day off. Carrot and I can watch the shop just fine for the rest of the day.” Mrs. Cake gently pushed Pinkie towards the door, the pink pony rattling baking ideas around in her head. She quickly snapped out of it though and bounced out the door calling back over her shoulder. “Thanks Mrs. Cake! I'll be back later!”
As Pinkie bounced down the street she returned to her inner musings. I wonder what all of my friends are up to? Dashie's probably sleeping and Twilight's probably studying. Applejack is working right now and so is Rarity. I think Fluttershy is helping some animals migrate today... Pinkie stopped for a moment as she realized all of her friends were busy, her face falling in sadness. She perked up quickly though. Well, I can always have fun on my own! I'll go to the park! At her maximum bouncing speed, Pinkie made it to the park in no time, the sights of fall surrounding her. The trees were wreathed in reds and golds and there was a slight nip in the air, heralding winter's arrival in a few months. Pinkie decided that for once she didn't want to bounce or run or roll through the park. She instead merely walked. This of course caught her by surprise.
Huh, weird. Usually I want to bounce or run or roll or frolic or skip whenever I come to the park but... I dunno, I just feel like walking. It's really pretty here in the fall which, now that I think about, I don't usually notice. Pinkie tilted her head as she walked, her thoughts slowing down with her pace, giving her time to actually analyze them. Why do I have to be so fast paced all the time. It's like I always see what's going on but never really take the time to appreciate them. Like the trees. They're super pretty but normally I'd just think “Wow, the trees are pretty. Ooh! Look at that ball.” or something. Right now though I'm really appreciating how beautiful they are. Did I just think the word beautiful?! Maybe I'm low on sugar or something. She shook her head, her fluffy mane flying everywhere as she tried to get her thoughts back to their normal speed and subject matter. As her head bounced around though, the nearby park bench caught her eye, or more specifically the two mares sitting on the park bench. “Hi Lyra! Hi Bon Bon!” she hollered, one hoof waving frantically at them. The two mares waved back before going back to their conversation.
There's another cute couple I see all the time. They always look so happy together. I wonder if there's anypony out there for me... Pinkie shook her head again, trying to dislodge the thought, but it stuck like an angry limpet. I mean, I know there is cause there's a special somepony for everypony somewhere. It's just... I'm surprised I haven't found mine yet I guess. I wonder what it's like having a special somepony? What do you do all the time? Play games or bake or just talk or what? I guess there would be kissing and stuff like that but that can't be all of it right? Maybe I should ask Rarity later, I'll bet she knows. Pinkie sighed as she continued walking, her head hanging and her hair going a little limp. If anypony had been watching her right then, they would see a very rare sight indeed. A melancholy Pinkie Pie. Why haven't I found my special somepony yet though? I mean, I'm super nice and friendly to everypony I meet and I'm always throwing parties so it makes sense that I'd meet a nice pony at a party right? Or even just meeting ponies in town, I greet every pony that moves to Ponyville. But no, not that way either. Am I destined to be alone forever? That's way too long to be alone for, though I guess I wouldn't be completely alone since I have my friends but it's not the same as a special somepony.
As Pinkie walked, she contemplated and the more she contemplated the more somber she became and the more somber she became the more she walked. As the vicious cycle continued she eventually found herself back at Sugarcube Corner, somber as the grave and as listless as a corpse, her hair straight and her hooves dragging. As she passed through the portal to sugary goodness the Cakes greeted her though her appearance did startle them somewhat.
“Well hey there Pinkie...” Mr. Cake said, a frown on his face at her despondent attitude.
“Are you alright sweetie?” Mrs. Cake walked over and placed a hoof on Pinkie's shoulder, concern etched on her face. Pinkie didn't speak a word. She merely dragged her way over to the stairs and up them, slowly making her way to her room and flopping onto her bed.
As the first tear slid its way down her cheek she turned her head, her eyes falling onto her bedside table. Sitting on the table was a photo album with the title 'My Friends' in big pink letters. At first she turned away from it, refusing to look at the portal to happiness, wallowing in her misery. But the more the bright pink book with it's slightly darker pink letters sat there, the more she couldn't help but look at it.
Finally she reached a hoof over and slid it to her, flipping it open to the first page. On the page was a picture of her and all of her friends with the caption underneath that read “My bestest friends in the whole wide worldy world!” She couldn't help but smile a little at that. Even with tears in her eyes and a knife in her heart, her friends could still cheer her up it seemed.
She flipped the page to the next picture, this one of Rainbow Dash and Applejack at the Running of the Leaves and one of her and Spike in the hot air balloon on the opposite page. That had been a fun day and she was looking forward to the one this year. As she flipped through the book, looking at every picture and reading every heading, her smile slowly grew and grew until it stretched the length of her face. As she came to the last entry she ran a hoof down it, her smile growing a bit sad. It was a picture of Rainbow Dash flying through the sky, a rainbow trailing behind her from a Sonic Rainboom. After allowing her hoof to linger on the picture for a moment she closed the book and sat up on her bed, wiping the tears from her eyes. She picked up the scrapbook and held it tight, her eyes dry and her heart light again. The Cakes watched her from the doorway, worry still lingering in their eyes.
“Pinkie, you know you can talk to us if anything is wrong. We're here for you sweetie,” Mrs. Cake said, walking up to Pinkie and place a comforting hoof on her shoulder.
“Darn right Pinkie. If you ever have any problems you can always let us know and we'll lend an ear.” Mr. Cake walked up and placed his hoof on her other shoulder, smiling down at her.
“Thanks Mr. and Mrs. Cake. You're like the parents I never had,” Pinkie said, dropping the book into her lap and hugging the Cakes tightly.
“But Pinkie, you do have parents.”
“Oh yeah. Well, you're like the other parents I never had but really really wanted ‘cause having more than one set of parents is stupenderiffic!” she exclaimed, her hair puffing back and her smile growing even larger. “Ooh! Maybe we should have a party later? An I'm-not-sad-anymore-and-I-have-awesome-sorta-parents party!”
The Cakes smiled and made their way out of Pinkie’s room, glad she wasn't sad anymore. Pinkie waited for them to leave before letting her smile shrink a little bit and turn somber. She opened the scrap book to the last page and gently kissed the photograph before setting it once again on the bedside table and bouncing down the stairs, her heart light again.
Trixie woke with a start. It was late evening, her usual time for getting out of bed, however the shock was new. She looked over at the clock that rested on her bedside shelf and groaned. She had overslept. Again.
Sighing, the showmare rose from her bed and rested her hooves on the cramped floor of the trailer that she called her living quarters. It was far from a home, but that had been crushed under an Ursa Minor six months ago. The insurance she had taken out on it from Flim and Flam didn’t cover acts of constellations. Dodging between spent bottles of cider and empty Neighponese take-out containers, the unicorn made for her bathroom.
The water hissed and sputtered, but a solid buck to the rear wall forced the flow to something resembling a normal spray as she warmed up her shower. The water pressure was, of course, dismal, as was everything else in this tiny apartment in Hoofington. Soaking herself, she picked up the bottle of coatwash from the tiny shelf it rested on and squirted an overzealous amount onto her body puff. Truly, the little things in life are best, she thought to herself as she began to wash in the rapidly cooling trickle of water above her.
Trixie managed to finish before it returned to the absolutely frigid temperature that was the default for water in the complex. She groaned as she began to dry herself off with a towel that was still wet from last night’s ablutions. “One of these days I am going to have to have words with that nag who calls herself my neighbor. It’s bad enough that we have to share a water heater, but that she seems to use it all before I get into the shower every bucking day...”
Glaring into the mirror to see if Trixie had a response, the showmare began to brush her mane, restoring it to its usual luster. Usual for now, she mused. It had been at least five months since she could afford the wonderful mane treatment that made her wonderful mane shine in its full glory. Taking her leave of the small bathroom, the unicorn grabbed one of the clean bow tie and apron combinations that formed what was loosely called a uniform and exited her tiny apartment after giving a wistful sigh at the picture sitting next to her door.
It showed Trixie as she used to be, The Great and Powerful, in full glory on stage in Canterlot. Such things were behind her for now. Now, she was simply Trixie Lulamoon, night shift manager at Tia’s Own. It was a fancy restaurant that prided itself on serving recipes that Celestia herself had either created or enjoyed regularly. The princess had yet to comment on such things, but given the prices they charged it was certainly possible.
Trotting down the streets of Hoofington toward her destination, Trixie’s mind wandered back to that fateful day in Ponyville briefly. She had assumed too much about the intelligence of the foals that claimed themselves her biggest fans, and possibly bruised a few too many egos. It was only later, staying at her grandmother’s house in Trottingham, that Trixie found out she had inadvertently shown up, mocked, or put down the Elements of Harmony. Shaking herself out of her reverie she turned the last corner that lead to her place of employment.
Entering the posh building via the rear entrance, her ears were immediately assaulted by the noise of the kitchen. Chefs yelled at sous-chefs who in turn yelled at the lowest rung of the kitchen ladder, the dishwashers and vegetable cleaners. She drew the eyes of the lecherous older stallion who was known only as Head Chef and walked past without giving him any of her own attention. She had told herself many weeks ago that there was not enough salt in the universe. Moving out into what was colloquially known as the bullpen, she saw that the day manager was ranting at one of the new waitresses, an earth pony who still wasn’t used to carrying more than one tray full of food. For her part, the mare was looking sufficiently cowed. The kitchen and the wait-staff had their own pecking orders and newbies got the worst of it.
Trixie tapped the day manager on the shoulder. “Good Eats, are you sure she deserves this treatment? It is only her third day.”
The stallion rolled his eyes and turned towards the unicorn. “Listen, Trix,” he said, using the nickname despite how much he knew she hated it, “You’ve gotta be tough of newcomers.”
“Trixie believes a softer hoof works better. Your shift has a twenty eight point three percent higher turnover rate than Trixie’s and Trixie’s approval rating is seventy percent higher on the employee surveys.”
The earth pony’s eye twitched slightly. “Now listen here, missy, I’ve been doing this job for 10 years. You’ve been here less than six months.”
“And in those six months, Trixie has become your better in every way,” she said, stern-faced and calm. They both knew it was the truth. She was better liked, received more tips, and had gotten her position through skill and determination, instead of sleeping with the owner’s wife.
Good Eats just grumbled and left, his shift over with Trixie’s arrival. The dinner rush was about to begin and given that it was Hearts and Hooves Day, the entire restaurant was going to be packed.
“Ladies and Gentlecolts, Trixie wishes us luck this evening. As you know, it is a very special day for many ponies and we have a reservation list longer than Celestia’s mane. Trixie knows you are all capable of handling the job. The rush begins in fifteen minutes. Trixie suggests you hydrate and perhaps have a quick snack before it begins. Trixie will be at the hostess stand if she is needed.”
Her cadre of waiters and waitresses nodded and dispersed as the showmare made her way to the podium at the entrance to the restaurant. She took a deep breath and, as the door opened to reveal a well dressed stallion and his filly du jour, the fake, practiced smile flew over her lips as she recited the greeting that had become so ingrained in her mind that she occasionally answered her own door with it.
Hours later, an exhausted, well-tipped, and grumpy Trixie exited the back door of Tia’s Own. Carrying with her several meals sealed in foil and bagged, she sighed. The kitchen had performed admirably, despite the problems that had resulted in her lunch and dinner for the next week. Her waitstaff had remained stoic in the face of sobbing exes, broken tables, and other results of too much salt and not enough love. One of her number had managed to hold her breakdown until she reached the bullpen and it was with a heavy heart and a soft hoof that she had told the poor mare to go home, Trixie herself taking over her section of the restaurant.
Making her way home after another long night of serving those who had once applauded her performances, Trixie took stock of her life as it stood. She was about halfway to purchasing another traveling show trailer and knew not to deal with Flim and Flam for insurance--or anything really. She could recover her performing outfit from Twilight Sparkle at any time and she had a new show almost ready. It had taken losing everything she owned, and six months of suffering the indignity of being a lowly waitress, but Trixie’s life was almost back to normal.
“I would like a half pound of taffy, Jolly Buckers and... Hello, are you there Twinkle?”
Twinkleshine was rattled out of her thoughts as a jasmine-colored pegasus clopped her hooves together in front of her face.
Twinkle jerked. “Oh... oh, sorry Raindrops. I’m sorry... I was just thinking.”
Raindrops giggled. “Well, just so long as it was about somepony good-looking like...” she trailed off with a smirk.
Twinkle blushed and turned abruptly to fill the order from the candy bins behind the counter, cursing her white coat.
“Uhm, no, I wasn’t thinking about any certain somepony... I was just...” Twinkle stopped. No, she didn’t really want to lay out what she had been thinking, not to Raindrops.
“Aww, c’mon. You don’t have your eyes on anypony?” Raindrops cooed. “Are you suuure? Because you don’t look--”
“And here is your order. Was there something you wanted to add to this?” Twinkle asked quickly, hoping to spare herself an even redder face.
Thankfully for Twinkle, it worked! Raindrops, distracted, looked at her order and then checked her list.
“Oh! I need some caramel for a project. Do you think five pounds would be enough?”
Twinkle choked. “Uh, just how big is this project? That’s enough to coat your entire kitchen in a healthy layer of caramel, Raindrops.”
“Woops! Okay, well, maybe just a pound then; it’s not that big,” Raindrops said.
Twinkle promptly pulled out a brick of the brown candy and added it to the bag. “Alright, that will be thirty-two bits.”
Raindrops tossed the money on the counter and Twinkle levitated the candy into her saddlebags.
“Thanks a bunch Twinkle. I’ll see you around!” She flew out the door eagerly, her mind already on her ‘project’. Thankfully she forgot to continue her conversation about special someponies.
Twinkle sighed and looked around the shop. The storefront was in pristine order. The few rows of packaged candies were full; there had not been many young ponies in today looking to purchase sweets. The taffy bin was running low however. It was weird how different candies seemed to pick random days of the week to be craved.
She ran Raindrops’ comments over in her mind and she went to check on the taffy inventory. It had been two years since she had come to Ponyville. She was not interested in any relationships, she wanted to pursue her dream. Yet the mayor still had not found anypony with bits looking to expand the town’s astronomy department. She had been keeping a careful eye out herself, but to no avail.
She had an apartment back in Canterlot, but the outrageous rent there had broken her bank. When she had been a student in Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns, she had been able to practice astronomy with some of the graduated scientists as an assistant, but that sort of job did not pay enough for her to stay once she lost her school funding.
Twinkle shuddered at the memory of the royal wedding a few weeks prior. She had not found anypony there even remotely interested in the subject, let alone knowing Ponyville existed. Maybe it was for the best she had been “retired” as Princess Cadence’s... well, more like Queen of the Changelings’... bridesmaid, before she had broken down in frustration and made a scene. Still, being possessed seemed a rather extreme way to remove her from the situation, but then again, perhaps she should be happy it had only been temporary brainwashing.
Two years, two years in Ponyville and she was no closer to achieving her goals. Sure, she had been able to purchase herself a decent telescope since being here, and she kept up with recent developments and findings from the library collection (That Twilight was on the ball with those sorts of things). But she was still working in a candy shop and still living on her own. The mayor evidently had not found a good room mate for her yet, so she was still paying the whole rent on a duplex. Not that it bothered her to have the home to herself, but it was just that many bits a month keeping her from furthering her own interests.
She scoured the shelves of sweets as she mused. “Taffy... taffy, ah, there it is.” She sighed once more as she checked the shelf; it was almost empty back here as well. How much longer was she going to be doing this?
“Hey there Twinkly. Your face seems really long today. How’s it going?” Bon Bon walked up and gave her a hug.
Twinkle smiled, Bon Bon was always so nice. Because of that, she rather enjoyed working here, but she had spent eight years of her life studying a passion. Her cutie mark was stars! And yet, here she was, selling candy.
“I’m just fine Bon Bon, thanks for asking though. I’m just thinking about when I first moved here. I just want to get an astronomy job of sorts here someday. I’ve been waiting two years for an opportunity to present itself.”
“Have you thought of moving back to Canterlot for a job? I’m sure a few of those universities could use you.”
“Well I have thought about it. I’ve even thought about moving to Fillydelphia or Manehattan where they have some research centers and universities that I could most likely get a job with, for a lot cheaper than Canterlot too.” Twinkle sighed. “But, I’ve actually grown rather fond of Ponyville, it is so quiet, relaxed and everypony knows each other. I’m not sure I could leave if an opportunity presented itself.”
“I’m glad you’ve enjoyed it so much here,” Bon Bon beamed, “but I do-” She stopped. Twinkle heard a faint jingle as the shop door closed.
Bon Bon smiled. “We can talk a little later, we close in a couple hours and-- ohmygosh I forgot about the taffy!”
With an exaggerated gasp, Bon Bon promptly turned on her hooves and galloped into the kitchen where she had evidently left something cooking. Twinkle grinned as she made her way out to the counter.
“Good day Twinkleshine,” Mayor Mare said brightly.
“Hello Mayor, what can I get for you?” Twinkle asked as brightly as she could. She shoved down the frustrating memories as she tried to maintain a smile.
“Actually, I came in today to give you something.” The mare turned and began digging in her saddlebags while Twinkle’s heart skipped. “Ah, here it is.” Her head whipped back around holding a piece of paper. “Twilight stopped by today informing me of a rather interesting project she is undertaking. It would seem there is a comet that will be passing rather close in a fortnight or so and she is requesting a place to erect a temporary observation tower. I hear she requested Princess Celestia to transport a large telescope for her to assemble down here as well.”
Twinkle could feel her eyes getting larger with each word, this was certainly news! Not the comet of course, she wasn’t much of an astronomer if she didn’t know about that. But Twilight Sparkle building a tower and getting real surveying equipment? She had unhappily planned on observing from home since she had no other place to do so, but now....
“Now,” the mayor continued, “she has only requested construction help at this point, but I suggest you head on over to the library and talk with Twilight and offer your skills. This is a good opportunity.”
The mayor set the page down on the counter. Twinkle quickly moved to hug the mare.
“Thankyou thankyou thankyou! I didn’t know Twilight Sparkle was so interested in cosmic events!”
Mayor Mare gave Twinkle a quizzical look, “Twinkleshine, this is Twilight Sparkle we are talking about... She keeps up with everything not related to social activities.”
“Er, right. I knew that,” Twinkle said, slightly embarrassed. “Well, I’ll be sure to stop by the library today. Was there anything else you wanted?”
“No, I’ve got more errands to run. I hope everything goes well for you Twinkleshine!”
“Thanks again Mayor!” Twinkle said.
She picked up the note, feeling that it actually was real. Carefully placing it in her saddlebag behind the counter, she went to check on the taffy with a skip in her step.
This was it, her opportunity of a lifetime. All she needed to do was go meet with Twilight Sparkle and show her what she could do. Twilight would never pass up a chance to gather even more information on rare events.
Written by: Not Worthy Rated Everyone It had been a particularly busy day: Lotus and Aloe had a large amount of ponies amble into their spa for a relaxing evening after a hard day’s work making Ponyville accident-proof (and after running away from that giant three-headed dog!). Their hooves ached from all the massaging and running around, but they still managed to keep a smile on their faces as the last weary customer left satisfied. Now with the moonlight casting a glow on the pile of bits the sisters had collected from their work, they were ready to turn in.
Aloe silently hung the last soaking towel on the line and carried the empty basket inside. She lay the basket next to all the others in the supply closet and, taking a quick glance to see if anything was out of place, shut the door.
Just then, she felt a body flop down on her rump. She looked back and stifled a giggle as her blue-coated sister groaned playfully.
“This has been a most tiring day, sister,” Lotus moaned, rubbing her sister’s side. Aloe offered a smile in reply; she was a mare of very few words, as her sister had always been the better talker. “Are you tired?”
Aloe blew a few stray strands of mane from her face and nodded. “Then shall we head off to bed then?” Aloe nodded again. “Great! I have a surprise upstairs, and I know you’ll love it!”
Aloe raised an eyebrow as Lotus got off. Surprise? Still tired from the day’s work, she followed her oddly energetic sister upstairs to their room. Aloe wasn’t thinking at that moment and didn’t notice Lotus had stopped. She bumped into her, earning a grunt from Lotus.
“Your surprise is not in our--I mean my room,” Lotus said with a smirk. Aloe tilted her head. “It’s in here.”
Aloe looked to where Lotus was pointing, to what used to be their private meditation room. She opened the door and peered inside.
“Do you like it?”
Aloe just stared at the newly-arranged room. Where their shelf of aromatherapy supplies had once been, now was a bookshelf with Aloe’s book collection on it. Where the meditation mats once were, now was a basic mattress adorned with a cerise blanket and a pillow. She also found Sir Star Surfer, her doll, tucked into the middle of the bed.
Aloe looked back at her sister as she asked again, “Do you like it?”
It took a few seconds for Aloe to slowly nod her head, a smile creeping on her face.
“I knew it!” Lotus clapped her hooves together. “I set it up while you and the others were working today! And now we won’t have to sleep together anymore!”
Hearing this, Aloe’s head lowered and her ears flattened against her head. Lotus noticed this and placed a hoof on her sister’s shoulder.
“What’s wrong, Aloe?” Aloe looked at her and furrowed her brow. “Dear . . . you haven’t done anything wrong. I just thought that, since we’re now fully-grown mares, we should try and sleep in separate beds, y’know?” She stroked Aloe’s mane. “It’s not like we’ll be apart forever, right? It’ll just be for the night.”
Aloe lifted her head up and gave a little smile to her sister.
“Good,” Lotus said. “Now, I don’t know about you, but I could use a good bath. You?” Aloe nodded excitedly. “I’ll go and prepare it, then.”
Aloe followed her sister into the bathroom with a pit beginning to form in her stomach. Lotus and she had always done things together--eating, bathing, schooling, and sleeping--since they were foals in their homeland. And while Aloe still got to bathe with her sister in their large bathtub, she was feeling nervous about sleeping by herself. As her legs became like jelly in the warm waters of the bathtub and her neck and muzzle were massaged by the small ripples she and her sister made getting in, almost immediately her muscles loosened and her worries began to wade away.
A half-hour later, with their muscles and hooves relaxed, they left the tub and dried off. Then Aloe followed her sister to their room, but Lotus stopped her before she could enter.
“Aloe,” Lotus began a bit sternly. “Did you already forget about your new room?”
Aloe’s eyes widened, and she looked back to the door that would lead to her room. Aloe looked back and saw Lotus smiling.
“Don’t worry, sister,” Lotus said. “You’ll be fine without me, and I’ll be just a few steps away if you need anything.” After a few moments of silence, the sisters hugged each other, and then Aloe watched her sister walk to what was now her room.
“Good night, Aloe,” Lotus called to her sister as she closed the door. Aloe, with the pit of her stomach returning, slowly walked to her new room. Staring at the door for a moment, she took a deep breath and opened it.
There it was... in the dark room, waiting for her to crawl in without her sister and sleep. Sure, Sir Star Surfer was there (and he would surely protect her), but it just wouldn’t feel the same without Lotus. But things have to change, right? Aloe reassured herself and she stepped towards the bed.
Lotus had set a candle on the nightstand next to the bed; Aloe lit it immediately. Once she had done so, she cautiously crawled into bed and gripped the blanket with her hooves. She brought it over her muzzle and used her left hoof to grip Star Surfer.
With a few deep breaths, she lowered the blanket and let it rest on her belly. Throwing herself over, she took a quick look under the bed; satisfied (and a little spooked) that there were only the meditation pillows under there, she brought herself back up and hugged Star Surfer closer to her. And then she blew out the candle.
Darkness. Aloe felt it creeping over her as a small stream of smoke rose from the extinguished wick. She hugged Star Surfer closer and snuggled deeper into her blanket. She quieted her breathing and relaxed. As tired as she was from the day’s work, she felt her eyelids shut. Her breathing was steady, her eyes contently shut, her Sir Star Surfer safe within her hooves, and the silence comforting.
A few moments passed. And then she heard something.
Aloe’s eyes shot open and she looked around. She saw nothing out of place. She lowered her head again and prepared to sleep.
The noise came again. It was a buzzing. She immediately threw the covers over her head, guarding Star Surfer as well.
The buzzing came again, looming over her. She was frozen in terror as the buzzing grew louder and louder until... it stopped. She heard something very small land on her cover.
What the? She slowly peeked over her blanket and looked for the source of the noise. Suddenly, the buzzing started up again, right in front of her face. She threw her forelegs around violently, trying to ward away the attacker. The buzzing didn’t stop.
And then she froze. Whatever it was had landed on her snout. Blood cold, she focused her eyes at the end of her nose and saw the culprit.
And with her blood boiling, she brushed the fly away.
What the hay, Aloe? She lowered the covers and retrieved her knight. It’s only a fly. Stop being a scaredy-pony! With a deep breath and a sigh, she lay her head back down onto the covers. Now get some sleep. She closed her eyes and ignored the buzzing around her head. How’d a fly get in here anyway?
The buzzing went right past her ear and Aloe opened her eyes and swung the fly away. She watched with annoyance as it buzzed around for a second before heading to the window.
It flew in front of a dark, partially-open armoire.
Aloe’s eyes slowly widened and her heartbeat quickened. The armoire was opened just enough for something to watch her in the darkness and she couldn’t see anything in there. Her breathing quickened.
She stared at it for a good ten minutes. And then she got out of bed, legs trembling, chest heaving. With each shaking step she inched her way closer to the imposing furniture, trying to see what may’ve been stalking her from the little crack. The fly buzzed around her back; she shushed it and it landed on her back, no longer buzzing. Breathing heavily, she extended a trembling hoof to the crack. Taking a deep breath and steeling her nerves, she opened the door.
She was soon bombarded and her vision went black.
Aloe panicked; she thrashed about on the floor trying to get the assailant off of her. It was pressing against her and she almost felt it tangling her up. Soon she couldn’t move; whatever it was had her legs pinned down to where they couldn’t move; it loomed over her, pressing itself against her body. Unable to move, she began to cry.
“Aloe!”
Aloe continued to cry as she heard hoofsteps approaching her. Soon the attacker was off of her, and Aloe looked to her sister staring down at her, something in her mouth. Aloe looked at the monster and traced its form down to the ground . . . still covering her lower half.
“Awooe,” Lotus said with her teeth still over the thing. She spit it out. “Aloe, I . . . I kinda rolled up the rug and put it in here. It, um, made moving stuff easier. Heehee!” Lotus grinned sheepishly as Aloe looked at the thing and then the rugless floor. Then she looked again at her sister, tears still in her eyes.
“It must’ve fallen out and scared you very badly,” Lotus whispered, wiping tears from Aloe’s face. “I’m sorry. I just threw it in there; I should’ve made sure it was in there good. Are you okay?”
Stifling another tear, Aloe nodded.
“Good.” Lotus hugged her sister. “Come on, dear. Let’s get you back into bed.” With that, Aloe walked over to the bed and crawled in. She looked over at her sister and was about to lift up the covers before Lotus pulled them over her body. “Remember, I’ll be in my room if you need me.”
Aloe froze for a moment before gulping and nodding.
“Alright then.” Lotus walked over to the door. “Good night, sister.” She shut it.
Aloe took a deep breath and looked over to Sir Star Surfer. She gave him a disapproving glare; he fell over to his side and Aloe immediately felt guilty. She picked him up and squeezed him in her forelegs before giving him a kiss and lying down. They closed their eyes and Aloe’s breathing slowed down.
CREAK!
Aloe’s eyes shot wide open.
CREAK!
Aloe’s body shot straight up.
CREAK!
What is that? Aloe looked around to see the source of the noise.
CREEEEAK!
She tried to calm her breathing. Okay, okay, just calm down. You overreacted with the fly and the rug, now just don’t--
WHOOSH!
Gah! What was that? This noise didn’t go away. Okay okay, just calm down! No need to panic. It’s probably just--
TAP TAP TAP!
Aloe couldn’t take any more. She threw the covers off, grabbed Star Surfer and raced out the room. She hardly had time to stop as she threw her sister’s door open and jumped into the bed with her.
“Gwah!” Lotus yelled. “Aloe? What are you doing?”
Her whole body was trembling and clinging to Lotus.
“Ugh . . .” Lotus kicked the covers off and got out of bed. Aloe hid behind her sister the entire time as they walked to the other room. The whooshing noise still didn’t go away, and the tapping and creaking were more prevalent. Aloe cringed behind her sister.
“Aloe!” Lotus barked. “Stop being such a scaredypony!” Lotus walked over to the window and pulled back the curtain. There, Aloe saw her window open and a tree branch knocking against it. “See? It’s only the wind! Now grow up!”
At this sudden outburst, Aloe shrunk back and pouted. Her ears drooped and her head dropped. She heard her sister sigh.
“Aloe,” Lotus said in a much calmer voice. “I know this is a new thing, and you’re probably scared, but this had to happen one day, right?” She waited for Aloe to nod. “Please sister, try and get some sleep. You’ll be fine. Please.”
Aloe stared at her sister; Lotus had always been the more mature one. Aloe took a deep breath, letting her head drop on her story. They embraced in a hug for a moment, then Aloe climbed into bed. Lotus pulled the covers over her and gave her a kiss on the forehead.
“Oh!” Lotus walked out. “Let me get Sir Star Surfer for you.” Aloe sighed and closed her eyes. I’m glad I have Lotus as a sister. She’s always been there for me. And she’s right: we can’t be sleeping in the same bed forever now, can we? Now that would be silly.
And then she heard a scream.
Aloe didn’t hesitate to jump out of bed and rush to her sister’s room. Without any fear, she bucked the door open.
What she saw was Lotus on the floor, cowering. Aloe rushed to her side. When Lotus saw her, she clamped her hooves around her.
“Oh, Aloe, it was horrible!” Lotus cried. “It was humongous and it tried to eat me! Kill it kill it!”
Aloe looked around while her sister hid behind her. She perked her ears up to catch any sign of the monster. And almost immediately, she sighed.
There was a buzzing sound.
“Kill it KILL IT!”
Aloe placed a hoof in her sister’s mouth. After Lotus was done whimpering, Aloe grabbed one of their books on special spices for aromatherapy and listened for the noise. It’s over the bed somewhere. She traced the sound until...
Wham!
Lotus screamed as Aloe brought the book down. The buzzing had stopped. The fly was dead. Aloe nodded and turned around and stared at Sir Star Surfer, who was still propped on the bed.
“Aloe?”
Aloe crossed her hooves, continuing to stare at the doll. Well? Did you at least try and protect my sister? Isn’t that your job? He remained silent. Answer me!
He didn’t answer; instead, Aloe found her sister pouncing on her.
“Oh Aloe, I didn’t know it would be this scary to sleep alone! I thought it was going to eat me!” Aloe held her sister close. “I don’t wanna sleep alone! Can I sleep with you, pleeeeeeeeeease?”
Aloe sighed and walked out, ignoring her sister’s cries. Waiting for a few moments, she dived upon Lotus. The blue mare giggled as she threw the covers over both of them.
“Good night, Aloe, dear sister of mine.” Aloe cuddled up against her sister as Lotus blew the candle out. Then they both shut their eyes.
It was a calm day at the stand. The sun was shining bright and it was soon time to close. A couple dozen ponies had visited. She earned enough money to live a fine life in the small town she had come to love over the decades she had lived there.
She was, however, looking forward to be able to close up. Today was her day out with Roseluck and Daisy. Maybe she should close early today? Lily figured she could give it a couple more minutes. Completely lost in thought she never noticed the pony trotting up to her stand.
“Hey Lily!” It was Lyra standing before her.
“Lyra!” Lily’s face brightened up in an instant as she was snapped back to reality. “What can I do for you?”
“I was thinking about making something nice for Bon Bon and I know your lilies are her favorite. How much for a bouquet?” Lyra asked with a friendly smile.
“That would be four bits. Would you want a little taste? It’s on me.” Lily knew that Lyra loved these flowers as much as her marefriend did and that she would never turn down a free taste.
“That does sound tempting. Thank you,” Lyra said and grabbed a lily in her magic aura. Lily recognised that flower--it was the last one she had picked before leaving for the market. Looking at the flower, one thought came to her head. What would the life of a lily be like?
Starting out as a little seed trapped in the ground. A cold and dark place. Claustrophobia must come pretty quick as you struggle to break free and get back into the sun again. It would probably feel like a never ending strife for freedom. That is, until you break free from the prison. Out from the soil you’ve come to know as the hell you were born in.
Now you feel the cool breeze mixed with the heat from the sun. You see the scenery unfold around you. Finally in the sun you can enjoy your life. Blooming into a beautiful flower ponies enjoy looking at. Mares with years of experience tend to your every need. Watering you and making sure you can grow.
Being a flower had to be very relaxing, though very boring as well. Is there any excitement in being unable to move? Probably not, but that did not mean you could not have an adventure did it? Just watching the town of Ponyville during its busy hours was an adventure itself. After the return of Nightmare Moon and the Elements of Harmony almost everyday became an adventure. What did those adventures look like to a flower?
Did flowers feel fear? Being rooted in one place at all times doesn't make it easy to escape stampedes or eager fillies. Being trampled must really hurt. Not to talk about incineration or dehydration. Ponies just move away from where the flames are. Just grab a drink if they get thirsty, but flowers? Flowers can only just sit there and pray. On the other hoof, the helplessness also leaves you without responsibilities. A life without responsibilities has to be relaxing.
What about the winter? Flowers all over die during the winter. Some lucky ones survive, true, but that is barely. Do they know their life is just six months long? Is their sole purpose to leave behind new seeds before the winter comes? How do the flowers in the greenhouses react to this? Are they glad they get to live another summer, or do they even care after they’ve left the next generation seeds?
Maybe I’ve approached this the wrong way. Maybe being equines, we are able to contemplate the value and meaning of our temporary existence in this plane of the living. Other living entities with a much more limited intellect as opposed to us will spend all of its days preoccupied with the never ending objective to continue thriving in their lives in terms of nutrition, but they will never stop and ask themselves, "To what cause?"
A lily. Something so delicate, the filigree of which some ponies have sworn their lives to taking care of, is it not the same? Having no eyes, no sense of smell, no senses like we have at all, does it make them less of a creature than us? And who are we to say we are superior? We cultivate these flowers, but what if their way of life is but another conundrum waiting to be unraveled by a unicorn? No, no. It will not come to that. If there is a secret that it is concealing, it is best to let it be and just appreciate the beauty of its existence, an existence by which may be unfathomable by me, but who am I to question the intricate tapestry of the living?
Would a flower be similar to living in a black nothingness, having no way to discern and perceive the world around it? Perhaps sensitive to intensities of light, chloroplasts perpetually sensing it and synthesizing glucose to continue its rather pointless existence on our world? Having no hearing, an everlasting hum in pitch black darkness, maybe not knowing whether it's alive or if it's dead, always being less than a pawn in the grand scheme of things.
All of these thoughts raced through Lily’s mind as she watched Lyra levitate the flower towards her mouth. That helpless flower slowly being forced towards its final destination. Never again to see the light. Never again feel the breeze. Never again feel the sensation of being watered. It’s last sight would be white teeth chewing their way through it’s life.
This exact moment in Lily’s life made her realise why she loved her life as much as she did. It made her realise why she would never want to be a flower or a fruit. This was the life she had been given by her parents. And she was going to appreciate it the for the rest of her life!
A songbird outside the window of the clubhouse sang a happy tune as Apple Bloom gave one of the wallboards a swift kick, unlocking the hidden compartment. It sprang open, revealing a space not much bigger than a saddle bag. Even Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo didn't know she'd installed it when she fixed up the clubhouse. It was Apple Bloom’s secret, and it was big enough for the notebook that she never told anypony about.
Apple Bloom didn't keep a diary or a journal; she didn't like writing and didn't see much point in telling herself what she did every day. She was pretty sure she remembered and if she didn't, it probably wasn't important. Her notebook was for the things she hated forgetting, because then she had to do a bunch of work all over again.
She pulled out the notebook and laid it on the table. She flipped past the pages she had made for places in town, usually just a note or two in her scratchy writing, and past the half a dozen pages with notes on the schoolhouse. There were a lot of pages about the clubhouse, with drawings and some numbers, but that's not what she was after today. Most of the back of the book was taken up by Sweet Apple Acres and about half of that was what she needed to add to: Project Unicorn.
She took a pencil in her mouth and hovered it over the page with notes and figures for the pulley system. She'd figured out pulleys when she was fixing up the clubhouse; it wasn't easy for an earth pony filly to get tools, wood, and paint up the steep ramp by herself. She'd learned a lot of other things too: about floor and roof supports, the strength of different kinds of wood, and the importance of using the right screws or nails for the job.
Afterward, she couldn't stop looking at things like that everywhere. She noticed that the joists at Sugarcube Corner were six inches closer together than they needed to be and that the front door was hung wrong and was gonna start creaking soon. The floors at the schoolhouse were made of the cheapest wood somepony could use for a floor and they'd need to be replaced a lot sooner than if somepony had used the wood she got for the clubhouse, which wasn't that much more expensive.
All of this got written in the notebook, but that wasn't the secret. Project Unicorn was the secret. She still didn't know if it was an embarrassing fantasy or a super good surprise, but she knew one thing: Big Macintosh, Applejack, and Granny Smith couldn't know about it yet. It had to be perfect first.
Since she'd seen Twilight Sparkle harvesting apples with her magic, Apple Bloom had been working on the project. The whole back half of her notebook was full of ideas for it, starting with a pulley system across the orchard, down the end of each row. Bushels could be hung from the rope as they were filled and the pulley would bring them to the farm yard, cutting out most of the carrying and hauling that Big Mac and Applejack had to do.
At the end of the rope would be the new carts she had figured out, with removable boxes. The bushels would dump into the box, then her siblings could haul it to the barn. In the barn the box could be taken off the cart and topped with a lid, and they could store apples that way instead of in barrels. That would save space in the barn, too.
The inside of the barn would have another pulley system for taking the boxes from the back of the cart, with a movable arm for stacking them. Apple Bloom had built a scale version of the arm using tree branches, and had a page of notes on how to make it work.
As a final touch, she had redesigned the sales cart so the storage boxes could be set right on it on display. The pulley could be used to put the apples on the cart and it'd be ready to haul into town. She'd drawn up a new paint job for the cart to go with it and she found that the right type of paint would keep it looking shiny and new for a good long time.
What she had here wasn't perfect. She was always learning new things that made her think about her ideas. A lot of those were things her sister would call “fancy mathematics,” with her face twisted up. But Apple Bloom hoped that by the time they came down to moving apples Applejack wouldn't notice the pages of numbers in the notebook.
She knew her family didn't much like change, but maybe someday she'd convince them that this wasn't really like that. It was still powered by ponies all the way--Apple Bloom would never have dreamed of saying they should use magic. For one thing they didn't have any unicorns in the family and for another Apple Bloom didn't understand it enough to work into her plans. This wasn't that different from the old cider press, really. And it wasn't like she was saying they should stop the bucking. She did have some ideas for how they could do that, but putting those in the notebook felt like a crime against the family.
So she carefully wrote down what she'd figured out about rope strength over the past few weeks of adventures with the other Cutie Mark Crusaders and redid a few calculations about the pulley system. Then she set down the pencil with a smile and flipped to the page where she had drawn the farm with the whole system in place.
She imagined the sunny day when it would be built; her brother and sister could buck the trees and have the apples in the barn with plenty of time left over to play with her. It would be so much fun to see it all work, to know that all these notes and numbers added up to something she could do for her family. That day she'd be a real Apple, helping to make Sweet Apple Acres run smooth and giving back to the ponies she loved.
The song bird stopped singing as she heard the wheels of the scooter approach on the dirt road.
“Apple Bloom! Aaaapple Bloooom!” she heard Scootaloo's voice outside and grinned as she closed her notebook and put it away in the compartment, knocking the wallboard back in place with her hoof. She had places to go and things to do. As much fun as her notebook was, she had a cutie mark to earn and she wasn't getting it sitting around and dreaming.
The open air is a beautiful thing, even to someone like Gilda. Yes, even she, a hardcore punk of a griffon, found the sky beautiful. However, that was starting to dissipate with her new job. After the events in Ponyville with Rainbow Dash and Pinkie Pie, Gilda decided to return to the semi-civilized Griffon Empire. The Griffon Empire was beginning to bring itself up to par with Equestria in terms of technology, creating several niches for various griffons to fill. Thus, some griffons no longer had time to hunt their own food. Gilda, seeing the opportunity early on, took it upon herself to hunt for prey to sell to the general populace. The money was good, and she was definitely good at her job, but all the time spent hunting was starting to diminish the joy she used to experience with it.
Then there was also the problem with all the time idly spent looking for prey from the air. The job obviously required Gilda to be on her lonesome, so she was left to her thoughts for a good chunk of the day each time she went out to hunt.
Ugh, this is starting to become such a drag. I can’t believe I’m getting bored hunting! I used to live for this back before Flight Camp… Ugh… Gilda was currently above a forest known as the Wooded Expanse, looking for prey to catch. Strapped to her back tightly was a bag that she put her catches in. Some days she returned with a full bag, other times she returned with only a few mice.
I wonder how Dash’s doing? It’s been like, a year since I saw her in-- Oh… Yeah… Fuck. Why’d that little shit, what’s her name, Pinkie Pie? Yeah, why’d she have to go and screw things over with me and Dash? I was just pissed, is all. Gilda shook off the bad memories and resumed looking for anything below. Not seeing anything, she took her wings in for a moment to get closer to the ground.Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a trace of movement. Turning towards it, Gilda squinted her eyes to get a better look.
Here we go… Looks like a squirrel. Heh, the first time the pegasi at Flight Camp saw me catch a mouse, they just about puked. I didn’t even know ponies didn’t eat meat at the time, so I was freaking out too, though.
Gilda chuckled at the fond memory and then refocused on the squirrel. She leaned forward and tucked her wings in, diving for it. It was a couple hundred meters away, so it took a few seconds to close in. She could now see the squirrel was looking around on the ground for nuts. Gilda leaned her head in, speeding up even further, and reached out with her talons. Feeling the contact of flesh with her feet, Gilda smiled and pulled up.
“Gotcha, ya little bastard,” she said, looking down at the squirrel caught in her feet. It simply squeaked in reply. Gilda was not without mercy, though, and twisted her talons around the critter’s neck, killing it. She then reached around her back and plopped the squirrel into her bag.
What was the name of that pony Dash was friends with? The one that liked the animals. I think it was Fluttershy. Man, she’d flip if I showed her this bag. Gilda let out a low chuckle, amused by her own thoughts.
Oh yeah… I kinda bitched at her, didn’t I? Gilda shook her head, I was just so freaking... “PISSED!” she yelled, not even realizing she had spoken out loud until after she said it. The shaking of leaves and bushes was audible, even from a couple hundred feet in the air.
Nice going, Gilda. Just scattered all the food for a freaking mile. Really, just… great job. Gilda sighed, her anger coming out with it.
I do feel kinda bad about yelling at her, though. Like I said, that whole situation was just… I was pissed. No changin’ anything now, though. Gilda began flapping her wings harder and more downwards, elevating herself. She kept on like this until she was almost half of a mile in the air.
I could always… Nah… I’m perfectly fine living here. I have a job, food, hell, I even have a decent amount of money! But… I’m just doing this, over and over… It’s so freaking boring. At least back in Equestria I had friends. I actually had fun. Here, it’s just the same thing, over and over. Maybe I will go back to Equestria… one day. Gilda shook her head and growled in frustration before continuing her thoughts.
No, you won’t, you’ve talked about going back every other fucking day for the past year. You haven’t done anything yet, and you’re never going to because you’re such a whiny bitch! Toughen up, Gilda! It’s all behind you, and they probably hate you anyway! You were a total dick to each and every one of them, they deserve to hate you! Nobody in their right mind would EVER like you, you fucking asshole! Her emotions starting to get the better of her, Gilda decided to touch down before she did something reckless. Unfortunately, she did anyway. Thinking she had enough speed to fly through a tree’s leaves, she didn’t bother avoiding them. However, a large branch tipped her wing, sending her falling about twenty feet. Landing on her back, Gilda began to sob, hardly moving.
Just because I deserve it, doesn’t make it any easier on me. I have nobody… Just me. Why am I always so freaking pissed? I don’t even know why, I just… am. And it hasn’t done anything but fuck me in the ass since I was a kid. I’m just… I’m tired of it. I need to just stop. Gilda picked herself up, testing her legs for any injuries. Thankfully, she was fine. She wiped the tears from her eyes, checked that her bag was still there, and took off.
Alright, Gilda, calm down. It’s over. Just another fit of sadness. You’ll be over it by tomorrow. You always are, every time this happens.
To Fancypants, it seemed that whenever someone was fantastically successful, there was always talk about them playing dirty to do so. Sometimes this was true and they were found out. However, just as often they were successful cleanly, only for their reputation to be cast into a dark light by the rumours.
Such was the way of the world.
Fancypants was no stranger to such rumours himself. Both because of his own successes and those of his father. Both of them ranked among the most successful business ponies to have ever lived. There was a difference between the two of them however.
For Fancypants’s father, the rumours had been true.
Fancypants himself however, did his work cleanly.
…
At least, now he did.
As he thought about this, the white unicorn smiled to himself. From his balcony, the sight of Canterlot faded out of focus as his mind cast back in time. Memories soon cropped up about the sensation he had caused when he announced his decision to leave the family business, starting a new enterprise from scratch. The reason that he made such a radical decision was that he wanted the challenge, or at least, that is what he claimed. In reality, he had decided to make a fresh new start and earn his money properly. Not using the power he already had to take control of more.
He had to admit, he was surprised at just how well he did. Not only did he manage to find a place in the market that no one else had spotted but he did so well in that spot he was able to buy back the family company. In the business circles, it was an even bigger sensation then when he had left. Nopony had ever expecting him to be so successful.
All but one pony, that was.
Fancypants turned away from the sight before his eyes at the sound of approaching hooves. His small smile of reminiscence widening into a smile of simple joy at the sight of the rose-white mare in front of him.
“Oh come on, it’s only been a few minutes since you’ve last seen me. Surely you are not that overjoyed to see me, are you?” Fleur de Lis said, though she was smiling herself as she slowly walked up to her husband.
“Everytime I see you, it’s like the sun and the moon have risen up from a thousand year darkness.” The mare giggled at the comment, hugging Fancypants once she reached him.
“Hush you old romantic, don’t you know that things like that are considered corny in this day and age.”
“Doesn’t mean I don’t have to tell you the truth,” the stallion answered, giving Fleur a quick kiss before assisting her, helping her to lie down on the couch, lying down beside her once she was comfortable. The mare soon moved so she was hugging Fancypants however, making him laugh.
“One of these days I’m going to grow old of this constant hugging.”
“No you won’t, you're too huggable to get old at being hugged.”
“Just because I’m huggable doesn’t mean I don’t want to be hugged all the time.”
“Haven’t complained about it yet, though that might change when the foal is born.”
“True enough,” Fancypants admitted with another small laugh as he smiled down at Fleur.
“So, what were you thinking about this time?”
“Oh you know... rumours.”
“... You mean when you weren’t so...”
“Righteous? Charitable? Handsome?” This time it was the mare that laughed at the comment, particularly the last one.
“You were always handsome, even back then. It was your looks that caught my eye originally, you know.”
“It is a well-known fact that I am irresistible to mares.”
“Oh really? Is that what they call it these days? Instead of being so nervous that you stuttered when talking to a mare near your age.” Fancypants shifted uncomfortably at that reminder, obviously not liking to remember that.
“Do you have to mention that?”
“Of course I do,” Fleur answered with a teasing grin. “It was cute how you got so flustered when trying just to say hi. It was a surprise that I even got to know you.”
“I can think of something else that was also a surprise...” Fancypants said softly, looking off into the distance. Earning him a sigh from his wife.
“Just regretting that?”
“Of course I do, I hit you!”
“I hit you first.”
“That was just a slap and I completely deserved it. What I did was a solid blow and I didn’t plan to stop there! I was so angry that you had found me out, so angry about what you had said that I--” The unicorn then found himself unable to continue talking as his lips were blocked by Fleur’s. Closing his eyes, he melted into the kiss, feeling the mare press into him.
Before either of them got carried away, they both broke apart, panting slightly. The female unicorn was the first one to recover and speak.
“But you didn’t. Stop regretting what you did and wanted to do in the past. Just concentrate on the present and our future.” Fancypants considered this words for a while, before simply smiling at Fleur. The kiss did more then shut him up, but also put him in a much better mood. The stallion dropped the conversation completely as he pulled Fleur into a gentle embrace.
An embrace that was broken when Fancypants started, his gaze dropping down to Fleur’s swollen belly.
“Was that a kick?”
“It was, a strong one at that. Our foal is going to be a nice, healthy one I can tell. Perhaps they might even end up joining the Royal Guard.”
“That’s a bit of a jump dear.”
“So? A mare can dream can’t they? About their foal standing tall and proud among Equestira’s great protectors. Who wouldn’t want their foal to be a guard?”
“Well I for one might mind a little bit, because I really do want an heir to keep the family business going.”
“Then just adopt your protégé already! You already treat one another as father and son, everyone can see it. So just fill in the paperwork and make it official.”
“You’re not going to stop going on about that are you?” Fancypants asked with another laugh.
“Not until you fill in the paperwork!”
“I’ll consider it... as for now though...” Fleur rolled her eyes at her husband’s grin, though she was smiling herself.
“You're insatiable, you know that right?”
“Well, when I have you for a wife, why wouldn’t I be?”
“True enough,” Fleur murmured in agreement as she drew her husband in for another, longer kiss.
Rumble awoke slowly from his bed, not bothering to be quick since it was weekend. He could sleep as long as he wanted to, but now it was finally the time to wake.
He looked over at his clock and found that it was still only 10 am. He shrugged, not caring that it was still pretty early; at least he got to sleep as long as he wanted.
Nopony ever bothered to wake him up on weekends; it wasn’t like anypony was home. His parents were always on “Business trips” as his father had called it. Rumble had no idea what it really was, and honestly he didn’t care since he got to sleep in as long as he wanted! And his brother, well, he had weather duty; not exactly something you can skip out on. His brother always did brag about how he was better than Rainbow Dash, which he clearly wasn’t.
He went outside his room into the bathroom and did his business. He flushed and his stomach made a loud growl. Smiling, Rumble went downstairs into the kitchen. Standing in the entrance he decided that he should simply have some cereal--he was too lazy to do anything complicated and why would he? It’s the weekend!
He quickly finished his meal and put the dishes in the sink, not wanting to clean them. He looked at the clock. 10:15 am. He smiled and looked outside: the sun was shining and the weather pegasi were in full force dragging clouds all around the sky.
Deciding that it was a perfect day to go outside, he did.
He walked into the city, simply strolling, watching ponies going about their usual affairs. The apple merchants were yelling tag lines about the greatness of “Apple family apples” and they weren’t lying. Rumble had tasted the apples and they were amazing and “awesome” as his brother would say. Remembering his brother, he looked to the sky trying to spot him. But sadly, this wasn’t where his brother usually operated.
As he strolled through town he found that ponies--or at least the younger ponies--were gathering around Sugarcube Corner. Deciding he wanted to find out what was going on, he went over to the store.
When he got closer he saw a sign saying that today everypony under the age of ten would get one free cupcake. Excited, he bounced over to the store, flapping his wings to gain extra momentum.
Ten minutes later he happily walked out of the store with a cupcake in his mouth, munching on it energetically.
Remembering he had nothing planned for today he decided to just relax on a nearby hill. He walked towards the local hill with a single tree on it, which always made him scratch his head. Because how did a single tree exist alone on a hill? Unless somepony planted it…
Deciding not to think about it anymore, he laid down next to it, leaning onto the tree, just simply relaxing.
He looked to the sky with dreaming eyes. One day, he thought. Wanting to fly was something he had wanted since his brother started; Rumble had still been very young at the time, but he still remembered it. His brother had trained for weeks and when his teacher said he passed, he had been so excited.
Not a single day went by without Rumble thinking about flying. Rumble was determined that when he finally flew for the first time, he would never land. He would stay in the air forever. It always confused him that if it was as good as his brother told him, then why did his brother hang out with his friends on the ground? They were all pegasi after all!
He sighed. Then he heard something. He looked towards the source and found that the Cutie Mark Crusaders had crashed into some unlucky pony. The usual then, he thought as he laughed to himself; those three always got into trouble. It was almost like they were colts, they did such crazy things.
He closed his eyes, listening to the sounds of nature: birds were chirping and rabbits were bickering somewhere. The pegasi were still sorting the clouds, the sounds of them colliding could be heard. Probably due to Derpy, he thought as he continued to relax. He found himself drowsing off in a peaceful daze...
Rumble awoke with a shock. He was being shaken by somepony!
“Stoooop! I’m sleeping here!” Rumble protested as he rolled away from the pony shaking him.
“But bro, you can’t just lie around doing nothing all day! It’s not any fun!” Hearing the sound of his brothers voice made Rumble immediately jump right into the stallion, hugging him.
“OY! Chill bro, did anything happen? You seem a lot more huggy than usual.” Thunderlane pointed out as Rumble released his brother’s leg and smiled awkwardly. “Nothing then, that’s good, I was almost worried. But you can handle anything, can’t you bro?” he asked as he ruffled Rumble’s mane.
“Not fair! Now I get to ruin your mane!” Rumble exclaimed as he jumped onto his brother’s backside and started to ruffle his mane, making Thunderlane fall over laughing from the tickling sensation. Rumble fell off right next to him, laughing along with his brother. “Hehe, I know your weak spot now,” Rumble said between laughs.
“We’ll see about that,” his brother said as he grabbed Rumble and started blowing on his tummy.
“Hehehe! P-p-pleease stooop! Heheh!” Rumble laughed as his brother continued to blow his tummy for a couple of seconds before stopping and kissing Rumble on his forehead. “Ewww! Gross! What gives bro?” Rumble asked with a disgusted look on his face.
“Nothing, I just love ya bro!” Thunderlane said as he stood up from the grass beneath the tree. Rumble saw his brother looking at him staring at the sky. “Say what bro, what about I take you for a flight eh? I don’t do that enough.” This made Rumble smile really largely and made him hug his brother’s leg yet again.
“You would do that? I would love to! You’re the best bro ever!” Rumble exclaimed happily as he jumped onto his brother’s back again, grabbing hold tightly.
They later arrived at their home, with Rumble beaming brightly. Thunderlane was happy for his brother’s happiness.
Rumble slumped onto the couch, a big smile still on his face, and fell asleep at 3 pm.
“Well looky what we got here brother of mine, it’s the same in every town!” Smiled Flim as he jumped off of their latest contraption: The Super Speedy Cider Squeezy 6000. “Ponies with thirsty throats, dry tongues and not a drop of cider to be found!” The sales pony smiled as he watched a small group of mares and stallions slowly start to form around, wondering what exactly all this commotion was about. “Maybe they’re not aware, that there’s really no need, for this teary despair…..” “That the key, that they need to solve the sad cider shortage you and I will shaaaaaaaaaare!” sang his mustached brother, revealing himself on their makeshift platform that was attached to the side of their wondrous machine. The crowd started to converse and whisper to one another with excitement. The two con artists gave each other a slick grin to another. Who needed proper business ethics when you could hypnotize a bunch of gullible ponies with a snappy song and dance number? They both cleared their throats as they resumed singing. “WELL YOU’VE GOT OPPORTUNITY, IN THIS VERY COMMUNITY!” “HE’S FLIM,” said Flam. “HE’S FLAM,” said Flim. “WE’RE THE WORLD FAMOUS FLIMFLAM BROTHERS!!” they both sung with enthusiasm. “TRAVELING SALES pony—“ “Wait, which one’s Flim?” a grey stallion from the audience shouted out. “And which one’s Flam?” The music cut as the two brothers stopped mid dance. “Excuse me?” asked Flim. “I’m just a little confused as to which one is Flim and which one is Flam,” said the grey pony. “You were going a little fast.” “Yeah I agree!” shouted a pink pegasus. “We’ve just met you, how are we supposed to know who you are?” “We just introduced ourselves!” said Flim, doing his best to keep calm. “Remember, ‘He’s Flim, He’s Flam, We’re the world famous FlimFlam Brothers’, remember that?” “That’s what we’re asking!” a dark blue mare said,“Which one’s Flim and which one’s Flam?” “Well I’m—“ “I think the one with the moustache is Flim!” somepony said. “No, I think that one’s Flam!” another one said. “Are you sure?” a third one said. “He may have been referring to himself in the third pony perspective.” Flim shook his head with disbelief. “Who in their right mind would do something like that?” “There was this other mare that did it!” a small filly peeped, fluttering over the heads of the taller ponies. “She was a pony that could perform magic!” “A unicorn?” asked Flam, slowly getting more annoyed. “Yeah, a real life unicorn!” the small filly said with eagerness, the two unicorn brothers giving each other a look, one that would say: Are you kidding me?! “What was that mare’s name again?” a spectator from the back called. “The All Magnificent Tootsie?” “No, I think it was The Supremely Awe-Inspiring Moxie.” “I thought it was The Moderately Good Pixie?” “NO WAIT!” another pony, a dark lavender mare with a jet black mane said, fixing her large glasses from falling off her face. “It was The Great and Powerful Trixie!” The crowd started to rumble with agreement over the identity of the mystery mare they were thinking of. “Yeah that was it!” the pegasus said happily. “These two are The Great and Powerful Trixie!” Everyone again started to agree with what the purple pegasus had suggested, that the identity of the two unicorns were clearly The Great and Powerful Trixie. As the whole crowd started to quiet down, they all looked at the FlimFlam Brothers. Flim’s right eye was visibly twitching, the vein at the bottom of his cornea was about to burst. “Who. The Buck. Is Trixie?” he said as calmly as possible. “Well, you are of course!” said a pony from the crowd, a blonde, white-coated pony to be specific. “Isn’t that what you said your name was?” “NO!” snarled Flim, doing his best to force a smile. “Let me explain to you all nice and slowly……” he took a deep breath, easing the stress in his stomach. “I’m Flim, FLIM,” he said, pointing to himself. “And that is my brother Flam, let me repeat that: F-L-A-M, Flam.” He pointed to his identical brother. “We are the FlimFlam Brothers. Does every pony understand that?” All the ponies nodded, “Good! Now, WELL YOU’VE GOT OPP—“ “WAIT!” another pony said. Flim facehoofed. “What now?” he asked. “If you’re Flim and he’s Flam, then who’s FlimFlam?” the pony asked, scratching his chin. “Maybe he hasn’t come out yet!” said another pony. “When do we get to see FlimFlam?” “Yeah, we want to see FlimFlam!” cheered a mare. “WE WANT FLIMFLAM!! WE WANT FLIMFLAM!! WE WANT FLIMFLAM!!” the entire crowd chanted, stomping their hooves with anticipation. “WE WANT FLIMFLAM!! WE WANT FLIMFLAM!!” “THERE IS NO FLIMFLAM!” shouted Flim, his anger silencing the crowd. The salespony was panting as he glared at his audience. “We’re the FlimFlam Brothers! I’m Flim FlimFlam, and he’s Flam FlimFlam! There is no pony named FlimFlam, okay?” “So who are you again?” “I’M FLIM!!!” “No I think he’s Flam,” said another pony in the crowd. “Yeah the one with the moustache is Flim!” a unicorn said. “I’m positive!” “Then who is FlimFlam?” “THERE IS NO FLIMFLAM!!” “What?!” a colt in the masses shouted. “What did you do to FlimFlam?” “THERE IS NO FLIMFLAM!!” roared Flim, no longer trying to hide his anger. “There never was a FlimFlam and there never will be a FlimFlam!! FlimFlam is our last name!” There was a long loud “OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOH” as the crowd finally understood what Flim was saying. “Do you understand now?” pleaded Flim, mentally exhausted. “YES FLAM,” the audience said in unison, causing the moustache lacking brother to facehoof once again. “I’m Flim! Not Flam!” he shouted. “I thought the other one was Flim.” “Maybe they’re both Flim...” a high pitched voice said from the back. “OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!” gasped all the ponies in unison again with certainty. “THAT IS IT!!” screamed Flim, stomping his hoof down as he glared down at all the ponies in the crowd. “Never in my life have I’ve ever seen a bigger group of complete morons! You ponies are by far the most idiotic, brainless, and most oblivious creatures I have ever seen! Everpony in this town is completely insane! You are all stupid and you should feel stupid!” There was dead silence, no pony dared to make a peep. There was a small breeze that started to pick up, causing a little whistle in the wind. Only the coughs from a couple of ponies here and there that really broke the silence, but nothing really that would defy it too much. Then, just as the tension was about to snap, a red earth pony walked up to the front of the crowd, pushing past a couple of idlers in the crowd. He cleared his voice as he spoke up. “Hey…that wasn’t very nice Flam!” The crowd erupted with chatter and rabble, each pony was angry and upset, and they took it all out on Flim (who they thought was Flam). “You can’t talk to us that way!” “Yeah Flam, don’t be so mean!” “Why can’t you be more like your brother Flim?” “Yeah, Flim is way better than you Flam!” “Why don’t you make like a tree and buzz off Flam, no one wants to talk to a meanie like you!” “GRAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!!!!!!” screamed Flim as he grabbed his brother Flam and pulled themselves onto the Super Speedy Cider Squeezy 6000 and slammed on the magical gas. “I CAN’T TAKE IT ANYMORE! I NEED TO GET OUT OF HERE!” Their mode of transport took off speeding down the road, the small town getting smaller and smaller as they got further away. “Thank the Goddess that’s over, don’t you agree, brother of mine?” “You said it Flam!” his brother said, a big smirk on his face. SMACK!! Flam went flying out the Cider machine and onto the road, hitting the ground as his brother kept driving down the road, screaming and cursing in an illiterate rant of broken words and noises.
One of the things about working on a newspaper, be it as a reporter or photographer, is being willing to risk bodily harm for the sake of the story or the pictures. But sometimes, stupidity seems to win out over plain old common sense.
“Easy there, girl…” I lower my camera, as the angry sow stares me down. There’s no way I can make it out of this corral before she gets to me, as the gate is too far away. Sweat trickles down my mane, as the angry sow gets ready to charge.
“What a way to go,” I think to myself. “Trampled to death by an angry pig… all in the name of getting a few lousy pictures…”
As a Pegasus, I’ve always stood out from the others. Smaller, more diminutive… it’s why my parents called me Featherweight. But despite my small stature, I’m very good at most things I set my mind to. Unfortunately, one of the many things I happen to excel at is getting myself into trouble.
I had always wanted to be a newspony, just like my uncle--the muckraker who rooted out city corruption at the Fillydelphia Gazette. So I jumped at the chance to join the Foal Free Press, our school’s newspaper, when Miss Cheerilee offered me a place on the staff. I had a lot of fun as the staff photographer under Namby Pamby, the paper’s excellent editor. My newspaper work was so good, I even earned my quill feather cutie mark just as the new school year began.
But then, Namby Pamby graduated.
Beginning my second year on the paper, we had some new ponies on the staff. I loved having that cute little filly, Scootaloo (whom I was too shy to give a card to on Hearts and Hooves day). But also came our new editor, Diamond Tiara. She had a totally different way of running things, which involved having me photograph every small detail of everything going on in Ponyville. A good pony Miss Tiara is not, and many of the pictures I took ended up being used as blackmail material (I’m so sorry, Scootaloo!).
“Do anything to get the pictures!” Diamond Tiara told me. “The story is all that matters!”
I should have known better! I had heard Fluttershy had a gigantic, temperamental pig that she had rescued from a wolf, and was now nursing back to health. I knew our editor would want me to snap a pic! I knew that such a large creature would be dangerous to a little pony like me, but Diamond Tiara wanted those pics of the ‘ferocious beasts‘ Fluttershy was caring for. So, like a dumb little cub reporter, over the fence I went, and into the lion’s- er, swine’s den! “Wow, that thing is huge!” I commented, as I started snapping pictures. The large sow, who was eating the swill Fluttershy had left for her, grunted and paid me no notice. I trotted around the fat swine, taking snapshots from every angle. Then, I made my mistake.
“Boy, this pig sure is ugly!” I snorted, snapping the last of my photos.
Before I knew it, I was airborne. Not from taking off to fly, for my flying abilities are only a little better than Scootaloo’s. No, it had been the swine that had sent me slamming into the side of the corral. I barely had time to leap out of the way before the swine struck the fence where I had been.
“Uh oh! I didn’t know you could understand me!” I whinnied, startled. Oh sure, I knew non-talking animals had some level of intelligence, but I wasn’t aware they could understand ponies…or that some of them had vanity issues.
“Okay, Featherweight... Think! What do you know about pigs? Okay, pigs are very aggressive-- not helping! Pigs are omnivores, which means I would be on the menu--still not helping!” My thoughts are interrupted as the swine charges at me again!
“Whoah!” I roll out of the way, barely avoiding getting run over by the big swine.
This is just great! If I were a normal-sized colt, then pigzilla here wouldn’t be much of a problem! But with my diminutive physique, this fat swine will make short work of me! And Fluttershy will be very upset with me… if I survive her killer hog, that is! Oh, that tears it! When I get outta this, I’m going straight to Diamond Tiara, and telling where she can stick her stupid photographer job!
At that moment, an idea strikes me! This pig might be far stronger than me…but maybe I can use that to my advantage!
“Hey, gruesome!” I called out, sticking my tongue out at the oversized swine. “Are you facing me? I can’t tell your one end from the other!”
The pig squealed in anger, then charged full steam at the spot where I was standing. Jumping out of the way at the last minute, I watched the oversized sow smash through the fence and barrel onward towards the Everfree Forest. Wiping the sweat from my mane with my hoof, I galloped out of the gap she had made, and quickly made myself scarce.
As I hid, I heard Fluttershy flap back to her cottage. Needless to say, the yellow Pegasus was not happy with what she found!
“Oh no, Porcina!” she cried out, tears filling her eyes as I was filled with guilt. Galloping away, I did not have the courage to face her after what I’d done. Sometimes, it seems, the story really ISN’T worth it!
It wasn’t long after that Miss Cheerilee booted Diamond Tiara from the paper and I ended up on the editorial position. The lovely Scootaloo and her friends have become my top reporters, and my best bud is now our photographer. It’s now Diamond Tiara who’s getting ink on her face!
As to Porcina, nopony has seen her since my little mishap. I never did tell anypony what happened in the corral that day, as my guilt was far too great. Knowing that I was responsible for sending that poor piggy into the Everfree Forest has made sure that I’ll never put a juicy story or picture before a living being ever again.
I can only hope that Porcina had survived the strangeness of the Everfree Forest somehow, and Ponykind will someday see her again...
A great dragon flew over the golden spires of Canterlot, its emerald scales shining in the sun. It shot pillars of flame down at the panicking citizens, a deep rumble of laughter coming from its throat. The magical defenses went up in smoke as the creature terrorized the city.
Suddenly, a burst of sound went off behind the dragon. It turned and screamed in terror. “OH NO, NOT SOARIN’!” The Pegasus gave a cocky grin and gave a buck into the dragon’s snout, knocking it into the mountain the capital city was attached to. The dragon groaned and prostrated itself before Soarin’s hooves, but he just kicked it again, causing it to flee. Soarin’ glided back into Canterlot, finding a throng of ponies cheering his name. Cries of “Our hero!” and “He’s the greatest!” shot out of the crowd, and Soarin’ merely blushed humbly. A magenta eyed mare met him as he landed on the ground and winked at him.
“Why don’t we find somewhere private to celebrate, Soarin’? I’d be happy to--
BRZT BRZT BRZT BRZT.
Soarin’ jumped from his bed, crashing into the hardwood floor. He stared daggers at his alarm clock, which was not intimidated by his display of anger and continued its sole function. He got up and slammed his hoof at the annoying device, shutting it off. Red numbers on the clock glowed in the dark, and he groaned as he saw it was 4:30 in the morning. He took a moment to glance longingly at his increasingly comfortable looking bed, before remembering what he was going to do today and exiting his room to prepare for the day.
After going through his morning cleanup routine (which included spending more time than he would ever admit styling his mane), Soarin’ made his way to his little kitchen nook connected to the living room. His Canterlot apartment was smaller than most ponies would expect, but he enjoyed the coziness of it. He poured himself a bowl of Hurricane Crunch, wishing it was flight season so he’d have access to the Wonderbolt Lodge (and the Wonderbolt private chef). He inhaled the cold cereal and went outside.
With a flash, he was galloping through the streets of Canterlot, the stars still hanging in the sky. Few ponies were up at this hour, so he wasn’t worried about getting mobbed by fans. Not that he minded getting mobbed by fans, mind you. It just cut into his exercise time. And as much as he hated his endurance training, he had to admit it was pretty helpful. Soarin’ imagined how he was when he was first a recruit for the Wonderbolts, and he could barely run around the castle without tiring out. He was a sprinter, not a marathon runner, he had moaned. Spitfire would have none of that, though. Soarin’ grinned at his friends’ determination in getting him into peak physical condition. Now look at yourself. Second in command of the Wonderbolts. His grin expanded across his face as he thought about it. He stopped his running and cheered, rearing up on his hind legs. “Woohoo!”
“QUIET, YOU FLANKHOLE, I’M TRYING TO SLEEP!”
Someone wasn’t quite as enthusiastic about the day, Soarin’ found, and he quietly continued his run.
The golden rays of Celestia’s sun were lighting up the streets by the time Soarin’ stopped running, having reached the edge of the city, looking down on the valley below. He stretched his legs, and, with a running start, jumped over the railing and off the edge.
The ground was rapidly approaching, and the wind hissed past his ears, harshly blowing his mane around. He loved it. He enjoyed a few more seconds of freefall, before he snapped his wings open and sharply pulled up. He rapidly gained altitude, and as he reached his peak he began to go through last year’s flight performance. It was drilled in his memory. Barrel roll, Skyward Blast, three loops, dive. As he fell, he closed his wings and twisted like a corkscrew, until he got near the tops of trees. The ol’ Crazy Ivan, created by one of his friends in Stalliongrad. Leaves tickled his hooves as he soared over the trees below him. If someone had told me that I’d be paid to do stuff like this, I’d say they were crazy.
After finishing his performance, he rose up towards the glittering spires of the royal city. Picturesque and wonderful, even if it didn’t quite rank in his heart as high as Cloudsdale. He lazily glided into the city proper, landing in an empty plaza. A couple ponies were moving stalls and opening shop for the day, too busy to notice him passing by. Not that it matters, since without the jumpsuit I’m practically invisible.
He didn’t have anything to do until one o’clock, so he wandered the city. A nice looking café caught his eye, and he stopped by to have lunch. He scarfed down several baked goods, a RLT (rose, lettuce, tomato), and sipped a cup of coffee quietly until a random mare with a flowing crimson mane and a bodacious flank came to his table. She looked incredibly excited. “I don’t mean to intrude, but are you Soarin’?”
It looked like it was that time of the day again. “Yes, miss. I certainly am.”
She was visibly shaking at this answer, and screamed, “OH MY GOSH! IT’S SOARIN’ FROM THE WONDERBOLTS!”
In a heartbeat, the entire café circled him, asking for autographs and in general chatting his ear off. He really loved it, even if he always got the same questions.
“Yes, you can send an application for the Wonderbolts.”
“No, I won’t endorse you just because you buy me lunch.”
“Spitfire is seeing a stallion up in Manehattan, sorry pal.”
“Yes, I’m single.” Wink.
It continued on like this for hours, people from outside even coming in to talk, until Soarin’ saw the time. Ponyfeathers, it’s almost one!
“Sorry, everypony, but I’m afraid I must be going.”
With that, he pushed through the crowd of ponies until he made it outside and launched himself into the sky. A quick stop at his apartment and he was off to his destination.
Soarin’ weaved a path over a park on the outskirts of the city, in the hopes of impressing the ponies in it. He could hear a group of small voices cheering, and he smirked. A couple flips, dives, and tricks, and he was making his way down to the waiting crowd of children. A bespectacled burgundy mare stood in front of them, trying in vain to keep them calm. “Alright, quiet now, my little ponies. Our guest of honor is here. Please say hello to our guest, Soarin’ of the Wonderbolts.” The fillies and colts stomped their hooves, making Soarin’ blush under his jumpsuit. He loved this part of the job--talking to young ponies in schools or visiting them at hospitals. The smiles that would spread on their faces warmed his heart.
Soarin’ talked for a moment about the dedication he put into getting in the Wonderbolts, boring the children but making the teacher feel better for skipping lessons for the day. He spoke about the importance of physical fitness, getting good grades, all that boring stuff. Then, having gotten that out of the way, he talked about the fun stuff, like the perks and how awesome it was to fly with the coolest ponies in Equestria.
“Have you really fought griffins?”
“Yes.”
“And a dragon?”
“Yep.”
“And you’ve flown with the princesses?”
“Eyup.”
The kids, Celestia bless them, went on with this line of questioning for a while. The teacher realized this might take all day and so told them question time was over, and now it was autograph time. As Soarin’ signed posters and flags and things like that, he noticed a young colt in the back of the group, crying softly, too soft for the teacher or other students to hear. Soarin’ moved to him and knelt down. “ Is something wrong, kid?” He patted the colt with his hoof, and the colt looked up at him, tears running down his face. “I-it’s just… I can’t f-f-fly. My w-w-wings aren’t strong enough. I-i’ll never be a W-wonderbolt if I c-c-can’t even fly.” He started sobbing louder now, pushing his head onto Soarin’s chest. Soarin’ took off his goggles and lifted the colt’s head up. “Can I tell you a secret?”
The colt nodded his head.
“I couldn’t fly when I was your age either. It took me years before my wings were strong enough. I thought I’d never be able to fly, and all the other colts picked on me. It was awful. But I kept trying, working hard to get strong enough. And now I’m here.” He smiled at the colt. “I know you can do it, kid. What’s your name?”
The colt used his foreleg to wipe his nose before replying, “D-dusty Chaser, sir.”
“Well, Dusty, I promise you: one day you’ll be the fastest flyer in Equestria, as long as you believe you can.” Soarin’ grabbed his goggles with his hooves and put them onto Dusty’s head. “And who knows, maybe we’ll fly together one day.” The kid's eyes widened at the idea.
“R-really?”
“Yeah.” Soarin’ turned to the rest of the class. “And that’s the same with the rest of you. I know if you all try, any of you can be a Wonderbolt, or a scientist, or an artist, or whatever you want to be.”
The kids cheered, and Dusty smiled and hugged Soarin’, who returned the young colt’s embrace. The teacher looked awestruck and clapped her hooves together. “Alright class, I think it’s time we headed home. Say goodbye to Mr. Soarin’.”
The kids moaned collectively at that, and Dusty let go of Soarin’ and forlornly started walking away with the group, towards what Soarin’ imagined would be their schoolhouse. As they did, the teacher came to him. “Thank you so much, Mr. Soarin’. The children appreciate having someone like you show interest in their studies.”
Soarin’ nodded. “Anytime, Mrs… uh, I’m sorry, I seem to have--“
“Oh, it’s no problem. I’m Blossom Song. Miss Blossom Song,” she said with a wink.
Soarin’ gave a knowing smirk. “I think I’d love to visit again, then.”
He looked towards the kids. “I’ll be sure to visit another time, kids!” They look back and cried in delight, especially Dusty. Soarin’ jumped up and rose into the sky, flying over the kids in a rush. He could feel the energy coming from them, clear as day. He pulled up, up, up, until he was over the entirety of Canterlot, the golden spires of the castle gleaming in the sun.
Scootaloo opened her eyes. Everything was blue. No, not everything. A few fluffy patches of hazy white drifted in the distance, floating on the air. Or were they falling? Somewhere in the back of her memories she could hear a voice telling her that even though clouds looked like they hung in the air on invisible strings, they were always falling, always coming closer. The voice said that when they reached the earth, they splashed apart in a pitter-patter of raindrops. That couldn't be right. Everypony knew that clouds never moved unless a pegasus moved them, and it never rained unless a pegasus wrung the water out. Maybe the voice was talking about natural clouds, like the ones that formed over the Everfree. That was a scary thought, clouds that wouldn't stay in the air. Falling clouds would be right at home in the forest though.
Something green fluttered by the top of her field of vision. A butterfly? She had never seen a green butterfly before. Maybe it was a leaf. That was it. A leaf. A whole branch's worth of them, now that she thought about it. A whole branch's worth of leaves swaying in the breeze. She could hear the rustling now that she knew to listen for it. She could even feel the same breeze sifting through the loose strands of her mane. Naturally, one of the strands ended up uncomfortably close to her eye.
Scootaloo blinked. The vague shapes in the sky snapped into focus. Lazy clouds, a hooffull of them. One of them was shaped sort of like the clubhouse. Not perfectly, of course. The clubhouse didn't have such a high roof, and the ramp didn't sway in the wind. In fact, now it resembled the schoolhouse more than the clubhouse. And if it were a bit taller it would have made a great Sugarcube Corner. She reached a hoof towards the sky. Someday. Someday she'd be there. Someday she could take that cloud in her hooves and shape it into anything she wanted.
She turned her attention to another cloud. An ice cream cone. Ice cream would be so delicious, especially now. The heat of the sun had finally began to warm the ground. The hot light weaved its way through her coat to bite into her skin. She could feel herself begin to sweat. A cloud drifted a bit. Tears began to squeeze themselves out of her eyes, trying to escape the sun as it poured light onto her face.
Scootaloo closed her eyes. The brightness burrowed through her eyelids and she turned away from the sun. As her weight shifted, she suddenly became aware of her wings. They were full of pins and needles, and the left one was starting to ache. She rolled over. Her nose was filled with the deep, heavy scent of soil and grass. She wasn't impressed. It was nice. Nice, but nothing more. The smell of the dirt was too thick and dark, it brought to mind a picture of a musty cellar with leaky walls and vermin skittering in and out of small holes. It felt small and cramped.
Even though she was outside, it trapped her. No matter where she went, as high as her shrimpy little wings would take her, the dirt always dragged her back down. She sighed. She felt heavy, like she was sinking into the ground. Only the warm air wafting across her back offered any relief. She opened her wings, straining to stretch them as far as they could reach. A smile formed on her lips as she felt the breeze ruffle her feathers.
Was this what it felt like to fly? Feeling the wind slipping between each feather as she careened from cloud to cloud, the world spinning around her... The mere idea made her feel lighter, almost like she could simply lift her hooves off the earth and find herself drifting, letting the air currents carry her away. Someday. Someday her wings would be strong enough to tear herself away from the earth. Instead of lying in a patch of musty, bug-filled grass, she could snuggle against a cloud.
She wondered what clouds smelled like. Sweet, she decided. They looked halfway between cotton candy and ice cream, after all. Sweet and soft. The perfect pillow. The anticipation made her giddy; she couldn't wait to see if she was right. Once she reached the sky, she couldn't imagine wanting to come back down. Another scent brushed across her face. Flowers, maybe? Fruit? Apples. Definitely apples.
Could you grow apple trees in the clouds? The seeds would just fall through. Maybe there were magical apple trees that wouldn’t. But then, didn’t trees need more than just water? Hadn’t somepony told her that trees needed the dirt, that they absorbed nutrients from it or something? Maybe that was why all the pictures of Cloudsdale she had seen didn’t have any trees. The trees apparently ate the dirt, and there was no dirt in Cloudsdale. Flowers were the same way, now that she thought about it.
Maybe she wouldn’t abandon the earth completely. She’d never admit it, but she rather liked the scent of flowers and apples. If no dirt meant no plants, she’d just have to learn to live with it. Stupid dirt. Maybe when she reached the clouds she’d find a way to grow plants up there. Best of both worlds. Maybe find a way for non-pegasi to walk on clouds while she was at it. That was the one thing that dirt had going for it. Anypony could walk on it.
She took another deep breath. Maybe the ground wasn’t all bad.
The air on her back turned cool. With a sigh she rolled herself over and opened her eyes. The sky seemed empty, save for a single cloud hanging in front of the sun. So dark. So strange. One would think that it would be brighter. She had never understood that. Maybe when she finally got up there she’d figure that out too. Someday.
Scootaloo closed her eyes and began to dream of floating forests.
Bufford straightened his tie as he nervously stared down the backstage of the Appleloosa theater. “Are ya certain that the monster’s gone irate?”
Scooter and Spinner exchanged a look before answering their employer. “Boss,” said Scooter after a second, “I ain’t never seen a rodeo hand throwin’ a fit about this kinda stuff. I just can’t ken how ta deal with this.”
Bufford’s shoulders slumped for the briefest second. The earth pony licked his hoof, ran it through the remaining wisps of his mane, and walked toward the entertainer’s door with all the relish of a stallion marching to the gallows.
“Mister Will?” He gingerly tapped on the door. “Mister Will, I understand that there’s some tumbleweeds we have to straighten out.”
“Come in,” bellowed a voice deeper than the town well. “Iron Will has something to discuss with you!”
Bufford walked inside slowly, looking out for surprise axe strikes. The dressing room space was dominated by a gigantic minotaur. The glowering monster sat on a stool, soaking in the attention of a bevy of goats with brushes in their mouths.
The wrathful performer pointed a finger at Bufford. The pony stared at it, unused to the gesture. “Iron Will finds your venue wanting.”
The stage manager swallowed and forced a smile to his face. “The Appleloosa stage has never had problems with performer’s wishes. We had the Dodge Junction Rodeo Players last week. Before that, the Canterlot Rodeo Re-enactors were here. Heck, we once had Mustache Glasses the Rodeo Clown!”
Iron Will and one of the goats almost seemed to exchange a glance, but Bufford discounted the thought. “Of course,” the minotaur said. “Iron Will notes your variety of performers.”
Bufford took a second to adjust his bow tie. “What seems to be the burr in your bonnet?”
Iron Will swiveled, gesturing to the large table. “Iron Will has no jelly-beans!”
Bufford blinked. “I beg your pardon?”
The minotaur snorted. “Iron Will’s contract stipulates a bowl of green jelly beans before every performance. There is clearly no such bowl here.”
Bufford’s eyes swirled in their sockets.
Iron Will grinned. “If you miss the candy, the contract ain’t dandy.”
Seconds later, an irate Bufford approached his staff. A mob of the stage’s workers were gathered at the end of the hallway, feigning ignorance and deafness of the dressing down their boss had just experienced.
Bufford gave them an irate scowl. “Well, golly. Go over that durned contract and make sure we’ve done fulfilled it. I guess showbiz folks just ain’t normal folks.”
Fillydelphia Train station, 7:57 AM, That Morning
“Mom, I’ll come home to Tartaurus to visit soon. I promise.”
Iron Will pensively pushed his eggs around on his plate. He idly stared around the diner he had taken his parents to. Iron lifted his eyes and smiled before making eye contact with his mother.
The larger minotaur leaned over the table and clocked him on the forehead. His father just nodded appreciatively as he kept smoking his pipe, offering an occasional, “Yes, Dear.”
“I’m not sure if I want you to visit. This is the send-off we get?” She looked at her empty coffee and cast a baleful eye at the waitress, standing by the counter and chewing gum. “We haven’t seen you in months, and a greasy spoon is the best you can do?”
Iron’s father nodded at the appropriate moments as Iron rubbed his forehead.
“Mom, I have a busy schedule. I have to be in Appleloosa by noon to get my show ready. I mean, I cared enough to send you train tickets for the weekend while I was here, didn’t I?”
His father nodded, drawing a glare from his wife. He immediately switched to head shaking as Iron’s mother sighed.
“Iron Stanley Will, your cousin’s been made Lead Manager of Bellowing and Threatening! When I go back to the Warrens, I get to brag about my son being a stand-up comedian. I should throw myself into the lava as soon as I get home.”
Iron was systematically dismembering his scrambled eggs, using the side of the fork as a battle-axe.
“I’m an inspirational speaker, Mom. I’m not a comedian.”
“You get up on a stage and make an audience laugh!”
“I motivate them to change their life.” Iron sighed as he felt the manacles of the ancient conversation clasp around him.
Constance Guard peered at her son as she continually tapped her coffee mug against the table. Patrons on the other side of the restaurant heard the loud clicking sound.
“So, do you tell any jokes on-stage?”
He dug his hooves into the diner carpet.
“Well, I do have to break the ice every so... “
His mother accidentally let go of the cup, bringing her fist down onto it. It shattered into pieces.
The waitress arrive at the table, her vocational training having informed her intuition of the least useful time to appear. “Coffee, anyone?”
“Baaaaaah.”
Iron turned to the goat that had stealthily approached him and sighed. “Mom, give me a second. I have to take this.”
Appleloosa, 12:39 PM
Iron Will strolled down the Appleloosan streets. The townsfolk’s eyes followed him wherever he went. One filly he passed gasped and ran behind her parents. They cast challenging stares at the minotaur. A little colt bounced up and down with glee at the sight of the performer, but his mother clapped her teeth on his mane and dragged him inside a nearby building.
Iron Will allowed no change to show in his demeanor. He was well-practiced. Soon he arrived at an apple pie stand. The mare behind the counter shrunk inside her bonnet, her eyes and green hair the only things visible.
“C’n I help you, sir?”
Iron Will smiled as he put a dainty floral basket on the counter. “Yes, I’d like three apple pies, please. Also, would you... ”
“Baah.” The goat next to Iron poked him with a horn in the thigh. Iron Will sighed and swallowed.
The shivering mare started to smile. “All right, sir. What else can I do ya for?”
Iron Will leaned forward onto the counter. Apple Pie heard her beloved stand creak.
“Iron Will requires fifteen apple fritters. Iron Will needs them immediately.”
Miss Pie nodded, sweat pouring down her coat as she hurried to fill the order. Iron Will turned to look at the disproving townsfolk muttering at him.
“That durn fancy show-biz fella’s got no sense o’ propriety,” he overhead. Iron Will breathed in and out slowly.
Appleloosa Stage, Dressing Room, 1:49 PM
“Baaaah.”
Iron Will rested his head in his hands as he leaned onto the dressing room table. Idly he picked a jelly bean out of a glass bowl and flicked it across the room.
“I didn’t break character, okay? She just looked like she was having a bad day. Next time, you guys get me my lunch yourselves.”
“Baah.”
Iron held one of the candies between his fingers and peered at it. His eyes traced the path of the swirls in the sugary shell. As he had done countless times before, he forgot the past and threw the bean into his mouth. After a tentative chew he spit the noxious thing into the nearest spittoon.
“Flames of Tartaurus, do we really need these things?”
“Baaah.”
“No, I know it’s the best way to see if the venue reads the contract. I dunno, couldn’t we get some blue ones instead?”
“Baaaaah.” The goat’s blank, unthinking stare stayed focused on the opposite wall.
“Very funny. Well, if you can make the time I’d appreciate it.”
“Baaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah.”
Iron Will stood up. He walked over to the goat and looked down at him. The goat’s gaze rose to make eye contact. A second of tense silence passed.
“I cannot believe you could say that to me after all this time.”
The goat stared back for several moments.
“Bah.”
Iron’s shoulders relaxed. He pet the goat amiably. “Yeah, I know. It’s getting to me, too.” The stressed-out performer sat back down and lifted a cold apple fritter with interest. He was almost taking a bite when the goat interrupted.
“Baaaaaah.”
Iron closed his mouth, placing the fritter back into the basket. “What about the smoke machine?”
Buffalo Camp, 3:34 PM
Iron Will took a long drag of the peace pipe as he scrutinized Chief Thunderhooves. The buffalo gave him a guarded look, occasionally looking away to share a meaningful glance with a younger warrior.
“So,” Iron said as he lowered his pipe. “All I need is to gather some legerdemain weed. I just need enough to run my heap big machine back at my show tonight. That is why I come for Pow-Wow, Big Chief of Buffalo.”
Thunderhooves stared back at the minotaur. “Heap big machine, huh?” He raised an eyebrow.
Iron Will shifted uncomfortably. He looked down into “Doctor Snake Oil’s Buffalo Phrase Book” briefly before throwing it into the fire. “Yeah, I got a smoke machine I gotta power.”
Thunderhooves’ eyes lit up. “Oh, wow! Would it be a Magic Master or a Fantastic Fogger?”
Iron leaned forward and smiled. “It’s a Fogger 7500, with optional bubble blower.”
The Chief nodded. “Excellent make for such a limited run. Our shaman uses one for vision quests.” Thunderhooves chuckled. “You spend your special effects budget more wisely than your phrase book money.”
Iron spread his hands in embarrassment as the braves around him chuckled. “Granted, Chief. So, may I gather the weed?”
Thunderhooves nodded. “Certainly. I’ll let you gather in the Sacred Garden as soon as you pass the trial by wrestling.”
Iron nodded contemplatively. “Well, I got my start wrestling. At least this time I don’t have a scripted fall. When do we start?”
A gigantic buffalo knocked the surprised minotaur off of his log, hooting and hollering. The two forms began rolling around in the dust. Chief Thunderhooves laughed as he reached for the peace pipe.
“Dear me, I thought you knew. The Trial By Wrestling is traditionally thrown as a surprise.”
Appleloosa Rodeo Stage, 4:55 PM
The goats turned in shock as Iron Will dragged himself into his dressing room. One of them dropped the can he chewed as he took in the scrapes and disheveled coat on the performer.
“Baaaah!”
“Baaah!”
“Baaaaaaah!”
Iron Will placed his basket of fresh legerdemain weed on a table and waved his hands. “Guys! Guys, it’s okay. It was kind of fun. Reminded me of high school.”
He limped to his chair. Iron Will stood up straight and placed his hands on his knees. The goats surrounded him, brushes and make-up applicators in their mouths.
“So, do I have time to grab dinner before the show?”
“Baahh!”
“Bah.”
“Of course. Well, let’s get on with it.”
Appleloosa Rodeo Main Stage, 5:59 PM
The stands of the Appleloosa Theater were packed as the lights started to dim. Braeburn turned to Apple Pie with a smile.
“You sure you wanna be here, Sis?”
She nervously nodded. “I-I figure I’ll see what the hub-bub is about.”
Braeburn made a tch noise with his tongue. “I can’t say I like the idea of you throwing bits in that monster’s hat after the way I heard he treated you.”
“I didn’t.”
Braeburn raised his eyebrows.
“H-he... left our tickets in my coin basket when he paid for the fritters.”
Braeburn found no response as the smoke machine fired from behind the stage curtain. The goats milling around the stage turned spotlights on the stage as Iron Will stepped through the smoke to the crowd’s applause.
“At last, Iron Will has returned to Appleloosa!”
The crowd roared as the minotaur dramatically raised an eyebrow. Apple Fritter clapped with delight as Iron Will went into his routine with a practiced excitement. Braeburn smiled as the show continued, only stopping when the celebrity pointed right at his sister.
“You, Miss!” Iron grinned as Apple Pie pointed to herself. “Yes, you! Miss Pie Seller, are you a doormat? Would you like to stand up for yourself?”
Apple Pie’s eyes went wide. She turned to Braeburn.
“You don’t have to unless you want to,” he offered.
“No, it’s... I want to. He’s amazing! Nothing gets to him. He’s untouchable!”
As she ran down the aisle, Iron Will smiled to the cheering crowd. For those briefest of moments, she was right.
The faraway plains glowed in the afternoon sun. The sight just kept on going until the obscure border of the horizon ended the visible part of the scenery. The cliffs and mountains surrounding the large flat part made it look deeper than it actually was, casting sharp shadows over it, giving its residents some cover from the burning sun.
On the top of one of these mountains stood a mighty buffalo, in defiance of the sacred sun, observing the heavenly sight he had come to know over the years.
It was that certain time again. The sun would stay up for the whole day, allowing the land to have its share of the life-giving light. It was a sacred time for the buffalo.
And this one certain buffalo had come here, to the very same mountain, every single year since his father had passed. It was not his duty. He could have been home, in his cozy little teepee, enjoying the company of his family--the herd he was part of.
But he was here, admiring the view that Mother Nature had given them, respecting its power and beauty.
Hours had passed and the sun was finally starting its daily ritual of lending its stage to its little brother that would light the night, allowing the predators to see. A ritual that never lost its glory. It was always such a beautiful event, affecting the lives of every single organism--at least on the physical level, if not on the mental.
The mouth of the lonely buffalo was dry. His stomach was growling in hunger. His whole body was in pain caused by either the burning sun or the stress that was affecting him.
But still, after multiple long hours, he was standing still, strong and glorious, reflecting the spirit and persistence of the natives that crowded the plains.
A train traveled in the distance, its tracks penetrating the beautifully green landscape. The sound of the whistle it made while passing the lands of the now-friendly natives broke the silence.
Soon after the whistle, the sound of the hooves of the four stallions pulling the train came, followed by the even somewhat annoying noise of the wheels of the train hitting the rails. The clouds of black smoke coming out of the boiler floated up to the skies, blocking some of the beams of the sunlight.
The train slowly made its way through the scenery and disappeared as it went into another tunnel that penetrated a mountain that was in the way of the tracks. Silence fell over the landscape yet again and all the marks of the sudden encounter were gone.
The one buffalo was all alone yet again.
He had no family. His grandparents had ended their journey before he was born. He had only heard tales of the mighty buffalo he was related to. And judging by those tales, they had been even mightier than he was.
They had tamed the wild, making it safe for the buffalo to roam free, not having to be constantly afraid of getting ambushed by one of the many prairie predators. They had continued the long tradition. They were the leaders of the herd, guiding the others and taking care of the most responsible tasks the community had. They watched over the others as they lived on, passed by or started their journey. They made sure that one’s life didn’t end too early, or that if one committed crimes, he or she would be punished in an appropriate way.
His father had been a leader, too. It was in the family. Leader after leader, chief after chief. Some were greater than others, some were just names in the past.
His father had ruled for a long time. He was remembered amongst the greatest of chiefs the herd had ever had.
The pain had been incredibly hard as he had been found in his private teepee, lifeless.
The mourning time had lasted for months. Multiple honored leaders of other tribes had visited the little community, paying respect to the great chief and showing their support to the herd.
But despite the support, the herd had found it difficult to move on. The weeks after the burial ceremony had been hard. Everyone was still down and the community was frozen.
Three weeks after the burial, the wife of the chief had lost it. On one cloudy day, she had walked out of her teepee, stood a while in the middle of the crowd and left to the endless plains. Her body was never found.
By that time, everyone knew that someone needed to take the lead. The herd couldn’t survive without a good leader.
That’s when Chief Thunderhooves had realized that it was his job to take the lead after his father.
Only mere days after the wife of the chief--Thunderhooves’ mother--had left the community, Thunderhooves had been officially declared to be the leader. The ceremony had been a small one, consisting only of the ritual itself and a minor speech. The speech was meant to cherish the community, to raise them from the pit they were in. It was no use to live in the past, as the future was far more important for them.
And it had worked. The community had risen back to the level it had been. But the deaths of the chief and his wife never left the mind of Thunderhooves alone. He had lost his father, his mother, and his chief. Those things had permanent effects on one’s mind.
Every year after that day, when it was the holy day, he would come up to the very mountain and pay respect for his father and his mother, the greatest chiefs in the history of their tribe.
And every year he would bring the same gift, representing his feelings, his respect, and his love towards his parents.
Chief Thunderhooves lifted his left forehoof up, took a quick look at the white prairie flower he had on it, shifted his glance to the beautiful plains illuminated by the setting sun and threw the flower into the air.
As the wind took hold of the flower and guided it towards the orange sunset, Chief Thunderhooves shut his eyes and, for a brief second, he could feel the presence of his beloved parents.
Thunderlane put a hoof to his chin to think about it, before scooping up his brother and starting a noogie.
“ACK!” Rumble squeaked, even as he giggled, trying to escape his brother's grasp. “Okay, okay, I give! I give!”
Thunderlane stopped, but kept his hold. “You gonna go to bed and not ask for more time?”
“Yes!”
The older pegasus gave his younger brother a skeptical look, before smiling and letting him down. He followed him to his bedroom, up the stairs and across from his own. The little gray pegasus hopped onto the bed, where he was promptly tucked in and given a playful ruffle of the mane.
“Good night,” Rumble said quietly, smiling peacefully.
Just before the door was closed, there was a momentary checking to see if the little safety light was on and working, before the lights were put out and the door shut. Thunderlane took a moment to listen carefully, only leaving for his own bed once he heard the soft snores of his little brother. He was old enough to be on his own, and so neither of their parents lived with them. He'd started taking care of the little colt when it had been decided that Rumble wanted to stay with his older brother rather than their parents, who were in Cloudsdale. It wasn't a bad thing, since those two were ridiculously busy anyways with their jobs; plus Ponyville was a perfect place for the little pegasus to grow up.
Thunderlane smiled as he remembered the first few days of Rumble's arrival in Ponyville. There had been the obligatory Pinkie Pie 'Welcome to Ponyville' party, followed by a much quieter welcome from himself and his fillyfriends, Flitter and Cloudchaser (a relationship that took constant work from them all to maintain). With their help, his little brother had easily fit into the small, tight-knit community. He found said mares lying in his bed already, with only Cloudchaser still awake.
“Is he finally asleep?” she asked quietly, nuzzling against his neck as he climbed beside her and Flitter.
“Mm-hm.”
“He's such a sweet kid. He's lucky to have you for an older brother, you know that, right?”
Thunderlane smiled, it was an old topic. “You may have mentioned it once or twice.”
“That's because it's true.”
“Mm-hm.”
Cloudchaser gave a tired smile, leaning against her coltfriend's side, her sister leaning against his other side. His wings gently opened and wrapped around the two of them, enticing the sisters to fall into a deep sleep. Thunderlane remained awake a little while longer, thinking back to when his relationship with these two wonderful fillies had started. It brought a smile to his muzzle remembering how it had been Rumble, naive little colt he was at the time, to wonder if his older brother liked the two of them. In public. Around said fillies.
Naturally, there had been the knee-jerk reaction denial in the presence of his younger brother, if only to appear 'cool' to him. Celestia knew that was a lie, back then he was completely smitten with both of them! And now here they were, a little triad working hard to stay together. His little brother had been the one to help get the three of them to start talking (thanks to that initial blurting-out). It was rather entertaining in hindsight, despite how mortifying it had been at the time.
It had been only the next day that his little brother had returned home soaked to the bone, caked in mud, and wearing the biggest, goofiest grin he'd ever seen on the little guy. At dinner that night, he was regaled with endless stories of pirates and boats and special pirate coins... oh, his brother went on and on that night. These days he and that Pipsqueak – a nice little colt, if a bit wild with his imagination – were nearly inseparable. Going on the wildest of adventures whenever possible, and getting in just as much trouble. So long as his brother was happy and safe (and got his school work done beforehoof), he didn't mind. Especially since it gave him more time to be with his fillyfriends.
That's not to say that ignored his little brother, hay no. He loved the little guy, spent as much time with him as he could. Thunderlane was proud to say that he and Rumble were the kind of brothers that were nothing less than best friends. It was his little brother that he first confided to about really liking both Cloudchaser and Flitter; it was the same little bro that had admitted he saw both fillies – whom had become his sitters after a short amount of time – as sort of surrogate sisters. So clearly, the idea of dating them both was fine. His rare musings on his current life were cut short by a soft, almost timid knock on the door.
“Rumble?” Thunderlane asked quietly, attempting to not wake either of the sisters. The little gray head of his brother peeked in, with a look in his eyes that made Thunderlane wonder what had happened. “Are you alright?”
Rumble carefully came in, and looked rather frightened, “I... I had a bad dream...”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“N-Not right now...”
Thunderlane gave a small smile, holding out his forelegs, “Crawl in, squirt.”
Rumble gave a grateful smile and carefully joined his little family on his brother's bed. Thunderlane gently used a hoof to wipe the tears from his little brother's eyes, even as he held him close. Soon enough, he was fast asleep. Thunderlane decided, with a smile, that he would cut his reflections short tonight. His brother needed his comfort right now, no matter how silent it would be.
It wasn't until morning, on the rare occasion that he was the first one awake, that Thunderlane realized that at some point in the night, his filly friends had scooted closer to him, and they were sharing their hold of Rumble. While he was still his little brother, he was still very important to all of them. Thunderlane was just glad that they were allowed to share these moments of peace and wished they could last longer than they would.
Because it was these moments, the ones where they all held each other close, that would be the ones he would cherish forever.
The afternoon sun shone down through the window, casting its light across the kitchen table and highlighting the golden coat of the colt who sat before it. The young unicorn was staring vacantly at the sheet of paper before him, which held a few simple math problems. A pencil hung out of the side of his mouth, coated with drool. He would chew on it periodically, black eyes unfocused on the words and figures in front of him. Despite the sun being in his eyes, the pony seemed to have little regard for his surroundings.
Snails was having some trouble with his homework assignment. It wasn’t the actual math problems that bothered him; they were absurdly easy. Rather, he found himself musing over the idiosyncrasies that the theory of mathematics itself presented. Who decided that one plus one equals two, anyways? The ponies of yore could just as easily have decided to set it equal to four, or made up a different term entirely, like eleventy. The only reason one plus one equaled two was because some scholar in the past had decided to label it as such, and the rest of Equestria followed the decision without question. Scholars… what made them so special anyways? Their theories were flawed. Geometry and Calculus were even more arbitrary than simple addition. The number pi was simply created to fill in a gap that the scholars could not explain. And who decided to name it pi anyways? Some old nag with a sweet tooth, that’s who.
As for the sciences, they were absurdly flawed as well. These attempts to explain how the universe worked were far from complete. For example, if the theory of conservation of energy was to be believed, magic shouldn’t be possible. The “great minds” were still trying to find a way to fill in the gaps that their own leaps in logic had created. He tried to not let their theories affect him, but he had to admit that he himself often wondered about the properties of magic. His head would get so full of reasons why magic should not be possible due to the current mathematical theories that explained the universe, that his capacity to perform said magic was severely hindered. The whole lot of it ought to be tossed out so that a new generation, like he himself, could start over from scratch. But then, he would be the one defining things all willy-nilly in an attempt to explain the world, and they would inevitably end up in the same position as before, only this time he would be in the hot seat. There wasn’t any real clear solution on how to approach such a conundrum; he would have to give the whole situation a lot more thought. Perhaps he had best go back to the beginning and start working from the ground up…
The pencil slipped from Snails’ mouth, leaving a smear across his homework assignment. The paper was still void of any answers and would likely remain so for quite some time to come. A goofy smile was plastered across his snout, and his eyes had wandered to stare blearily at the kitchen wall in front of him. A fly landed on his ear, but he did not even twitch. Mouth open slightly, he stared into space, seemingly without a care in the world. The afternoon wore on, with barely any movement from the young unicorn, save for the occasional slow blink of his eyes. His homework assignment was going to be late once again.
Cheerilee sighed as she looked over the crumpled assignment of one of her more troubled students. The paper was smudged and bore a variety of scribbles and odd drawings. Only a few of the questions were actually answered. She tapped her pen against the top of her desk in an absent manner. “I should have expected this,” she said to herself. “After all, he’s always been a little... slower than the others. I may have to speak to his parents again.” She began to grade the assignment, marking the mistakes with her red pen. So intent was she on her work that she did not notice the black eyes watching her from outside the classroom window.
Snails backed away from the hiding place from which he had been observing his teacher work. He sighed. He’d let himself get distracted once again and his work had suffered as a result. He knew Miss Cheerilee didn’t mean any harm with her comment; he wasn’t even supposed to have heard her say it. He was used to hearing such things anyway. He was going to have to work on not being so easily distracted, lest this “slow” label become permanent.
Still he was left wondering what defines the terms “fast” and “slow” in the first place. Surely it was all relative. To the lowly gastropod, the turtle moves at great speeds, while the reptile would find the snail to be slow. And yet both such creatures are considered slow by pony standards. To the agile hummingbird, the entire world would seem slow. Would the energetic bird even recognize the turtle or the lowly snail as a living being, or treat them as rocks due to its inability to distinguish their movements due to their very different metabolisms?
Even with metabolic rates itself aside, there was the psychological issue as well. Each creature views itself as “normal” and judges others based upon such an assumption. If this view varies between each individual, then can any behavior truly be called average? If so, then by whose definition is the meaning of the word average defined? Indeed the attempt to conform to such a generalized view of the world would leave those at both ends of the bell curve in trouble. Perhaps trying to define everypony by some rigid standard was not the proper method at all. New ideas usually came from those outside the norm after all. Perhaps society’s desire to define what is normal was in fact crippling its own development. He shook his head. He did not need to change in order to avoid such pointless labels. There were so many more interesting things he could be doing with his time, like unraveling the true secrets of the universe.
The lanky little unicorn stood there in the middle of the road with an absent-minded smile on his face. Those passing by who stopped to observe him either shook their heads sadly, or sighed at his behavior. They did not know of the complex thoughts that went on behind those black eyes. Someday they would see the truth... just not today.
The Equestrian capital city of Canterlot, blessed by the presence of both Princess Celestia and Princess Luna, was witnessing the most beautiful sight in Equestria. On the horizon, clearly visible to most of the city because the city resided near a mountain top, the sun could be witnessed as it slowly ascended from the horizon into the sky as dawn broke.
The dawning sunlight found its way across the nation, into Canterlot, and into a modest sized house in Canterlot’s resident district. The sunlight was filtered further into a large master bedroom with a king sized poster bed that held no one sleeping in it. Instead, an open door in the corner leading to the bathroom let the sound of running water be heard. In the bathroom stood a white stallion with a three tone blue mane. His cutie mark, a purple star-burst--reminiscent of a certain element of magic--on top of a blue shield was covered by stray white hairs as the stallion had just left the shower, and was preparing to leave for work.
The stallion looked into his own eyes in the mirror and spoke to himself, “Alright Shining Armor. Today is another day of living the dream. Captain of the guard! It’s your job to protect the ponies of Equestria. No matter what.” Shining’s voice carried through his bathroom as he gave himself a pep talk. A sigh followed shortly after as he dried himself off and left the bathroom. He stared at the bed for a moment before leaving the bedroom altogether and made his way through the house.
Although large for a town like Ponyville, Shining’s house was quite modest for the city of Canterlot; especially for someone like the captain of the royal guard, as one could travel through it--taking time to admire each room--and have finished seeing through it within an hour or two. While not that large, it was filled with memorabilia from Shining’s family. A knickknack from an uncle here, a bauble from a cousin there... Though his family wasn’t large, they always found a way to be unique and special, even amongst themselves.
Shining glanced at each piece of memorabilia and gave a smile at each one, acknowledging each one’s existence, giving a special smile to the emblem his favorite uncle had once worn, before he made his way to the door to leave his house. He began walking down the silent streets of Canterlot towards the castle to begin his shift. As he had been a guard for so long, it was second nature to wake up just before the sun rose; so now, despite being a population center, there were few ponies on the streets to be seen and Shining could hear his own hooves clopping on the ground beneath him. It would’ve been eerie if he wasn’t used to doing it every day.
After a short time, the sun just barely in the sky now, Shining arrived at the guard barracks. He had the option of staying in his own house due to his diligence and position, but his charges weren’t so lucky. Once at the barracks, he got dressed in a set of armor like the rest of them, his own being repaired at the moment, but didn’t need to use any of the facilities like showers, due to preparing beforehoof. So he spent the rest of the preparation time deciding who was going to patrol what routes. After about twenty minutes of planning and letting his soldiers prepare, they began lining up outside the barracks for roll call. Shining watched with a diligent eye as those under his command, with their white, gray, and black coats almost completely covered in golden armor, began to line up. Shining was more lax with his guards than most captains, so they weren’t in a rush, but they didn’t lollygag either.
Still, when the rest of the guards were ready for several minutes and somepony was still missing, Shining had to intervene. “Has anypony seen Gilded Silver? He is missing from roll call!”
Some of the guards began looking around at each other and murmuring, until a mare stepped forward. “Sir, I recall seeing Gilded before he left the barracks last night. He had said he was going on a secret mission, but it was believed he went to fraternize at the new club in town. It is likely he was not able to contain himself and overindulged, sir.”
Shining Armor shook his head in disappointment. “We are already low enough on recruits that we can barely do our job as it is and he goes off gallivanting and disobeying orders?” Shining sighed deeply and rubbed a hoof against his temple ”Thank you, private. Would you--and his partner--mind retrieving him? That will be your job for today. Report upon success and I shall have a new assignment for you.” The mare saluted Shining Armor, who saluted in return as she and another stallion left to retrieve Gilded.
Shining walked up and down the line of the rest of the guards. “Attention! These will be your postings for the day!” He levitated the piece of paper he had been working on while they were preparing and began listing off assignments. One group patrol through Canterlot’s music district, another patrol for the castle, these guards stand in court today and so on.
Once the assignments for the guards were handed out, Shining turned to the mare that had been standing at his side for the latter half of assigning posts. He saluted her, and she saluted in turn. “Captain Shining Armor, Lieutenant Ruby.”
Shining nodded to her. “Proceed.”
Ruby, a pegasus, unfolded one of her wings to present a scroll. “I am here to deliver a message from Commander Aquilinus.” Ruby turned to the side to present the scroll to Shining. He levitated it out and began reading it.
Captain Shining Armor,
Due to a midnight call on the previous day, my own forces have been called elsewhere to deal with a problem outside of Canterlot. It would be my honor to request that you cover the sections of Canterlot that would be under my control for the next few days.
I would also like to apologize for the suddenness of the request, but the report was received but two hours before sunrise, so I expect you understand. Nevertheless, I shall compensate you for time taken, as I know your troops are few, and you will probably have to patrol yourself to cover everything.Yours with apologies,
Commander AquilinusP.S. When I get back, how about we go out for a few drinks and see that you enjoy yourself before that wedding of yours in a couple weeks, eh?
Shining lowered the letter and sighed again. He levitated it back to Ruby, lifting a few other parchments and a quill to him. “Lieutenant Ruby, would you be so kind as to deliver a few messages for me since your commander is currently not in the area to give you orders?” Ruby nodded. “Thank you.” Shining began to write something on one parchment--then another and another--until he had 5 tied scrolls, which he hoofed to Ruby, who furled each of them in her wings, holding multiple per wing. “One for your commander upon his return, one for each of the Princesses--you may wish to hurry for that before court opens or you’ll likely have to deal with some noble or another--and one for my Lieutenant; who should be heading to the courtroom now, so you can get that to him when you deliver the first one to Celestia. The last I’ll post myself.”
Ruby nodded and began trotting away to make her deliveries. Shining walked back to the barracks and posted the parchment on the outside. It read ‘Soldiers. Captain Shining Armor will be spending today patrolling Canterlot’s shopping district. If a message needs to be delivered, locate Lieutenant Prism, or send a message runner.’
Shining, having re-read the bulletin, began heading out towards Canterlot’s shopping district. First he had to proceed through the residential district again, as it was on the way. While not more than an hour and a half had passed since he had left his home, it was enough time for several more ponies to be up and about. Not as many as normal, but it was enough to make something of a crowd, and the streets were no longer eerily silent. Shining would nod to some of the faces he recognized, but mostly he kept moving without distractions.
When he arrived in the shopping district, he began moving with purpose. He would scan the crowds for anything with potential danger, glance through shops as he passed them, but overall very little happened in Canterlot that really called for the guard’s attention. Nevertheless, Shining was a captain for a reason and he intended to remain diligent. It was his job to protect the ponies of Equestria, after all.
As the sun rose to it’s zenith at noon, Shining had patrolled through the Canterlot shopping district three times. It had been an average day, but was no less tedious. Twenty minutes into his second round and a message runner had arrived delivering news that Gilded Silver had been found. He wrote a quick assignment to the team that found him and sent it off, along with a warning for Gilded to be prepared for when Shining returned for punishment. It wasn’t too long after noon had arrived that Shining found himself approached by two of Canterlot’s residents.
Typical of Canterlot behavior, the two of them approached Shining with their noses held high. They both appeared to be wearing simple shirts with a coat wrapped around their shoulders. The mare had pink pearl earrings and the stallion had a pair of simple oval reading glasses--despite not reading anything--that stayed just at the tip of his nose. They stopped in front of Shining Armor and the stallion spoke with a very typical haughty tone of voice. Shining mentally rolled his eyes as he began to speak, “Dear guard, it has come to our attention--” Did a stallion really need that much emphasis on a single word? “--that there has been a young mare who is not a resident of this town seen entering the castle. We do not believe she would have the privilege of such an honor and should be dealt with immediately.”
Shining stared at the two of them for a moment. They seemed to have mistaken him for a guard recruit. It was that moment when Shining remembered he was using ordinary armor because his was still being fixed after a small problem with some dangerous infestation of a creature that could eat just about anything, adorable though they were. “I see. Do you have any evidence that she did not have permission to enter the castle? If not, then I’m sure the guards at the castle did their job appropriately and let her in because that is where she is supposed to be.”
The mare seemed aghast for a moment. “That simply--” Again with the too much emphasis. “--cannot be, sir guard. She came from Ponyville--” She practically spit the word in her haughty accent “--of all places. Nopony from such a backwater town could possibly have access to the castle.”
Shining smiled at them for a moment. “I see. Ponyville you say. If it isn’t too much trouble, may I ask your names? It’s important to get as much information as possible when apprehending possible criminals.”
The stallion spoke. “Of course, how rude of me. I am Jet Set, and this,” He motioned to the mare. “Is my wife, Upper Crust.” Listening to them talk was like riding a roller coaster with that dang accent of theirs. “We would like to thank you for your consideration in this matter.”
Shining nodded. “You see, I am not considering this matter. My sister happens to live in Ponyville, you see. She happens to have connections to the castle. In fact, she is probably the most connected to the castle short of the Princesses and royal guards themselves, of which I happen to be Captain of. I know who I positioned at the castle this morning and they would not let somepony in who does not deserve to be there, so I would like to ask you two to be very cautious when calling on the guards in the future, because we will have our eyes open. We do not like being called to false acts. Good day madame Upper Crust, sir Jet Set. It is not flattering to know my job is defending ponies who are as rude as you two were trying to be to this young ma’am by accusing her of being a criminal.” Shining Armor immediately walked off, leaving the two ponies with their jaws hanging open.
Shining spent the next few hours going from one false call to another. While each could have been very valid, it always happened to be a misinterpretation of some sort, and at some point he was even roped into moving some furniture out of a shop called Quills and Sofas, all the while thinking to himself, ‘What kind of shop only sells quills and sofas?’
Suffice to say, Shining was not having a good day, and he was getting more upset as time passed, because most every day had been like this almost since the day he became captain. It really made him question his position as a guard when this was what every day was spent doing.
Just as dusk was starting to come about, however, a little colt ran up to him in a panic. “Help mister! Somepony is being hurt!”
Shining immediately grew serious, and bent down to the little colt. “Are you sure? Where are they?”
The colt nodded quickly and immediately took off down the street. Shining followed him without too much difficulty, as the crowds were much smaller again, when compared to the afternoon anyway. Shining quickly found himself outside an alleyway where the colt was pointing towards. “I heard a mare scream and looked and there was this stallion and he had a knife and and--”
Shining put a hoof in front of him, nodding solemnly. “Stay here.” The colt nodded and watched as Shining made his way down the alleyway slowly. There were no screams, but he thought he could hear muffled scuffling. He turned left down the alleyway and saw a stallion with a hood over his face and a skin tight suit to hide his coat and cutie mark. He was holding a knife at a mare as he held her mouth shut, trying to look through her purse at the same time. He was obviously not very good at this, but he was trying, and that was the problem.
“Halt! Cease your vile act or be held accountable under the judgement of the Princesses!” All unicorn guards could use an (admittedly) toned down version of the Royal Canterlot Voice and it was this voice Shining now used. The mugger immediately looked at Shining, dropping the knife at the same moment. He grabbed the purse in his mouth and immediately bolted down the alleyway, only to run into a solid purple magic force field. He looked back at Shining, his eyes terrified. Shining stepped closer and levitated the purse out of his mouth. He handed it to the mare with a smile, putting a force field between him and the mugger to prevent being blind-sided. “Get out of here, I’ll see to it that he gets punished.” The mare hurriedly nodded and left in a rush.
Shining turned back to the stallion. “I have you trapped now. I have sent a magic message to my lieutenant and there will be a pair of my own armed guards to take you back to the castle for punishment.” Shining’s look became softer as he looked at the mugger sadly. “I hope you realize how wrong you were in doing this and come to your senses. I don’t know what your punishment will be, it is not up to my discretion so don’t start talking to me about it. I’m sorry that whatever happened in your life drove you in this direction, but it was your choice.” At that moment a pair of guards arrived on the scene. Shining saluted them and they saluted back. Shining let the force field drop and they began to lead him away. Shining sighed, leaving the alleyway, only to find the colt that had led him there still there, wide eyed.
“Did you really save that lady from that bad guy? That is so cool! It must be awesome to be a guard!”
Shining looked at the kid sadly for a moment, before putting on a grin. “It’s our job to help ponies not get hurt, true. But our real goal is to prevent things like this from happening. Everypony is good, they just need to realize it first. My first goal as a guard is to encourage ponies to do better. Do you think you’ll be a good colt?”
The colt nodded enthusiastically. “I want a cutie mark that will make me a good guard!”
Shining shook his head. “Like I said, all we do is encourage good and protect ponies, no matter what. Any cutie mark could be used for that! You can become a guard no matter your special talent.”
The colt looked up at him with wide eyes and a large grin before trotting off.
Shining smiled as the colt trotted away. “No matter what, we protect the future of ponies and of goodness.” Shining began walking calmly back to the barracks to wrap everything up for the night and rest up to do it all again tomorrow.
Bon Bon let out a sigh as she stepped back from the oven, drawing a hoof across her sweat-covered brow. Her kitchen was hot. Not the nice, relaxing, sauna-type hot, but the kind of hot that makes you wish you were icecream, simply so you could melt. She glanced around the room and frowned. Something was wrong. The counters were spotless, the cupboards all closed, the floors swept and the dishes done and yet... something was off.
The earth pony nibbled on her lip as she scanned the room again. Oh, she thought. It’s too clean. That’s the problem.Where is she, I wonder? Bon Bon let out a ‘hmph’ and turned back to the oven, where her last batch of sweets was finishing its baking. As she waited for the timer to finish, she counted silently in her head.
5...
4...
3...
2...
1... Here she is. Sure enough, as soon as the timer went off, a mint green unicorn was at Bon Bon’s side, rubbing her hooves together in anticipation.
“They’re mint this time, aren’t they Bon Bon? Mint is my favorite you know. Well, of course you know, but maybe you’ve forgotten. Mint is my favorite! They are mint, aren’t they?”
Bon Bon sighed and moved the tray onto a cooling rack waiting on the counter, but gave her roommate the answer she wanted to hear.
“Yes, Lyra. They’re mint. I’ve known mint is your favorite since you moved in with me.”
“Ohhh, goodie! Can I have some?” the green unicorn begged, ready to crank out the crocodile tears. Bon Bon couldn’t resist those. But she shook her head.
“No, Lyra. I have to take these up front, they're for display only,” the cream earth pony said firmly, ignoring Lyra's crumpled expression. For good reason, too, she thought.
“Please, Bon Bon? Just one!”
“No, Lyra. We both know if I let you have one, they'll all be gone.”
“But--”
“No buts. These are display only!” Bon Bon said, a hint of anger entering her voice. Lyra shrank under her friend's glare.
“Sorry Bon Bon,” the dejected unicorn mumbled, shuffling sadly out of the room. She purposefully walked into a wall in the hallway and a small crash could be heard as a vase fell to the floor. Bon Bon rolled her eyes at her housemate's dramatic exit and shouted loud enough so her friend could hear.
“You're paying for that vase!” A wail could be heard in response and Bon Bon just shook her head. She turned back to the oven and picked up the tray off of the rack she had set it on while talking to Lyra. She carried it carefully towards the kitchen doorway, a bit annoyed she couldn't see her hooves past the tray. Her progress was halted by a heap of green unicorn though, who lay in the doorway moaning. Bon Bon tripped on the green mare's hooves and fell on her face in the hall, mint candies flying everywhere. Bon Bon struggled to her hooves first and spun to face the unicorn, fuming.
“Lyra, of all the stupid things--“ Bon Bon cut her rant short as she noticed Lyra standing up and gazing at the mint candies that lay scattered on the floor. The more mature pony, out of habit, immediately began counting.
5...
4...
3...
2... Bon Bon never made it to one. By the time she had finished thinking 'two', Lyra had swooped down and snagged all of the sweets off the floor in a single gulp. Black-Hole-Lyra sat on the floor in front of her, cheeks bulging with candy. Despite this, though, Lyra beamed at Bon Bon, who stared at the unicorn mare in disbelief. How is her mouth that big? The sitting mare stopped beaming, a concerned expression starting to slide over her features.
“Ermph, Bomph Bomph? Deesh candeesh tashte weirph,” she mumbled around her gigantic mouthful of candy. She spat the candies onto the floor and, to her horror, watched as they melted.
“Wha--” Lyra said, unable to go further. Her astonishment was plain on her face.
“They're wax, silly. Display only, remember?” Bon Bon giggled. I really am too evil. Perhaps she's learned her lesson this time, she thought. Lyra gaped at her friend and roommate and then sighed.
“Bon Bon, that was really clever of you. Mean, but clever,” Lyra said, her tone less bouncy than usual. Then it was Bon Bon's turn to gape.
“Whoa, Lyra! You just spoke two sentences without sounding like an over-energized filly! Congrats!” Bon Bon said, causing Lyra to simply rolled her eyes.
“Bon Bon, you're silly. I always talk normally. I mean, who doesn't talk normally? Well, aside from maybe Pinkie Pie. I wonder if I should ask her, 'Hey Pinkie Pie, do you think you talk normally?' Although maybe I shouldn't be so rude about it. 'Pinkie, what's your definition of normal?' Hmm, that's no good -- that could get weird. That would be funny, having a weird conversation about being nor--” Bon Bon jammed her hoof into Lyra's mouth. The silenced unicorn started playfully gnawing on her hoof and Bon Bon yanked it away like she'd been slapped.
“I am the PONYMONSTER! I must EAT!” Lyra moaned, leaning towards Bon Bon with jaw lolling. Bon Bon squeaked and ran into the kitchen.
“No! Don't eat me Ponymonster! I'll make more candy, don't worry, just don't eat me! Eek!” Bon Bon yelled behind her. Lyra snapped out of zombpony mode and sat on the floor with a slight 'squee'.
“Okay! I'll be right here until it's done,” she said happily. Bon Bon groaned and headed back into the kitchen to make some candy for her ponymonster friend.
A week later, Bon Bon leaned over the oven again, this time waiting for her butterscotch to finish. The kitchen was clean again, meaning she should be expecting a surprise attack from Lyra as soon as the timer went off.
5...
4...
3...
2... Bon Bon dived forward and turned off the timer before it rang. She turned around triumphantly, confident that her housemate wouldn't be in the kitchen this time. She was startled to see the green unicorn standing right there, watching her with a happy grin. Bon Bon sighed.
“I should've known it wouldn't work. Oh well. Hello, Lyra.”
“Hi Bon Bon!”
“I'm taking these out of the oven now, don't eat them,” Bon Bon said, glaring at Lyra warningly, the green mare raising a hoof as if making a promise. Bon Bon decided not to mention the fact it was the right hoof you were supposed to hold up, not the left. Bon Bon pulled the candies tray out of the oven and put it on the cooling rack with a final glance at Lyra, who hadn't moved. Just then, the bell rang from the front of the store. Bon Bon went to answer the customer. Lyra watched her go, making sure she was out of sight before inching towards the cooling butterscotch candies.
Bon Bon finished helping Twilight, the local librarian, and headed back to the kitchen to bring out her new tray of candies. Lyra already had half of them in her mouth and was holding another several in a cloud of magic. Upon seeing Bon Bon, she dropped those and opened her mouth to speak, dropping a few more.
“I cash eshplain?” Lyra said, looking to her friend apologetically.
“They're wax,” Bon Bon said dismissively. Lyra stared at her friend and quickly spat out all of the candies and ran from the room.
“Now I have to brush my teeth again!” Lyra wailed as she headed to their bathroom. Bon Bon sighed. Does the five second rule count with saliva? Probably not. I'll just have to make more...
Twilight sighed as she flipped the page of her book with her hoof. It was already well past noon and there had been no visitors to the library, not even Rainbow Dash had stopped in to see if the latest volume of the ‘Daring Do’ series had arrived; it hadn’t. Even Spike was out doing something with the Cutie Mark Crusaders.
She sipped her tea, drawing a modicum of comfort from the complex and familiar flavors that flowed hotly over her tongue and down her throat. The weather had turned towards winter and Twilight had wasted no time in breaking out her best tea leaves from storage. There was nothing like a warm cup of tea on a lazy autumn afternoon.
Just Twilight, her books, and her library all to herself.
Twilight turned back to her book and continued to read as the day wore slowly on, the ponies of Ponyville living out their daily lives without worry. Simple ponies with simple pleasures. Applejack’s familiar voice could be heard from the market square, above the clamor and bustle of her fellow stall keepers.
Finding a stopping point, Twilight floated a bookmark into the volume and shut the worn cover. After adjusting it on her reading desk until it was just so, Twilight turned to the rest of her library. Trotting from shelf to shelf, purple auras corrected out of place books and generally tidied up the overall appearance of her library.
There is only so much cleaning and general organizing one pony can do before sinking into the depths of insanity, however.
Twilight was up-to-date with her letters to Princess Celestia, and even her minor correspondence with Princess Luna was waiting on the lunar diarch’s reply. Her work on her latest spell awaited a book from the Royal Canterlot Library for further development. The grocery list had been filled and completed yesterday and even her list of books to order had been completed and checked...
‘I could go over the order list again,’ Twilight thought to herself, magicking the particular list out of a small pile on her writing desk, her quill following quickly after.
Replacements for nearly every spell book on the theory of magical travel needed to be ordered, the library’s copy of Star Swirl the Bearded’s biography, various atlases and encyclopedia volumes, several cookbooks had been lost to Ditzy’s desire to learn how to bake muffins on her own...
The list wasn’t long, but it was detailed to the extreme. Everypony who had had a hoof in the needed replacement of a book was listed next to the title accompanied by a checkbox to signify if they had paid or not. Most had, but there were a couple of stragglers that needed another reminder. Another piece of parchment floated next to the order list, having been summoned from her desk, and another checklist was formed with the names of ponies that needed yet another payment reminder.
Her mind wandered, the list and quill floating onto the center table without being noticed by the violet mare. Her magical talent had certainly progressed since coming to Ponyville all those years ago, meeting all of her friends and their adventures together. Unicorns, by and large could not manipulate vast numbers of objects in a telekinetic field, limited to somewhere around five or fewer; Twilight had never been bothered by such limitations. Using magic was as natural as using her hooves.
Her cup of tea floated over from the desk and she drained the last bits of the cooling liquid from the intricately decorated piece of ceramic. In the kitchen her kettle made its way through onto the stove, having been recently filled with fresh water.
There was a quiet knock at the door before a yellow coated mare stepped into her quiet sanctuary.
“Hi Twilight,” greeted the mare closing the door behind her.
“Hello Junebug,” replied Twilight with a smile. “How are you today?”
“I’m good,” giggled Junebug. “Just bringing back that book.” She pulled a cloth bound volume out of her empty flower basket. “One copy of A Cure for Writer’s Block back on time.”
“That’s a handy little book,” Twilight said, taking hold of the book her magic and floating it over to another desk. “Did he like it?”
“Oh yes,” sighed Junebug dreamily. “He thought it was the greatest thing ever, even ordered his own copy so he could write in it and everything.”
“He didn’t--” started Twilight in shock.
“Oh no!” gasped the yellow mare, putting a hoof over her chest. “He would never do that!”
Twilight sighed in relief, floating a large ledger over from the center table.
“I take it, then, that’s everything’s going well?” The ledger creaked open, pages fluttering as they turned, coming to a stop at the last written page; Twilight marked off the the checked out book under Junebug’s name.
Junebug nodded, a blush blooming across her face. “It’s been wonderful.”
Twilight smiled for her customer. “Bring him by sometime, I love his work.”
“You got it Twilight,” Junebug said turning towards the door. “Quick Write said that he really wants to meet you.”
Twilight laughed good naturedly, walking the yellow mare to the door. “I look forward to it, does he still have that beard of his?”
“Oh yes,” laughed Junebug as she opened the door. “Its even bigger and bushier than before.”
Twilight laughed as she waved goodbye and shut the door, blocking out the cool gust of wind that picked right up. The setting sun pooled through the windows of the library, filling the room with a warm, orange glow. She couldn’t help but smile as memories of her tutelage under Princess Celestia and the time that they spent together at sunset, watching the Alicorn lower the sun and raise the moon over Equestria. It was among the few times that they truly had to themselves during the day, without any real obligations to anypony.
Her kettle whistled angrily from the kitchen breaking Twilight from her fond memories and sending her trotting hurriedly after it. The library’s ledger still floated in the air, the ink still drying next to Junebug’s name.
Macintosh stood in the apple fields and sniffed at the air as thunder rumbled ominously in the distance. Smelled like rain, which was always more of tell than the clouds ever could be. Clouds could lie—pegasi could forget about them, they could get hit wrong and not get the water out, or they could simply fly away without a drop coming out if the weather patrol didn't factor in air currents.
But the smell... the smell of rain never lied to the farmer. It told Macintosh that a big storm was coming, with or without pony intervention.
“Wrap it up, AJ,” he called loudly to his sister. She glanced up from her more finesse based work of trimming and wiped at her brow.
“Why?” she asked.
“Storm's comin',” he quickly said, turning around and grabbing what baskets he had prepped. “Take 'em ta the barn.”
“We ain't scheduled fer a storm for 'nother two hours! We--”
“Hurry! It'll be here in few minutes.” The stallion quickly carried the baskets of apples towards the barn, and watched as Applejack begrudgingly stopped to carry her own baskets inside.
000
Applejack and Macintosh had barely cleared the porch when the storm hit, and it was a creature of sound and fury, pounding on the shingles and slamming onto the packed dirt. Lightning streaked across the sky at an alarming pace, letting the two of them know the weather was going to last for quite some time. The stallion shut the door behind him, and the noises were slightly muted.
He gave the smallest of sly looks towards his sister.
“Don't ya even start,” she huffed.
Above them, the thunder cracked ominously in the sky once more.
“Power might go out at this rate.”
Applejack rubbed her chin. “Ya reckon so? Guess I'll get the can--”
Suddenly, thunder blasted at a deafening pitch throughout the house—Macintosh and Applejack both instinctively covered their ears at the noise. Around them, all the lights instantly shut off.
“--dles.” She finished.
With a lazy shrug, Mac gave up on things to do. “Guess I'mma catch up on some sleep,” he drawled.
“Sounds mighty temptin',” the mare agreed, tilting her hat back on her head.
The siblings made their way to their respective bedrooms, each quietly walking up the stairs and going down the hallway. As they passed by Applebloom's room, they stopped, both listening to the small whimpers coming from inside.
The red stallion sighed. He wasn't getting sleep tonight. “AJ, go an get our playin' cards.”
She nodded, heading back downstairs. Macintosh raised a hoof and gave a sharp rap on the door.
He nudged the door and pushed it open gently, far more gently than his large imposing figure could suggest. Mac noticed his younger sister shivering under her covers.
Sure wasn't cold in the room.
“Hey, uh, Applebloom?” Mac asked.
“Y-yeah?” she answered, sticking out her head nervously.
“How's 'bout ya come downstairs? I think me an' AJ are gonna play some cards.”
She shuffled out of the cocoon made of blankets and looked up to her brother.
“Ok,” the filly said, shimmying off the bed and coming to Macintosh's hooves.
000
“Call,” Applejack said, tossing a few chips into the center of the floor. She yawned, looking towards the small circle of family surrounding her—even Grannie Smith had awoken from her slumber and joined them on the floor, though Macintosh doubted that she'd be able to get up without some help. Poor old mare was growing older every day he spent working.
“Fold,” the elderly pony grumbled under her breath, throwing down the cards glumly.
Applebloom poked Macintosh in the side. She leaned in close and showed the stallion her hand. It was nothing but a jumble of numbers—nothing at all playable.
“Fold,” Macintosh instructed.
“Ok.” She nodded, before sticking out her tongue at her sister. “I'm foldin'.”
“Girl! Watch those manners!” AJ scolded, turning her attention to Macintosh. She rubbed at her eyes. “Well, ya in?”
The stallion looked down at his hand. Sure as sugar he was in. He tossed five chips into the center. “Raisin' three.”
She seemed to pause, looking over her cards and trying to do some math in her head. Macintosh knew his sister was smart, and could play a mean round or two, but she just couldn't play without some obvious tells. The rubbing of her eyes and yawning was a ploy. One she subconsciously used when she had a good hand.
And it was a nervous tic that Macintosh had told her about a few weeks ago. Odds are she was trying to bluff with her tell. Only one way to find out.
“Flip em,” Mac instructed.
She put down her hand in disgust. Two pair.
Mac gave a slightly smug grin as he laid down a straight.
“Jus' how in the sam hill are ya so good a this?” AJ moaned.
The stallion kept his stonewalled face indifferent at her question.
The next round started once Macintosh grabbed his ever increasing pile of chips. He glanced over everypony elses stack.
AJ was falling behind thanks to that last round. Applebloom was doing decent for herself, and their poor grannie was dead last, with only a few chips to her name.
As the cards were passed out, the old mare had a sudden fire in her eyes. “All in,” she said in her tired, waning voice, throwing everything she had in there and glancing about as if to dare anypony to match her.
“Eh...” Applejack gave a quick glace at her cards. “Nah.”
“Nope,” Mac replied, putting his own cards face down. He had a feeling she was bluffing, but wanted to see what Applebloom would do.
“Hmm...” She scratched her forehead in thought, looking intently at her cards. Applebloom glanced at her siblings before her face split into a wide grin. “I'mma call!”
She threw her chips into the pile, and both showed their cards. Grannie had three of a kind. Applebloom's grin widened, and she reveled a flush.
“Aw, Pete's sake. She's jus' as bad of a card shark as Mac,” AJ groaned.
“Eyup.” Macintosh nodded, a proud smile of his own.
They divided up the cards once more, and everypony save for Grannie Smith tossed in two chips.
Applejack mulled over her cards, scratching behind her ear. With a small yawn, she tossed in a dozen chips. “I'mma raise.”
Macintosh eyed the pile. Looked to be about half of her earnings at the moment. She seemed really confident. Even then, the stallion knew a tell when he saw one.
“Callin' that.” He tossed his chips into the pot.
Bloom looked at her siblings in wonder. She matched the two chip for chip, before excitedly grinning. “I'm raisin' too!” she happily drawled, tossing in almost her entire collection of chips.
Applejack blanched. “Got too rich fer me. Foldin'.”
Macintosh gave a lazy glance towards the baby of the family. He supposed it was time to show her how the big ponies played. “Eyup. I'll match.” He shoveled another small fortune to the center of the table.
She swallowed, looking down at her hand. Applebloom meekly put another two bits into the pot as she offered a shaky smile. “Raisin' again. I'd quit while I was ahead if I was you.”
Macintosh saw her tell as clear as day. A small frown graced the corners of her lips when she bluffed—just like how she'd avoid eye contact when she broke something and tried to lie about it not being her.
He stole a glance over at her chips. She was almost destitute. Odds are if she didn't win this, she'd be out of the game in a couple of rounds, tops. The red stallion glanced down at his hand.
Full house. Aces high.
“I fold,” he said, planting his cards face down and watching with the smallest of smiles as the filly raked in the chips.
Written by: Chengar Qordath Rated Teen (for some adult humor)
“You’re cute.” I informed the rather attractive mare sitting on the bar stool across from me. “Let’s go back to my place. We’ll bang, OK?”
The grey earth pony frowned in careful consideration for a moment, then picked up her glass of wine and threw it in my face.
Okay. That could have gone better.
I grabbed a napkin and wiped the wine off my face, though I didn’t complain when some of it wound up in my mouth instead. She might have shot me down, but she definitely had good taste in alcohol. So ... I guess getting a little bit of free wine meant I could try to call this one a win. Or at least, a slightly less horrible defeat. Maybe I could spin it as a pyrrhic victory? “So ... I’m gonna take that as a no.”
The mare let out a haughty sniff before declaring in a voice that reeked Canterlot class, “Yes, I have no interest in ... ‘banging’ you. I prefer ponies who understand the importance of maintaining a certain sense of decorum.”
So, she was a little miss prim-and-proper. That would explain why I’d crashed and burned. In hindsight, I suppose the bowtie should’ve been a warning sign. Bowties are classy, and classy ponies tend to be uptight ponies. Normally I would’ve picked up on a little detail like that, but ... well, I seemed to be a little off my game tonight.
A snicker and a white hoof giving me a playful little nudge in the shoulder announced the arrival of my best friend, Blossomforth. A good friend would be there to offer me a couple words of encouragement after I’d just been shot down. Since Blossom was my best friend, she was instead busy taking pleasure in my misery. “So, was that an example of your ... irresistable charm? Because I think it just got resisted. Again.” The huge smirk on her freckled face only mildly irked me. “That makes, what, the fifth time tonight you’ve crashed and burned?”
“Nopony has a perfect record,” I grumbled under my breath. Still, I usually did a bit better than this. I mean, I’m a reasonably attractive mare, and The Sun’s Flank is Ponyville’s main fillyfooler bar. I like the Sun’s Flank; it’s nightclubby enough to have that nice social mingling atmosphere, but bary enough to have good stuff to eat and drink. Being halfway in between a bar and a nightclub lets it avoid the common nightclub issues of playing music so loud you can’t even hear yourself think and insisting on making all the decor bright flashy neon colors. I for one liked it when a mare could hear my pick-up lines and could actually tell that my coat was lavender and my mane was blond. I'm funny that way.
On top of the good atmosphere at the Sun’s Flank, it’s usually not that hard to find at least one mare who’s up for a good time. I guess I could always hit one of the other bars and go hunting for a stallion instead, but I was in a mare mood tonight. It’s just too bad that there didn’t seem to be any mares in a ‘me’ mood...
She rolled her eyes and gave a casual little toss of her pink and green mane. “So, didn’t you say this was supposed to teach me all about how to attract another pony?” Blossom shot out in between giggles. “Because so far all I’ve learned tonight is how to get somepony to throw a drink in my face.”
“Yeah yeah, laugh it up, Blossom.” Still, as much as I hated to admit it, she had a point. I needed to turn this around. My reputation as Ponyville’s top playmare was at stake! I had no choice but to jump back into the fray and get my mojo going.
My eyes settled on a very nice-looking blue unicorn with an hourglass cutie mark, and I trotted up to her. “Hey, you look like a nice pony. Wanna head back to my place? We’ll bang, okay?” I probably should’ve spent a little time working my way up to that, but after getting rejected half a dozen times my patience was running out. It definitely wasn't a sign of desperation.
The unicorn frowned at me, and I braced myself for yet another rejection. Instead, she just randomly announced out of nowhere, “You have something in your teeth. When was the last time you brushed?”
Well ... at least that wasn’t a no. I ran my tongue over my teeth a couple times, until I dislodged a little daisy seed that must’ve gotten stuck there at lunch. “There, seed’s gone. And I brushed this morning.”
“This morning?” The unicorn had a tiny little smile on her face, and started leaning towards my lips. Alright, finally caught a break! I pursed my lips and leaned in to kiss her. A second before we would’ve made contact her horn ignited in a bright blue glow, and my mouth was suddenly yanked wide open.
“Aggghya!?” My confusion only compounded when I saw her start floating dental tools out of her saddlebag. Oh great. Just great.
“It’s just a quick little cleaning,” she remarked with almost disturbing cheerfulness. I’m all for job satisfaction, but nopony should be that happy about messing around with another pony’s teeth. Just to make things worse, she started singing a happy little working tune under her breath. “Brushie brushie~ Brushing shiny teeth~”
“Nnngyu?” It’s kinda hard to talk when you’ve got a toothbrush and a dental pick in your mouth. Why was she cleaning my teeth? Was this some kind of fetish for her? I've seen a lot of different kinks over the years but this ... this was a new one for me.
“Oh don’t worry, this is free of charge,” she assured me. I guess a dentist would be good at communicating with somepony who was trying to talk around half a dozen dental tools. “Tell you what, I’ll pencil you in for sometime next week, full cleaning. Your teeth are in pretty good shape, but nopony’s teeth can be too clean. Just remember: brush and floss after every meal, before you go to bed, and when you wake up in the morning, and you’ll be fine. Oh, and here’s my card--give it to the receptionist, and you’ll get a five percent discount.” A business card floated up in front of my face, encased in a telekinetic field.
“Uh ... yeah. Sure thing...” I quickly checked the card. “Nice to meet you, Dr. Colgate.”
“Likewise.” She gave me a smile fully of the most perfect teeth I’d even seen in a pony’s mouth. Figures. “See you next week, and remember to brush.”
“Right...” I had a horrible suspicion that if I missed the dental appointment I’d end up getting dragged to her clinic against my will and forcibly bound to a dental chair until my teeth were absolutely pristine. As much fun as straps and a good drilling can be, I usually tried to avoid anesthetic. Still, crazier things have happened in Ponyville.
I trotted away from the disturbingly enthusiastic dentist and bumped into a giggle-snorting Blossomforth. I tried to put a brave face on my latest failure. “So ... I got a discount on my next dental cleaning. That’s progress.”
Instead of letting me save a little face, that just pushed Blossom over the edge until she was laughing so hard she flipped over onto her back, all four legs kicking in the air.
So, there goes what’s left of my dignity.
Maybe it was just time to throw in the towel and accept that I was going home alone tonight. It wouldn’t be the first time I went home alone, but I’ll admit it had been a while since I’d been stuck with nopony at all. Usually I could at least find somepony I’d banged a couple times in the past who wouldn’t mind going for another round.
Well, if I was giving up I might as well have a little something to drown my sorrows before heading home. The Sun’s Flank did have a pretty good stock of Sweet Apple Acres Cider. I settled down at the bar next to a purplish-pink earth pony and ordered a pair of hard ciders--one for me and one for Blossom.
After spending a minute or two nursing my cider and feeling sorry for myself, I felt a wing drape itself over my back. “Hey.” Blossom gave me a friendly smile and very softly nuzzles the side of my head. “So you didn’t find anypony to take home with you tonight. Big deal. There’ll be other nights, and other ponies.”
I shot a quick smile back at her. “Yeah, thanks Blossom.” I straightened my stance up a bit. “So what if I had a bad night? There’s always tomorrow.”
“Thash right!” I jumped a little when the earth pony sitting next to me suddenly threw a foreleg around my shoulders. Between the blush on her face and the way she was slurring her words, I’m pretty sure she’d been working her way through the cider for a while. “I didn’ have no luck neither, bu’ tha’ doeshn’t mean I gotta be all shad aboudit!”
“Um ... yes.” Blossom looked like she wasn’t quite sure what to think of this strange new pony inserting herself into our private conversation. That’s a hazard of talking at bars. Besides, I knew Berry Punch by reputation, and everything I’d heard about her said she was a pretty decent pony. If nothing else, she was a friendly drunk, and those were the second best kinds of drunks out there.
“Berry’s right,” I announced to nopony in particular. “I’m not letting a one-night dry spell get to me. Hay, maybe tomorrow I’ll score a small orgy or something to make up for how rotten I did tonight!”
“Thash the spirit!” Berry enthused, giving a wave of her cider mug to emphasize her point, before downing the whole thing in a single gulp. “Beshides ... the night’s shtill young! Ya might shomepony really cute ta ... ta ...” Berry trailed off and gave me a bleary-eyed look which slowly transformed in a smile. “Ya know ... I’m shad about not having nopony, and yer all lonely to ... an’ ... an’ yer pretty cute. Whadday shay we...?”
Well, that was a nice little offer. Taking Berry home would certainly put an end to my temporary little dry streak, and there was something nicely symmetrical about the two mares who’d both struck out at finding anypony going home together. “Yeah, sure. Let’s head back to your place.”
Blossom looked between Berry and me a couple times and let out a nervous chuckle. “So, uh, I guess that’s my cue to make myself scarce, right? See you tomorrow, Cloud Kicker.”
Blossom turned around and was about to start heading out when I reached out a foreleg to stop her. “Hey, no need to go running off just yet, Blossom. Stick around for a bit. At least until we get back to Berry’s place.”
That got a slightly nervous flush from Blossom. “I ... I wouldn’t want to feel like the third wheel on the hay cart. I mean, you two are...”
“Just ... stick around a bit.” I gave her a hopeful little flutter of my eyelashes. “Please?”
Berry snorted into her cider. “Yer plannin’ on a threesome, aren’tcha Clou' Ki'her?”
Blossom let out a nervous squeak and flushed redder than a tomato. I swear, sometimes I wonder how I wound up with a best friend who’s so ridiculously flighty when it comes the subject of banging. I decided I needed to do something before all the blood rushing to her face started causing medical complications. “Relax Blossom, just trust me on this one.”
Even after my assurances Blossom looked horrendously nervous and uncomfortable, but when Berry and I got up and walked out the bar she came with us. I let Berry lead the way to her house, which ended up just leading us to an empty lot. “Oh ... yesh, I fergot.” Berry let out an inebriated giggle. “M’house ishn’t here ‘nnymore. Got moved by Biggy Mac on Heartsh and Hoovesh Day.”
Her whole house got moved? Okay. Normally the idea of a ground house getting randomly shifted about by a single pony would be kinda hard to swallow, but in all honesty that probably wouldn’t even make the top ten list of strange things that have happened in Ponyville this year.
After a little bit more wandering, Berry finally found her way back to her home. Considering the huge skid marks her home left behind from getting dragged across Ponyville, it wasn’t all that hard to manage. Berry stepped up to the door and tried to grip the handle, but couldn’t seem to work out how to get a decent grip. Wow, she really had been hitting the cider hard if she couldn’t even manage to open a door. After the fourth failed attempt, I stepped forward and opened the door for her.
Berry gave me an inebriated grin. “Yer a gennlemare.” She looked at me through hooded eyes and tried to drop her voice down a seductive purr, though the slurring kinda hurt her efforts. “Why don’ botha you c’mon in. I gots some more cider, an’ we can drink an’ foal aroun’ an’...”
I politely held up a hoof to cut off. “Berry, thank you for a memorable evening, but I think it would be better if you sobered up a bit first before we did anything.” I put a friendly hoof over her shoulders and gently guided her inside. “If in the morning when you’re sober you still want to do this, come find me and I’ll bang you silly. Okay?”
Berry Punch gave me a confused and slightly annoyed frown. “But ... why’dwe gotta wait? Le’s do it righ’ now!”
I gave her a very polite kiss on the cheek before reaching past her to begin slowly pulling the door shut. “In the morning.” I repeated. “When you’re sober.” Well, given how sloshed she was, the afternoon or maybe the next day entirely was more likely; odds were she was going to have a fairly impressive hangover by tomorrow morning.
I shut the door and waited for a bit to make sure that Berry Punch wasn’t going to come out and cause a scene. Fortunately, it looked like she was taking my advice about just sleeping it off. Hopefully once she was sober and not hungover she’d still be in the mood for a little banging, because she definitely seemed like she’d be worth messing around with. Hay, she and her little sister beat me and ‘lula in the Sisterhooves Social, so she was obviously in pretty good shape. So. Her. Me. Banging. Soon. Not tonight, but soon.
I turned my back on Berry Punch’s house and found myself face-to-face with a slightly confused Blossomforth. “Cloud Kicker? Why did you...” she trailed off with a slightly embarrassed flush, but after a second or two she gathered herself up. “Why did you turn her down? I mean, don’t take this the wrong way, but I didn’t think I would ever see the day when you passed up an opportunity to mate with somepony.”
“She was drunk,” I answered simply. “I’m not gonna bang somepony I barely know, who was so sloshed she couldn’t find her own house or work out how to open her own door. So, I walked her home, and that’s it.”
Blossom stared at me with wide eyes for a few seconds, and then let out a high-pitched little giggle. “Well, she was right about one thing. You really are a gentlemare.”
I let out a self-deprecating little laugh. “Hey, don’t go spreading it around. I’ve got a reputation to maintain.” I tossed one last look over my shoulder at Berry’s house. “Still, kinda stinks that now I’m stuck with being all by lonesome for tonight.”
Blossom stepped up beside me and gave me a friendly little nuzzle on the cheek. “Hey, you’ll always have me, Cloud Kicker.”
“Yeah. Thanks. You’re a good friend” Still, good friends didn’t change the fact that I was going home alone tonight. I turned to her with a hopeful grin. “Hey Blossom, you familiar with the concept of friends-with-benefits?”
Pipsqueak was his name; Pipsqueak was his look; but Pipsqueak was not his nature. Pipsqueak, ‘Pip’ for short, was always trying to find new and extraordinary things to do. Every day was a new adventure in his eyes. And every adventure needed a new outfit. Whether he be Pipsqueak the Pirate or Pipsqueak the Parrot (One of his best costumes so far) he always had to dress up in a different way. Nopony knew why he liked to dress up as other ponies so much but nonetheless it never stopped their amusement in it.
Pip’s parents often worried about their son’s love for fancy dress. To them it seemed rather peculiar and un-pony like, but they had to live with it because Pip was never going to change his love for costumes and nopony was ever going to change his mind.
Every morning it took quite an effort for him to search through his wardrobe and look for something he hadn’t worn before. Sometimes he wouldn’t come out for days; spending his time making a special hat or prop that he needed to complete his latest creation. Nightmare Night was a perfect time to really get his brains into gear and come up with a wonderful idea for the celebration. Foals from near and far (near being Ponyville, far being Trottingham) admired him immensely for his use of materials to make something perfect. True, it wasn’t his special talent maybe, but it’s what he enjoyed doing and would never give up on.
Today’s morning activities were no different to the usual; Pip disappeared inside his large oak wardrobe and didn’t come out for a while. He always got changed in the wardrobe for some reason and he never came out for at least twenty minutes. Every day he went in there and every day he, an Earth pony, magically came out wearing a different outfit. The friends who had been over to his house on Nightmare Night to wait for him to get ready had laughed a lot when he had vanished completely into his room for a long time. It was a constant joke among them that there must be some kind of Magical Costumes land hidden at the back of the cupboard. Pip laughed along with them; he knew that wasn’t true.
In fact Pip just really loved costumes and had brought over a large collection of them with him from Trottingham. He had outfits for Princesses, Princes, Knights, Bakers, Monsters, Desserts, Pirates, Princesses, Famous Ponies, Jesters, Continents, and Planets. He basically had every costume you could ever think of inside his room. However, this did not satisfy the little colt, he needed new costumes all of the time, wearing the same on a couple of days running would just be shameful to him. Most of the money he saved up was spent at a Fancy Dress shop in Trottingham and all of these outfits had to be bought on bulk the rare times they went back to see the rest of their family. Pip had even taken the step of going to Sweetie Belle once and begging her to ask her sister to make him a party dress (an order that shocked Rarity when she was told). Sweetie Belle only agreed because she liked Pip, he was a nice colt, and if it hadn’t been for him she would have never been able to get the pointy fangs that completed her vampire costume last Nightmare Night.
Pip was brave to the point he loved to be scared. You’d think that most ponies would be horrified and embarrassed to even consider wearing silly costumes like dressing up in a party gown so he could be a royal version of Pinkie Pie for the day. He had no fear or worries about what ponies may think of it, and was possibly the only pony who hadn’t chastised the Cutie Mark Crusaders about posting gossip about him in the Foal Free Press. He was happy with whom he was and he was happy with his costume choices.
Today however, Pip seemed to be having a problem in deciding what to wear. Every so often an outfit would shoot out of the cupboard and onto his bedroom floor. Soon a whole sea of clothes was strewn everywhere in the bedroom; you could barely even see where Pip’s puppy, Matey, had been resting. The only evidence that he was still there was small muffled barks that could be heard every so often. Pip still carried on digging through his supply; not happy with his choices. This one was too new, that one was too old, that one needed to be fixed, and that one needed more sparkles. No, Pip was not happy at all.
Ponies not from places where he had once lived before would have been extremely confused to see a colt stress so much over what they would consider a trivial decision. Ponies didn’t often wear clothes anyway right? Well, no, that’s wrong, because Pip wore clothes all of the time; a lot more than every other pony had. Even Rarity could not amount to wearing as many outfits as the young Pip had.
“No, that’s not right”, he mumbled inside the wardrobe. “That hem’s far too low.” He let out an exasperated sigh and wandered out of his hiding place. Nothing, there was nothing he truly thought he could wear today. All of his outfits were not at the same level as they should be; he needed more, he needed inspiration. Sadly, he couldn’t find it anywhere in his chest of special treasures.
There was only one outfit in the cupboard that he had never worn before and he wasn’t sure if it would be ‘right’ to wear it or not. It was so strange and peculiar that even he would blush to wear it. He wasn’t sure how much respect he would get for choosing it either; he didn’t want to lose his friends over an outfit. In the end, he supposed, they liked him for him but the problem was that wearing good costumes was what he was; it’s what he did, and nopony would understand if he didn’t keep to his own standards of dressing up. It was so unfair.
Matey barked and shook himself out of the pile he had been lost under. He shot over to his master and gave him a loving lick all over his right hoof. Pip smiled. He would have gone in his dog costume, so he could be like Matey, but he had only worn that a couple of weeks ago and it wasn’t time for him to wear that again. Pip peered around the room looking for any signs of a costume he could have perhaps missed in his clear out. Nothing. He could still think of nothing. Which meant…he gulped…he had to wear that horrible outfit after all.
Ponies gasped as Pip wandered in his new attire down the streets of Ponyville towards the school. They all stared, bewildered, unable to move from the spot. There were cries of ‘Has he gone mad?’ along with phrases like ‘Poor dear.’ And ‘Somehow he doesn’t look right today.’ Pip didn’t like it, he didn’t like that he had to wear his most embarrassing costume. He blushed scarlet as he wandered into the playground. The foals all turned and he could hear giggles amongst the crowd. They thought this was funny, but Pip didn’t find it funny at all. His friend, Snappy Snaps, moved forwards, his camera hanging around his neck. He looked quizzically at his small friend for a few minutes before asking:
“Pip, what are you wearing?”
Pip looked down at his orange stripy shirt, his light blue jeans, and his white, flash trainers. It was mortifying to dress in this way.
“I suppose,” he said. “I’m dressed as Pipsqueak the Average Foal…who wants to play football with his friends.”
Pip ran off after the ball on the floor. His friends smiled and ran to join him and soon a whole game had begun. Pip laughed and his white teeth gleamed in the sunlight. He was still the best at costumes.
Octavia carefully tested the gathered waters within her tub with the tip of her hoof. Finding them satisfactorily hot without being scalding, she turned the faucets off. Her bathroom had filled with a pleasant and steamy mist, fogging her mirrors and dampening her mane just a bit. She had been looking forward to this bath all day--and everything was absolutely perfect.
Well, she thought. Not quite everything. I still need one more thing.
Not wanting to release too much of the steamy paradise she had made, Octavia opened the bathroom door, went through, and closed it as quick as she could. The bathroom connected to both her bedroom and her combined kitchen-dining room; she had entered the kitchen.
As soon as she heard the door click behind her, Octavia heard the tell-tale whistle of the kettle boiling. Right on time. Perfect.
Hurrying over to the stove, she lifted the kettle off the heat--being especially careful not to burn herself--and poured the boiling liquid into a somewhat large mug. Immediately the refreshing scent of her favorite tea, Black Rose, wafted to her nostrils; she had prepared the leaves and two sugars earlier. Inhaling slowly and deeply, she could already feel her entire body begin to relax in expectation of the things to come.
Setting the kettle down, she picked up the mug and repeated her quick moving exercise with the bathroom door, not spilling a drop of delicious amber pleasure from her very full mug. Tonight was going along so perfectly and she was determined that it would continue to do so. It had to. Octavia needed the relief more than she could possibly explain.
She had only been playing for the richest ponies and biggest concert halls for a few weeks now, but it had stressed her to her limits. While loving the fame and adoration--not to mention the bits--that came with success, Octavia had to admit she didn’t realize it was going to be as exhausting as it was. Still, it was a small price to pay and she gladly paid it.
Provided she could continue to have nights such as tonight.
Carefully placing the mug on the edge of the tub, she got out all the things she would need: shampoo, conditioner, bubble bath (which she poured on in), and a towel for afterwards. Stirring the water to create some suds, she dried her hoof and took off her bowtie, setting it delicately on the counter. It had been a gift from her father, just before her very first performance. So she was always very keen on taking care of it.
Finally, all was prepared and she was beyond ready. Lifting a hoof, she took a step into the bath. As soon as her leg went under the perfectly heated water, she felt the waves of relaxation traveling up her entire body. A little quicker than was necessary, she hopped in and slowly sank below the sudsy water.
“Aaaaaah...” she let out a long, slow sigh. Her muscles lost their knots and her usual background headache vanished. This was paradise.
Picking up the mug, she blew lightly on the tea before taking a big sip. Swallowing the delicious drink, her body shivered as it mildly burned all the way down her throat. The heat from inside and the warmth on the outside created a perfect relaxing reaction--it was better than any massage in Octavia’s opinion.
Setting the mug back down, she lowered herself in the tub until the tip of her muzzle was above the surface, allowing her to breathe while being submerged. Simply lying there, her mind went blank as she let the stresses of the past few months melt away.
It had been one hay of a journey, one she had never really known what to expect from despite her desires. For as long as she could remember, she had practiced with her cello in hopes of breaking into the fine musical circles--to be known as one of the best of the best. And now she had done it. She was happy; she was fulfilled; life was good and would continue to be so for as long as she cared to continue it.
Her peaceful mental serenity was shattered by a very loud voice asking, So what now? She opened her eyes and thought, Where did thatcome from? Grumbling, she carefully exhaled and made a few bubbles in front of her face.
Where had it come from? She was happy, wasn’t she? She had everything she had ever wanted and dreamed for. What more was there to do?
This thought continued to eat at her mind, ruining the perfect relaxation she had been feeling. Rising, she grabbed her tea and took another big sip. It was still deliciously hot, but something about it... It didn’t produce the same effect it had just minutes before.
“Damn it, I will not let tonight be ruined!” she announced firmly to nopony.
Grabbing the shampoo, she squirted some into her mane and began to work it in. She started with slow, careful strokes, trying to find relaxation from the cleaning. But her mind was a jumble of doubt and worries. Her scrubbing sped up and grew harder and harder as she tried to focus on the bath itself and not her own inner turmoil.
What do I do now? Hah! Easy. I am a musician--one of the best. All I have to do is write new compositions. That will provide all the variety I could ever need.
But none of those rich snobs you play for want anything new, came the other voice. A risk like that could leave you a failure and shunned from all the concert halls in the city.
What was she to do? Shaking her head lightly so as not to scatter suds all over, she proceeded to rinse her hair. She wouldn’t worry about it. Not right now. It was a problem that could be dealt with when she wasn’t trying to relax.
She grabbed her mug and took another sip--then pouted when she found it was already nearly cold. What’s more, she found the pleasant mist in the room thinning as her bath cooled, too.
“Time to hurry this up and just go to bed...” she said, disappointed. It had all started so well--why was it ending so terribly?
She didn’t have to worry about a thing. She was a success and would continue to be so. Nothing could take that away from her.
But is true success just fame and bits? Are those the only ingredients for a perfect life?
No, they weren’t. She remembered when she had finally worked up the courage and will to leave home in order to chase her dreams. Her parents had both supported her, but Octavia had been so reluctant to go. Sure, they wrote to one another and they even visited occasionally but... Her apartment felt so empty, no matter how nice it was.
“Is that what’s really bothering me?” she idly asked herself. “Is that why I can’t revel in perfection? Because alone...I can never be complete?”
Octavia had never thought about it before--but she was lonely. How could she enjoy a night by herself, even setting up all these things she loved, when she was by herself every night? For something to be truly perfect, it had to be special.
Being alone was never special, not for Octavia Overture.
Finishing off her now cold tea, she quickly went through the motions for the rest of her bath. It was simply a routine at this point--her focus drawn inward and on this new discovery she had made about herself.
Once again, she heard the question, So what now?
She finished and began drying herself off slowly, listening to the water gurgle down the drain. Octavia left the bathroom in a bit of a mess, her thoughts still elsewhere.
As if she were in a daze, she wandered into the bedroom one step at a time to collapse upon her bed. The distant sounds of the night entered the outskirts of her consciousness--the noise of the city that had taken her so long to ignore in those first few weeks.
So she was lonely, was she? Well, there were ways to fix that. No goal she had set so far had proven too much of a challenge--why should this be any different? Octavia laughed at her own foolishness.
The trick with any recipe was nothing more complicated than gathering all the ingredients. In Octavia’s own opinion, she had collected the most difficult to find--what was left would be a cinch. After all, was she not famous? Rich? Beautiful? Any stallion with half a brain would die for her hoof. She’d finish her little ‘list’ within the week. Then her life would be completely perfect.
Her confidence restored, Octavia crawled under her covers and wriggled to a comfortable position. The relaxation she had so desperately sought and thought lost returned. She smiled. So she wasn’t quite there yet, but did it matter? Even if she was still on the road, she knew where it would end...
“Perfection,” she said simply, letting out a happy sigh as sleep, and pleasant dreams, took over.
Vinyl opened the door to her home. The key scratched over the door knob as the sleepy mare tried to insert it into the lock. The light clicking that the lock made as it snapped open was like music to Vinyl’s ears. The only problem was that she’d already heard too much music today. Slowly the DJ walked inside of her home and slumped down on the couch, staring at the same wall, the same wall as every day.
“The same thing as always,” Vinyl mumbled to herself, still staring at the wall. But she didn’t see the wall. She saw her memories, the things that happened in her life. After a while the white mare slowly stood up and walked into the kitchen.
“The same food as always,” the unicorn muttered and grabbed a plate. She levitated a slice of bread over to her. Slowly she walked into her bedroom. Sheets of paper, empty bottles, and cans were piling on the ground of the small room and the air was thick and warm.
“The same room as always,” Vinyl Scratch said and slumped down on her bed, placing the plate with the bread next to her. She took a bite and looked around, almost longing for a change. Any change. But everything was like she had left it, the colors looking cold and grey. The shadows in the corner of her room seemed to watch her movements, crawling forwards to her like snakes.
Vinyl lit her horn up, drowning the room in a gloomy blue and laying a spooky sparkle over everything in the room. She levitated a half filled can over to herself and took a sip of the warm liquid. Slowly she lowered it and placed it on the wooden floor. This wasn’t her home; this was a prison.
“The same energy drink.... the same thing, over and over again.” Angrily, she looked around, again longing for a change, something new in her dull life. After a while she laid back and stared at the ceiling. She tried to recall the club she played in, but all she could remember were flashy lights and crowds of sweaty ponies.
“Not that the clubs would look any different from each other,” Vinyl said and took another bite of her bread, slowly shaking her head. “This is ridiculous. I could have a nice life...” she said and closed her eyes. Immediately, bright flashes and loud music shot into her head. The plate fell to the ground. As it connected with the floor, a loud clatter was heard. “Damn...”
A few minutes later Vinyl was throwing the sharp white shards into the trash can. She asked herself why she was doing this. It was a change, although a little one. It was something to break out of her prison. It was something that reminded her that everything still could be changed. But she ignored it. Vinyl sighed and looked out of the window.
“The same view. Like everyday,” the unicorn said and went back to the couch. But as she laid down on it she didn’t see the same wall. She saw bright flashes, again, bright flashes, sweaty ponies without faces, only bodies moving to the beat.
She hardly recognized herself, standing in the middle of the crowd with speakers around her and a wide grin on her face. Her eyes were blocked out by big purple shades, but she knew how they looked. Dull and hopeless, always looking at the spinning records, not into the ever same crowd. The blurry flashes were giving her headaches, the air was thicker than in her room and she had a sore throat that got worse with every single beat. One of the only things she wished for was a drink.
She immediately opened her eyes, looking out of the window. The moon stood high in the night sky and threw a slightly blue blanket of light over the rooftops of the buildings. Rain was lightly hitting against the window, making a quiet beating noise. Sleepy she sat up, groaned, and held her head in her hooves. There was the creeping darkness in the corners of the room again, just that the room was bigger this time, and so was the shadow.
Again Vinyl lit up her horn, but this time the shadows wouldn’t go away. They continued to move closer to Vinyl slowly, slowly but steadily. They creeped up to her till they blocked out the whole room and Vinyl just sat in a pitch-black room. Carefully she stood up. A strong ache shot through her head.
Vinyl sat up, heavily breathing and sweating; she could feel the single drops running down her face. After a little while, she calmed down and looked around. She was laying in her bed, the plate with the half eaten bread next to her, the can with the warm liquid still on the ground, still in her room with the thick and warm air.
“The same dream.... always...” she said and stood up, carefully aware not to throw the plate onto the floor. She sighed in relief as she saw that the shadows in the corners of her room weren't moving towards her. Vinyl walked towards the window. Slowly but steadily the clopping of her hooves on the wood was heard as she inched closer to the glass panel. She opened it and looked out into the town, onto the streets below her and into the sky which was raining down upon her. The single drops of water soaked her mane and fur. Soon they were joined by single tears that dripped down Vinyl’s face.
A few minutes later Vinyl’s face was completely wet. The white unicorn leaned out of the window and screamed out into the night, a mixture of anger and depression. She only stood there and yelled for a few minutes. After a while she calmed down and stared at the streets below her.
A few tears hit the small stones on the road, making the same sound that the rain made. But Vinyl heard something else, loud beats, every time one of her tears hit the ground.
“It’s just like a bass drop....” she said and closed the window, allowing the rain to knock on it again. “Just like my life repeats.... the same thing... over and over again...” Vinyl mumbled to herself, walking down the stairwell again, into the kitchen.
“No. I won’t give up.”, the white unicorn said, grabbing some flowers and apples and started to wash them in her sink. “It’s time to do something else.”, she said, taking a bowl and placing it on the desk. A knife levitated over to her and started to cut the apples, everything surrounded by a blue glow. A slight smile rushed over the DJ’s face as she threw the flowers into the bowl and levitated some of the apple pieces into it.
A small amount of time later Vinyl sat on her table, the bowl and a plate in front of her. Some of her self-made salad was laying on the plate and here and there a flower or a piece of apple flew up to Vinyl’s mouth. “I broke out....” she said, grinning.
“I made it.”
The next evening her eyes shot open. She grinned as she saw her tidy room and the wall with fresh blue color splattered all over it. She stood up and walked downstairs. The plate and the bowl with the remaining bits of salad were still standing on the table, but she was only interested in a little piece of paper that was lying on the chair, an address quickly scribbled onto it. She grabbed it in her mouth and turned towards the door, levitating the key to her home right next to her. As she stepped out of the room into the rest of the sun’s light she smiled brightly and closed the door behind her.
“I really want to work today....” the white unicorn said and started to walk into town, heading towards the address that was written on the piece of paper.
Spike awoke to golden sunlight streaming through the window of the bedroom he and his adopted sister shared. He sat up straight in his basket and scratched his belly, dropping his jaw in a refreshing yawn. He blinked several times, surprised at his wakefulness, but shrugged it off and flung the blankets from his toasty body.
As he crawled out of bed, he could see Twilight still sleeping peacefully in her own. Goodness knows how familiar he was that sight; Twilight staying up late into the night studying, not waking until well after her mentor's sun had risen.
After a quick stretch to alleviate any stiffness he felt, Spike skipped out of the bedroom and bounded downstairs to find the library in mild disarray. There were books scattered about on various tables and a few stacked precariously on the floor. Spike figured Twilight must not have had the energy to tidy up after both a day of business and a night of studying. Well, the library's opening hours were still some ways away, so he figured he had plenty of time to clean up.
Hm, might as well make breakfast while I'm at it, he thought. Mmm... Pancakes sound good! But first...
The dragon briskly waddled to where the library's gramophone stood on top of a small cabinet filled with various records. He opened the big drawer and skimmed through its contents until he found the record he was looking for. Carefully removing its sleeve, he set the disk on the gramophone's turntable, switching it on and putting the needle in place.
Spike smiled in satisfaction and got moving. He went to the kitchen and took a cast iron pan from one of the cupboards and put it on the stove, turning on the flame to begin heating it up.
“I'm floating around, in ecstasy, so don't, stop, me nooow!” the song resonated throughout the library.
“Don't, stop, me,” Spike sang along as he ran back out of the kitchen. “'Cause I'm–
“Havin' a good time–” Spike slid out of the kitchen on his knees, hands in the air. “–Havin' a good time!”
Spike jumped to his feet and set about cleaning up the library. He quickly grabbed a small stack of books from the reading table and looked at their titles. Knowing their locations from memory, he ran around the room, replacing them where they belonged on the various shelves.
“I'm gonna go, go, go! There's no stoppin' meeeee!”
Spike completed his first circle around the library and zoomed back into the kitchen. Throwing on an apron and a plump chef's hat, he swiftly opened the refrigerator and grabbed a milk carton, two eggs, and tray of butter. Dropping the armful on the counter, he reached into an overhead cupboard for a bag of flour, baking soda, salt, and a mixing bowl.
“Don't, stop, me noooow!” Spike continued to sing along as he cracked the eggs on the edge of the bowl. Sliding one foot behind the other, he performed a little spin to the rhythm of the song, tossing the empty shells over his head and into the garbage bin. Smirking, he added the rest of the ingredients, stirring them around until they formed a batter.
“Don't, stop, me noooow!”
“'Cause I'm havin' a good time!” Spike checked the metal pan's heat with one of his fireproof claws and determined it would need just a little more time. He ran out of the kitchen, threw off the apron and hat – “I don't wanna stop at aaaaaall!” – and scooped up another stack of books.
Running around the room again, he slid the tomes into their respective places, occasionally having to jump up quickly so as to reach the higher shelves. When he came to the last book, which belonged on a shelf out of his jumping range, he skittered to the library's rolling ladder and slid it over.
“I'm burning through the skyyy, yeah!” He climbed the ladder with practiced agility. “Two hundred degrees, that's why they call me 'Mister Fahrenheit'!” He punctuated the nickname by flicking the last book into place. Keeping his movements in time, he jumped off the ladder, landing in a surprisingly skilled somersault on the floor, then ran back into the kitchen.
He threw on the apron and chef's hat once more and carried his batter-filled mixing bowl to the now fully-heated pan on the stove. Using a large spoon, he poured some of the batter into the pan, then set aside the bowl and – routinely discarding the apron and hat – sped out of the kitchen again.
He briefly looked around and grabbed a few scattered books that he knew belonged on high shelves.
“Don't stop me, don't stop me, ooh ooh ooh!”
He climbed up the ladder and, holding the stack of books in one claw, pushed off of the shelf, setting the ladder in motion. As the song reached it's crescendo that marked the beginning of the instrumental interlude, the ladder rolled smoothly around the room. Spike quickly slid the books into their places as it rolled – reaching low to place one on a shelf below him, high to do the opposite, back to place one on a shelf he had almost missed, and push off again to keep the ladder moving.
As he put the last book in place, the ladder came to a stop and Spike slid down the side of it. His little legs were already running by the time they touched the floor. He dashed back into the kitchen (it needn't be mentioned that he threw the apron and hat on again, so we won't bother from here on out) and took a spatula from a vase of various large utensils. He lifted one side of the pancake to check that it was properly browned. Seeing that it was – “I wanna make a supersonic mare outta you!” – he tossed the half-cooked pancake into the air with a fancy little flourish of his arms. Before it could land perfectly on its opposite and uncooked side, Spike was already out of the kitchen and picking up more books.
“Don't, stop me noooow!”
“I'm havin' such a good time!”
He leapt to the edge of a high shelf, clutching the edge with his toes. He had just enough time to slide a book into place before gravity overtook him and he landed back down on the floor. After putting a couple more books back he re-entered the kitchen and removed the cooked pancake, setting it on a cooling rack next to to stove, and poured another spoonful of batter onto the pan.
“Don't, stop, me noooow!”
“'Cause I'm havin' a good time!”
The library was almost completely tidied up by now, and the song was likewise coming to its close.
“Let’s finish this before it ends!” Spike challenged himself with a grin.
That left him with just under thirty seconds to do so. He sprinted as fast as he could, still singing, to the last stack of books. He circled one final time around the library, having to jump up against a bookase again once or twice, and just as he put the last one in its place, the song reached its final verse.
“La la, la la la..." the gramophone crooned, repeating the melody of the song’s introduction.
Spike walked into the middle of the library, animatedly singing along, eyes closed with one claw on his chest, the other outstretched dramatically.
When the song finally trailed off, Spike let the silence hang for a moment and took a bow. But as he did so, he heard the sound of quiet applause.
He looked up to see Twilight at the top of the stairs, clapping for his performance. Though feeling a little embarrassed, he bowed again, nonetheless.
“Uh... heh,” Spike began, scratching the back of his head bashfully as a small blush adorned his face. “How long've you been there?”
“Not long. Just enough to see the finale,” Twilight said, smiling at him. “And are those pancakes I smell?” she added as she sniffed the air.
“Uh, yeah. Speaking of which, I need to flip that one.” He jogged to the kitchen as Twilight went back into the bedroom to do her morning chores.
“Uh, sorry I woke you, by the way,” Spike called apologetically after he had flipped the pancake. “Guess I didn't think of that, heh...”
“Oh, don't worry, Spike. It's about time I got up, anyway,” Twilight answered with a wry little chuckle.
With a sigh of relief, Spike poured some water from the faucet into a kettle and began heating up for pot of tea. He set it on a burner next to the pan and went back to making pancakes. Pour, wait, flip, wait, take off pan, repeat. He had done this thrice more – accompanied by his own humming of the song that was still playing in his head – when Twilight came down the stairs.
Spike took the kettle off the stove and poured its contents into a tea pot along with a healthy amount of leaves from a little box. Twilight went about setting the dining table for the two of them. As she levitated the cooked pancakes on to a large plate, Spike poured more batter into the pan and joined the purple mare at the table.
“Thank a lot for this, by the way,” Twilight said as they ate, motioning to the library. “I was so tired last night that I didn't think to clean up.”
“Oh yeah, no problem. I kinda figured that,” Spike said with a smile and a chuckle. He crammed the rest of his pancake and went back into the kitchen to flip the one still in the pan. After that, he took the pot of brewed tea and returned to the table.
“Whoops, hang on,” he said, realizing something was missing after he had set it down. He ran back into the kitchen, returning a moment later with a tea cozy that he placed on the pot. At the ringing of his mental clock, the dragon turned around to flip the next pancake, but Twilight gently grabbed his shoulder with her magic.
“I'll take care of it,” she said with a warm smile as she got up from her chair. “You've done enough work this morning.” She briefly nuzzled Spike on her way to the kitchen; he returned it happily with a word of thanks.
While waiting for Twilight to come back with more pancakes – which, he didn’t bother denying to himself, were pretty darn good – he occupied himself by pouring cups of tea for the two of them. Adding his preferred amount of sugar and cream, Spike didn't bother to let it cool – being a dragon and all – and he had been sipping contentedly for a minute or two when Twilight finally returned. With her she was levitating three fresh pancakes which she put on the big plate between them. She thanked him for a second time that morning upon noticing the cup of tea he poured for her.
After a couple minutes of companionable silence induced of happy munching and sipping of tea passed, Twilight spoke. “So, why'd you clean up this morning? I mean, I'm not ungrateful or anything, it's just that you usually don’t go through all that work – and this–” She motioned to the breakfast before them. “–without me asking.”
Spike paused with the tea cup in his claw halfway to his mouth and thought for a moment. "Hm... I dunno, actually." He smoothed down the scales on his head with a sly smirk – "I guess I just felt like,” – put on a pair of sunglasses – “havin' a good time," – and finished it off by taking a sip of tea.
She awoke amongst a tangle of velvet sheets, her light-blush mane splayed around her head; the background to a plain portrait. Her skin felt dry and cracked against such soft material, and disgust raised its ugly head and glared with a look of untempered disdain at her mind’s eye. She mentally pleaded with it to give her another few minutes of uncaring bliss, but it was unrelenting.
With an ungraceful groan, she slid from her place of slumber and stood unsteadily on four unkempt plastic-white hooves. How they sickened her.
She averted her eyes and threw back her mane. It settled messily against the back of her neck, an untamed pink growth complete with jutting strands of twig-like hair that served only to remind her how much work there was to be done.
Her abode was spacious, a veritable treasure trove of expensive tastes and impeccable feng shui, designed by artists, built by sculptors. Her furniture was sleek, sharp, an intended analogy for the lifestyle of one such as her. Residing on the ceiling, a delightfully ironic classical painting observed the beginning of her day with an amused yet condescending gaze. She did not return it, for she was incomplete and it was not her place to grace beauty with ugly eyes.
On heavy, trudging hooves she crossed the room, hating the feel of the magically softened carpet against the calloused edges of her limbs. She was not worthy to walk, no, to even stand upon such simple elegance. Shame burned through her veins as no alcohol ever could, that she was less than the ground upon which she walked.
She was a disgrace to such a beautiful home. Truly, she deserved to be cast out and made to live in the dank and shallow streets that befit her. Only among the dirt and rainwater did she belong, for such inelegance was not to be tolerated in a place like this.
Outside, the sounds of Canterlot slowly awakening made her heart beat faster. Time was of the essence, despite how relaxing the noise might be. Whereas most ponies might take the moment to step back and simply exist in an effort to appreciate the sublime beauty of a Canterlot sunrise, she did not have the moment to waste.
There was much work to be done, and just as a painter must work quickly to capture an ever-changing landscape, she too needed to begin her piece before the moment could pass.
Into the cavernous bathroom she ventured and on came the mirrored lights. She likened herself to a writer carving her quill in preparation for a grand new work, or perhaps a painter waking up early to mix the colours he knew he would need. She liked that one the most. It was not a far stretch to class her own art as painting. It always seemed like such a delicate form of expression, which was exactly what she sought.
Small silver cases were opened and containers and tools were brought out. With practiced ease, they circled her, bathing her imperfections in a white magical haze. For the briefest second, she closed her eyes and watched the light dance behind them.
The writer had dipped his quill and was lowering it to paper.
The painter had dabbed at a colour and was taking it to easel with practiced flair.
“I am dead,” she whispered to herself, the mantra of a thousand mornings. “I am buried and forgotten. I am nameless and disgusting. And I must be reborn.”
And so she began her art.
Her skin, once dry and cracked, was the first to be renewed. Creams, foreign in both origin and texture began to apply themselves to her cheeks. The scent of lilies made her gasp in delight, as a painter would gasp at the just-so placement of a bird in the sky. The smell inspired her, created new avenues of artistry to explore. It gave her art direction, for which she was ever grateful. Her skin soon glowed with an almost ethereal shade of silver.
Some might question the value of such a shade under more powerful tones, such as gold or red, but the artist found it to possess a subtler nature about it that was impossible with darker colours. And subtlety was the key to any good art.
Her hooves, which had disgusted her so intensely upon their first use this morning, were the next targets for her talent. New liquids and ointments separated themselves from the floating array and were applied with the speed and skill that only countless years of experience could provide. In her mind’s eye, she saw the writer feverishly crafting words at the behest of inspiration, weaving sentences together on instinct rather than with any conscious direction. That was the sign of a true artist, she thought approvingly. When the reality of details were left behind and only the pure, unadulterated power of imagination and creation remained; that was what gave art its meaning.
The four limbs upon which she stood now shared the perfection first attained by her visage, causing her chest to swell with pride. They gave her posture the strength of pulchritude without sacrificing their delicate nature. After all, she thought, fragility and beauty go together quite well, like when the painter mixes two colours to create a third.
Alas, the final chapter, the final strokes, were approaching. A lightness grew behind her eyes, the elation of nearing completion almost overwhelming her. But she calmed herself, knowing that if she were to make a mistake now, her joy would turn to anguish; a raindrop on the easel.
The catastrophe that pretended to be her mane was besieged by the violent ministrations of three brushes, each working in synch with the others to carve through the mess of knots and restore order to chaos.
But order is not art, not on its own, and soon they began to flick and twirl her mane into impassioned patterns, spinning each hair into a sensual pose reminiscent of a gently wilting flower. Yet it was not of death that her mane held resemblance, only of life. Pink, weightless, at ease, it flowed as easily as a newborn foal’s laughter.
Her tail did not escape such attention, and with the success of her mane still shining, she found the inspiration to give it the full treatment. Once more, she saw the artist spotting a mountain on the horizon and grinning at the challenge it presented. A similar grin split her lips as the brushes dug themselves into her tail without hesitation. They tore through every imperfection without breaking a hair, continuing until it was a coifed masterpiece, matching her mane in every aspect.
At last, her work was complete!
The painter stumbled back from his easel, eyes wide and hooves shaking at the raw emotion his piece evoked.
She raised her head high, looking in the mirrors from every angle. If it was wrong to admire her own art, she did not wish to be right. After all, what purpose did it serve if not to be enjoyed?
Her eyelids lowered in a sultry manner, and a sensuous smile quirked at her lips.
“I am Fleur De Lis,” she hissed sharply, sleekly. “And I am beautiful.”
Applejack lounged in the noonday sun, under a shady apple tree. She watched as a little bumblebee flew between each blossom and she smiled as the little bee buzzed about hard at work; Applejack knew that thanks to her,she would soon be hard at work herself come harvest time.
Applejack watched for a few minutes more before getting up, early spring have been a time of some leisure for the Apple Family but there was always work to do. Big Mac was plowing the west fields this year and--thanks to last year’s Zap Apple profits--he had bought a new plow. Applejack chuckled as she remembered him trotting about with it like it was made of gold. Little Apple Bloom and her friends were chasing behind him with the apple seeds trying to get apple sowing cutie marks. Granny Smith was visiting the farm’s beehive to sing for the queen; Granny said that it helped with the honey production.
Applejack’s job was to check all the apple trees for pests and fungus or even Firelight. They had once lost an entire field to the disease, but now they were much more careful. Thanks to some of Granny’s root mix there hadn’t been a problem like it in a while. Suddenly, Applejack heard a familiar buzz- the little bee from earlier had followed her!
“Huh, I guess she heard Granny Smith’s singin’!” Applejack joked silently to herself, but she was glad for the company just the same. She resumed her examinations with the quiet buzzing at her side. Quite a few of the Apple Family actually had bee-related cutie marks. These Apple clan members always argued that it’s the bee’s help that make the best apples. Their motto was “A happy bee works happy!” A lot of times Applejack found it hard to argue against it, the bees did help, but the farmers also put a lot of work into it. She always said that both sides were right and that’s the truth.
It wasn’t long before Applejack came across a small family of aphids, nestled on a twig. She hated to move critters from their home, but they could cause damage to the apple trees. ‘Maybe,’ she thought, ‘I can get Fluttershy to talk them into moving somewhere else.’ ; her little bee friend buzzed angrily at the little aphids--they were too close to her flowers. Applejack quickly moved on and luckily the bee followed her again, buzzing behind her in a huff.
Her next grove of trees had the biggest blossoms she had ever seen! Even Bloomberg hadn’t bloomed this well! The bee behind her lost all interest in anything else and began rushing to and fro dancing into each pinkish white flower with joy. Applejack chuckled and waited for her to gather her fill, and they started off to the next grove.
This grove had a disappointing amount of fallen branches scattered around. She began to tidy up as best she could but she would have to come back with the family wagon later. With all the branches in a small and somewhat neat pile, Applejack moved on.
At last, she had reached the Apple Family private grove, where every member of the Apple Family had planted a tree for themselves. Every Cousin, Aunt and Uncle came back during the Apple Family reunion and they took care of their tree or the tree of a deceased relative; the apples grown here were used in the big Apple Family picnic. Even the Oranges enjoyed such a feast, where quite a few stories and good memories were shared by all.
She stopped at Granny Smith’s, it was the first regular apple tree planted in Sweet Apple Acres. The tree was gnarled and old, but still bore the best tasting apples on the farm. Next to Granny Smith’s tree was Grandpa Crab Apple’s tree. The tree was a lot like him, Granny would say, tall, strong and too sour for words, but sweetest to those he loves. Applejack paused at the next tree; it belonged to her father, Sundance. The tree towered over the rest, broad and tough. Very much like her father. Sundance taught Applejack and Big Mac everything he knew about farming, but he also loved to cook and tried to teach them both, but Big Mac had always been more into growing the apples than cooking them. She remembered that he never saw the point when they could just eat them raw. Sundance was ecstatic to learn that Applejack loved to cook and helped her master the culinary art; it became their special time. Applejack chuckled--they had gotten so good that even Big Mac wouldn’t complain about their cooking apples.
Her mother, Cinnamon, was a different story than Sundance’s down home ways; she had been a plucky young mare from Manehatten, with a taste for adventure and a big heart. Applejack smiled half-heartedly, she remembered her mother always wandering around the small town greeting ponies and making sales for the Apple Family. Applejack always remembered the way she talked about her life in Manehatten, it was one of the many reasons why she had chosen to go there to live with her Aunt and Uncle Orange. She was always a big city girl, but she could buck apples with the best of the Apple Family. One of the best memories Applejack had of her mother was when she would sing her and her brother a simple lullaby,
Day is done, gone the sun
From the lakes, from the hills, from the sky
All is well, safely rest;
Luna is nigh.
Big Mac would always join in with his deep voice, even then.
Applejack smiled and wiped the tears away from her face; Applejack always sung it to Apple Bloom before bed, she just wished that her mother could be here to sing it to all of them instead. It was just after Apple Bloom had been born when Sundance fell ill and passed on. Her mother had taken it hard--she wouldn’t eat or sleep and when Big Mac or Applejack would ask her why, she would smile half-heartedly and quietly reassure them, though she soon fell ill herself. When she passed, Big Mac never sang again. Applejack decided then that she would go to Manehattan and live the life her mother had talked about.
Her time in Manehattan made her miss her life on the farm even more and after seeing Rainbow Dash’s rainbow trail, she galloped as fast she could back to her farm. That was when she planted Bloomberg and never stopped caring about the farm since. She said a quiet word of goodbye to her father’s tree and took off her hat in respect to her father; wiping away the last tear, she steeled herself against the urge to cry again. Her bee friend seemed to pick up on this and moved on to the next tree, urging her forward. She looked up at the sky and saw that the sun was fading with a deep red glow over the horizon. The next tree was her Aunt Orange’s, her mother had introduced Sundance’s sister, Valencia, to Mosely Orange. The two married three days after Sundance and Cinnamon. Next was her Uncle Barkley, who moved down south with his son, Braeburn. Following that was her Aunt Honeycrisp, who moved out west to Las Pegasus. She checked each of them: all were fine and strong.
Applejack came to Big Mac’s tree, it was as big and broad as he was and she chuckled as she saw the shallow indent of his hoof prints in the tree bark. Big Mac was always overly protective of his tree, he called it Bloomington and nopony else was allowed to buck it but him. He always kept everything neat and tidy and his tree was no exception.
Next was where her own Bloomberg had once called home. Applejack hated to part with her favorite tree, but he was the healthiest tree on the farm and could handle the strain of the trip and arid climate better than a cutting or a seed would. She had kept a cutting before she left for Appleoosa. She knelt down and looked closer at Bloomberg Jr. The bee rested on a leaf as she checked for problems and the spring blanket she kept around his newly formed roots was starting to slip, so she readjusted it to keep him warm during the cool spring nights. She recalled when she first came back from Appleloosa; Apple Bloom had laughed, carrying on that her own tree was bigger than Applejack’s. Despite Apple Bloom’s “enthusiasm”, Applejack thought she had taken good care of her own tree. ‘She is an Apple after all,’ Applejack mused. Applejack checked her tree over three more times. She looked up in the sky, it was getting almost too dark to see. After Apple Bloom’s tree she decided she'd hit the hay. The rest could wait until tomorrow.
Applejack knew Apple Bloom’s tree, despite its small stature, had the deepest and strongest roots on the farm. Apple Bloom had even made a small sturdy fence around it to keep it safe. As she finished with Apple Bloom’s tree and waved good bye to her little bee friend, who lazily flew off back to the hive. She heard the heavy clop of Big Mac’s hooves coming up the path. He was carrying a very sleepy trio of Cutie Mark Crusaders. Nodding to her brother, who returned the gesture, she began walking along with the four other ponies, one of the self-titled Cutie Mark Crusaders stirred, so Applejack began to sing softly.
Day is done, gone the sun
From the lakes, from the hills, from the sky
All is well, safely rest;
Luna is nigh.
A low deep sound joined in perfect harmony as Big Mac sang along.
The bright light of Celestia’s sun began creeping over the horizon as the night ended, ushering in a new day. The warm rays radiating off of the celestial object illuminated everything in Equestria and the lands beyond, including one particular stretch of river in the Everfree Forest. This part of the river was known as the residence of Steven Magnet, the sea serpent currently slumbering on the river bed. As the light of the new day pierced the crystal clear waters that he called home, Steven Magnet let out a small groan as he slowly opened his eyes, accepting the fact that he would not be able to get back to sleep. Slowly emerging from the placid waters, he gave a languid stretch before beginning his daily morning ritual.
For most ponies, their morning ritual would consist of something along the lines of getting up, bathing, combing their mane, eating breakfast and finally brushing their teeth, lasting a total of forty-five minutes or so. However, Steven Magnet was not one of these ponies (or, in his case, sea serpents). His morning ritual revolved around his appearance and usually lasted a minimum of three hours, sometimes taking up to five depending on the weather. Steven Magnet had a reputation of fabulosity to maintain, after all, and neither rain nor snow would stop him from doing his absolute best to keep it.
The morning began, as it usually did, with a quick polishing of his magnificent purple scales. This basically involved cleaning away any gunk that may have been picked up from his sleep during the night. This task was usually the shortest, as all it took was a simple wiping of the scales with a washcloth one of the ponies from Ponyville had so kindly given him. After polishing each individual scale until they let off a faint shine, Steven Magnet moved on to the next part of his morning stylings.
The next item on his checklist of fabulosity was his mane. The thing to remember about Steven Magnet was that he was not like any pony that walked under Celestia’s sun when it came to his hair. For example, most of the ponies in Ponyville lived in homes that contained one bottle of hair conditioner, if they were lucky. There were exceptions of course, like fair Rarity with the four different products that she used every day to keep her mane styled so perfectly, but even they were nothing compared to the sheer volume of hair product possessed by the fashion-conscious sea serpent. Utilizing the ten bottles of various purposes, some meant to give the hair a natural shine and others serving to make it look as full as possible, Steven Magnet set to work washing his mane in the crystal clear waters of the river. After the hour that was necessary to make sure every product was used to its fullest, he began the hard part of styling his mane. After letting it dry, Steven began the rather intensive task of forming his mane into his distinctive hairstyle. Having a mane that was so perfectly coiffed took a finesse that not many creatures seemed to possess, but luckily Steven Magnet had a talent for it. Though he was talented at the art of the coif, it still took him some time to finish styling his mane, and at least two hours had usually passed by the time he was completely done.
Finally, at long last, came the last item for Steven Magnet to complete in his morning grooming. His moustache. While it was true that his moustache was not usually as magnificent as his mane, Steven Magnet held his beautiful facial hair to be his most glorious feature, and treated it as such. It received the same treatment as his mane, washing it in the river and using his many conditioners and shampoos on it. Since he had much less facial hair than hair on his head, this did not take long, usually only fifteen or twenty minutes. Once this was done and his moustache was completely dry, the purple serpent began the routine of combing his moustache. He had to make sure there were absolutely no knots or tangles in his facial hair, so he usually ran the comb through his hair fifty times or more for each side of his face. After the laborious yet relaxing combing was finished, it was well past mid day, but Steven Magnet did not care, for his work was finally done.
Some, probably most, ponies would be wondering why Steven Magnet would bother to go into such painstaking detail about his appearance.
“Don’t get me wrong,” they would say, “I like to look good just as much as the next pony. You, sir, seem to take it to the next level though.” At that, the sea serpent would just give a hearty chuckle and begin to explain himself to the curious pony.
“Well you see,” he would begin, “I don’t try to look my absolute best every day just for the sake of my vanity. Oh no, there’s much more to it than that. You see, most of my kind are rather...uncouth,” Steven Magnet would sorrowfully explain. “Most sea serpents are rather savage beings, living out in the ocean and fighting with each other most of the time. At a young age, I had always been more interested in fashion than fighting like a savage, and I realized this was not the kind of life I would enjoy living, so I snuck away in the middle of the night down the nearest tributary I could find. Eventually, that would bring me to this very spot.”
Steven Magnet would trail away here with a fond look in his eyes as he remembered arriving at his home. “This place was perfect. The crystal clear waters, the green trees, everything was absolutely fabulous. When I was first visited by ponies, however, they were scared of me, for they had heard about the terrible things some sea serpents had done through the years. This absolutely crushed me at first, but I decided to make sure it didn’t happen again. I gave myself a makeover, giving myself the style I currently sport. In addition to being rather fabulous, it is also non-threatening as well. When some of the braver ponies returned here and saw my new look, they became much more receptive to me, and soon I was friends with everyone in Ponyville. Since then, I have made it my mission in life to teach all of Equestria that not all sea serpents are savage brutes like the ones I left.”
“And that is why,” he would finish with a small grin, “I can’t have a single hair out of place.”
Minstrel: A wandering musician who would travel from settlement to settlement and play music in public. They first emerged after the unification of the three pony tribes due to each of them sharing their different cultures and lifestyle with one another.
Minstrels were a thing of the past. The invention of the jukebox had been the final nail in the coffin for this profession, although minstrels were always in decline since the medieval ages of Equestria. But the principle of live music never died out and a special few continued to follow the principles of minstrels.
One of these ‘modern minstrels’ was Lyra Heartstrings. Born in Canterlot, it was almost certain that she would be more suited in a recital hall rather than the outdoors. However, at an early age, her family moved to Ponyville. Despite her parents moving back to Canterlot when she was a young mare, she remained in the quaint town. She couldn’t remember when it started, but every couple of days she would wander through the town and play music to accompany life as it played out before her. Her instrument of choice was obvious: a golden lyre.
Lyra opened the front door of her cottage and took in a whiff of the crisp air. It was a beautiful day. Almost perfect. The weather was akin to what you would see on a picturesque postcard or painting and Lyra was grateful for it.
Leaving the door open so the calm breeze could waft into her home, she went back inside. Despite the serene atmosphere outside, something was missing. Music. That’s what the day needs! she thought to herself, retrieving her trusted instrument from its stand in the living room. She used her magic to make the lyre levitate alongside her and plucked one of the strings with a hoof. The note resounded across the room, bringing a content smile to Lyra’s face. Then she played a simple scale to check that everything was in tune.
Lovely as always! She was about to leave when a thought struck her, it being important enough to stop her in her tracks. Mint! I need a mint! I can’t go outside without my minty breath! Hurrying into the kitchen, she quickly retrieved a mint from a pack lying on the wooden table. As the taste of mint filled her mouth, she beamed with pleasure and let out a big breath once she swallowed. Now she could go.
Closing the door behind her, she went out of her front garden with a spring in her step. All she needed to do was find a nice spot to sit, play some sweet music and watch life go by. She trotted around Ponyville, saying friendly hellos to anypony who passed by. Almost everypony in town knew her and she almost had a fame for her talents. Almost. Word about her lyre playing skills rarely got out of town.
Lyra didn’t mind though and, in fact, probably preferred it. She didn’t play music for fame. She played music because she loved it. It was a powerful thing and could draw strong emotions from ponies. It could recall memories long forgotten in ponies’ minds or it could be a fantastic way to relax. So much could be done with just one instrument. And even more could be achieved with a collection of them.
She never had a set path when making trips like these. It was simply walking around until it felt right to play. No journey was ever the same as another. She went past Sugarcube Corner, the door of the establishment open and the delicious aroma of sugary treats wafting out. It was enough to make Lyra nearly abandon her journey but she knew that they would always be there, along with the Cakes’ smiling faces, their happy children and of course, Pinkie Pie.
It was sometime in the afternoon, as Lyra could see fillies and foals making the trip back home from school. Snips and Snails were darting off, apparently not ready to go to their homes just yet. The boundless energy of the younger generation was something to behold. Big Macintosh was pulling a cart and inside that were the Cutie Mark Crusaders letting out a chorus of cheers. Lyra looked at the children with a faint smile on her face.
Some day...
Suddenly a whiplash of wind whooshed into her face, her mane becoming a bit messy. She was nearly deafened by a loud noise and upon looking up to see a streak of rainbow in the sky, she immediately knew its source. Every other pony in the vicinity stopped and gawked at Rainbow Dash soaring through the air like a bullet. A bullet that had been launched out of a cannon. Despite being a long time resident, Rainbow still managed to amaze the citizens of Ponyville time and time again.
Continuing on, the mare saw Caramel heading towards a bin with a bit of rubbish to dispose of. A fairly normal action had it not been for Pinkie. As he reached the bin, Pinkie Pie popped up--completely clean somehow--and sang a friendly greeting to the surprised stallion. Once he caught his breath, both he and Pinkie shared a good laugh. Whereas Rainbow Dash could always amaze, Pinkie could always surprise.
Ponyville always seemed like a quiet town to outsiders but if anypony was here for a day, heck, maybe even just a few hours, they would see that it was really bustling hive of activity. Lyra loved that. So many stories to which music could accompany.
By now Lyra had reached the Ponyville park. A few ponies were walking about or, like Carrot Top, were taking in the pretty surroundings. The fresh green grass had splotches of fantastic flowers, their radiant petals always a delight to look at. Under one of the mighty trees, Twilight Sparkle was sitting and enjoying a book in the shade that the branches and leaves provided. Lyra simply moved on. Both music and silence had their places. Even a musician knew that silence could be wonderful.
Soon enough, Lyra found herself beside a small pond. Reeds and other plant life grew at the boundary of the water and, at the center, three ducks were swimming. Upon seeing the pony, they looked at her.
“Oh, sorry ducks. I don’t have any bread on me,” Lyra said apologetically. After a short while, the ducks ignored her.
Lyra turned around, eyeing a bench that overlooked the pond. Deciding it was a good place to rest for a bit, she sat on the bench in a manner that many would find peculiar. Most ponies had all their hooves on whatever they were sitting with only a few exceptions (mostly if one wanted to write on a desk). Lyra often sat on her haunches, none of her hooves actually touching the bench. This had a few benefits: it took up less room, it let her dangle her limbs and it allowed her to play her lyre with her forehooves. True, she could play it by using magic but the sensation of physically plucking a string felt nice to her. She connected more with the instrument that way.
The lyre then found itself in the hooves of its owner. Lyra began to pluck the strings, creating a slow but joyful tune. It was a simple piece that didn’t take risks but it was nice to play and listen to either way. The moment the notes entered her ears, Lyra immediately felt more relaxed. She got lost in the music before the quacking of the ducks that shook her from her trance.
She kept playing but took a moment to observe the birds. At first she thought that they were singing along with her, yet they were actually swimming away from the musician. Lyra looked beyond the ducks, to their destination and saw the source of their sudden excitedness.
“There you go, little duckies,” Fluttershy said softly, gently throwing pieces of bread at the ducks. The animals eagerly gobbled up the crumbs, voicing their pleasure repeatedly. Fluttershy looked up and jumped when she saw Lyra. The unicorn gave her a polite smile and kept on playing. Fluttershy returned the gesture then put her focus back on the ducks.
Lyra picked up the pace, the music now becoming jumpy, with some notes louder than others. The mood was the same but the notes now sounded like something a pony could dance to in celebration. If only ducks knew how to dance, they’d probably do so. Although Lyra caught a glimpse of Fluttershy nodding her head in time with the beat.
After a while, the last piece of bread was thrown and the ducks looked at Fluttershy expectedly. The pegasus showed them the empty bag that the bread had been in and the ducks nodded in understanding. Trust Fluttershy to make ducks nod like ponies. After a fond farewell, Fluttershy and the ducks left. Fluttershy flew off into the distance and it would not be long before the ducks did so as well, no doubt looking for more food. Lyra however, stayed.
In her solitude she kept on playing, her own music keeping her company. She kept on changing the style of the music but the transitions were always smooth and sometimes barely noticeable. Had it not been for her mortal limitations, she could have played forever.
Her stomach violently grumbling put an end to the music. “Ooo...those cupcakes do sound like a good idea now,” she muttered to herself, slipping off the bench. Leaving the pond behind her, Lyra set off at a fairly rapid trot towards Sugarcube corner. Music was a wonderful art but nothing could compare to a cupcake when you’re feeling famished.
The sun rising above the Rocky Ridges to the East is so much more meaningful here in Equestria than any other planet or time I’ve visited.
Here it is a gift from a leader to her people.
Here it is a sign of Celestia’s love.
I’ve met with her, Celestia. It was quite an honor, although I have to say, being roughly teleported out of my TARDIS and turned into an equine was not on my list of things to do that day.
Though who am I to complain?
My subsequent adventures in reclaiming my TARDIS, exploring a whole new alternate universe, and discovering several new regenerations of myself that had disappointingly not resulted in a red mane or alicorn body have been some of the more peaceful times of my life.
Well, over a thousand years and I finally found a place that has others working to save it on a regular basis.
I have myself a new companion as well. Looking down to the right I chuckle, Derpy is sprawled across the bed in an absolute mess of feathers and blanket. The first time she told me her name, I was sure I had misheard her, but she takes pride in rising above what others expect of her, and I take pride in always expecting the best.
I don’t sleep very often, if at all. So I have taken to watching over our little home and watching the night sky until sunrise.
The stars are far more interesting when a living being controls them.
I daresay I’ve got a knack of telling when Luna is upset by now, simply by how much attention is paid to the constellations when they play themselves across the sky.
As the sun finally wipes away the last of the stars, I move from my perch and make my way downstairs.
How in Tartarus the rest of Equestria deals with stairs is beyond me. I’ve taken to jumping all the way down, landing on a massive pile of pillows at the bottom.
Each time I have to fight the urge to yell, “Geronimo!” since I know that would wake Derpy even more assuredly than the loud thud of me missing the pillows and shaking the house.
Just a bit of a dent in the floor to join the others, not too bad.
With a grin, I set off to prepare breakfast since my faithful companion will surely be down soon, and on my way to the kitchen I pass a round, tall hat set on a shelf.
“Ah, my fez,” I sigh. I had it crafted by a very confused unicorn dressmaker as a memento, but sadly it drew my memories more and more often to River Song and the other life I had left behind. Someday I shall return to it, I am sure. Then I shall see my River again.
Derpy appeared on her way down the stairs a few minutes later, chuckling a bit upon seeing the pillows and dented floor.
"Doctor!" the grey pegasus called out.
After staring at the fez for likely far longer than was considered normal, I finally remembered that was my name and I should probably reply.
"Why hello! And good morning. What would you like to eat?" I ask cheerily.
Before she could answer, I am already trotting off to the kitchen.
With a chuckle, I think back and realize I've been trotting since before I had hooves to trot with. Now it was just an acceptable mode of transportation.
"Whatever sounds good to you," she answers, making her way down the last few stairs before following me towards the kitchen at a much slower pace.
"You know, I hated apples for the longest time."
I knew I was telling the story for the hundredth time but it was my favorite breakfast story.
"I swear these apples have to be descended from earth bananas and vice versa. Bananas here are simply bland."
That or my regeneration had given the wonderful yellow fruit the boot, but I don't think fate would be that cruel.
"So, what grand adventures shall we embark upon today? Equestria a thousand years from now? Nightmare Moon's war? We could go back and have a philosophical argument with Isaac Neighton!"
By the end of my list of possible destinations I've managed to smash an apple and overcook a daisy sandwich, but I love crispy bread. Like toast but with more personality.
"Apples, bananas, pears. Is there a fruit you don't have a problem with?" Derpy commented before chuckling. "But, no, I have work today, Doctor. So many letters to gather and deliver you know?"
I just don't understand how Derpy manages to find letters more important than adventure.
For a moment I just pout before pointing at the blue box currently residing in the bathroom.
"But... But time travel! And space too! Really now, you're as bad as Pond was. We can come back in time for your shift! I can't promise but if we are lucky we won't overshoot like last year."
It had been a very awkward situation, trying to explain to everypony why we had both vanished for several months, and it led to some persistent rumors that had still not been properly put down.
The similarity of our last names made it even worse.
Derpy rolled her left eye. I knew she had a pretty bad impression of me from all the mismanagement of time that filled my life but I just didn’t find mail all that important.
"Doctor, if I don't get back on time, I could be fired, and then nopony will be making bits in this home."
I always explained how I could get her money by other, less legal ways. The pouting though, the whining... "Doctor...." She was losing this fight and was going to break for the want of adventure, I was sure.
"Oh, look at the time, bye!" she yelled before jumping out the window and taking flight.
Windows, I have to say, are the best escape route for a pegasus. She started flying off towards the mail agency in Cloudsdale before I could get a word in.
After watching my not-so-faithful companion fly out of the window, I sighed and resumed my forlorn meal.
Admittedly I had been responsible for an impressively long list of absences and tardies, but the adventures we had!
There was simply no comparison.
After finishing my meal and discarding the dishes in the sink, I made my way through the bathroom into the TARDIS.
My home away from home, or, more accurately, my home that I spent a great deal of time away from.
It had taken quite a while to get used to piloting the thing with hooves and my mouth, although I did find out some of the levers tasted better than others.
Where should I go? Without Derpy, revisiting old haunts would just be depressing, and going back in time would mean I couldn't take her there since... Well, it'd be a mess. Different versions of me all over the place.
So that left new places. I hit a few buttons that I was mostly sure did what I wanted and pulled a particularly tasty lever, before being knocked on my flank by the force of the lift off.
Then again, the force of the lift off wasn't really from lifting off at all, but... What's the point of these monologues without anypony around to look baffled?
So through time and space I sailed, trusty screwdriver tucked away in that place where all earth ponies store things.
What's with the face? Saddlebags are cool.
The TARDIS finally came to a halt, screeching its protest at my rough handling, which I knew she liked despite the noise.
Now to see where we had arrived.
I stepped out of the TARDIS to a scene of devastation.
This planet was dying. The sun it orbited was entering its red phase, growing outwards as the gas it fed on was no longer trapped by its gravity well.
The grass on the ground was so dry it would turn to dust at the touch of a hoof. The lakes in the distance shimmered with a layer of steam.
I very nearly turned to leave, but a glimmer caught my eye. Turning, I spotted a tower at the base of the hill I had come to rest upon. A tower with equine shapes milling around it.
"Geronimo!" I whisper before galloping down the slope.
The shapes see me coming and turn to watch my approach. As I get closer I can see they aren't that far removed from ponies.
They look quite similar to what the Humans called elk. Though with flowing robes designed to reflect heat and with shimmering green eyes.
"Hello!" I call out cheerfully, before coming to a stop in front of them. Suddenly five sharp spears are leveled at my throat. "Was it something I said?" I ask meekly.
I was escorted by my new friends into the tower they had been patrolling or admiring when I arrived, it was thankfully much cooler inside. Some sort of field at the entrance kept the warm air out, blasting frost over my fur when I stepped through.
"Oh, it’s much nicer in here, but shouldn't you lot be evacuating?"
My entourage didn't feel like answering so I resumed my walk with their company.
"Guess not. Very nice place, a bit on the red side though, if I do say so myself. I prefer blues and greens."
The entirety of the inside of the tower was painted or dyed a muddy red color, which gave me the uneasy feeling of being inside a particularly cold oven.
Eventually, my companions stopped in front of a large door set into a dividing wall. They were considerably taller than I was, or still am, and they used notches in the upper reaches of the door to pull it open.
Inside sat the fattest equine I had ever seen. Though in that regard Equestria may have spoiled me a little since all the ponies there got so much exercise and were fed such lean diets.
Although I was surprised at the sheer size of the creature, my smile did not falter. "Why hello. I am the Doctor," I introduced happily.
The thing laughed. A slow deep laugh. "A doctor eh? So what is a doctor from another planet doing on mine?" the gravely voice asked.
"Well, The Doctor, small difference but it matters. And I was just flying through, visiting... Where am I exactly?"
"My planet," the thing repeated in an amused voice.
"Ah well, your planet then. You do know the sun is a tad close for living beings to still be living here, yes?"
The blank stare told me all I needed to know. "So... No. Well in short I think everypony needs to leave."
The being laughed again and got up.
From another angle I realized the poor creature was not fat, but swollen. It had wings and two graceful antlers curving from its head. At my best guess this seemed to be their royalty.
"Little doctor. I control the sun. By my grace it purifies us with its light. We have nothing to fear from it."
I shake my head sadly. So this is what Celestia could have become.
"What is your name?" I finally ask.
"I am called the Lord of the Flame," he rumbles.
"Fine. Lord of the Flame, I am the Doctor, and something is wrong here, something is sick. And I am going to fix it," I said in the most determined voice I could muster.
Now I had to figure out how to do that.
Derpy nudged open the door to our home and walked to the kitchen first, taking a leftover sandwich out to place on the counter for me when I returned, then she realized I may already be there. "Doctor," she called out, just like she did earlier that morning.
It was really the only way to know if I was home besides searching every nook of the house. She trotted over towards the bathroom to see if the TARDIS was there or not.
I had gotten back from my weeks-long adventure a few hours after I had left, actually doing the dishes, with a new appreciation of running water, and taking a quick shower.
Just as Derpy was getting home and calling my name, I was running full tilt off the upper landing of the stairs. "Geronimo!" I shouted gleefully, actually hitting the pillows this time before sliding halfway across the room.
"Oh, its so great to see you!" I say to the mare I just knocked over. "Its Tuesday right? I didn't skip a year?" I ask with a grin even though I know I am on time.
After dealing with an angry, sick sun god and watching a world burn to ash just barely after being evacuated, the normalcy and honesty in those askew golden eyes was such a welcome relief.
"Yes, it’s Tuesday," she said, struggling to get back onto her feet. "Have fun?"
She pointed to the counter with one hoof. "There’s some food there, if you want it. Not sure how long you were gone for. Don't know if you're hungry."
With a dramatic gasp I gesture to the sandwich.
"A welcome sight! It’s been about a week for me, crazy times. Met a mad sun god. Madder than your lot's at least." I chuckle and start in on the sandwich.
Once done I sigh happily before dropping the wrapper in the rubbish bin. "How was your day?"
"Wow, sounds...crazy. But another sun god, was it another planet?" she asked excitedly.
"Yeah... It was another planet." I keep the smile up for a moment before it falters.
"Couldn't save all of them though. I'd say it was.... A one apple out of ten kind of thing." My smile returns but it is half-hearted.
"I really am thrilled to be back, Derpy. Spending that much time around the crazy and the fire, I'm glad to be back. I really am."
I move to the front door and open it, looking out at the evening sun.
"Let's watch the sunset. Just like normal ponies--except without the normal part." I chuckle. "We could even go to the park or something, just relax in beautiful Equestria."
"Normal should never be part of your vocabulary," Derpy said, smiling at me knowingly. She had been on enough adventures with me to know I needed a decompression.
"Yeah, maybe we could have a picnic," she replies.
I quickly grab a basket and start throwing food and drinks into it with reckless abandon. Once I've got nearly the whole fridge in there, I grab it in my teeth and start out the door towards the park.
"I just love how green it is here," I marvel, after a week of browns and reds it was stunning.
"Just fabulous, absolutely amazing. I love green, don't you?" Of course having to put down the basket each time I want to talk makes for slow going but I am not the sort to force my faithful companion to carry my things. At least not all the time, and at least not every companion.
I figure Derpy deserves a break after work. There, that excuse holds more water. Though how an excuse can hold water to begin with is a mystery to me.
"Green is a nice color," Derpy replies with a grin as I set down the basket again to say hello to a passing pony.
"Hey, I can carry that ya know. You could just toss it onto my back," she suggested. But as soon as the words exited her mouth, I collide with a pedestrian, although I had to wonder if they would call a walking pony an equestrian?
"So sorry! I was a bit distracted," I apologize cheerily as thoughts of puns and terrible jokes run through my head.
"Oh no, its fine," the pale pink unicorn said, getting up from the dirt.
"Well, I'm still sorry. Have an apple!" I flip open the basket to offer some of the food to the poor mare I knocked down. It’s the least I can do.
"We were just on our way to the park. To watch the sunset. Such a great sun too, just the right amount of fire, not too red. I've really got to thank Celestia next time I see her."
Once again I'm rambling, but I hardly care, ponies seem far more forgiving of it than humans.
Sea Swirl took the apple and thanked me before trotting away.
We made our way to the park and laid out a blanket before sitting down. The sun now hung low in the sky, dying the trees of the Everfree with sapphire blues and purples.
As we ate I thought back to the last moments I had spent on that dying planet.
The Lord of the Fire had stood outside his spire, watching me lead his people away.
“Can you hope to save every planet on every star, Doctor? Sticking your hoof in every catastrophe and not come out burned?” he called.
The anger had faded days before, he now simply watched me steal his people away with cold eyes and a reserved loathing at my success.
“Why not?” I call back, gesturing to the line of equines boarding a transport ship. “Why shouldn’t I help them? I can, and no other being is here to take my place.”
The sun god raised his hoof to the sky.
“Every star, doctor. Every star will burn out. We cannot live forever. How many will you save?” His words are laced with venom and my breath catches in my throat for a moment before I turn away.
“I will be there,” I say, more to myself than the mad sun god. “Every day, every star. That is my life. I will always be there, watching worlds burn.”
Shoving her door closed, Carrot Top let out a deep breath and just leaned on the polished wood for a moment. She'd spent a long, stressful day working on her carrot farm and helping her new workers get accustomed to their jobs, showing them the best methods for carrot farming and how her farm in particular handled the details. Though there would be more of the same in the morning, for now she was looking forward to a restful night's sleep.
For a small-time farmer like Carrot Top, having ponies working under her was a lot to get used to. Sure, she'd asked friends to help her out once or twice, but her business had never been big or prosperous enough to warrant or afford regular help until recently. She wasn't like the Apple family, with their multitude of orchards that supplied places all across Equestria (although Celestia only knew how Big Macintosh and Applejack managed a place the size of Sweet Apple Acres by themselves - Carrot Top knew it would be beyond her); she just ran a small-time farm that sold her produce locally.
Well, until now, anyway. The change was welcome, as she could always find a use for the extra bits, and having extra hooves to lighten the workload would give her more time for other pursuits, or perhaps further expansion...once she had trained them up a little more, at least. But every now and then, and increasingly often over the past few days, Carrot Top had caught herself wishing it was just her on the farm, with her friends stopping by to pitch in and lend a hoof. Okay, so most of her friends weren't really any better at farm work than the new ponies were...but when Derpy would drop a basket of carrots on somepony's head or Lyra would choose to goof off with one of her weird 'human' impressions, they'd all just stop and share a moment of laughter or sheepish smiles. They laughed and joked and played.
Carrot Top was far from being a harsh employer, but the laughter between her workers was always more subdued when she was present. She missed the easy camaraderie between her friends. But with Carrot Top's farm expanding, Derpy taking care of sweet little Dinky, everypony else attending to their own careers or families...they weren't together so much anymore. Life was changing.
Still, Carrot Top reminded herself, life is changing for the better. A bigger farm with more workers meant more carrots to sell, which meant more bits, which meant better financial security. Derpy - and, for that matter, most of Ponyville - adored little Dinky, and the wall-eyed pegasus put everything she had into raising her filly. Lyra was getting the recognition her talent deserved. Everypony was moving on with their lives, in their own way.
Humming softly to herself, Carrot Top made her way to the kitchen and put her kettle on the stove before unlocking her fridge to see what she had in the way of food. It was mostly full, as it had been for the last few weeks - Derpy hadn't stopped by to raid it for a while. Or perhaps she had, and the new lock had finally managed to stump the grey pegasus.
Carrot Top snickered at the thought. Derpy had viewed chains designed to keep a manticore in place as a minor challenge to her fridge-raiding abilities; a mere lock, no matter how sophisticated, was unlikely to stop her. No, the mailmare was probably just busy with her job and daughter. Just as Carrot Top was busy with her farm and new employees, Lyra with her music and newly-official marefriend...
Jumping at the sudden, piercing whistle of her kettle, Carrot Top realised she had been spacing out. With her head poking into the fridge, of all places. The sudden sensation of cold sent the earth pony quickly backing away from it. Shaking her head, she took the kettle off the stove and made herself some tea before sitting down to drink. It may have been a little hotter than she normally liked it, but it counteracted the chill from the fridge quite nicely. Fairly soon, she was warm again.
I'll just get some food, she decided, standing up, and then go to sleep. Plenty more work to do tomorrow.
***
Her hooves flailing, Carrot Top nearly fell out of her bed amid a bundle of tangled sheets. Barely arresting her fall, she blinked groggily at the pitch-black room, wondering what had woken her in the dead of night. Had it been a dream? She couldn't remember anything that might wake her, but you could never tell with dreams. A loud noise was unlikely, as Ponyville wasn't perpetually awake the way big cities like Canterlot or Fillydelphia were --
A muffled thud echoed throughout the house, followed by an almost guilty silence. Carrot Top stared at where she knew her bedroom door was, even though it was too dark for her to see it. Had another pony broken in her home? She didn't really have anything worth stealing, and, while her farm had been more successful of late, she didn't have enough bits in the house to be worth the hassle either (nor did she have enough to just write off its loss were she robbed).
After a few minutes of tense silence, the earth pony slipped out of her bed and crept towards the door. She flicked on the lights as she went, eyes squinting against the brightness, and hoped that she would adjust before whoever else was in her house did...if anypony else were present, anyway. Maybe the thud had just been something she hadn't stacked properly losing its fight with gravity.
Going from room to room, Carrot Top finally made her way to the kitchen and gave it a quick once-over. Her eyes had adjusted by now, so she didn't have to squint against the glare of the lights. She didn't see anything out of place or missing, either, except for the note on her fridge door - wait, what?
Walking over to the fridge, the farmer realised she recognised the writing. "Sorry about all the noise," she read aloud, "I'm out of practice. See you for lunch tomorrow?" It wasn't signed, but really, it didn't need to be. Still, Carrot Top checked inside the fridge, just to make sure.
Empty.
"Oh, Derpy," she sighed. "I hope you don't teach Dinky how to do this."
Smiling, Carrot Top turned around and went back to bed.
The Thursday morning wore on in the dullest way possible. The gray, overcast sky oozed through the waiting room windows to match the colourless mood inside. The weather patrol couldn’t seem to make up their minds. Much of the week had been one standard sunny day after another, but twenty-minute rain showers peppered each afternoon. The townsfolk were beginning to speculate about a possible management feud, or simply somepony garbling each order.
Or maybe it was somepony trying to liven up the week of the local nurse with nary a patient nor paperwork to occupy her. Nurse Redheart, having dismissed simply bumping the clock’s hands forward to knock off early, resigned herself to pondering life’s great mysteries from behind the clinic’s admitting desk. If today’s condition was any indicator, her weather team hero had been sacked; hooray for a cloudy day.
Tick... Tick... Tick... Tock said the plastic circle above the glass double-doors.
“Seven,” she groggily read aloud from her stool. “Just another hour.”
She flicked a pale pink lock of hair from her face and rubbed her eyes. The purple rings beneath them displaying the 12-hour shifts of her profession. The hours themselves weren’t what plagued her, but the sheer lack of anything on days like today; a day when everypony was being healthy and un-idiotic. This was setting up to be the safest week on record for the year; something for which Mayor Mare would undoubtedly take credit in her next election. Of course, she’d leave out the weeks when the hospital would have a severe influx of patients for its staff to treat. Nope, must be her inspirational speeches keeping everypony from pulling muscles, contracting disease, breaking bones, and the patience of the hospital staff.
The only pony requiring actual treatment was one pegasus who came in around five hours ago with a concussion. At least his misfortune had broken up the monotony of the morning. What did he say had happened to him? thought the enervated nurse as she flipped through his admission forms. “Struck by lamp post.” Must have just jumped out at him. She thought, looking at his BAC of 0.092. But at least he tried to lighten the mood with the obligatory “Helloooo Nurse!” Although in his case it was more “Helloooo Nurse!...es...es.” He must have been seeing more than double...
This job needs more moments like that, she thought lazily with her chin resting on her pristine white hoof. An immaculate coat like hers fit perfectly for a nurse. But removing more-than-occasional stains from the various... secretions of some patients was quite the nightmarish chore.
She began looking around the waiting room for something, anything, to distract her. From the humourless portrait of the hospital’s gray-maned founder to the scarce artificial plant life. A fly came buzzing under her snout. Redheart whisked it away by a puff of air. It spiraled off towards the waiting area chairs. She followed its flight path as it landed on the arm of one cushy, lime coloured chair. It leaped back into the air, quite gracefully for a fly, and began to buzz its way back towards the admitting desk. This new distractor hovered at the lone plastic daffodil seated in its vase on the corner. From there it began buzzing slow and confused circles around and around the mock-blossom. She could almost see the tiny lantern flicker to life above its buggy head.
Congratulations, Redheart. You are drawing amusement from a fly discovering fake flowers, she deadpanned in her head. Though she couldn’t deny: the noise of those tiny, paper-thin wings coupled with the unrelenting Tick, Tick, Tick of the clock... It was all, somehow, soothing...
The cider stands stretched from one end of Main Street to the other. Their banners hung proud above their stacks of kegs and steins. Every cider company, big and small, from Manehattan corporations to Dodge Junction bootleggers was represented here today. With, of course, the local Apple Family cider stand stationed just outside Town Hall. Nurse Redheart observed the fruits of her labours from the stage. This had been a monumental undertaking; and worth every drop of cider.
There was the sound of a microphone screeching to life to Redheart’s left. A sea of ponies in the street swiveled their heads to the stage
“Welcome, Everypony, to the first annual Ponyville Cider Festival!” bellowed a purple mare over the speakers. “This is the time of year to really enjoy the efforts of some of the smaller cider makers; the ones who go unnoticed and deserve their time in the delicious spotlight.” Redheart knew this feeling all too well.
“And that’s why,” the excited purple mare continued, gesturing to Redheart, “I’d like to thank our dear Nurse Redheart for organizing all of this! Come take a bow, Nurse!”
“Redheart! Redheart! Redheart!” everypony cheered as she trotted towards the front. She bowed her head modestly as they continued their now hazy cheering. She raised her head to bow a second time to another part of the crowd. When she tried to bring her head up a second time, she found her neck not moving. Everypony’s cheering devolved into a dull swimming sound. She found the ground before the stage slowly drawing closer and closer.
Nurse Redheart felt the cold tile of the waiting room floor against her cheek. Her eyes shot open as she quickly got to her hooves. Her eyes darted frantically around the room to see if anypony had caught her asleep. The coast seemed clear for now. She picked up her hat and returned it atop her pale pink mane. Stretching as she sat back down on her stool, her eyes wandered to the clock above the door again.
“7:05... Oh Celestia help me...” she sighed. “Just have to do all that another eleven times and I’m done...”
And so with renewed boredom, Redheart’s gaze once again wandered from the founder’s glowering portrait to the fake daffodil. She even looked for the fly. Maybe it could sing her to sleep again. But the buzzing bard had likely given up whatever quest it had in this room and was moving on to bigger and smellier things. In its place next to the flower, however, was a brown paper bag. In front of the bag was a folded piece of paper with “Hello Nurse” written on the outside. She slid the note over in front of her and flipped it open.
Thought you might like this.
-That pegasus you probably wanted to re-concuss
She slid the bag towards her, it felt warm. When she opened the top, she was greeted with the smell of... a muffin? A chocolate-chip muffin? And a coffee?
Well now, she thought, maybe I have a new unsung pegasus hero...
Written by: .Pinkamena Rated Everyone Carrot Cake smiled to himself as he watched his children play. Pumpkin was following an ant on the ground and Pound was using his wings to shower everyone in a three foot radius with sand. He couldn’t believe how much they had changed in so little time. It was astounding how fast foals grew, and he knew soon they would be off to school and helping in the bakery.
Only a year had passed, and yet they were already walking on their own and forming words. Of course, some of the words didn’t really sound like words, but that is what happens when you have Pinkie Pie for a big sister. His mind drifted to the pink mare helping his wife back at their shop for just a moment. She wasn’t their biological daughter, but it didn’t matter to him.
His mind snapped back when he heard Pumpkin’s laughter. Her blue eyes glittered as she giggled at her twin brother’s antics. He was trying his hardest to reach a butterfly that was floating just above his head, but he couldn’t make it.
Thankfully their initial flying and magical abilities had diminished some. The small brown pegasus fell, causing a small puff of sand to flurry around him. Pound giggled while Pumpkin rubbed her eyes. Carrot was on his hooves a nanosecond before the unicorn filly started crying. He reached the two foals and picked Pumpkin up.
He shushed her quietly. “Sand in your eyes hurts, doesn’t it?” He didn’t expect her to answer, of course. Fairly soon, she quietened to sniffles as the tears washed the sand from her eyes. “All better now?” Carrot asked. He picked Pound up and put the twins into a special saddlebag Rarity had given them to carry the foals and began to stroll around the park. He listened for the words they had learned as he walked them through the park.
The day was perfect for a walk--sun’s warmth just stronger than the chill of the autumn wind, evening out the temperature comfortably. Carrot’s leisurely stroll slowed to a stop in front of the duck pond. Though it had no ducks, he took his children out of their harnesses and let them play around the bank of the water. The brother and sister rolled and tumbled around; before long, both sported wide yawns.
“Time for a nap, I think,” Carrot murmured to himself as he placed them back in their saddlebags. The walk home was as uneventful as always. It was Saturday, so the merchants had their stalls set up and called for ponies to try whatever it was they were trying to sell. The bell chimed as he walked into Sugar Cube Corner and smiled at his wife. “Busy?”
“Not really, I even let Pinkie go out with her friends,” the plump mare replied with a shake of her head. “Did they have a rough day?” Cup asked, looking at the foals who were now asleep in their carriers.
Shaking his head, Carrot smiled. “No, just a lot of fun. Pumpkin did get sand in her eyes, but that was sorted out quickly enough. I’ll just take them up to their room for a bit then.”
Carefully, so as to not wake the foals, Carrot climbed the stairs slowly. He made his way into their room, navigating through a maze of toddler toys to the cribs. This was always the hardest part: getting them out of the saddlebags and into the crib without waking them. If only he had a horn, it would be easier. He reached over for Pound, who was the heavier sleeper. Taking the pegasus colt’s diaper in his mouth, he pulled up and gently moved his son to the blue crib bed.
Next he moved over to the pink crib. Pumpkin almost always woke up. And she did not like being woke up from her nap. Normally Cup or Pinkie would be here to help, but Pinkie was out with her friends and someone had to be down in the shop.
Carrot swallowed and slowly picked Pumpkin up the same way he had picked Pound up. The light orange filly didn’t flinch, her light breathing the only sound in the room. Slowly, ever so slowly, Carrot moved his young daughter to her bed and lowered her to the mattress. After releasing her, he sighed. Finally, the twins were down for a nap. Now to close up shop early and spend some time with his lovely wife.
Just as he turned to leave the room, the door slammed open. “Baby Cakes!” Pinkie yelled with a grin. “You’re...home,” her voice dropped dramatically as the scene before her unfolded. Pumpkin and Pound both sat straight up, wide eyed, looking at her. Then, simultaneously, they began to cry. “Oh no,” the pink mare said, her eyes as wide as theirs.
“Pinkie,” Carrot said, his voice forcefully calm.
Pinkie took a small step forward. “I’ll put them back down. I’m sorry.”
He watched the young mare walk past him, a small smile on his lips. “Pinkie, it’s okay. Just...go help Cup clean up, tell her I said we’re closing up early today.” The pink mare turned and smiled at him.
And she shook her head. “I’ll put them down Mr. Cake. I did wake them up, after all. Besides, I bet they love being put down by Auntie Pinkie.” She turned to Pumpkin and picked the unicorn filly up. “Don’t you?” Carrot only stayed long enough to see her pick up Pound as well.
Cup was in the kitchen, washing dishes from the sound of it, so he quietly turned the sign on the front of the shop from opened to closed and slipped into the kitchen. His steps like those of a ghost, he stepped up beside his wife and nuzzled her neck.
“I think today would be the perfect day for a walk in the park,” he whispered into her ear. “Pinkie can take care of the twins, and it will only be for an hour. What do you say?”
Cup turned, looking into her husbands green eyes. “I think that would be amazing,” she said. She walked upstairs and told Pinkie their plans and walked down to meet her smiling husband. The couple left the shop with tails intertwined.
It was not a good day for Diamond Tiara. First of all, she had a cold. Now, one would expect that having a cold isn’t that bad. Well, it’s not. But that particular day, the Weather Team had a rather large thunderstorm scheduled. So everything was soaking wet, including Diamond Tiara. Come to think of it, it was probably this storm that gave her the cold, because the aforementioned storm also knocked out power to most of Ponyville. Due to the power outages ravaging Ponyville, and the ridiculous storm, the fillies and colts of Ponyville Schoolhouse were sent home, and thus everypony was soaking wet. And to top it all off, it was a Monday.
As Diamond Tiara lay in bed, she glanced outside. Man, this was one huge rainstorm. She couldn’t believe how much it was raining. Although, the incomprehensibly immense amount of rain would make sense simply because of the amount of rain, or lack thereof, that Ponyville had been experiencing for the past couple of weeks.
Despite being sick, it being Monday, and having no power, Diamond Tiara was content (well, as content as “content” can get in this situation). In fact, when you got around the three downsides to this day, it was calming to see the rain. Diamond Tiara had always been a fan of the rain. Something about it was...peaceful.
Just as she was starting to relax, she felt a slow drip start on her face. What the...? Why was the ceiling dripping? Diamond opened her eyes and looked up, only for a drop of water to land dead smack in the middle of her right eye, causing her to wince. She closed her eyes again and waited to be hit with another drop before sneaking a peek. As soon as she felt the droplet hit her head, she glanced up, only to see a dark spot forming on the ceiling. She groaned. A leaky roof? That couldn’t possibly be good. What’s worse is that it was right over her bed and over her face at that.
This day was turning out to be quite dismal. But what Tiara didn’t know was that things were about to get worse. You see, with enough rain comes flooding. When your house sits at the bottom of a hill, the chances of a flood are greatly increased. Unfortunately for Diamond Tiara, her house does indeed rest at the bottom of a hill. This could be potentially disastrous.
The rush of water could hardly be heard over the sound of the rain pummeling the house with the force of 1000 hammers. Ok, so maybe that’s a bit of an exaggeration, but that doesn’t change the facts. Diamond Tiara was so focused on feeling like crap and having an annoying wet spot on her blanket from where the water was still dripping from the ceiling that the idea of flooding hadn’t even entered her mind.
Being situated on the fourth floor of her mansion had its ups and downs. The main issue was that three flights of stairs was a long way to walk to get to the kitchen. When Diamond was halfway down the last flight of stairs, she realized that she had servants who would do her bidding. Why hadn’t she thought of this before? Oh well, it was a bit too late for that now. Due to the fact she was lost in her thoughts, Diamond had failed to notice the fact that she was trotting to the kitchen, albeit slowly, in about a quarter inch of water.
When she found her way out of her mind, she was mostly to the kitchen, but something seemed off. And it wasn’t the lights. Then it hit her. She had left her bedroom door open! Wait, that wasn’t it. She thought about it more and then had a sudden realization that she was standing in what was now about a half an inch of water. Well, she thought to herself, This isn’t good at all...maybe I should tell somepony?
You’re probably thinking “How could this day get any more dismal?” Well, it’s about to get even worse. Normally at this point in time, Diamond Tiara would be shouting her head off at her servants about her troubles, or complaining to her father. Unfortunately, her father was out on business, and her servants had the day off. So to recap, she’s home alone, standing in about a half inch of water, has a leaky ceiling, is sick, tired, and without power AND it’s a Monday. Things are definitely not looking good.
After standing in the same spot for a few moments contemplating what could be done about this dire situation, Diamond realized that she was actually quite hungry. She made her way over to the kitchen and looked in the cabinet for some food. Being a filly, her parents had said she wasn’t allowed to cook. Well that was about to change.
She climbed up the step ladder to the high cabinet, where the matches were stored. She had seen her servants cook and knew how (to a small extent) to light the stove. All she wanted was some canned vegetable soup. After assembling the necessary parts, she turned the gas on and looked at the matches. She realized she’d seen only unicorn servants light matches. But how hard could it be?
Well the house hadn’t burned down. In fact, the only thing that burned was the soup. Diamond Tiara didn’t really understand how it was possible to burn soup. Oh well, it’s best not to dwell on it. Anyway with her soup ready, she decided she wanted some bread. But fate would have none of it. All of her bread was soggy and in fact could barely be called bread. The loaves of bread were all soggy, mushy lumps, much akin to mud. Well, soup would have to suffice. It looked like things were finally looking up. Or were they...
There is something about the sound of the surf breaking on the white sand which enchants the soul of the listener. Dragon, gryphon, and pony alike, the sea was a source of magic, majesty, and immense power. That few members of any species knew how to swim only added to the nearly divine mystique of the crashing waves and relentless tide.
In the height of summer, Seahorse Beach thronged with ponies of every walk of life. They came to play in the surf and on the sand, to breathe the fresh salt in the air, and to listen to the soothing melody of the water. It was bracing for the frail, fun for the young, and calm for the aged.
However, in the darkness and chill of winter, the beach on the northern border of Equestria was deserted save for the few fisherponies who called the area home. Of those ponies, there was never plenty. Even in the season, when ponies from across the country visited, it was not the locals who received their business, unless an intrepid tourist wished to brave the waves themselves.
No, the precious golden bits went to the nobles who opened residences and villas for rent, or to the merchants who fell upon the area like a swarm of ravening locusts. No, tourist bits were not what supported that small town. Love, friendship, and the never ending bounty of the deep blue sea were all that kept the town afloat in the hard winter months.
This town gave rise to ponies with such bland names as Seaweed, Riptide, and Tidepool, who spent their lives knowing nothing more than the sea, the shore, and the occasional visitor. Even a Cutie Mark was beyond them, for there was simply no time to find their ‘special talent’. Some in the village didn’t even believe that such marks were real, merely an explanation given by those with the bright tattoos to justify the mutilations.
It was from this small, poor, depressing village that two of Equestria’s best spa ponies hailed. Aloe and Lotus called the small village home, though only one of the pair would ever admit to such humble beginnings.
Aloe thought that to admit that they were the daughters of a poor fisherpony would discredit them, something her twin had never agreed with. Did their origins matter when held to the accomplishments of the two?
Regardless, it had been years since the pink mare had stepped hoof in the village.
For Lotus Blossom though, her home was a haven. It was where she wasn’t badgered and constantly solicited. To the inhabitants of Seahorse Beach, she was simply their little Lotus Blossom. She was the young mare who would leave for a while, but then return, smiling and laughing. She would bring life back to the droll existence of the inhabitants.
But even if she loved those ponies dearly, sometimes Lotus simply needed time to be alone. To enjoy the pounding waves. And unlike even the ponies she grew up with, Lotus could swim.
Far from the white cliffs which sheltered the hamlet, pink hair burst through the rough water. The rest of the blue body soon followed, as Lotus hauled herself onto the rock far from the shore. The villagers knew the small outcrop of stone as Blindmare’s Bluff, named after a long ago pony who set sail from the shores of Seahorse Bluff, never to return. It was a popular local legend that on a cold stormy nights, you could still hear the haunting song which pulled her boat awry and sent it plunging into the depths of the sea.
Nopony would come near the rock now, afraid of the ghost of that doomed ship. Which meant that it was the only place where a mare could find peace and solitude amongst the roaring surf.
Lotus had stumbled upon the rock long ago, when she and Aloe were only fillies. They had been swimming off the shore, within easy sight of the sand when a storm had rolled in. It fell upon the village without warning, stooping like a hawk over its kill, and swept the fillies out to sea.
They had both been washed aground on the rock, slamming into it with the anger of the sea driving what little air was in their lungs out again.
The thought of that storm still made Lotus shiver. She had been sure that they would die there, huddled together on that rock. But by morning, the wind’s fury had finally calmed, and the clouds had parted on a truly beautiful sunrise. Their tears had cleared quickly, replaced by joy at the sight of the many rafts and coracles of the fisherponies setting out, looking for the morning catch and two young mares.
Lotus reclined on the smooth stone, content to rest as the ocean spray fell in a fine mist over her body. It was nice to simply lie here, alone in the wind and water.
When her eyes opened, Lotus could see stars overhead. Countless specks of light shone through the darkness, reflecting tenfold on the roiling water. Far away, she could see the faint light of the village shining through the cold and the dark.
Sighing, the mare picked herself up. Her fur was matted, encrusted with the salt of the sea, and she groaned. It would take forever to groom herself clean and still longer before the lingering scent of seawater and dead fish left her.
Looking around, she sighed again. It was a pity she had to leave. There was a certain allure to the sea at night, she had to admit. She could almost hear an echoing voice calling to her in the roar of the waves. But that was nonsense.
Taking a long, deep breath, she prepared herself. It was a long swim from Blindmare’s Bluff to the shore, and a difficult one even in the bright light of day. At night, with the seas roughened by the large moon hanging overhead, it would be dangerous.
Lotus steeled herself,and leapt from her smooth perch. In the thirty feet to the surface of the water, Lotus sped through the air. This must be how a pegasus felt, the wind whipping past you, mussing your mane. She smiled and brought her front hooves forward. Closing her eyes, she dove into the water, convulsing at the sudden, biting cold.
This was not the sea that showponies and nobles came to see in the summer. This was the sea of early autumn, and, while comfortable enough during the day, at night the temperature plummeted. It felt as though shards of ice were being driven into her flesh as she cut through the water.
Ignoring the stinging pain, Lotus opened her eyes, looking up at the surface only a few feet away. From here, the stars took on a new face. No longer were they the cold lights that watched uncaring from the heavens, nor were they the twinkle in the eye of a joyous mare. These stars were wholly new to the spa pony, and for a moment she floated transfixed. The way the stars shimmered and moved, almost uncaring, not quite happy, as though they were within her grasp. They seemed so close in fact, that she stretched out a hoof towards the lights.
Then the rolling water caught her, carrying her away in the tide. The illusion was shattered, and Lotus blinked. The pain redoubled, and the chill set in once more. Nothing daunted though, she set off towards home.
Through the wavy light in the water, she oriented herself, heading for the red glow of fire. That way lay home, and warmth, and shelter, and food. Her hooves cut through the water in smooth, strong strokes as she knifed her way closer and closer to the red gleam. No matter how fast she moved though, the light moved with her, pulling farther and farther back. Soon, her lungs would give out, and she would need to surface, need to breathe. But not yet.
Suddenly, her hoof struck the sandy bottom, and she pushed upwards. Her head burst once more through the waves, and she gasped. A great lungful of air entered her lungs, wonderful, magical, life-giving air.
She coughed up the stale contents of her lungs, taking another deep breath. As she did though, a wave crashed over her. It hammered down, driving her face into the sand and crushed the air from her lungs. Water filled her mouth, and Lotus struggled not to inhale the salty concoction. One did not grow up on the shore without seeing the horrible, seemingly peaceful death by drowning.
She would not let that happen to her. She would not simply disappear, leaving only a pale corpse to wash ashore months after her death. Her Momma needed her and Aloe to support her in her age, and Papa couldn’t fish forever. Aloe would be lost without her.
So no stupid wave, no smelly ocean would best her. She was born in this village. But damned if she would die here.
She wrenched her body about, tearing her head from the sand. Once more, she pushed off of the bottom. Now though, she kept pushing, until she lay on the beach itself. Retching and hacking, she took another gulp of air. This time, there was no wave to take her breath away, only the crisp, salty air of the coast.
Lotus smiled. No matter how often she came here, no matter how many vacations she took, this village never ceased to surprise her. Maybe next time she would just go to Canterlot instead though. Maybe.
“Another one!” the plum coloured mare demanded, slamming the empty mug on the counter.
The bartender, an orange stallion with a curly, reddish-brown mane and a beer glass cutie mark took the mug and filled it again, then placed it in front of her. A few drops of punch were spilt on the counter. None of the two ponies seemed to mind. The bar was almost empty at this time of the day anyway. Only three more Ponies were sitting in a dimly lit corner, playing cards.
*sip*
“Another day, another mug... It’s always the same,” Berry Punch thought. “What am I doing with my life...?” she asked herself.
*sip*
Indeed, Berry’s life wasn’t particularly spectacular. Due to her lack of enthusiasm, she had never really found a job that fit her. In fact, she never really looked for one. She just went through several occasional jobs, earning enough money to live a somewhat comfortable life...together with her daughter, Berry Pinch.
“Oh yeah, my little sweetheart... I guess, that’s what you get for getting drunk when you’re in heat...”
She giggled at the joke.
*sip*
No, Berry wasn’t unhappy about it. In fact, Berry Pinch was the best thing that had ever happened to her.
“Well, except for that one time, when I went to that ‘all you can drink’-party. It will take years until they pick up that idea again.”
She giggled again.
Jokes aside, Berry Punch loved her daughter. She loved her with all her heart and she wished that she could offer her a better life. If only she could remember the name of the cowardly prick that was Pinch’s father.
After she had found out that she was pregnant, she had tried everything to find that guy again, but with no memories about him, it was a futile attempt. She had had to go through it alone...and she would have never made it without the help of her family.
“Family, the only thing in the world I wouldn’t sell for a good drink....” she thought and chuckled once more.
*sip*
It was true, her family was the most important thing for her. Her daughter, her parents and, of course, her little sister, Pina Colada. They loved her, despite her...tendency to get drunk.
*sip*
But still, sometimes , it felt like she didn’t live the life she was supposed to live. It wasn’t boring but...she felt like she could only enjoy herself when she was drunk...or when she was with Berry Pinch...or sometimes both.
*sip*
Yes, Berry had also been drunk in front of her own daughter. Several times, to be honest and yes, she was ashamed of herself. She thought of it as the most irresponsible thing a parent could do and still, it happened to her all the time.
However, Pinch didn’t resent her that. She knew about her mother’s ‘slight’ drinking problem and did her best to help her. She helped her getting up the stairs when Berry couldn’t walk straight anymore, she was there to hold her mane back when she was puking in the toilet, and she was never embarrassed when Berry was cussing and swearing randomly in public once again. The little filly truly was the best thing in her life.
*sip*
Berry Punch noticed that her mug was empty again. She didn’t even need to say a word. The bartender pony grabbed it and filled it up again silently.
“Thanks...” Berry mumbled and tried to give him a smile.
That guy was getting more attractive every minute.
“Gah, stop it. Not this again! As gorgeous as she is, you don’t need another Berry Pinch!”
She chuckled again.
*sip*
Berry looked down at her flank, staring at her cutie mark for a few moments, then sighed. The one secret she had never told anyone... Berry Punch didn’t know what her cutie mark meant. She simply couldn’t remember when or how she had gotten it. Technically, she didn’t have a special talent... Technically...she was a still...a blank flank....
“I’m useless... I’m completely useless.” She thought and frowned, reaching for the mug once more.
*sip*
*sip*
*sip*
Suddenly another pony entered the bar. It was Derpy Hooves, the wall-eyed mailmare of Ponyville. The pegasus just raised her hoof to wave when, suddenly, she stumbled and crashed into a table.
The bartender facehoofed.
Derpy got back on her hooves, shaking her head. “Oops, my bad!” she called.
Berry watched the clumsy mare for a few more minutes. Then she suddenly realized:
“Derpy doesn’t really have a special talent either. Her cutie mark is bubbles. What kind of talent is that supposed to be? ...and she’s a single mom, too...and still...she seems so happy and easygoing all the time... She never seems to worry about anything... Maybe that’s what I’m failing at. Maybe I should just accept what I am... Maybe I should just try to be...happy...”
She took another sip and slowly stood up on her hind legs, clearing her throat audibly. She looked into the audience. Except from Derpy, nopony seemed to even notice her. However, she started to babble:
“Listen up everypony, I’ve...” She hiccuped. “...I‘ve got something...to tell you!”
She made an unnecessary dramatic pause.
“I’m an aclho...alho...alcoholic!”
...
“You don’t say?” The bartender mumbled.
Berry shot him an angry glare, then continued.
“Yes, I’m an alcoholic...and I’m bucking proud of it! No matter what you say, you will never put me down.
*sip*
“I’m invincible!” she shouted.
*sip*
“Yeah Berry Punch, wahooooooo!” Derpy cheered from the back of the bar, throwing her forelegs in the air, just to fall back and crash into a chair.
The bartender tried to pull Berry back down, but she tossed his hoof away.
“I don’t need you!”
*sip*
“I don’t need any of you!”
*sip*
“I’m the queen of the wo--” Her ranting was unceremoniously cut off as she sicked all over the bar in front of her.
…
“Eww, now that’s gross...” she said, half laughing.
Was it really too much to ask for a latte? Of course it was. In place of her favorite fix, dark espresso - two shots - and a bit of extra foam, a soymilk and rosehip monstrosity sat and mocked her in its paper travel cup. But of course, lactose would clog her throat with fresh phlegm, and caffeine could make her voice scratchy. Well, really, scratchier than its usual, signature husk. Never mind that the audience wouldn’t tell the difference. Never mind that she used to toss back straight whiskey during her sets at the Stomping Grounds, before her lovely agent catapulted her into the nationwide spotlight. Back when she crooned bittersweet ballads and shouted the blues in the dingy basement lounge, singing her soul out nightly for a small crowd of quiet, nameless mares and colts nursing their drinks and sorrows, cradled in a haze of cigarette smoke and broken dreams. That’d make for a nice song... Slow blues maybe; organ, bass, drums... Back before the populace placed her high on a pedestal and packaged her up as the ‘pony of pop’; back when strangers looked her in the eye or asked her name, back when ponies still told her no without cringing. Nopony but Lucky said ‘no’ these days. He’d earned it twice over with his careful guidance and indulgence in her little eccentricities, if not in her beverage of choice.
Still, there was nothing for it but to smile at the nervous intern holding the cup for her - Wouldn’t do to scuff the hooves, now would it? - and take a sip through the ridiculous pink straw jutting through the travel lid. Ginger, echinacea, and habanera hit her tongue like a hoof to the face. Ah, yes. The lauded ‘cold kicker’. It wouldn’t do to lose the most carefully guarded voice in Equestria. Not on tour. Her signature voice could not waver once, could not lose its lustre, its shimmering, wild tambor. No, every city, from Manehattan to Vanhoover, deserved to hear her absolute best. And tonight, she needed to be absolutely sensational. Her hometown always had a great turnout, and she needed to respect that; she needed to be somepony worth seeing tour after tour, showing the generations of carriage builders and farriers that something else could become their children’s future, that they could dream beyond steel suspensions and lightweight axles.
It had been a miracle when she met Lucky Break. He showed her the ins and outs, introduced her to the greats, spread word and polished hooves and got her to the right places at the right times. She had come this far by his knowledge as much as her own talents. She owed it to him to take care of herself and finish the eye-watering cocktail, just as she owed it to him to keep her reputation spotless. Just as she owed it to the world to give back in thanks of the good fortune that had sent him her way.
Sunny Meadows ran through harmony lines one last time before the curtain call. She’d been a real find, busking on a corner outside a Fillydelphian cafe. Although she had a sweet, distinctive voice, what had caught Sapphire’s ear had been the songs the young mare wrote. Her careful, witty lyrics and melodic intricacy put her miles beyond most of the big names already in the field. Truly, Meadows was an up-and-coming powerhouse. Up-and-coming: her three favorite words in the Equestrian language. Snappy and full of pizazz, much like the mares and colts that fit the description. And whenever she said those words, a ghost of the old thrill hit her, hearkening back to the days when her demo became a single became an album became a discography, and when she moved from background noise to an opener to a headliner to a household name. After this tour, she would record one of Sunny Meadows’ songs on a new album. Help spread the word around about her, help her make connections, set her off on the path to greatness.
After all, what was the point of fame and fortune without the leverage that came with it? The paparazzi and fans that followed her every move with flashes and shutters made her see red sometimes with their crazy stunts. They were half the reason she frequented small dive-bars when she needed to unwind, although those venues came with the adventure of new, unknown artists waiting to be heard. Some surprising ponies lived their lives in obscurity, performing soulfully to an audience more interested in their hayfries than the insightful phrasings and and haunting lyrics of an acoustic songwriter on the dimly lit stage. And with the right advice, the right nudges towards the right people, or sometimes a bit of sponsorship, they could rise through the cracks in the pavement and make a name for themselves. All of us growing like weeds, and I'm the biggest thistle of them all. Every so often, she would run into somepony she had helped out. The old pride she always felt Would warm her chest again as they talked about their careers and how far they'd come since they 'graduated' her area of direct influence. The rush she had gotten when she first extended a hoof to a young DJ and watched her gain fame and an influence of her own (She played the royal wedding, for Pete's sake) had only grown over time as she found she could hire more sidemen and road crew and stoke interest in youth for the fine arts. Slowly but surely she gave back to the world that had given her so much to begin with. Her life was a bad dimestore novella, a perfect rags-to-riches story of epic proportion. The lonely bar singer who caught her break and became the pony everypony wanted to be. Fame, riches, and a small army if she ever wanted it. Almost half the newer greats in the industry owed at least some of their success to her. And though armies win battles, music won hearts. Not that she would ever abuse her position like that, but the knowledge that she could had gotten her through terrible tours filled with slimy managers and flaky sidemen.
Her straw let out a sickening gurgle as she reached the bottom of the cup. She stretched luxuriously and left the cushion behind, trotting to her costume rack as a unicorn carefully extracted the curlers from her mane. She hummed through casual warm-ups while stepping into the emerald jumpsuit that genius Rarity had thrown together, tightening the hidden buckles in the chest with her teeth. She pranced in place to loosen up her knees and tossed her head to catch any kinks in her neck. One belted scale run from a low D to as high as she could reach, and she was ready. Through the stage door, the murmurs and shiftings of a full house provided a soothing soundtrack to wait by. Moments like these were her fuel, her food and water, her greatest vice, the highlight of her day.
“Stage in 2, Ms. Shores.” She nodded to the crewpony and smiled. Two minutes before that first hit. Two minutes before she struck like thunder, two minutes before crowd would surge and flow to her music, to her voice, to her soul’s melody. It can’t get much better than this.
Everypony knew Donut Joe lived and breathed his namesake - quite literally, considering he lived at his shop - but what not a lot of ponies knew were who his his first customers were.
Open all day, 24/7!
That’s what the sign outside said, and that’s what got their attention. The quiet environment and lack of ponies were also a bonus, and, of course, there were the delicious, most amazing treats this side of Equestria.
Twelve thirty AM, right on time, which was good. On the rare occasions they weren’t on time, there was usually something bad going on. At best, an apology, at worst, yelling and tears, even some magical collateral damage to his shop.
They found their doughnuts in a bag on their usual table which sat outside of the store - the same amount of the same pastries they got everytime: three sugar-coated, jelly-filled doughnuts and two chocolate-glazed, cream-filled eclairs. Many times in the past they had offered to pay, however, Donut Joe had always politely refused.
It was his honor and privilege to be serving them; their presence was pay enough. Their guards, on the other hand, did not get the same benefits.
When four guards walked over to the counter, Joe greeted them and asked them what they would be having.
“The usual,” they replied.
It took Joe less than a minute to magically bring out five bags each filled with recently made doughnuts, giving one to each of them.
“That’s Joe, he always knows,” one chuckled.
“Hey, mine’s got sprinkles on it! What gives, Joe?”
“Specially made, try ‘em.”
“Alright, if you say so...Mmmm....Mmm! MMM! This is great! How do you do that, Joe?”
“Hey, some colts know how to swing a sword, I know how to make good pastries. It’s what I do,” Joe smiled.
“Hey, Joe, who’s the fifth bag for?”
“Your wife’s been comin’ by for the last few days, orderin’ the same thing. I thought she’d like these free donuts, compliments of the chef.”
“Wow, seriously? Thanks!”
“No probs.”
“Uhh...Sirs? Should we really leave the princesses alone?” The door opened to reveal a younger guard, looking timid and confused.
“Kid, they’ll be fine. Rest and eat something!”
“Airheart, right? New recruit, am I right?” Joe asked,rubbing a hoof against the bottom of his chin.
“Um...Yes, sir.”
“Hmm...You look like a green tea donut kind of mare.”
“Um...Pardon?”
Donut Joe’s eyes traveled down, scanning her body. “No, you’re right. Pink frosted, light on the sprinkles. Am I right?”
“I’ve actually never tried donuts before...If it’s all the same, can I just have some water?”
“Yeah, yeah, sure...But while I get you some water, why don’t you have one? On the house?” Joe grinned, bringing a pink, sugary doughnut out from the shelf behind him with his magic. The pegasus looked at the pastry, before leaning forward and taking a small bite. “How is it?”
The girl chewed the bite for a few moments, before moaning in joy, rubbing her cheeks with her hooves. “It’s delicious!” She smiled, happily taking another bite.
“Heh, thought so.”
“Joe, how do you do that?!” one guard asked in amazement, as Airheart happily ate her doughnut.
“It’s a gift. I can just see what a pony likes in their doughnut.”
“Well, you are called Donut Joe.”
The group shared a brief chuckle before returning to their food.
Things eventually got quiet. The five guards were focused on enjoying their meals, and Joe had fulfilled his job description: the customers were happy. Joe looked to the window, and he saw them talking outside.
Equestria’s rulers: Princess Celestia and her sister, Princess Luna. They chatted outside about matters far above the simple store owner - country-threatening evils, political rebellions, or maybe, just maybe, they were just talking.
They were a lot like their doughnuts, or maybe their donuts were a lot like them. Not that Joe didn’t know that already - he could see the similarities when he saw the princesses. Powdered sugar with a surprising filling. More to the regal, pure-white princess than just her coat. Dark outer coating, but a sweet, wonderful filling. More to the dark, intimidating princess than you’d think. It was uncanny.
Then again, lots of ponies were different from the first glance. Unlike Joe. What you saw was what you got. A stallion with a love of making and selling doughnuts.
Nonetheless, Joe couldn’t help but laugh at his own strange habit. Strange, yes, but that’s how he related to ponies. What kind of donut they ate said a lot about who they were. One of the guards noticed and asked him what he was laughing about. Joe just shrugged the question off as he quietly went about making more doughnuts.
After Celestia and Luna came the early morning joggers and ponies on the rush to work. Healthy, nutritious bagels for the former, with cold bottles of water at the ready, and sugary, waker-uppers for the latter, with some hot cups of coffee made to enjoy it with.
“Hey, did you hear? Twilight Sparkle and her gang are coming up here for the Summer Sun Festival.”
“No kidding?”
Twilight? Let’s see, Summer Sun Festival....
Joe used his magic to lift up a pen and brought it to a dozen or so sticky notes. He wrote on one, before taking that sticky note and sticking it on the wall.
Summer Sun Festival - Twilight and Gang. Extra sprinkle donuts with hot chocolate for Spike, blueberry bagels for Rarity, sesame seed bagel for Fluttershy, Honey-8-Grain bagel for Applejack, and chocolate covered donuts for Rainbow Dash, Everything donuts for Pinkie Pie.
Twilight Sparkle was excluded on the list. She used to get a simple plain bagel, he remembered. Back when she just came here to study and took a bite out of her bagel once every eight pages. Now? She had one heck of a more colorful choice. Last time she was here, she tried a wide variety of practically every donut and bagel she could, before she got sick.
Funny...He never thought of Twilight of wanting to be experimental with her snacks.
Either way, he wasn’t sure what Twilight would want, so he’d best be prepared for anything. Anything...Hmm...
“Hey, Joe? Joe?”
“Hm?”
“You okay?”
“Yeah, yeah, fine.” Donut Joe brought a notepad and pen up and began to write down which pastries Twilight had a liking for. Since she wanted to experiment, so would he. “Powdered sugar and blueberry...Raspberry bits? Ooh, maybe I can ask Pinkie for help...”
“What’s with him?”
“Donut-storming, looks like.”
“Donut-storming?”
“It’s when he gets all obsessed with making a good donut.”
“Donuts are more than just food for Joe, they’re a way of life.”
Joe mumbled to himself various things, looking back and forth between the ingredients he would need to order next. Pastries and various condiments floated through the air, controlled by his magical aura. He was so focused on his work that he didn’t notice the first rays of sunshine as the moon faded over the horizon.
“Excuse me? Donut Joe?”
“One moment. I’m in the zone, know what I mean?”
“Oh, of course, our apologies.”
It took five whole minutes, but Donut Joe was finally able to put his work down. He turned to the customer and found the princesses of the night and day before him.
“Princess? Oh, I’m real sorry about that! You know how I get when I’m like that, what can I do for you?”
“We just wanted to thank you for another excellent meal,” Luna said.
Joe smiled and took off his hat, placing it against his chest as he bowed. “Hey, no problem, forget about it! I’ll see you two again at noon, right?”
“Of course. We also hope to see you during the Summer Sun Festival,” Celestia smiled.
“I’ll be there, Princess, and so will my delicious, delectable, dear donuts!” Joe grinned. He waved his goodbyes as they and the guards left, leaving the chef alone. He watched as Celestia’s sun began to rise and let out a gentle yawn. Donuts were ready. Designs were in the making. He was right on schedule. But now, that schedule called for a short, twenty minute rest.
The baker began to slowly close his eyes. Just a short nap before the first customer came, he told himself. Hayseed Turnip Truck always knew to wake him, before paying for his apple cinnamon donut. He rested his head on the counter, allowing himself to sleep, as the fresh smell of baking donuts filled his nose and carried him to a sugar coated dreamland...
Written by: DarkPhoenix Rated Everyone (harmless foalshipping)
Twist was annoyed. Even though her special talent and cutie mark were in making confectionaries, it was still a long process. With a swipe of her hoof she sent the latest failed batch into a bowl. There she could lay it back out on a sheet tray and reheat it, making it soft and pliable again.
Her annoyance came from the fact that she had now failed for the third time. She knew that she was aiming high with her latest creation, but it had to be perfect for him.
Hearts and Hooves Day was tomorrow and she wanted to give a gift to Truffle Shuffle. Since they had exchanged gifts the previous year and become a couple, she knew that this year needed to be really special.
The problem with making peppermint candies into shapes is that the material needed to be hot enough to bend and twist, but cool enough to handle with her hooves. The window was small and if it was missed, she could burn her hooves, or the candy could break, which is what happened with the last batch.
With a sigh she poured the broken candies onto a tray and placed it back into the oven, checking the batch that was in there to see if it was ready. Even though she started this project for Truffle, she had decided to make another batch to hand out to her friends.
The batch in the oven was soft to the touch but not overly hot. She carefully removed the tray from the oven and set it on the counter. Twist knew that now the clock was ticking. She had only a brief amount of time before the candies cooled.
Quickly she got to work. She picked up a strand of peppermint candy and began to mold it. Candy canes, straight rods, several rods twisted together, all these shapes were easy and known to her. She wanted to do something different, something new for her coltfriend.
Using her hooves, she rolled the strand, making a twist pattern in the candy. Setting that one to the side she grabbed another piece and started flattening it. With sure and swift strikes of her hoof she attempted to get the candy into the proper shape.
As she worked her thoughts kept turning back to the last year. She had made a coltfriend, one that she really liked and who she knew liked her back. When she had gotten the courage to give her Hearts and Hooves Day card to him last year, she had no idea what to expect. It was much to her amazement that he had given her a hug and whispered in her ear a sweet thanks.
She looked at her progress and realized that the piece was flat enough for what she had in mind. She used a small knife to cut a square out of the piece and then set the square next to the twist.
Now came the real test, and where she had failed before. She needed to shape the twist and get it to adhere to the square. Hoping the twist was still warm, she grabbed it and bent it, forming half of a heart. So far so good, the candy was still malleable. Picking up the twist she placed it on the square and pressed gently. The twist sunk a tiny amount into the square.
Twist allowed herself a small smile as she knew her work was at least partway complete and she didn’t have to start over from scratch. She set the inlaid work to the side and tested the rest of the candy on the tray. She had spent too much time on the one piece because as soon as she tried to shape another portion of candy, it broke in half. The peppermint had cooled too much to work with now. Still though, she had made progress, which was better than the last three times she had tried. Opening the oven and sliding the tray in, next to the one that was already in there. With a quick poke, she tested the second tray and found that it wasn’t quite ready yet.
Feeling ready for a break anyway, she poured herself a glass of the Apple family’s apple juice and sat at the kitchen table. It would be another few minutes before she could get to work again. Making candies was hot and hard work, constantly standing over hot stoves and in front of ovens, tempering the sugars and mixing all the ingredients together. But she loved it and was passionate about bringing good candy to everyone. If she didn’t then her flank would bare another picture.
Earning her cutie mark was one of the most special days of her life, and while she didn’t regret finding her place in life, she did regret how she acted after that. She had abandoned one of her friends, Apple Bloom.
It had taken her a long time, but she had made up with Apple Bloom and even made friends with Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo. Even though she had her cutie mark already, she was happy to join the Cutie Mark Crusaders on some of their adventures. Although she made sure to keep away from anything which smelt of disaster. Over the past few months she had been on multiple adventures with her friends.
Lost in her thoughts, she almost forgot about the candy in the oven. Fortunately, her nose alerted her to the fact that her candy was ready. Leaving her cup on the table and heading back to the oven, she passed through “the wall,” the barrier of hot air surrounding her workstation.
Opening the oven and retrieving the second tray, she cautiously tested the candy. It was hot and she wouldn’t be able to handle it for long, but it was still workable.
She removed one strand and started rolling it, just like the other one. The peppermint was hot enough that she could only touch it for a brief amount of time before needing to let her hooves cool down. Yet it was warm and pliable enough to easily create shapes with it.
No sooner was the candy in the proper twist shape did she bend it into the other half of a heart. Moving over to the base, she applied the twist to the base and knew that the residual heat would make it stick.
Looking down she saw exactly what she was looking for: a square base with a twist-edged heart set into it. The base was made of standard red and white peppermint, but the heart was only red in color. Twist had tried hard and gone through several batches before she got the right shade. She wanted the candy to be as close to her mane and tail color as possible. Now all that was needed was the accessories.
She spent the next hour making candies, from little rounds individually wrapped in wax paper, to the traditional peppermint canes, to several straight rods. She also made several ribbon shaped pieces which were applied to the corners of the square.
When everything was done, the kitchen was cleaned, and the candy was set and ready for tomorrow. Twist sat at the table once more, another glass of juice in front of her. The work was hard, but the payoff was immense. The looks of gratitude, the joy on people’s faces when they ate her candies, that was why she did what she did. If even one pony thanked her for the gift, if Truffle hugged her, then everything she had been through today was worth it.
With her saddlebags packed and ready for tomorrow, Twist shut off the lights in the kitchen and closed the door, ready to face the next day.
"...Not this time, Ahuizotl!" the tan Pegasus cried as she swung down from the treetops, snatching the sapphire statue from her archenemy. "Curse you, Daring Do!" the blue dog creature yelled as she swung off into the sunset...." The sound of heavy rain dancing on her rooftop woke Daring up from the pleasant dream. Dreams like those always made her mornings. Stretching her wings, the tan Pegasus decided it was finally time to get up. The rain put a damper on her plans for the day. She was originally going to start explore a new set of ruins, but that was fine, there was still plenty she could do; like cleaning up around the tree house, Celestia knew the place needed it. After a shower and breakfast, she thought after seeing her reflection in her mirror.
Trying to get to her kitchen was more hazardous than some of the most dangerous ruins she had explored. There were rolled-up maps tossed about on the ground, exploration gear, and priceless artifacts shoved into any nook and cranny she could fit them in. I really need to get those sent in, she thought. Daring groaned when she saw her kitchen table--it was covered in maps and charts of her latest finds. After making herself a quick breakfast of apples and juice, she threw on an apron and bandana in place of her trusty pith helmet and got to work.
Opening up the windows of the tree house so the dust wouldn't settle back inside, she could feel a slight breeze from the storm. "That'll feel good while I'm working," she said to herself. Walking back into the kitchen she grabbed the maps that were already rolled up and started putting them up in the bins she had labeled for each area: Saddle Arabia, Zebrica, and other exotic areas. After making sure she had gotten every map from every room, she got to work on the ones spread out. She knew she had been to a lot of places, but seeing all her bins full really made it hit home. Daring could only imagine how many artifacts she had lying around. I’ll get around to those soon enough.
Using one wing as a duster and her other one to hold the dustpan, Daring carefully backtracked thru the areas she had just cleaned, humming to herself as she carefully made sure she got all the dust from her freshly cleaned house. Each time the dust pan got full, Daring would go to the nearest open window and throw out the dirt. She got a sense of serenity, watching the dust fall, becoming mixed in with the rain. The consistent patter of it on her ceiling was calming as well. But she had enough of that, it was time to get back to work.
The next thing on the agenda was her books. She had plenty of shelves to put books on, but with her constant explorations, said books were scattered all throughout her home. It was enough to make any neat freak lose it. Daring decided to start back in her room and work her way to the front. Grabbing her empty saddle bag off her bed, she started stuffing it full of books, making trips to the library to unload once said bags were full. It only took her two and a half trips before she was in the main part of her home, the bookshelves filling up quickly with every trip back. There was one particular book she had a hard time with--her Album--which was chock full of past adventures and silly tid-bits.
After the last book was put away, Daring collapsed on her couch, sighing in exasperation. Glancing at her clock revealed she had been cleaning for a few hours. No wonder I’m so tired. On the bright side, all that was left were her artifacts. Taking a second to look around, she admired her hoof work. Almost every surface was clean, she could actually see her floor, and, instead of smelling like an old dusty library, her home had a light citrusy scent. Deciding she had lounged long enough, Daring prepared herself for the final stretch.
Once more heading back to her room, she got to work. Collecting her treasures a hoof load at a time, Daring allowed herself a second to reminisce as she placed each relic where it belonged. A lot of them were small trinkets, like necklaces or idols. Her more important and big finds were in museums spread out thru Equestria. She had replicas of some of those, such as the Sapphire Statue. She couldn’t help but chuckle at that memory, poor Ahuizotl. Shaking her head, she pushed herself harder. She was almost done. Thinking back now as she ran around her home, digging up relics from the most random places (an idol in her fridge, necklace under her couch, scrolls in her dresser, etc.), Daring was glad she didn’t have anything that would require more than one pony to move.
After about another hour and half’s work, she was finally done. Collapsing unceremoniously onto the couch, Daring noticed that the rain had stopped, leaving her with a perfect view of the sun setting and the moon rising. Even though an entire day of exploring had been missed, she couldn’t complain. The tan Pegasus smiled tiredly, glad to have finally caught up on all the cleaning. “I’m never letting it get that messy again,” she said, laughing at herself. She knew that in a few days, there would be maps and artifacts scattered throughout the place all over again. At least I can enjoy while it lasts. The tired Pegasus dragged herself to the kitchen for what was hopefully the last time that evening to make a small dinner and put on some tea. Once her tea was done, Daring took her modest dinner, a daffodil sandwich, hay fries, and honey tea, back over to her couch. She had made up her mind to enjoy what was left of her day. “Another day, another adventure,” she said softly, and sipped at her tea.
Dash sighed again. Today was going to be a long day.
She had grown lazy again and let the clouds build up. Sure, she could clear them quickly, but today had been a day when she had been forced to skip her nap and she was barely running on ten hours sleep. The scheduled storms had all been delayed in favor of a carnival and several sporting events that were going on that month. The clouds were now so heavy that they were dripping. Sleeping on them was cold and uncomfortable. Rainbow shivered just thinking about it.
It wasn’t the rest of the weather team’s fault either. They had all been busy with personal business it seemed. Lightning Bolt had to take care of her foal. Merry May was consoling a friend who had just gone through a breakup. Parasol was visiting her folks in Cloudsdale. Derpy was...Dash didn’t actually know where Derpy was. Last time she’d seen her was at Pinkie’s ‘I’m so excited it’s free muffin day!” party. A friend of hers, Carrot Top, said she’d seen her in a barrel of muffins lying outside Sugarcube Corner. But what did any of that matter now? Now was a time for cloudbucking, the pegasus equivalent of applebucking.
With a resigned sigh, Rainbow Dash flew to the nearest cloud and gave it a hearty kick with her back legs. She was a bit out of practice since she had been slacking off lately, so the first one hurt a bit. Nothing she couldn’t handle, of course. The cloud didn’t take long to empty itself of all precipitation. The blue pegasus sighed yet again. Ponyville was in for a little unexpected downpour.
Underneath the cover of clouds, ponies went about their normal business. Some enjoyed the new cafe that had just opened down the corner. Many were busy and rushed from place to place in a daze, not seeing anything around them. Others passed friends and stopped to chat. Still others just sat under a tree and slept, enjoying the nice sunshine.
It was so tempting to imagine herself lying on the now dry and exhausted cloud for a nice nap. It would be so nice to just let herself go to the soft and fluffy goodness that was a cloud...
No. Nopony was going to call Rainbow Dash a quitter. Why, that was tantamount to calling her disloyal, and something like that was unacceptable.
Squaring her face for the long day ahead of her, the determined pegasus moved on to the next heavy cloud. With every cloud she bucked, she felt a bit better about herself. She was doing her part, even if it wasn’t the coolest thing she could have been doing at the time.
On the ground, Pinkie was bouncing through town, a box of tricks on her back sturdily sitting atop her flank as if it had been fastened there with anti-sanity glue. She was off to have some more fun, something Dash suddenly craved like some sort of addictive nip.
No. Now was the time for work, and Dash would not be the one to fall victim to the tantalizing delights of delaying her task yet again. Drowsily, she prepped her back legs for the next mighty kick. Again, the cloud emptied. The sound of running water was soothing...nearly soporific in effect. Dash’s eyelids began to flutter, her wingbeats becoming erratic as she tried to stay in the air while half-asleep. Slowly, she began to lower her head to the soft cloud under her chin...
Suddenly she shook her head vigorously, spreading cold droplets of water in all directions. What was she doing sleeping on the job? Wasn’t she already in enough trouble with the Weather Bureau and Mayor Mare giving her grief for letting the clouds roam out of hoof? The very thought sent waves of guilt washing over her. Reluctantly, but now with renewed determination, Rainbow bucked five clouds in a row, not stopping between them.
As she took a mild breather, the pegasus glanced down at the ground again. This time she saw Colgate, who was holding up a giant green toothbrush in her blue aura and cackling to herself about Celestia knows what. After the blue unicorn passed, Doctor Whooves ran through a puddle, splashing Junebug with mud. The disgruntled earth pony made a face before turning around in the opposite direction from whence she came. Rainbow was just about to go back to her duty when something caught her eye over by Sugarcube Corner.
Pinkie had somehow gotten hold of a sparkler and was playing with it, giggling at the little sparks that flew up from it. Laughing with her was a red unicorn with a spiky yellow mane. He was holding a box of more sparklers and a matchbox in the air with his orange magic. The unicorn lit ten sparklers at once and made them twirl around himself and Pinkie. Clapping gaily, the two easily amused ponies were interrupted from their fun when one of the sparklers fell out of the unicorn’s magical grasp and ignited a pile of hay near them. Jumping back, the two ponies’ smiles turned to looks of worry pretty fast and, just as they were about to start panicking, Rainbow Dash came up with an idea to save the day.
Maybe this day wouldn’t be such a waste after all.
Thinking fast, the pegasus propelled herself deftly at the fattest cloud in her line of sight. Flapping hard, she moved that cloud over the haystack and bucked it as hard as she could. Instantly, the cloud’s rain put out the little fire before it could do any severe damage. Pinkie and her friend, who had been hugging each other and trembling, suddenly smiled again. As they looked up to offer their thanks with a grateful round of applause, Dash gave them a small smile.
Fairly quickly, the town under the clouds calmed down and Rainbow Dash went back to her job, feeling very satisfied.
Summer has come and passed The innocent can never last Wake me up When September ends
She let her voice carry. No one was home. It was just her. Her and that hypnotic resonance that emit from somewhere deep inside her.
Like my father’s come to pass Seven years has gone so fast Wake me up When September ends
The melodic tones of her amazing voice danced across the lyrics, a true merit to her favorite slow song.
Here comes the rain again Falling from the stars
She loved the way it passed her lips, such a sad song filled with such happy thoughts.
Drenched in my pain again Becoming who we are
She hoped that one day she might understand the raw emotion that went into a song like this, the sacrifice and devotion necessary to create something so beautiful.
As my memory rests But never forgets what I lost Wake me up When September ends
She sang the rest of the song, tears welling up in her eyes as she read into the words, looking deeper than the surface in order to truly understand the passion they contained.
It was beautiful.
As she finished, she thought of her own talent. It was nothing compared to the words. What is voice but a medium for a message? What good is beauty for an envelope? A message is the same no matter how it's conveyed. What she truly wanted was to write her own songs, to create the message. But before one can create, one must understand. She needed to understand. But how?
It was simple, really. She had to do something. And it was with this resolve that Sweetie Belle got up and began the day.
Her parents had left her at Rarity’s house as they went on yet another vacation, and Rarity had decided she was old enough to stay home alone, provided she was alone, while she ran errands. Given this unique opportunity, she knew she had to take advantage of the moment.
She pondered over the cereal Rarity had taught her to make. It was much like scheming for her cutie mark, but with musical enlightenment being the end goal. There had to be an emotion evoking activity that could be performed by the afternoon. There was little time and little to work with. Eventually she decided that those who would know best would be those that had already achieved what she was looking for. She finished her breakfast and went upstairs to listen to records.
***
"Father died."
Vrip.
"Parents divorced."
Vrip.
"Near-death experience."
Vrip.
"Cheated on."
Vrip.
"Sole survivor of the Detrot prison break of '83."
She moved the needle once more, letting another song play.
"Falling in love... that could work!" She glanced at a clock. "But in an afternoon? Ugh, there's not enough time!" she screamed out of frustration. She had been at this for hours already, and before she knew it, Rarity would be home. Not that she had anything against her sister, but whether the fashionista realized it or not, she could be harsh at times. This would be her only chance for quite a while to do anything she wanted without harsh scrutiny.
And she hadn’t the faintest semblance as to what was left to try. She sighed, glancing at the meager excuse for a song she had attempted.
I’m all by myself Thinking of words Nopony’s here aaaaand... I’m all by myself All by myself Nopony’s home I’m all by myself Writing a song All by myself
Her gloomy train of thought was derailed by a knocking at the door. Groaning about the interruption, she dragged her hooves to the door and opened it rather swiftly.
“Hello, Sweetie!” greeted her ears in a chorus. On the mantle stood two fillies Sweetie Belle never thought she would be upset to see.
“Hey,” she grumbled in a downcast voice. She was busy, frustrated, and now she would have to deny her own friends playtime. Could today have turned out any worse?
Apple Bloom immediately picked up on her downtrodden-nes. As if she’d been hiding it.
“What’s wrong?”
She sighed. This was not going to be fun. “I’m trying to write a song. It’s not going too well.”
Scootaloo gave a smile of what Sweetie Belle painstakingly identified as pity. She didn’t want any pity.
“That’s too bad. Maybe you should take a break? That’s supposed to help with-”
“I have no time to take a break!” she yelled, releasing all of the pent up frustration from the day at once, not thinking of the impact on her friends. “Rarity will be home in a few hours and I’ve barely even started and what I do have is terrible and I don’t have any time!”
The two fillies stood agape, confused and hurt. Apple Bloom looked to be on the verge of tears.
“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some writing to do.” She shut the door with a bit more force than necessary and trotted back to her makeshift workspace.
She redoubled her efforts. She pushed her mind to its limits. She pulled all the stops.
And she couldn’t focus. No matter how hard she tried to evict the memory from her head, a little voice nagged at her that she needn’t have been so brutal.
Has this thing really driven me this far? Yelling at my friends when they just want what’s best for me...
As tears started rolling down her face, she realized something. All this time she had spent by herself, trying to achieve in an afternoon what took most ponies years of experience. She was just a filly--barely eleven years old! There would be time for this in the future. When she had more experience, when her sister wouldn’t be so judgemental, and when the two fillies she cared about the most in the world weren’t on her doorstep wondering what had gotten into their friend.
Wiping the damp streaks from her face, she left her mental prison and opened the door.
Back when she suggested the idea, she was laughed out of the staff room. Everypony seemed to think that Yoga was a waste of time.
Blossomforth didn't let it get to her though. Yoga was a great way to keep your muscles limber and your body flexible, so you would expect a room full of pegasus ponies to understand how useful that was. Perhaps they had all become lax from the recent summer spell of calm skies.
Ponyville had a scheduled summer shower every now and then, but even during those shifts the work wasn't too much to handle. The town was just small enough for a sizeable group of weather ponies to set up a curtain of rain without too much trouble, so many pegasi treated it like a joke. Blossomforth had never been one of those ponies however.
Winter is coming, she thought. They'll get their wake-up call soon enough.
Despite her lofty position in the weather patrol, Blossomforth had forgone a cloud home reminiscent of the Pegasus capital of Cloudsdale. Instead she had opted to live in a regular house made of bricks and mortar. She was an Earth-born Pegasus, so nopony really quizzed her too much about her decision.
And even if they did, it'd be none of their darn business.
Blossomforth's morning routine had her eating a bowl of plain porridge with a small spoonful of sugar sprinkled on top. Not much attention was paid to her appearance however; not that she was slovenly or uncaring, but she had learned to accept the futility of brushing one's mane when one works as a weather pony. More often than not, her pink and green mane lay unattended to as she ate her breakfast. It was a messy tangle at the moment, but it usually straightened itself out mid-flight.
After her breakfast, she walked over to the nearest mirror and scrutinised her reflection. Not to check if she looked good, no... having a white coat had an unfortunate downside. If you spilled something on yourself, it was going to show. Even something as blandly coloured as porridge would glow against a pearly white coat like hers. She wasn't obsessed with cleanliness (something Blossomforth was eternally grateful for), but getting laughed at in the staff room because you have porridge on your flank isn't something one forgets easily.
Once she was certain that her coat was porridge free, Blossomforth trotted happily into a small gym she had constructed. It had taken a few years to get the necessary spare funds together, but collecting the equipment little by little had been almost as therapeutic as the exercise itself. Her life existed to serve the needs of Ponyville's weather, morning, noon or night, whenever she was needed. This left very few stable timeslots for Blossomforth to fix her outside-of-work time into.
Friendships had suffered due to inattention, appointments had been missed due to freak Everfree storms and this lead to a spinning nosedive in her social interactions with other ponies. Sure, she had her job, but it was hard to make friends at work. You never knew if you were actually connecting or whether they were just using you as a way to pass the time. She certainly knew she was guilty of the latter herself.
Amongst all of this however, Blossomforth had always made time for one thing in her life. The one thing she felt that she could truly control - her own body. She ate well, she tried her best to stay healthy and, most of all, she exercised. Ever since learning all about it from a guru who had stopped in the town during a pilgrimage, Blossomforth had been enamoured with Yoga. She had checked out all of the books Golden Oaks Library had on the subject and, she had set about creating a routine for herself, testing out each of the poses and incorporating them into a fluid cycle of body movements designed to stretch out her body equally.
It never took more than thirty minutes to do a complete set, and it always left her feeling energised for a day of work. She honestly didn't know why ponies weren't doing this. Her body had become physically stronger, more agile, and her flight endurance had vastly improved. Blossomforth had often heard the local apple farmer complaining about aches and pains after a long day in the fields, so she had even told her all about the benefits of Yoga. All she had gotten in return was a funny look and an honest sounding, “No thanks, ma'am.”
Her gym was situated in a spare room on the ground level. It had originally been a second bedroom, but she had never had a roommate, so she never needed it. There was a small rack of varying weights sitting against the back wall, but it was the mat in the middle of the room that drew her eye today. It was a simple piece of blue rectangular fabric, specially designed to grip the hooves and prevent slipping. It was facing a rather wide mirror mounted low on a side wall and as Blossomforth took her position on the mat, she could see herself reflected easily in it.
She started off by doing a quick on the spot canter, just to get the blood pumping around her body, but she soon settled into a spread leg stance to keep her body balanced. Moving slowly, she bent her forelegs down and rested her weight on them before moving back up and doing the same for her back legs. She bent her forehooves down again and snapped her back legs straight, keeping her rump high in the air and her head as close to the ground as possible.
Blossomforth kept at this, keeping her breathing as slow and steady as her movements, for several more minutes. She would settle into a sitting stance and perform a variety of stretches and holds and at some points she seemed almost upside down and back to front.
When she settled onto her back after a particularly painful looking crab manoeuvre, she took a moment to rest. Her mind drifted back to one of the books she had read when she first began her journey into Yoga. It was entitled, Master Your Body: Unlocking The Goddess Within, and it wasn't much help when it came to learning about Yoga. It was more akin to a self-help book, something somepony might read when they want to improve their outlook on life through the power of exercise and positive thinking.
She had read it all the same and was pleasantly surprised to find that it wasn't such a waste of time. The book had insisted that she pick a mantra and use it during her daily exercises; it was suggested to say the mantra aloud, but doing it in your head was just as good. Today will be a better day. Blossomforth spread her forelegs out alongside her wings, keeping them nice and straight. The most difficult part came next, stretching her back legs and pinning them as close to the ground as she could on either side of her body before connecting her hooves in the middle, forming a small circle with her legs. This was the Goddess Pose, she found it fitting for the moment.
“Today will be a better day!” she chanted, just loud enough that she didn't hear her front door opening or the small shout of her name from down the hall.
Hold it for a few more seconds.
She was concentrating so hard, she couldn't sense the soft padding of hooves on the carpet outside of the room.
Not long now. Her thighs were beginning to burn, the pain filling her mind with a dull throbbing.
“Blossomforth, you in here--woah! What in Celestia's name...!”
Blossomforth's eyes snapped open. Her back legs snapped closed. “Oh, it's just you, Rainbow. What brings you to my humble abode?”
Her rainbow-maned colleague looked flushed and she stammered for a few seconds before shaking her head and putting on a serious expression. “There's a meeting tonight at the Golden Oaks Library, all pegasi have to be there.”
“Okay then, thanks for telling me.” Blossomforth smiled pleasantly but, despite delivering her news, Rainbow Dash didn't seem to be leaving. Her smile faded a little as she looked at the cyan pegasus.
“So, what's going on in here?” she asked finally, although her eyes seemed determined not to meet Blossomforth's.
“Yoga. Just some exercises I do in the morning. Why, are you interested in learning?” Blossomforth sat up and walked over to the door where Dash still stood, looking sheepish.
“No, no,” she said, a little too quickly. “I think I'm good... I have exercises of my own. Don't want to ruin my flight training, you know.” She laughed nervously.
“Ooh, can you tell me about your exercise regime? Perhaps over some tea?” Blossomforth smiled eagerly, always looking for a way to add to her exercise routine.
Dash balked, but recovered quickly enough. “I really should get this message around Ponyville, there are a lot of pegasi to talk to. Gotta run!” She zipped down the hall and flew out of the front door quick as a flash.
Wonder what that's all about? Her eyes fell upon a clock on the wall as she stared down the hall where Dash had gone. Better get ready for work.
Something about her really loved winter, despite all the other parts protesting. Sure, it was disorderly and wet and improbably cold, especially through her thin coat. Yes, it was far too bright and when it came to waiting for Spring to come again, it felt like it went on forever (yet at the same time it was almost a bit too fast). But... It was beautiful. Cold, painful, disorderly, a little bright, far too fast, and stunningly beautiful? Well, it wouldn’t be a stretch to say it reminded Silver Spoon of somepony close to her. But that was besides the point...
It was morning. Not just any morning, nono, but the Sunday morning before the first day of Winter Break. And that meant she had a trip to go on, and for the very first time, she was going alone. Her parents weren’t just too busy (although unsurprisingly, they were also that), they had intentionally let her go on her own, leaving behind a bit of money and an uncharacteristically charming note. That was last night, and she already had everything packed and ready. Not even one of the (friendly, helpful, parental) housekeepers or maids would be going with her on the trip. She packed light, barely even needing saddlebags instead of her lighter purse.
Winter was cold, yes. And that was a problem about nine times out of ten. But the big thing, the most important thing to her? Winter was time to get a new wardrobe.
--------
With enough bits to slow her down as she trotted, Silver Spoon had her pick of nearly any clothing store she could want. Hay, her parents had even offered to take her up to Canterlot for a weekend so she could shop somewhere more exclusive. But despite herself, she liked Ponyville, and especially the shops. Small, comfortable, warm against the winter chill, homey and well-kept. And even here, she could have gone to a true boutique, but... Her reputation with the owner was not the best, given how often she tended to clash with a certain filly in her class. So instead, she found her way down the village’s main street, all the way to her favorite clothing store...
And her favorite eatery. It wasn’t that they were next door to one another. It’s just that ever since this businesspony named Davenport started setting up shop, a trend had spread through Ponyville of stores selling two completely unrelated things. Some of the older establishments, like Sugarcube Corner and the Carousel Boutique, remained unchanged due to their sheer quality and brand loyalty. But this place was firmly in the new school. For what felt like the hundredth time, she looked up at the beautiful sign: A lovely pair of socks, an unadorned plus sign, and a huge glass with a thick straw. Here she was...
Ponyville Fittings and Frappes
--------
The bell over the door jingled and jangled as she hoofed her way inside, shaking off the cold and looking around. A pony was getting a take-out order at the moment, and she decided to relax and just watch the frozen hot-chocolate cubes drop into the blender with the espresso. There was nothing quite like a good frappe in her eyes, and she was certainly getting one on the way out... If not while she tried on her clothes.
Speaking of which, that would require her to actually get to work with the whole “trying on clothes” bit, which meant she had to get through the “finding clothes to try on” process. So she began to move around the store, eyeing the racks. A real boutique was known for everything being 100% perfect fit-to-order, usually made from scratch based on the outfits on the racks. This store, however, followed the more metro style of having entire racks of pre-fitted clothes in sizes for everypony. And to be totally honest? Silver Spoon actually liked this more. Something about another pony’s hooves all over her was a bit nerve-wracking, especially on her bad days.
Here and now, she didn’t have to worry about that: She could just casually pick up a pair of lacy panties here, a nice skirt there, and then head off to a changing room to try on her new ensembles.
She strode through the aisles with a happy little hum on her lips, occasionally stopping to rearrange the contents of a shelf or straighten out the hangings on a rack. It made the rest of the general chaos of being out during the day a bit easier to handle, and she rarely got to indulge the need when her parents or caretakers were with her... They kept insisting it “wasn’t right” for somepony like her to be doing the employees’ jobs for them. And as much as Silver tried to explain, they never quite listened. So she took the chance while she had it, adding a bit more order to the world (and, coincidentally, picking out the components to a few outfits as she went).
Finally satisfied, she had made a perfect figure-eight loop of the store, passing through the dense fabric-y heart of it twice to make extra-sure she had gotten everything for her first run of the shop. And, thanks to a bit of careful planning, her circuit ended right in front of the changing rooms.
And now for the hard part...
---------
It took a few minutes to get calm and focused once she was inside the fitting room. Fitting rooms were the one flaw of the shop, and the one she couldn’t ever avoid... These tiny cramped disorganized spaces, with their slightly-sterile scent and the always-crooked mirrors. Silver Spoon did her best to make it a little more reasonable, to find a good way to ignore the flaws and just get on with trying her clothes out, or she’d be here all day. Not that it had ever happened like that before, repeatedly, or anything of the sort. Of course not.
Thankfully, she had a spicy apple frappe to help her through the process-- just because it was an iced drink in winter didn’t mean it couldn’t make her feel warm. A thoughtful sip here and there distracted her and eventually, she was ready. Another snatch of some nonsense humming passed her lips as she got to work... Or not. No, no no no no... She looked at the lovely little winter dress she had picked out, snug and cottony and perfect, and then looked again at the fastenings. There was... absolutely no way she could put it on by herself.
For a second, she felt the thin veneer of calm and control start to snap a little, but she pushed those thoughts away... And the dress as well. No sense in causing a problem she didn’t have to. It was easier to just forget about the beautiful curves and the soft colors and how nicely it would have set off her eyes...
This time, her resolve crumbled before her need for order and structure, and she sighed with defeat before calling out across the divider to ask somepony for assistance.
--------
It hadn’t been easy, but she had managed to keep everything in check until after she left the store. Her saddlebag was far lighter in bits (she had given a generous tip to the mare who helped her with the more complex pieces, to make up for her nervousness and even outright anger) but replaced with more than enough clothes to make up for it. She closed her eyes on the walk home, once more singing to herself. Nothing special, nothing specific. Just letting her voice carry a bit, relaxing her and drowning out the clamor of the outside.
And tonight she’d be able to sit down and have a wonderful dinner, even if it was alone. She was smiling when she got to the house, but she stopped cold in her tracks when the door opened.
“Welcome back honey! We just got in ourselves... Come on, let’s get inside and you can show your mother and I what you got over dinner!”
Silver Spoon sniffed a bit, most definitely did not cry a little, and bounced into the house, happily shutting the door behind her as she settled back into the comfortable part of her life.
“Damn clock!” Celestia said opening her eyes. “Stop it already! I’m up!” With a burst of magic she threw the clock through the window.
“Tia!” a voice on the end of her ridiculously huge bed said. ”You have thrown three clocks away so far this week. Maybe we should wake you up by ourselves, at least we can fly.”
“Hello Lulu.” Celestia said with a giggle. ”And good morning to you, too.” Celestia stepped out from the bed and started to put on her regalia. ”Thanks for the offer, but I think you would wake half of Canterlot with the Royal Canterlot Voice and it’s very early in the morning, the sun isn’t even up.”
“Because that is YOUR job!” Luna answered, glaring at her. ”Oh, right. Well, let’s start the day together and after that we will eat.” Without another word, both of them went out to the balcony of Celestia’s bedroom and they let the day start, one lowering the Moon and the other raising the Sun.
“Done. Let’s go have breakfast, Luna,” she said, already walking towards the door.
”We are coming dear sister.”
After the first cup of coffee Celestia was starting to find the strength to really start her day.
“Are you enjoying your dinner, Luna?” Celestia asked her sister.
”Very, but we can not understand how you enjoy this ‘coffee’ thing, it tastes awful!” she said with a disgusted sight.
”Well, unlike you I find it really hard to wake up in the morning, coffee makes things easier,” Celestia said taking another sip.
“Anyway, we are going to take our sleep, have a nice day dear sister,” Luna said, getting up from the chair.
”Sleep well Luna!” Celestia said cheerfully, waving at her. When Luna stepped out of the Royal Dinning Room, Celestia sighed. ”Well, at least her accent has improved,” she said with a smile. She finished her breakfast and went to the throne room to start the morning court.
“Boring as always,” Celestia thought while listening to the complaints of the representative from the Canterlot’s Astronomy Association who was angry because the Sun was late in sky. Again. It was almost noon, so she dismissed him, quickly apologising and assuring him that this wouldn’t happen ever again.
Finally she would be able to have a quiet lunch in the Royal Kitchens. Celestia had lunch in the kitchens every time she could; she didn’t like to be in such a huge room as the Royal Dinning Room all alone with only the ever present Royal Guards next to all the doors and corridors of the Castle. And she liked the atmosphere of the kitchens: the smells, the hurried ponies all around her. it all made Celestia feel more alive, more in connection with all her beloved subjects.
When Celestia entered the kitchen she let herself enjoy all these feelings before asking one of the less occupied cooks for a quick meal, who, after bowing before Celestia, asked her what would she like to eat.
“Just a dandelion salad with tomatoes and maybe a banana if it’s not too much of a problem, Stove Burner.” As always, she remembered all the names of the staff around the castle, guards included.
“Not at all, your majesty,” he answered. ”I’ll prepare your meal right away.” And with that, the cream coated, red maned, young unicorn disappeared into the depths of the kitchen.
After the cook had left, Celestia started to think about all of her life as a princess. All the incidents she had gone through, starting with Discord, her sister’s transformation to Nightmare Moon, a thousand years all alone, and more recently Nightmare Moon’s return and Discord’s release. However, this had also brought about good things, the rediscovery of the Elements of Harmony and Luna’s return next to her.
Before Celestia could think anything else, Stove Burner placed a big plate full of a wonderful smelling salad and a couple of bananas next to it.
”Are you feeling alright your Highness?” he asked, with concern in his face.
”Oh, I’m OK, I was just lost in thought,” she replied, addressing him with a big smile. ”This looks delicious, but I bet it tastes even better.” She grinned at him. ”Thank you very much, you are dismissed.”
She enjoyed her meal, taking her time to savor all the ingredients on her plate. ”This new cook really knows how to make daffodils taste great!” Celestia thought when she finished her plate.
She got up and levitated the dishes in front of her to leave them in the sink. After that she went to thank the cook for the delicious meal.
Celestia spent the rest of the afternoon approving and denying orders, laws and other matters.
”Ponyville has been flooded?!” she shouted, reading a report from the Mayor of Ponyville. ”Apparently the flood was caused because the negligence of a pegasus who was late in clearing the Ponyville skies. She claimed she could do it in ‘ten seconds flat’ before she went napping on a cloud. This resulted in an accumulation of clouds which began to pour rain over Ponyville.”
After reading the report she was astonished by the news. ”I really have to talk with Rainbow Dash about delaying her duties. Again,” Celestia thought.
So she levitated a scroll and a quill and started to write a letter to the Mayor of Ponyville to ask her about the damages the flood had caused to the town and the price of the repairs. When she finished, she decided to send it the usual way instead of the magic mail she used to send and receive letters from her student via Spike. That way was special, only for her private pupil, Twilight Sparkle, so she called a guard who was standing outside of her bedroom and gave him the letter to send it with urgency. After that she continued signing documents and approving orders without any other disturbance.
At night, she went to her sister’s room to wake her up to raise the Moon and eat dinner together. However, much to her surprise, Luna was already up and waiting for her, sitting on a chair in the balcony of her room. When Luna heard Celestia opening the door she turned her head to face her. ”Are you ready sister?” Celestia asked. ”Let us rise the Moon, dear sister.” Celestia stepped out to the balcony next to her sister as they began using the most powerful magic known of Equestria to lower and rise Celestia’s and Luna’s respective celestial orbs. After that, they went to the Royal Dinning Room to have a peaceful dinner together.
Celestia closed her eyes when a bright light appeared in front of her face, blinding her for a second. Right after that a scroll appeared right before her eyes. Celestia smiled at the sight.
"Twilight Sparkle, always in time. Let’s see what have you learned about friendship this week, my most faithful student." Celestia proceeded with pride on her face. ”Turned to stone by a Cockatrice?!” Celestia stared at the scroll with a shocked expression. “My, my, Twilight Sparkle, you sure know how to get in trouble. Well at least you are safe now,” Celestia thought, rolling up the scroll and levitating it to a big cage with the other ones. She then got into her bed and fell asleep in mere minutes, not before whispering, ”Another amazing day!”
"Please stop chewing your toys, Pumpkin." The hyperactive foal had been grabbing and biting all during lunch, chewing everything in sight. Except for her dinner, of course; that was half-smeared across the floor, half-smeared in Pumpkin's mane. Her mother sighed and tugged the giant dragonfly away from the foal, before stowing it in the toy cupboard.
"Now it's time for bed. Your brother will be joining you shortly," Mrs. Cake added, wiping a bead of what she hoped was sweat from her brow. Actually, Pound had been causing all kinds of mayhem downstairs with his father, and there was a cupcake order overdue. The blue mare was simply relieved that she'd at least gotten one of her children into the crib.
"Wah-wah," Pumpkin replied petulantly, rolling onto her tummy and flailing her tiny limbs.
"No complaints. Just close your eyes and count sheep."
Her daughter didn't seem happy to comply, but the foal was clearly tired and let out a huge yawn.
With a bit of careful hoof work, the mare managed to gently push Pumpkin into a curled up position, where the foal drifted off to a peaceful sleep.
"My, that was more trouble than I had expected," Mrs. Cake said to herself, quietly, as she left the room. Now she had to go downstairs and relieve her husband of Pound, then getting him off to sleep and making an evening meal for three, then an early night for early bakery hours in the morning. She'd slept in until nine o'clock that morning, but it was her husband’s turn tomorrow.
The carpeted stairs made barely any noise as she made her way down into the bakery. She could hear Pound crying at the top of his lungs, but thankfully it wasn't that audible upstairs.
"How’s it going, dear?" the blue pony asked when her husband emerged, his handsome features looking a little haggard.
The orange pony shrugged in return. "He won't settle down, keeps hitting the high chair with his hooves. I'm sorry to burden you..."
"...but you need to make those cupcakes. Don't worry, I'll manage," Mrs. Cake replied, finishing his sentence in a resigned tone. "We said we'd keep the cake orders up when we had the twins and we've done well so far."
"Thank you for understanding," Mr. Cake said, giving her a soft kiss on the forehead. "I'll be finished by six o'clock."
They went in different directions, with the mare heading for the crying coming from the kitchen. Inside the well-decorated room she found her son's eyes wet and his mouth wide open, screaming as loud as he could. She shut the door to contain the noise.
"Oh, don't cry Pound. It's okay, I'm here." Her maternal instincts kicked in, and she picked her son out of the high chair and held him on her shoulder, his tears hot on her coat. But the foal was not to be discouraged, and paused crying only long enough to give a huge sob, before continuing in the same fashion.
It was some comfort to think that all of his crying would be tiring him out, the baker thought, but it was only a small comfort with an infant doing his best to deafen her. She wrapped her blue hooves lovingly around him, hoping that her motherly warmth and scent would slowly calm him down. It was to no avail. She tried giving him a bottle, burping him, tickling and making silly faces, but nothing seemed to pacify him. His brown mane was damp with the exertion of crying so much, and the mare began to have all kinds of disconcerting thoughts about fevers, illnesses...
She was on the brink of a phone call to the local baby doctor when Pound sniffled and suddenly went quiet, contenting himself to breathe into his mother's coat as she rocked him gently.
"There there, now what was all that fuss about? Come on, let's get you to bed," she said, smiling happily despite the somewhat disgusting coating of tears and other worse things on her shoulder. "You got yourself all worked up over nothing."
Her soothing words seemed to help, but as she moved Pound seemed dangerously close to starting up again. After some deep and desperate thinking, Mrs. Cake came up with another solution.
"Do you want a nice lullaby?" she asked tenderly, the words sounding impossibly tired as they came out of her mouth.
After three wobbly renditions of Pound's favourite lullaby, the foal was finally close to sleep. Mrs. Cake could hear the industrious sounds of cupcake-making coming from the bakery, so she went back up the stairs as quietly as she had come down, praying to Celestia that Pound didn't wake and disturb his sister.
"Here we go. Time to go to bed," she whispered, laying Pound down in the crib next to Pumpkin who was sleeping soundly. "Let me just tuck you both in." The turquoise blanket covered the two foals and transformed them from a pair of terrors who ran her ragged into the cutest sight in all of Ponyville.
A bedtime kiss on their foreheads wrapped up the twins until the early hours of the morning, when they would both no doubt wake. But that wasn't for many hours yet, so this was good enough for the exhausted mare.
As she entered the landing, she spotted Pinkie Pie poking her head out of her bedroom.
"Is everything okay, Mrs. Cake?" the party pony asked, her normal shrieking tone replaced by one of concern.
"Everything's fine, Pinkie. Just keep the noise down a little," Mrs. Cake replied, sighing involuntarily. "The twins are asleep."
"You look... tired," Pinkie added, the look on her face suggesting she meant it in a caring way. "Are you sure you don't want a lie-down yourself?"
"Oh no, Pinkie, I'm okay. I've only got a few things left to do. I should be finished cooking in half an hour or so."
"No no no, Mrs. Cake, please, let me cook. I haven't done anything all day for you, it's the least I can offer."
With cooking delegated to Pinkie Pie, Mrs. Cake took the opportunity to run a basin of warm water in the bathroom and pause for a few moments. Her reflection looked as tired as she felt, and the twins' restless night had left her with unsightly bags under her eyes. To think that she had been so chipper before having the children.
She dipped a white facecloth into the basin with her hoof and used it to mop up the worst messes that had found their way onto her coat. The warmth soothed her tired muscles, and she couldn't resist mopping her face a little too, feeling the relief spread through her tired eyelids.
"How's it going, dear?" Mr. Cake said, his bass tones jerking her out of her relaxation. She put the washcloth back on the side.
"It's okay. Just tired, you know?" she replied, looking into his eyes and finding them just as tired as her own.
"Of course." The orange stallion hugged her, planting a kiss onto her cheek. "Thank you for looking after the twins earlier, they were really hard work today. I'm sorry I wasn't around more during the day."
"It's the bakery, it's getting us both down, being so busy."
"Even so, I'll look after the twins tomorrow morning at least. And tonight, of course."
Mrs. Cake didn't like seeing her husband get more tired than he already was, but the prospect of a good night's sleep cheered her up a little. "How're the cupcakes?"
"Nearly done. Once they're iced, I'll box them to be picked up tonight."
"Pinkie's cooking. She offered."
"It'll be delicious, I'm sure. She's really coming along when it comes to meals, as well as baked goods."
The mare nodded and hugged her husband again. "I'll go and tidy the playroom."
The playroom was a disaster zone, but by simply throwing the toys into boxes at random it didn't take long to restore a semblance of order. They were all going to be tipped out and thrown, chewed, and generally scattered by lunchtime tomorrow, so what did it matter if Pound's alphabet blocks were buried underneath Pumpkin's giant stuffed bunny.
The bakery was filled with the sounds of baking trays scraping on the work surfaces, which suggested that her husband was getting the cupcakes ready to be iced. And the smells coming from the kitchen made the mare think that Pinkie was doing a good job with the food.
In fact, the blue mare found herself in the nice position of not actually having to do anything imminently, apart from washing her hooves before eating. And that could wait a few minutes, so she sat down heavily in the armchair in the corner. It was one of two that she and Carrot had bought when they moved in together, before the twins. And before Pinkie had arrived, of course.
It was comfortable, and that's what she needed; like a ten minute snooze after the alarm clock went off. Closing her tired eyes, she listened to the relative peace and quiet that was Sugarcube Corner without the twins awake and tried not to think about the fact that she'd have to move in fifteen minutes or so.
When Mr Cake had finished icing and boxing the final order of the day, he handed them over to the customer and headed for the kitchen.
"Seen Mrs. Cake?" he asked Pinkie, who was putting the finishing touches to the meal with a surprisingly delicate hoof.
"Not for a while, Mr Cake. I think she might still be in the playroom."
The stallion pushed open the door to the playroom and took in the sight of his wife sleeping in the armchair, her hooves curled up under her and her eyes closed in that way he always found beautiful.
"Pinkie?"
"Yes, Mr. Cake?"
"You can leave Mrs. Cake's dinner in the oven. She'll have it later, I think."
Written by: GenericUsername Rated Teen (for some mild sexual situations/humor and language)
The cameras had been snapping for 20 minutes, but Spitfire had been in the studio since the morning. Makeup had taken hours. Every hair in her fiery mane had to be exactly right and every breath she took resulted in four mares assaulting her to try and fix the one hair that moved a hundredth of an inch too far to the side. When the chief photographer--a really fat, ugly pink earth pony with pinprick eyes, clad in a light green scarf--was finally pleased with the way she looked, Fleetfoot coughed, causing the Germane pony to scream in his harsh language and the aids to jump her to try and fix whatever imaginary fault the cough had created. This was taking picture perfect to a whole new level, and for what? A failing magazine trying to boost their sales with saucy images of a couple of Wonderbolts. Of course it had to be the captain and their fastest flier.
“Hmmmm... Nein, not good enough. Look more sexy,” the fat, pink, ball of an earth pony said in his broken Equestrian.
“What?” Spitfire asked, irritation creeping into her voice as her patience began to run low. Seriously, what was up with all these Germane photographers? Last week she had to pose in a ridiculously tight bikini while this creepy Photo Finish stood and admired herself. All she wanted to do at this point was go back home to Rainbow Dash.
“Fly...foot...”
“Fleetfoot!” Spitfire corrected him.
“Ja ja, watever,” he said with a dismissive wave of his hoof. “Ze blue mare is a natural. Sie looks ze way ponies want you to look, and sie is not even trying. Sie is selling magazines right now. You, not so much. You are pretty, but you don't want it enough. Look more like you want it.”
“Of course, every creepy old buck will buy magazines with Fleetfoot,” Spitfire thought to herself. “She's gorgeous and barely legal.” Shaking her head, making one of the aids whimper, Spitfire repositioned herself. She flared her wings and folded them back softly, arching her back and assumed her best bedroom-face. Fleetfoot leaned in and looked as cute as she possibly could.
“Nein, not good enough,” the earth pony said, adjusting his scarf. Spitfire leaned half an inch to the left. “Hmm...” She tried leaning an inch to the right. “Hmm...” She tried arching her back so far it hurt. “Ja... besser...” Spitfire had no idea what that meant but tried to look at the camera the same way she looked at Rainbow Dash. As she did this the pink ball exploded.
Screaming, his short legs propelled him higher up in the air than should be physically possible. “Das ist perfekt! Wunderschön! Fantastich!” As he landed with an impact that shook the entire building the two camerabucks began snapping.
Happy to finally please the fat pony, Spitfire kept her sultry gaze fixed at the cameras and extended a wing, wrapping it around Fleetfoot. At this the arctic blue mare gave a small 'eep' and blushed. As she did, scarf-clad ball exclaimed something in his foreign tongue and the cameras began snapping even more furiously. With her wing, Spitfire pulled Fleetfoot in close and gave her a small lick on the nose. This elicited another 'eep' from Fleetfoot and caused her blush to deepen to a dark crimson, contrasting strongly against her bright, blue coat.
At this the cameras snapping peaked and the pink ball exclaimed something that Spitfire thought was a happy sound. At least, compared to the rest of his babbling it sounded pretty happy.
As the cameras stopped snapping Spitfire let go of Fleetfoot, but the young mare didn't move.
“Hey Fleet, something wrong?” Spitfire asked softly. Spitfire wasn't stupid, and the glances she'd gotten from Fleetfoot in the showers hadn't eluded her. Nor the stuttering and fumbling whenever they talked one on one. Poor mare, it had to have been awful for her. It was a stupid idea from the beginning. Fleetfoot was too young and way too shy for stuff like this. Maybe that lick was a little too far?
Looking at the petrified mare in front of her told Spitfire it was definitely too far.
“I... uhm... I...” Fleetfoot tried, her white mane covering her eyes. “I actually liked it. Or, I like you. It. I liked it. I liked the lick, not you. Or well, I like you but...” she trailed of, doing her best to hide behind her mane.
“Look, Fleet, I'm sorry,” Spitfire said. “I just thought that if we give him a couple of nice pictures we could be done with this, I didn't mean for it like that.”
While Spitfire apologized, the chief photographer had been discussing in hushed rapid fire Germane with his aides. Now he stumbled over to Spitfire and Fleetfoot.
“Just a few more,” he said.
“What?” Spitfire complained. “I thought we were done.”
“Nein, we saved ze best for last. Ze kiss!” he said with a face splitting grin.
“What!?” the two mares exclaimed in unison.
“Ja, ze kiss. We were promised a kiss by your manager,” he said smugly, his grin never faltering.
“Yeah, well, since you're not getting a kiss, are we done here?” Spitfire countered.
“Your manager said you'd kiss, so you have...”
“Look here, you perverted mudpony,” Spitfire snapped, flaring up in anger. “Fleet doesn't have to do anything! For your information, I'm going to skin the featherbrain they call our manager alive, and, if you don't watch your tongue, I'll skin you, too!”
With the grin finally falling from his face, Spitfire turned to walk away.
“Nein! Nein! Nein! Niemand schreit mich so an!” he roared, his pink face turning a darker hue.
“Could you stop speaking Germane, Celestia damn it!” Spitfire screamed, spinning back to face him.
“Uh... guys?” Fleetfoot tried.
“Warum kannst du nicht...”
“Guys?
“This isn't a bucking porno!”
“Guys, please...”
“Du hast keine wahl...”
“Everypony, shut up!” Fleetfoot screamed, slamming her hoof down. Complete silence fell on the room. “I... uhm... I,” she began, a new blush spreading across cheeks. “I actually wouldn't mind a...uhm... a kiss,” she finished, her blush intensifying.
And just like that, the fat pink cheeks were once again split by a grin, his mood restored. The aids rushed over to a dumbstruck Spitfire to fix her up.
“Uh, you sure, Fleet?” Spitfire asked.
“Y-yes. I mean, it's just for the magazine. Right?” The blue mare said with a trembling smile, doing a pretty terrible job at trying to act casual.
“Ugh fuck,” Spitfire thought to herself as the aids filled her lungs with hairspray. “This is so coming back to bite me in the flank when I have to tell her off and break her heart.” She shook her head. “And it's a complete gamble with Rainbow Dash. Either she freaks out, hates me for a week or she finds it hot. Ugh, sweet Celestia, why did I get out of bed this morning?”
“Very well,” Spitfire said as the aids stepped away. “You ready?” Fleetfoot gulped and nodded.
Slowly, swaying her hips and with a look dripping of sultriness, Spitfire walked closer. When their muzzles were just inches apart both mares closed their eyes. Half an inch apart, Spitfire could feel Fleetfoot's ragged breath on her muzzle. She waited there for a moment, teasing everypony in the room. Then she pressed their muzzles together, lips locking.
One second. The cameras were snapping like crazy
Two seconds. The camera buttons were being pressed so rapidly that it seemed as if they would catch fire and the pink pony's eyes were about to pop out of his skull.
Three seconds. The buttons were being pressed faster than Neighton's laws allowed.
Spitfire broke the kiss, a thin strand of saliva connecting their mouths. She tenderly gazed into Fleetfoot's eyes. It was the perfect picture; a picture sure to sell thousands upon thousands of magazines.
Before the camerabuck's hooves could achieve the speed of light; before the now profusely sweating scarf-clad ball's eyes could pop out of their sockets; way after the young arctic blue pegasus had fallen deeply in love, the moment was broken by the sound of clapping. In the doorway stood the Wonderbolt's PR manager, smiling broadly and clapping.
Spitfire broke her tender eye contact with Fleetfoot and glared pure death at the unicorn in the doorway.
***
“Dashie, I'm home!” Spitfire called out, closing the door to their luxurious apartment in Cloudsdale's finest quarter. No answer. “Huh.”
Spitfire checked the kitchen. Empty. She continued to their living room, but froze in the doorway. On the couch, with a magazine in front of her, was Rainbow Dash. The rainbow-maned mare's face was completely devoid of expression as she slowly flipped through the increasingly saucy images of the Wonderbolt's captain and the winner of this year's Wonderbolt's Derby.
As she reached the final image--the one of the two mares lovingly gazing into each other's eyes, a thin strand of saliva connecting them--she froze completely. Spitfire didn't dare say a single word and the seconds felt like eons.
Then, with a soft 'pomf', Rainbow's wings shot wide. “So...awesome,” she squeaked.
Flitter -- More Than Looks (Or: Flitter Gets a Manecut)
Flitter bit back the numerous curses that came into her head as she sulked against the row of lockers. Cloudchaser, she thought bitterly. It always comes back to Cloudchaser.
TEN MINUTES BEFORE NOW…
“So you heard about the Cloudsdale Spring Social coming up in two weeks, right?” Strato asked her after classes ended for the day, shyness radiating from every facet, from his smiling voice to his stance. Flitter wasn’t completely successful at suppressing her giggle. Of course she’d heard about the dance. It was only, like, the biggest event Cloudsdale High put together every spring.
“Yeah, I may have heard something about it once or twice,” she replied with a smile of her own and an eye roll, causing Strato to blush a cute shade of red around his cheeks as he realized the absurdity of his question.
“Yeah… yeah, heh, of course. Ummm, well, I don’t have a date yet for it. What I mean is, I haven’t asked anypony out yet.”
“Uh huh,” Flitter responded while he stammered. She couldn’t keep the eagerness out of her tone, but she made sure not to give anything else away, like leaning forward or giving Strato a half-lidded smoky gaze.
“…And I’m not exactly the best at asking out girls I like…”
“Yeeeeesss?” This time Flitter did lean forward just a bit. Some of her hair fell forward in front of her eyes; she tried to quickly blow it out of the way with the side of her mouth. That just made it worse as more thin, straight strands appeared to block her view. She brushed them aside with a hoof, hoping she didn’t look too uncool in the process.
“…I was hoping you could, you know, help me out a bit?”Strato ducked his head to one side once he got the question out, somehow blushing even harder. It contrasted well with his chalk white fur.
Flitter closed her eyes, her smile starting to reach her ears. “Oh Strato, of course I’d—wait.” The smile instantly vanished. That wasn’t exactly an ‘ask you out’ question. Flitter opened her eyes and fixed the young colt with a suspicious stare. “What exactly am I helping you out with?”
Strato’s blush hadn’t dissipated but his toothy smile had gone from nervous to forced. “Well, see, everypony says you’re really close with your sister. A-And you and I get along fine in our classes, so, uh, so I was hoping you could maybe, you know, put in a good word for me with her?”
RIGHT NOW…
Strato had long since vanished around the hallway corner, scrambling to get away as fast as his legs and wings would allow. All alone, Flitter sighed. Her expression melted from full-on death glare with spread wings to a resigned and unhappy frown. It wasn’t Strato’s fault. Not really. He had no way of knowing it was the fourth time in two weeks this had happened.
With more force than necessary, Flitter grabbed the books she’d need tonight from her locker, biting hard enough to leave indentations in the covers. She roughly shoved them into her saddlebags but that wasn’t satisfying enough, so she slammed her locker door shut, letting the cacophonous noise echo down the hallway.
Much better, she thought.
Having an older sister sucked. Hard. Cloudchaser had twenty months on Flitter, which meant she got to reach all the important milestones first. First one to fly. First one to get a cutie mark. First one in the family to get a pet, though Flitter thought she wasted it on a stupid, loud bird that smelled like a rotten pinecone.
That was bad enough. But then Cloudchaser also had to be smarter than her. Cloudchaser was a stronger flyer, which meant Cloudchaser got to make the sports teams she tried out for. Flitter could hover well, and she thought about trying out for the Free Flyers Dance Group once but had backed out at the last second. Because Flitter could only hover well.
The more she thought about these unfavorable comparisons, the further her head drooped, and her mane came cascading down in front of her eyes. With a frustrated scream, Flitter pushed the offending hair back behind her ears. “Oh, and her mane,” Flitter snarked out loud. “Let’s not forget her awesome, incredible mane.”
And it was incredible. It sat upon her head, curled and fluffy, a complementary two-tone color of blue and white. She completed it with a pink bow across the back of her neck that acted as support while adding a flash of warm heat to the cool countenance. Cloudchaser’s mane looked like the first part of her name, a perfect cloud on an otherwise clear day, and it drove the colts wild. Flitter knew because they loved to tell her.
“Wow, Cloudchaser’s mane is so beautiful.”
“How does she do it? I could stare at her all day.”
“Cloudchaser’s mane is totally sexy while yours looks like dead algae on a stagnant pond.”
Okay, she made that last one up. It didn’t change Flitter’s feelings of overall inadequacy. And it wasn’t even the worst part. The worst part was that Cloudchaser… was a good sister. She was kind and supportive. She never actively tried to make Flitter feel so lame, or rubbed her greatness in Flitter’s face. How could Flitter hope to compete with somepony who did everything better? How could she be herself for others to see? At this rate she was never going to step out of Cloudchaser’s shadow and it. Was. Not. Fair.
As she huffed, a new thought began to form in Flitter’s mind, terrible and dangerous and wild and exciting and achievable. She could never be smarter than her sister, or stronger or older. But she could look like her. Flitter knew the first step was always in the appearance. Turn a few heads, get them to notice you, and then take it from there.
Show them who you are, she thought. Then we’ll see who gets asked out.
It was a great idea!
AND THEN…
“I don’t know if this is such a great idea.”
Flitter sat in the middle of the living room of her friend, Shear Comfort’s, home. A towel was draped over her forelegs and a much larger sheet lay underneath, covering a wide expanse. Cloud floors were versatile in a number of ways but cleaning up small debris was not one of them. Trying to get hair out of all those curly tufts and hidden nooks was more than a challenge.
“Come on, Shear,” Flitter pleaded. “We’ve been over this. I need your help. Your cutie mark’s a pair of scissors after all.”
“Actually, it’s a pair of shears, Flitter,” Shear Comfort corrected. “My talent is shearing. Like, farm animals. Remember all those summers I spent with my uncle on his farm outside Bitsburgh?”
Flitter rolled her eyes. Her friend could be so reluctant sometimes. “Ok, shears, scissors, whatever. You’re still good at trimming stuff.”
“You’re sure this can’t wait until tomorrow? I know a really good mane stylist—”
“No way! The Spring Social is coming up and I can’t wait any longer. I want to walk into that school with my new look so everypony will see just how stunning I can be!”
“Flitter—” Shear Comfort tried to get a word in, but Flitter went right on over her.
“Besides, with your totally awesome scissor flank talents this is going to work.”
“I told you, they’re…” Shear Comfort sighed, putting a hoof to her face. “Never mind. Ok, how are we doing this?”
“Just trim the back up some so the rest can be shaped,” Flitter explained. “Then we’ll add the mane volumizer stuff. I’ve got blue and white color dye in my home so that’ll be the last thing I do.”
Shear Comfort nodded and stood over Flitter, scissors in her front hooves and wings spread wide for balance. She parted a few strands of pale green hair away from the rest and, closing the blades with a sharp metallic sound, began to work. Snik. Snik.
Flitter closed her eyes and imagined walking into Cloudsdale High in the morning with her new look. The girls would wonder how she did it, of course. And the boys wouldn’t be quite so quick to ask for her sister’s favor now. Gosh, Flitter, it’s like a whole new you. Strato and Whiteout, Jet Stream, all of them. The only thing left would be to determine who to take to the Spring Social, but there would be a little time for that. With enough colts vying for her she could finally choose. After all, she was now Flitter and not just Cloudchaser’s sister. She was…
The fantasy ended abruptly. Flitter opened her eyes and realized why. The snipping sounds had stopped. She was about to ask Shear Comfort if everything was ok when she heard her friend utter the last word she wanted to hear right now. It was the one word that contracted her eyes to the size of pinpricks.
“Oops.”
THAT NIGHT…
A solitary desk lamp illuminated Flitter in her room center stage like an actress before a critical soliloquy. A few stuffed animals watched from their place on the shelves and bed behind her while she delivered her performance, emotion pouring out of her body, over her hooves, on to the cedar desk her muzzle was pressed against. She felt dramatic. This was a catastrophe after all, wholly appropriate. A circular section of her hair, about half a hoof in width, had been reduced to stubble. Nothing she tried to do to cover up the bald spot over the last hour worked. Everypony was going to laugh or think she had mange. Or both. She was doomed. Doomed!
Knocking interrupted Flitter’s thoughts. She paused to take a few breaths and bring her voice under control before calling out, “Read the note and then go away!” Seriously, the note had been put up for a reason. Do not disturb under penalty of feather plucking to that smelly bird you call a pet! What was so hard to understand about it? The door opened anyway.
Cloudchaser peeked in and paused as if waiting for something. Flitter cracked one eye open, thought about yelling at her sister, but then released the tension in a low exhale. In that moment, seeing the pony that she could never become, with her electric mane and pink bow, defeated her. She realized that she was losing a competition to a sister who wasn’t trying to compete, and that thought was depressing. Flitter sat up at her desk, the desire to cry replaced with numb resignation. Her mane had splayed out like a fan from earlier, so she smoothed it back behind her ears, wincing when her hoof brushed past the spot on top of her head.
When no screams or threats of harm to her cockatiel burst forth, Cloudchaser stepped fully into the room. One wing balanced a dinner plate, and she flicked the main light in Flitter’s room on with the other wing before setting the plate down on the desk. For a long moment neither sibling spoke. Just as Flitter was about to say something, her sister got the first word out.
“Hey.”
It wasn’t much of an ice breaker, but it was a start. “Hey,” Flitter echoed.
“Brought you dinner.”
“Thanks.”
“Don’t thank me yet,” Cloudchaser said. “Mom’s eggplant casserole was never the best even when it was warm. I think eating it now makes it a dare of some kind.”
That got a small, temporary smile out of Flitter. “How did you find out?”
“I think I would have figured it out eventually,” Cloudchaser replied and gestured to the top of Flitter’s head.
“No, you wouldn’t, because I’m totally staying in here until it grows back.”
“That’ll take weeks.”
“Well, then maybe you can slide me cold leftovers under the door,” Flitter finished with another small smile. She saw Cloudchaser mirror it and even give a light chuckle. But the unanswered question still nagged at her. She had avoided her sister all afternoon, so there was only one way she knew already. Flitter tapped her front hooves nervously, “Did Shear Comfort tell you?”
“Yeah, she came over a little while ago,” Cloudchaser confirmed. “She was worried you were mad at her.”
Flitter sighed and moved from her desk to the bed, tucking her legs under her as she sat on the mattress. She had been mad at Shear Comfort, said as much to her face before zooming out of the house in tears. Flitter made a mental note to apologize to her friend next time she saw her. “It wasn’t her fault, I guess. She did try to warn me. I freaked.”
Cloudchaser moved closer to her sister, eyeing the shaved spot critically. “It… doesn’t look that bad.”
“Really?”
“No, it does. What the hay were you thinking, Flitter?”
Flitter cringed. There were a lot of things she had been thinking at the time, but now, with her sister here and staring at her, they seemed silly. Flitter couldn’t even remember half of them. “I just… everypony loves your mane. I thought maybe I could get mine to do that, and then someone would ask me to the Spring Social.”
“And you couldn’t take the time and some bits and go see a stylist? You just yanked one of your friends into it?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t think.” Flitter stared down at her mattress despondently. Her sister was right as usual.
Cloudchaser looked like she had more to say. However, she hopped up on to the bed and draped a hoof around her sister’s shoulders instead. “Hey, you want to know a secret?” Flitter turned to look at her. “I think your mane is better.”
It took a moment to register what had been said. Once she did, Flitter made a rude noise in the back of her throat. “Shut up.”
“I’m serious.”
“Oh, whatever, CeeCee,” Flitter rolled her eyes. “All the colts adore your look. They all tell me. No one’s ever said that to me.”
“That’s because they’re just looking. Yeah, my mane’s awesome to look at but you ever think about what it takes to maintain it? It sticks straight up on a good day. You’ve seen me in the morning before I spend, like, an hour getting it fixed. It’s out of control. Yours is natural. You just wake up and it’s already perfect. It’s soft and smooth. You can run your hoof through it. I’ve broken hairbrushes in half getting through my tangles.”
Flitter stared at her sister in stunned silence. She searched for some sign of sarcasm or placation and came up empty. Never had she considered the possibility— of course nothing Cloudchaser just said was a lie or anything. Flitter knew about her sister’s morning routine, and she knew she could enjoy extra time to sleep before class because she didn’t have to do all that work. But she never would have guessed her older sister, the one who got all the attention, would have preferred it another way.
Cloudchaser smirked, “So yeah, sis, I’m totally jealous of your mane.”
The revelation almost got Flitter to laugh, except it turned rueful once she remembered the damage already done. “I’ll try to remember that next year if I get asked to the Spring Social, if any boy can look at me from now on without laughing.”
“Maybe they won’t find out.”
“They’ll find out.”
“Shear Comfort’s your friend. She won’t say anything. And I’m certainly not—”
“Cloudchaser, look at me! They’re going to see it!”
Cloudchaser hummed aloud as though pondering the problem. Without another sound she reached with one hoof behind her head, undid the pink ribbon holding her mane up, and slid it through Flitter’s hair. “Here,” she said, making a few quick adjustments with her hooves. When she was done, Cloudchaser leaned back to inspect her work.
For the second time tonight, in the span of a few minutes, Flitter was rendered too stunned to speak. Without her pink ribbon to act as support, Cloudchaser’s mane slowly came undone in the back. Thick strands uncoiled down the back of her neck and draped over her right shoulder. But, your look, Flitter thought, this was your look…
Then she turned her head to the mirror adjacent to the bed, hanging up on a cloud wall. The reflection that stared back now had a bow nestled atop its head. The bright pink color was quite appealing among the straight pale green hair. But more than that… Flitter walked up close to the mirror, tracing one hoof along the edge of the ribbon.
It’s gone! The bow covered up the bald spot. It wasn’t perfect. Flitter knew she would have to make some rearrangements, but the purpose it served was clear as day. And Cloudchaser had just… she didn’t even hesitate.
Flitter wanted to say thank you a million times, but the words were hard to form at that moment. The longer she looked into the mirror, the more her eyes burned. She closed them and gave a long, loud sniff. I really thought I was done crying tonight too. It was okay though. These tears were happy so she didn’t mind them.
Eventually, Flitter made her way back to the bed after wiping that last of the tears away. “So,” she said, trying hard to keep her voice from cracking. “What else about me are you jealous of?”
Cloudchaser laughed and rustled her wings to nest closer to her sister, “Well let’s see… you’re more graceful. I was shocked you didn’t try out for the Free Flyers this year. You’ve got a better singing voice. We’ve already talked about your mane…”
Flitter closed her eyes and leaned against her sister’s shoulder as she talked. Okay, she thought, so maybehaving an older sister doesn’t suck so hard after all.
“Please, call me Cadance,” the alicorn said, more than a little uncertain about the interview.
“I like that...no formality, just trying to be ‘one of the ponies’ and not sticking your muzzle up in the air.” Cadance cringed as the interviewer laughed obnoxiously. How many more of these would she have to deal with? Couldn’t the Cutie Mark Crusaders try to do a story on her instead?
“Actually, I just prefer to be called Cadance.”
“Oh, I see! Well, the readers of my column in the Crystal Inquiry are just dying to know how you and Shining Armor are getting along since your wedding last year!”
“He and I are doing well.”
“Oh? Can we expect the patter of little hooves soon?” the interviewer asked, leaning forward in a somewhat invasive manner.
“Well...I’m currently not expecting...” The other mare went to town on her notepad. Oh...great.
“So tell me...Cadance...” she said with a nudge. “How is it to live in the lap of luxury? What does a rich pony do all day?”
“Well...to be perfectly frank... Can you please move that recorder a hoof or two away from me?”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I understand completely! I’ll not use this then, if you’re uncomfortable. Don’t worry about me using every bit of information in the papers. I won’t tell anything that doesn’t truly belong there. So just tell me everything!” she said, putting the recorder on the table, still turned on... Did this mare think Cadance was a fool or something?
Regardless, she continued. “As I was about to say...money and title do not always mean luxury. Yes, I am a Princess and married to the Captain of the Royal Guard, but that does not mean I sit around doing nothing. The Crystal Kingdom needs constant supervision and defense—”
“Oh my, I know! I’ve heard how hard your husband works to protect us. You must be proud of him.”
“I definitely am proud of him.”
“But who protects you while he’s away? Are there any...assigned guards for you, Cadance?”
“Assigned guards? What do you mean?”
“Come on, Cadance...let’s be realistic here. Unless your husband doesn’t love you, he’d make sure you were safe when he couldn’t keep an eye on you... But, he’s gone for a very long time is he not?” she said with a wink.
Cadance had promised this insufferable nag half an hour...though her own blood pressure didn’t seem to agree to the prospect. But, she had to be gracious. She had never forcibly thrown an interviewer from her home before, and she didn’t want to start now.
That didn't make the idea any less tempting, however.
“My husband loves me dearly, and I love him just as strongly. I am very proud of him and help him whenever I can. He does not have an assigned guard to me because he knows I can protect myself. Yes, he can be gone for days at a time because of his duties in Canterlot and, no, it’s not always easy, but it is always worth it when you look at the big picture.”
“So how do you ‘help’ him exactly?”
“Well...mostly I work with the legal aspects of running a kingdom, but there are times I assist him with magic, keeping his health in check, and I’m also the first response when a situation comes up and neither of my aunts can be reached to assist at that moment.”
“I bet you keep him in shape, too...” she said with a wink. Cadance’s eyes narrowed.
“I will not respond to such impertinent questions.”
“Oh...so you’re not keeping him in shape then?” she asked, her face ecstatic.
“If you attempt another juvenile innuendo while this interview is in progress, then this interview will end. Next question?”
“Are you sure you’re not pregnant?”
“Yes!”
“Ok! So, your mane. How do you get it so long and healthy? Is it magic?”
“It grew. Next question.”
“What quirks about your husband annoy you the most?” the pony said, biting the end of her writing implement in a way that she probably assumed was attractive. Cadance was thoroughly convinced this pony had never practiced the technique in front of another pony, unless she had ignored the slight look of disbelieving contempt from the receiver. She took a deliberate deep breath before replying.
“That is between him and me, unless you interview him and he decides to divulge this information.”
“When would he be available to talk?”
“Send a notice to him, not me. I am not a way to get to my husband.”
“Does he do interviews?”
“No.”
“But you said—”
“I heard what I said, you don’t need to repeat it.”
“But your husband is the latest news! Mares everywhere want to get the scoop on you two. He was the most eligible bachelor in Equestria...” she said with a flirty push of her cat-eye glasses up her muzzle and quick toss of her mane.
“You’re kidding me...”
“What? The public likes a pretty face.”
“Shining Armor is not a pretty face!”
“Yes, I know that but—”
“No...you don’t know it.”
“But I—”
“Stop it right now! Did they send you as a joke? In the the same amount of time I’ve talked to you, I have discussed—with more capable reporters—my imprisonment in the Canterlot caverns, my family history, the King Sombra attack on my home, how I was influential in the Griffin-Crystal Pony treaty 3 months ago, and the story of how Shining Armor and I knew each other before we got engaged! All you have asked about is questions pertaining to if my husband and I are happy in our relationship or if he is able to fulfil the fantasies of pathetic ponies all over Equestria or if I really am as lazy as the kingdom wants me to be.”
“Well—”
“Oh, shut up, you pathetic excuse for a columnist! Shining Armor and I love each other very much and plan to stay together for a very long time--namely, the rest of our natural lives. I do more than sit around all day acting bored with the fact I’m a Princess...”
“Yes, but—”
“I’m not finished!” The interviewer's muzzle clamped shut to make room for her widening eyes as she shrunk back into the chair. “Good... As I was saying, I am more than a pretty face to be displayed next to my husband’s pretty face for ‘the public’ as you imagine your readers to be and, if you want to interview me, you will need a great deal more respect than I believe you’re capable of. Since last year, I’ve been kidnapped, imprisoned, deprived of sleep for three whole days, tortured, thrown off a balcony, harassed, stalked, threatened, and slandered more times than I ever care to think of. I did not do all of that to be asked inane questions by some untrained beauty school dropout who is looking to get at my husband to put him on public display!”
“What, are you scared he’s going to leave you for me...?” the interviewer asked, the thrill of a challenge written on her face.
Cadance had never forcibly thrown an interviewer from her home before. But, there was a first time for everything.
Da lights. All of zem. Shining. Da crowd. Da whole Crowd. Vas cheering. Da Models. All of zem. Zey vere stunning!
I vill admit, I had seen it before. More times zen I can count. Every time it is a different crowd and a different dress. But every time, it is just as magnificent as before.
Yes, I have seen many models rise to glory. Some of dem for a moment, others zat I have helped at da start of my career zat are still going strong, living vat has been zeir dream from da start.
Even now as I vatch da stage, I see only those vith poise. Those vith heart. Those vith passion. And every time I see dem, zey amaze me. Not because zey are valking on da stage, or because zey are all marvelous, but because zey are alive.
I vatch dem as zey valk the runway, living to make others smile. Zese are da ponies, da ponies who all share vimsy, a vision, and da magicks!
In moments like zese, I cannot help but vonder vat it is zat makes dem vant to be on da stage, and vhy it is dat they vish to be in da spotlight.
For some, I have noticed, it is zat zey vant to be a star, and, for others, I have noticed zat they vant to make someone proud, but da result is alvays da same. They shine, and as they shine, zey inspire.
Zis inspiration only makes it so zat a cycle can continue. Da small all vant to see da famous. Da famous vant to be seen by da small. Zis vill make some of da small vant to be da famous.
Efen now, as I look out ofer da crowd, I see zem. Da vorkers, da artists, and da young. Zey all vant to see vat it is like. Some say zat they come to see da dresses. Some say zat they come to feel da highlife.
I remember one of my stars. It vas a shame, really. She vould have gone far. She could have been famous, for efen ven she vas at her vorst, she had...da magicks!
Zese are da ponies I look for. Zese are da ponies zat inspire. Zese are da ones zat have da magicks.
Da only problem I have run into vith looking for zese ponies is zat zey are so few. For every one I find vith da magicks, I have searched through hundreds, maybe efen thousands of ponies.
I hate seeing zee disappointed faces of colts, fillies, mares, and stallions alike who vish to be a model, but only da best of da best can make it in zee vorld that is fashion.
But, it is vorth it. Seeing a pony shine like no other, like da mares who have taken da stage tonight, it is like seeing a whole ‘nother vorld. It is a feeling zat no other ponies can give you when you vatch zem.
I am proud to say zat I have seen a good many of zem all first-hoof, and zat is something not everypony can say, at least not as much as I vish zey could. I cannot efen bring myself to look avay from da stage ven da ponies take it, because ven zey take it, zey take it vith fire!
As I look out, even now, zey capture my eyes, and make me feel like I have to see more. I dread da moment ven zey cannot keep da stage, for I vill be sad, and I vill be tired.
But I also look forvard to ven zey are done, because ven they leave da stage, I vill feel da vonderment, and I vill have back da vill to look for more vith da magicks.
Zese mares, zese stallions, and even da colts and fillies who are of da stars of da show, zese are the ponies zat make da vorld have beauty and give da vorld something to admire.
Zese are da ponies who make us all shine!
Everypony finds some harmony in da vorld, be it through vork, through friendship, through love, or through support. Still, zere are zose who find happines ven zey are alone.
I’ve found, it doesn’t matter vat you do vith your life, you vill shine above da rest, even if it is just in your own special vay. You vill.
Looking over the crowd, I see zose vith cameras, zere eyes shining as zey admire da ponies found by both I, Photo Finish, and other scouts. Zose vith hunger for da light zat the models share, zat zey vill bask in ven da time comes.
Everypony has to be in da spotlight at some point, and zey vill steal da limelight vether zey like it or not.
Da ponies on da stage, zey shine vith da magicks zat is beauty. Da ponies in da crowd, da magicks zat is admiration. Da ponies backstage, da magicks of vork; vork zat zey have taken time to perfect.
I vill alvays find da ones who vill vork da magicks, because vithout it, vee would have nothing. It is for zis reason I love doing my job, as much as it can hurt somepony.
Da young live to find a dream, the vorkers strive to live zere dream, and da ones who have lived zeirs’ live to tell about vat it vas like to live zere dreams.
I have reached da point vere I am one who shines, but my goal is different. I have found zose who have da magicks, yes. But, I have not finished living vat my dream is.
Zese ponies dream of many things. Some dream of fame, like the models who valk da stage tonight. Some dream of riches, like da ponies who are taking pictures vith zere cameras. Others dream of happiness, such as da ponies who are vatching da stage.
Of all da ponies I have efer found, zere are few who share my dream.
“You’re doing it wrong, Sparky.” My little sister brushed a blonde lock of her mane out of her eyes, determined not to lose sight of her target: the stove. One of her forelegs was idly wrapped around a silver fire extinguisher.
I shot a quick glance sideways to make sure the safety pin was still in place--last thing I needed was for a late addition to the celery stew I’d been babying for the past half hour. “I’m making it just fine, Dinky. Don’t get trigger-happy.”
Dinky shook her head and frowned at the pot, hitting it with the six-year-old equivalent of a suspicious glare. “Nuh-uh, you’re doing it different from Mommy.”
“Different’s not necessarily a bad thing.” Especially when the ‘usual’ way of doing things ended in a kitchen fire. To be fair, Dinky’s quick-draw skills with an extinguisher had saved the house more than once. I’m kinda surprised she doesn’t already have a cutie mark in disaster relief, given the way some of Mom’s cooking projects went. And her home repair projects. And her attempts at refurbishing. And the one time we moved furniture around.
Not that Mom doesn’t try--she puts a lot of effort into the meals she makes for us, and the stuff she gets right is fantastic. If Equestria ever moved away from the bit, Mom’s muffins could easily step in as the dominant currency. She does a lot more than just put food on the table for us, too. She really does go out of her way to sit down and eat with us. Working her flank off didn’t always give her time for us, and we loved having her home for dinner as much as she did.
Thing is… well, Mom getting the nickname ‘Derpy’ is one of the few things about her that isn’t accidental. There were a lot of stains on the counter from past attempts at pouring coffee, soup, or whatever other liquid happened to be on hoof, and the fire extinguisher threatening my work saw so much use that the manufacturer had given us our own family-specific plan--complete with Preferred Customer status and a plaque commemorating our 250th refill. They’d even thrown a parade for it.
Speaking of the extinguisher... “Dinks, you don’t need to have that ready. I’m just making soup.”
“Mommy made cereal catch fire,” she reminded me. That was a good point--to this day, nopony had any clue how she’d done that. Miss Twilight had spent the better part of fifteen minutes explaining to me exactly how that violated the laws of physics, only to completely freak out when Mom did it again with ice cream when she brought treats over from Sugarcube Corner.
I went through the motions of a Pinkie Promise. “I’m not going to start any fires, okay?”
“Then how do you know you’re doing it right?” Only in this household could that question be asked with a straight face.
“Because it’s not catching fire.” Urge to facehoof… rising...
Dinky stayed at the ready, nodding her head as if to only humor me. I rolled my eyes at her and levitated a spoon out of the nearby drawer, scooping out a bit of soup to see how close it was to done. Damn, the potatoes were still too hard.
“I’m bored. Can I have a cookie?”
I shook my head. “Mom said no sweets before dinner.”
“Pleeease?” Oh Celestia, I could tell from her tone that she was hitting me with her best puppy eyes look. I could never say no to her when she did that, and she knew it. I didn’t dare look away from the stove.
“After dinner.”
“Just one?” Good grief, I could feel the pleading look she was shooting my way. Note to self: come up with a way to resist Dinky’s adorableness, or else forever become her slave. That filly could wrap Princess Luna around her hoof if it ever came to it.
“I’ve already said no, Dinks.” A pinch more salt, and another reason to avoid eye contact. “Besides--I don’t wanna deal with you when you’re on a sugar rush. I still gotta make sandwiches before Mom gets home.”
Dinky’s frustrated hoof-stomp was muffled by the stool’s cushion. “But I wanna cookie!”
“No, Dinky!” I sighed and instantly wished I hadn’t raised my voice. If Dinks thought it was going to boil down to a shouting match, she’d build up steam and go on for hours. No way I was gonna let that happen; I didn’t have the patience to deal with one of her tantrums, and it wouldn’t be fair to Mom to come home to that. I love Dinky, but she can be a hoofful sometimes. I really wonder how Mom put up with her all by herself before she adopted me. How to head Dinky off... “Look--don’t you have homework to do?”
“I don’t wanna do homework!” she sniveled. “It’s math this week--and not just math, it’s division! Division’s haaarrrrrd!”
I sighed again and fervently hoped I had never been this bad to my foster dad when I was her age. I was pretty sure subjecting somepony to that kind of whining went against the Geneighva Convention. It’s sure as hay something I wouldn’t wish on anypony. Even him.
I tossed in another round of spices a little more vigorously than necessary. “Look, Dinks--just go get started on it, okay?”
“But what if I get stuck?” Celestia, her voice was like hooves on a chalkboard.
“Then move onto another problem.” I could help her out later like I always did, and she knew it.
“But--”
“Dinky!” Okay, I shouldn’t’ve snapped at her like that, but she was really starting to grate on me. “Quit stalling and go start your homework, alright? I’m making dinner!”
“Fine!” Dinky tossed the fire extinguisher aside and leapt off the stool, stomping off in a huff. Good thing Mom got that her-proof flooring installed--the extinguisher hit the ground hard enough that it could have cracked tile. I split my attention for a second and levitated it back onto its holder next to the icebox, then turned back to the soup.
With Dinky out of the room, I could finally concentrate on the dinner I’d been so carefully guarding from a foamy, fire-retardant condiment. With one last relieved sigh, I turned my focus back to the recipe at hoof. The potatoes were finally softening up, the celery was about to hit that perfect medium of warm and crunchy, and I’d hit just the right balance of saltiness and spices. I could comfortably say everything had gone right so far.
Naturally, that’s when the front door banged open.
No, I mean that as in ‘banged open,’ from the outside-inward. Yeah, I know it didn’t make a lot of sense from a design standpoint--hay, even Tool Time had scratched his head about it even when he first took the remodelling job. Needless to say though, the combination of Mom’s lack of depth perception and high-speed homecomings lent her to impacts with the front of the house rough enough that Tool Time was still living comfortably from living off of the patents from the Derp-Proof Doorframe. Crime was low enough in Ponyville that somepony being stopped by the front door was a bigger safety concern.
“Hi, Mom.” I didn’t even blink as she tumbled to a halt in the mudroom. It sounded like she’d remembered to tuck and roll again, and past experience reminded me that I’d know if she botched it.
I heard Mom shake off the rough landing with practiced ease. “Hi, sweetie!” Even if I couldn’t see her, I could feel her smile from across the house. Luna, but she loved coming home. And it was always good to have her home.
I ignored the odors of hard work that accompanied Mom into the kitchen. “Chow’s about ready, and Dinks should be starting on her homework.”
“Thank you so much, Sparkler.” Mom hugged me with her wing. “I’m sorry to dump this on you again, it’s just--”
“You gotta job to do, I get it.” I nuzzled her back, ignoring the grimy lather she’d worked up on the trip home. I was about to say something else when I was cut off by a faint shew shew shew sort of sound, like something dragging against carpet. Mom and I both turned to see a plain, medium-sized cardboard box suddenly stop moving just outside of the kitchen. A pair of golden eyes peered out through a small hole cut in the side and went wide when they saw Mom standing next to me. Oh, Dinks is just too much fun sometimes. Mom gave a wall-eyed wink. I nodded back and fought to keep a smile off of my face.
“So how was your day, sweetie?” Mom deliberately turned her body towards the stove--she always had trouble keeping a straight face.
“Really awesome, Mom,” I said, winking to her. “I met this really nice colt in shop class today.”
Mom grinned and played along. “Oh really? Is he nice?”
“He’s sooooooo cute.” I usually don’t go for ultra-girly stuff, but this time around I was more than willing to ham things up as much as possible for our not-present audience. “He’s such a hunky earth pony, and he’s got these dreamy green eyes...”
“Blegh!” the inconspicuous cardboard intruder gagged. It scuttled back a hair when Mom and I both turned to face it in faux surprise. “I mean, um... Box noises!”
It took all of my self control not to outright laugh at that, and Mom clamped a foreleg over her mouth to try and keep herself under control. Good Celestia, Dinks, when you weren’t being a pain in the flank you were feathering priceless.
Mom stepped towards the totally obvious not-a-disguise. “Well, it looks like there’s nothing here after all.”
“Nothing at all,” I nodded in agreement. I waited for the not-so-subtle sigh of relief before I spoke up again. “I’ll tell you all about him, Mom. Lemme just put away this strangely-placed and inconspicuous box, and I’ll tell you all about him.”
It was just too priceless seeing those not-so-hidden eyes go wide as my horn glowed and picked the box up off the ground, revealing its previously-hidden occupant. Dinky squeaked and froze in place on her stomach, a stick-figure diagram of the kitchen clutched in her hoof. I could faintly make out the title of her master scheme written in crayon: ‘Objektiv: Cookees.’
Mom clapped a hoof to her cheek in surprise. “Muffin, what’re you doing here?”
“Getting sumthin’ to eat.” She shuffled on her hooves and hastily tucked her secret plans behind her.
“I’m making dinner,” I pointed out, smiling smugly down at her. “You know, like Mom asked?”
Dinky shook her head. “Nuh-uh, cookies are safer. You have cooties.”
I thought for a minute, then decided decided to string her along a little more. “I made those, too.”
Mom held up a hoof to cut us off, sniffing the air. “Do you two smell smoke?”
Now that she mentioned it... “GAAH! The stove!” I raced back into the kitchen and frantically turned down the knob, choking the gas flow to the bare minimum. The soup had boiled over and was starting to hit the burner--it would kill the flame if I didn’t do something and fast. I telekinetically grabbed the ladle and desperately tried to stir the bubbling mess into submission. Dinky leapt back onto the stool beside me and pulled the pin on the fire extinguisher.
“Don’t you dare,” I growled, pointedly putting myself between Dinky and her target of choice. Lucky for me her magic hadn’t come in yet, which meant that she couldn’t do more than struggle to tilt her head and aim the hose clamped in her jaws while her hoof rested on the firing lever. She gave up after a minute and let go of the extinguisher.
“Aw, there’s no fwooshing!” Her face fell as I got everything back under control, making sure that nothing else would go wrong. “Mommy! Show Sparky how to make it right.”
“She’s doing fine, Muffin.” Mom gently took the extinguisher from Dinky and put the safety pin back in place. “Just because your sister does things a little differently from me doesn’t mean she’s doing it the wrong way.”
I stuck my tongue out at Dinky before turning my attention back to making dinner. “Toldja, runt.”
“Cootie face.” Real mature, Dinks.
Mom rolled her eyes at our very mature exchange. It was so weird seeing her eyes line up like that. “Girls...”
“Sorry, Mom,” Dinky and I said together. She hopped off the stool and gave me a hug; I hugged her back, making sure to keep one eye on the stove.
Mom came over and put a wing over both of us, mercifully nudging Dinks away from the stove. “Go get your saddlebags and get set up in the living room, okay Muffin? We’ll go through your homework together after I take a quick shower.”
“Fiiiine.” There was still a bit of a whine in Dinky’s tone, but I could tell from the slump in her shoulders that she knew there was no weaseling out of it now that Mom was back. Once Dinks disappeared around the corner, Mom came over and gave me a quick nuzzle.
“Thanks again for making dinner, sweetie--I know this was really last-minute.”
“S’not a problem.” I could feel the grime on her coat as I gave her a quick hug back. I didn’t mind. “I love you, Mom.”
Mom kissed my forehead. “I love you, too, Sparkler.” She gave me another quick nuzzle before heading down the hall to rinse off after another crazy shift.
Some ponies would have been a bit put off by having the scent of a sweaty pony lingering in the air when trying to cook. Then again, some ponies didn’t have magic to help them cook in the first place. I put the burner on low to make sure the soup wasn’t going to boil over again, then grabbed the stuff out of the icebox to get started on the dandelion sandwiches. Dinky had already set the table, and everything would be ready about when Mom was done cleaning up.
Fluttershy sat on a well-padded but firm chair, bathing in the sunlight that filtered through her window. After a few days of harder-than-usual work caring for the various needs of her many animals, she concluded that she had earned the break. So, she had been getting caught up in a lighthearted adventure story Twilight had lent her.
Angel sat beside her, and she obliged him by reading aloud.
As she went through the pages about a little filly by the name of Sweet Shine, her emotions and expression alike turned and twisted with the adventure. Fluttershy and Sweet Shine made their way together through a land of candy cane trees, grumpy goblins and nice bees, and Angel accompanied them on the ride. To another pony, perhaps, this would be a cute and silly tale.
To another pony.
When Sweet Shine's suspenseful search for a way home from Kooky Land ended with a much-savoured reuniting with her family, Fluttershy set the book down with a warm smile.
"That was fun, but the part with the bridge goblin was kind of scary. Until you find out that's he's really a nice guy. I guess you can't judge a book by its cover. Get it? A book by its cover?"
A small grin broke across her lips when she saw how Angel's own smile had turned into a disapproving scowl.
It only lasted a moment though, until she pulled him into a hug.
Checking the clock a moment later, she realized she might be late to get her groceries.
It was barely past 2 o'clock, but the special health food shop she wanted to visit kept strange hours, and she had to put up with it if she wanted her Wild Blueberry jam and Special Grain bread. Tomorrow's breakfast just wouldn't be the same without them.
---------
A dainty walk and a bit of shopping later, Fluttershy found herself with a bit of extra time under a partly cloudy sky in the streets of Ponyville. She spent a moment wondering what to do next, until her eyes fell upon Rarity, who appeared to be running some errands of her own. After taking a moment to determine that Rarity was not busy, she meekly approached and began tagging along. Her own errands nearly completed, Rarity went with her on a stroll through town, the two chatting about nothing in particular and munching on a few carrots Fluttershy had picked up.
The conversation suddenly stopped as they came across a small group of musicians playing on the street. A strange combination of a violin, an accordion, and a flute played together in a surprisingly beautiful harmony. After listening for a few minutes, Fluttershy and Rarity each tipped a few bits to the performers, and Rarity began speaking again as if the conversation had never stopped.
Why does she always do that? she thought to herself.
Oh, who cares. Little oddities are nothing between good friends, she replied to herself.
"Oh, and that reminds me, are you going to be coming to the Apples' dance this evening?"
Fluttershy stopped in her tracks. "Wh-what?"
A dark cloud was suddenly cast on her sunny day.
"Fluttershy, don't tell me you forgot about it. I wouldn't believe you anyways, seeing as how you say that about most such events."
Rarity rolled her eyes.
"I... um... of course not. I was just... busy this evening."
She looked away with a bit of guilt at the deception, before caving in to her conscience's prodding.
"And I don't really know how to dance."
"Well dear, the only way you're going to learn is through practice. You'll be among friends, and you'll have a great time."
I'm not so sure about that...
"Besides, if you don't, I'll tell Applejack that it was you who was responsible for that incident with the birds and the industrial wax." Rarity shuddered. "I must say, that was the worst game of hide-and-seek I've ever played..."
Fluttershy shrank and flushed at the memory. How do they always have something like that? Well, dancing can't be that bad... After all, everypony else seems to have so much fun doing it. And I have danced before...
She turned a shade redder at the memory.
No! I am not a scaredy-pony!
A rather large beetle had picked a resting place on her hoof while she was thinking. She screamed and leapt into the air, hovering while shaking her hoof wildly.
"Is it off? Is it off?"
"Yes, dear, it's off. Anyways, I have some work to catch up on, so I really must be going. Ta!"
Rarity walked off at a moderate pace. She had her own day to go about, after all.
Fluttershy sighed. I just have to take it one step at a time.
As she did, Fluttershy realized she hadn't really done that much. I'd end up going anyways. I always do.
She let out a sigh and went home to prepare for the evening, trying to remain confident despite the growing performance anxiety.
------------------
When she got home, it would have been an unsteady pair of hooves that would have applied various cosmetic products if she hadn't been so indecisive about them. Instead, they set about making her a rushed snack of sorts, consisting of a light salad. She had learned some time ago that she couldn't stomach much more before an event that made her nervous.
When she was done eating, worrying, and making final checks on hygiene and blemishes, she put on a modest bit of makeup and a brave face, before marching out the door.
Right before marching back in.
Or at least trying to. It seemed Angel had locked the door. She was about to tell him to open it, but stopped for a moment.
He's right. There's no reason I shouldn't go. If only I could make my hooves remember that...
She began down the path to Sweet Apple Acres, admiring the glowing beginnings of the sunset in the hopes of ignoring the inevitable.
There's so much beauty in nature.
Sometimes, even Fluttershy forgot to stop and admire the small things.
--------------
The music was very loud, somewhat cheesy, and vaguely country. It filled the hot, humid room, and drowned out such things as conversation and shy yellow mares who stayed off to the side and hoped no one would notice.
Doing a rather good impression of a textbook example of a nervous partygoer, Fluttershy alternated between making difficult conversation with some of the ponies who happened to be sitting, going to the table of refreshments, and standing near the sides of the dance floor, while wishing that the stalemate between shyness and desire for fun would end.
Her eyes caught a certain stallion, who smiled and nodded to her, eliciting shrinkage and a meep from the now-flustered pegasus. When she went to back away, a push from behind forced her toward him, and she thought she heard Pinkie Pie's voice saying something about getting out and having fun.
A hoof and an invitation to dance were suddenly extended to her, and, with few other options, she quickly decided that if she was going to be embarrassed, she would do it tomorrow.
Rather than trying to eliminate her nervousness at the very thought of a dance with Big Macintosh, she instead set it aside as much as she could. Which meant that the blushing was kept below a typical high fever, and hyperventilation was somehow kept at bay.
As Big Mac practiced the steps with her again and again, she gradually improved, both in the frequency of her accidental hoof-kicking and in her demeanor. She concluded that this must have been what Pinkie called "loosening up".
A few dances in, she was up to a passable level, and so Big Mac passed her on to dance with some other stallions. It didn't matter much--she was having fun one way or another. She took a bit of amusement from how it felt like showing off when she came back to Big Mac and was able to dance all the better after the other stallions she'd stepped and even occasionally twirled or dipped with.
And as she danced with him again to some strange barnyard melody, somewhere, at the edge of her mind, she was glad once again that being shy and nervous didn't mean she couldn't enjoy a night of some very good cheer.
Apparently, it was a beautiful Equestrian morning. The sun was only just starting on its way to wherever Celestia stashed it after it set. The birds were whistling some tune because they weren’t smart enough to remember the words. There were flowers everywhere because nopony bothered to eat them until lunch. As you can tell, I didn’t give a crap.
It wasn’t that I hated nature, more that I’ve always had more important things to care about. There’s food, mares, friends, mares, the bills, mares, and most importantly, my business.
In fact, that’s where I was walking, just like I’ve done every day since I opened up the store. It’s the culmination of my morning routine that start with me dragging my way down the stairs to my coffeepot. Then I dunk my head in a sink full of cold water to help the caffeine along. Finally, I get dressed and head out to work. I’ve gotten so good at this by now that it only takes me five minutes.
Not to brag, of course. I’m not the bragging type.
I looked up to see that I was nearly at the store. Next, I turned at the end of Stirrup Street and onto Market Lane, where most of the stores in Ponyville were located. Back when I started the store, I’d made sure to get a building right in the middle of it to maximize business. It was only one of the many genius business decisions I’ve made over the years.
I looked up at the sign admiringly as I approached the store. After pulling the keys out of my saddlebags and unlocking the door, I checked to see if anything has been stolen overnight. This hadn’t happened in years, but you never know when somepony would rather steal a couple dozen quills than pay for them. I checked the register as well before heading into the back room to go over last month’s sales records once again. I knew it would be a least a few hours before anypony came to get quills, which left me with some time to use.
I wasn’t quite awake yet, and I accidentally ran into the door to the back room. Grumbling, I opened the door to find that the records were still sitting out on the desk from yesterday morning, which had been my second check of the records, making this a triple-check. I yawned loudly as I sat down, quickly absorbing myself in the all-important papers. As important as they were, I started daydreaming somewhere along the way. Even though the store was everything to me, some of the things I had to do to keep it running were monotonous to say the least.
Other ponies never understood this, marefriends in particular. They all thought that I spent too much time on by business and not enough on them. If they had actually wanted to be with me in the first place, they would have let me pursue my life’s dream in peace. Everypony else thought that the store would be fine if I relaxed my hold, but I wasn’t willing to take that chance for fear that disaster would strike, or an opportunity for profit would present itself and I would miss it.
And opportunities had presented themselves many times over my career, like when a huge rainstorm hit Ponyville two years ago. A week before the storm, I was at the bar talking to a friend of mine who worked at the weather factory. We had a few drinks, and I asked him what the weather was going to be like over the next few weeks. Normally, he wouldn’t tell me that sort of information, since it was confidential and all. But alcohol tends to make ponies more liable to spill information, and I made sure he got plenty of that. By the time I left, I had learned that there would be huge storm coming in the next week. I took this knowledge to my advantage and ordered three times my usual stock.
When the storm hit, nearly half of the houses in Ponyville were flooded, and the furniture within was ruined. After the cleanup was done, I opened up my store and sold all of the sofas. I also dropped the price to 75%, which was great for my reputation but still allowed me to profit in the end. I had made sure to read up on the economic laws associated with natural disasters that same night the week before, and I had discovered two things. Firstly, if I dropped my prices by 25% or more after a disaster, then the government would give me more than enough to offset that. Secondly, if my store was damaged enough, I could qualify for money to fix it. Conveniently, enough damage happened to my quills before I was able to activate the shielding spell around the house, so I was able to collect even more money.
By the end of it all, I’d made enough money to pay for a vacation to the Marebbean Islands. My mind started to wander to the memory of those Marebbean mares when the door opened, which brought me out of my pleasant daydreams.
“It’s always when I’m thinking about mares, isn’t it?” I mumbled. I shoved the papers back in the folder messily and slapped a quick smile on my face to hide my annoyance. I walked out into the store and saw that there was indeed somepony in the shop, and of all ponies, a fellow business owner.
… A fellow business owner who was also the hardest catch in all of Ponyville, and probably all of Equestria.
“Good morning, Davenport. I see the shop is running smoothly, no?”
I tried to keep from staring at her, or at least tried to keep her from noticing that I was staring at her. I took a second to collect myself before speaking, and as usual, my delivery was excellent. “Hey Rarity, what brings you around? Quills? Sofas? Anything else?”
At first, Rarity didn’t get what I was hinting at. “I thought you only sold Quills and Sofas.”
“I do. The third item isn’t for sale.”
She was clueless for a while, but eventually got it, as I knew she would. She chuckled lightly, apparently finding the hidden meaning in my words funny. “I’m sorry Mr. Davenport, but the answer is no. We are not going out again.”
I pretended to be taken aback, despite the fact that I’d already known she would reject me. “Mr. Davenport?” I asked. “I thought we were on more friendly terms than that, at least.”
Rarity stopped fiddling with a box of quills long enough to look at me. “Well if you think that, then you are sorely mistaken.”
I knew I only had one more shot, so I had to make it count. “Aw, come on. Don’t tell me it wasn’t fun. And you’re looking very pretty today, I might add.”
“We only went on one date,” she said forcefully. “Now if you don’t stop flirting with me, I’ll take my business elsewhere.”
Knowing I’d already gone too far, I decided to drop the subject. “I see. So what are you here for? A sofa?”
“Indeed I am. Sweetie Belle set my last one on fire yesterday.”
“Let me guess, trying to teach her magic again, right?”
Rarity sighed loudly. “Yes, I was. Do you by any chance have the same brand I bought last time?”
Quickly, I brought up the memory of her last visit. She’d come because her cat had practically scratched a hole in the couch, and she’d been unable to salvage it, despite her skills as a seamstress. It took me a little longer to remember what brand she’d bought.
“You got … a rose-colored Carousellia special … with rose trim … and a hickory frame, if I remember correctly.”
Rarity was taken aback by my perfect recollection. “Why, yes, that’s exactly what I got. How did you remember?”
“Photographic memory.”
“Ah, I see. So, do you have any more of those?”
“I have that style of couch, but I don’t have that color. The only two I have in stock are myrtle green and navy blue.”
“That’s a shame. The rose color matched the drapes perfectly. Oh well, I guess I’ll be going then. Ta ta.”
I ran from behind the counter and right up beside her, putting a leg around her and leading her back into the store. “Now, Rarity, let’s not be so hasty. I have plenty of sofas that are rose-colored, and I can get them to you at a better price than those Canterlot stores.”
She shrugged me off with a smile. “How about this: If you can get that same one in stock for me, I’ll come buy it from you next week, okay?”
Inside, I felt like I was going to explode at the task, but I kept it contained, smiling painfully. “I’ll see what I can do.”
With her own smile, Rarity walked up the street, calling back, “Thank you ever so much, Davenport. I’ll be sure to pick that up.”
She turned around and continued strolling along. As she walked, every stallion’s eyes were riveted on her gem-emblazoned flank. A few seconds later, a chorus of slapping noises could be heard as their marefriends gave them each a slap in the face. Fortunately for me, I was single at the moment, so there was nopony there to hit me.
When she turned out of sight, I walked back into the store, once again getting back to matters of greater importance. Although it had been well worth the smile and leaving her with a good impression, tracking down the sofa Rarity wanted would not be easy. Carousellia had only made a hundred or so of that particular sofa, and it had been hard enough for me to get the first one. The only way I could possibly get another would be to buy it out of somepony’s house. After doing that, I would lose bits if I sold it at regular price. I would have to charge her extra just to break even. I made a mental note to do just that and also to move her up to the front of the list. After all, it was Rarity.
“Well, at least she’s coming back,” I said with a sigh.
I waited out the rest of the day behind the counter. A hoofful of ponies came to get quills, but none of them were worth remembering. Before I knew it, it was time to close shop. Some of the quills were undoubtedly uncategorized by this point, but I decided to leave that until morning. Taking the keys in my mouth, I walked outside the shop, locked it up, and threw them into my saddlebags with expert precision. I walked out the door with a smile on my face, heading out to the bar for a well-deserved drink.
BRIING!!! went Silverspeed's alarm, reminding her of the time.
Another boring day ahead of me. I guess I should get up, Silverspeed thought.
Getting out of bed, she ran a brush through her mane. Wait! There's a storm scheduled for today! How could I forget?
You see, she was a weather pony, and weather ponies had to make the storms. This was no small task, either. A storm required ponies to watch the storm so as to keep it in hand. And even more ponies to make the storm!
Coffee, breakfast, run. Gotta be early today, Silverspeed thought. Wolfing (or ponying) down her breakfast, she flew out the door and to Ponyville Park, where the weather ponies coordinated the storm.
"Alright, everypony, we've got a big day ahead of us!" proclaimed Rainbow Dash, the head weather pony. "Today, we have a full-scale storm ahead of us. It will cover all of Ponyville and some outskirts, like Sweet Apple Acres."
Silverspeed tuned out as Rainbow Dash started listing the weather ponies' jobs. She already knew her job, perimeter. She was decently quick and had a very keen eye, due to her archery talent.
As Rainbow Dash moved down the line of pegasi, Silverspeed noted how there were some new ponies. Oh, right. Clousdale Weather Academy just had a class graduate.
"Aaaand, Silverspeed... Let's see. Perimeter, as always. Keep in mind, this'll cover all of Ponyville," Rainbow Dash reminded her. The reason for such a large storm was a problem with the water containment unit in Cloudsdale leaking, so there was only rain when necessary while it was being fixed. Ponyville took the brunt of the blow.
Racing off to the edge of the storm, Silverspeed thought about how long a day it would be. Hopefully I can still fly home by the end of today. It’ll take a while sorting out the mail, but flying would speed it up. Derpy Hooves had the mail route today, and it would take most of the afternoon to sort out her mail with her neighbors.
"Hey! Watch where you're going!" a pony yelled, breaking her line of thought.
"Coming, coming," she mumbled, reluctant to stop planning her day. She flew to the Everfree, where the storm started, and immediately noticed a problem. It was far too close to the ground. With that altitude, there could be some major property damage. "What do you think you're doing? Those clouds are way too low. Somepony could get hurt!"
Silverspeed sat down her bag as she got to her house in the middle of Ponyville’s residential area. Being a pegasus, one would think she would live in a cloud house or Cloudsdale. However, because of her talent, it had been requested of her that she live on the ground.
Whew! Being a weather pony is hard! she thought. If only this was the end of my day. Still so much to do!
Just then, a ring at the door interrupted her thoughts.
"MAIL!" came a voice from outside.
Walking to the door, she remembered a letter she needed to send. "I'm coming, I just need to get a letter to send," Silverspeed called. "Ah, here it is!"
"Here's your mail, Silverspeed," the Mail Mare, Derpy Hooves, informed her.
"Thank you, Derpy. Could you take this letter to the Equestrian National Archery League?” The silver-maned mare asked. “It’s a payment for their magazine.”
"Uh... Certainly!" Derpy decided confidently.
After reading her mail - nothing interesting there - Silverspeed found her bow and decided to practice her archery. I don't see why most ponies find this stressful. It's the most relaxing part of my day. Oh well, to each their own, I guess.
After about half an hour, she heard a knock on her door.
"Yes? Who is it?" Silverspeed asked through the door.
"Berry Punch, and I have some of your mail," came the slurred answer.
Opening the door, Silverspeed said, "Thank you. I hope Derpy gets the hang of this soon, for all of our sakes." Pausing, she added, "What is it? I haven't been expecting anything."
“Well, says on the outside that it's from the Equestrian National Archery League,” the mulberry mare replied.
“Hmm... Thank you, Berry. Goodbye!” she finally said.
Time to see what this is... She opened the letter.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Dear Miss Silverspeed:
We at the Equestrian National Archery League are aware of your performance at archery competitions around Equestria. We would be honored if you would compete in this year’s Equestrian National Archery Tournament.
Signed,
The Equestrian National Archery League Board of Directors
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Wow... This is amazing!” Silverspeed cheered. “I’ll have to tell Mom and Dad about this!” I still need to practice, but that can wait. Silver ran outside to tell her friends and to thank Berry for giving her that amazing piece of news.
Before she could finish walking to her neighbor's house to thank her, a pink pony jumped out of a bush. "I just heard about your super-duper-extra-awesome news!" Pinkie yelled. "I'm throwing you a party!" BOOM! a party cannon went.
"Pinkie, can this wait please? I'm kinda busy. Can you make the party later?"
"Okie dokie lokie!" And away she bounced.
When Silverspeed got to Berry Punch's house, she wasn't surprised to hear the sounds of a bottle being opened, and its contents being guzzled down mercilessly.
Maybe I should just go to visit my parents up in Cloudsdale... Silverspeed thought. Oh, they'll be so proud!
Caramel paced the Apple family kitchen and glanced between the counter tops. Freshly used bowls and pans still lined the counters, not to mention globs of escaped dough and bits of apple. Though he'd tried his best to keep clean, he'd still given the kitchen a fresh coat of flour. And the Apples, bless their hearts, had let him be while he made his third attempt at baking apple turnovers.
He closed his mouth around the edge of the pan and opened the door to the oven with a hoof, watching his creation vanish into the glowing furnace. A draft of heat rushed from the open door and tickled his snout, and with it came the scent of thousands of meals and snacks baked in it before. He dropped the tray on the rack inside and drew in a deep breath.
The Apples have had this farm for generations, he thought. How many pies have passed through this oven? How many ponies have walked this orchard? I've never been a part of something so immense.
He sat down in front of the oven and watched through the window as the golden glow of heat brightened the corners of his creation. The first strike of baking brought out a sweetness to the dough. He'd gotten this far before, but the first turnovers fell apart as soon as he took them out. The second ones he'd burned to a crisp. This time he had to get it right.
Caramel's friends always joked about his spaciness, and he couldn't entirely blame them. Not a planting season went by where he didn't manage to lose a bag of seeds or a hammer—once he lost an entire plow somewhere in the orchard.
When he'd asked Applejack if he could borrow their oven, she agreed with the caveat that “ya'll don't take nothin' out of the kitchen, y'hear?”
I'm not going to mess up again, he thought. But the familiarity of those words only made him more anxious. I've only got one more shot at this. Otherwise I'm going to make Sassaflash wait again.
He looked in the window of the oven again. The sheets of pastry fluffed up under the heat, and then the fresh smell of apples and butter weaved its way into the kitchen. He heard the crackle and bubble of the filling.
Good isn't good enough, he thought. It has to be amazing. Otherwise it's not good enough for her.
No one ever said it to his face. That he wasn't good enough for his special somepony. But whenever they were together, people would always look at her. And then they would look at him. And then they would get this peculiar look on their face as if to suggest that they couldn't believe that the two of them were together to begin with.
Caramel forced himself away from the oven. He picked up one of the bowls and smiled. One of the perks of picking things up with your mouth was that you got to taste it. On the other hoof, one of the problems with picking things up in your mouth was that you got to taste it. This time, though, it meant that he got to indulge in the guilty pleasure of raw apple filling and buttered dough.
The excess of which over three attempts at making turnovers, of course, would go straight to his flanks. And no amount of bucking seemed to lean him up the way it did the other ponies. Still, that was one of the things she liked about him.
She seemed pretty good at coming up with those. He dropped the bowls into the sink and then propped himself back on the counter with a sigh.
She has a cute flank, too. And I like the way she laughs. The way her feathers tickle my face. The way her coat reminds me of the beach. She always seems to know what's going on and she never makes me feel bad for asking. It's always fun being around her... it would be nice if I could fly with her. But she doesn't mind being on the ground, does she? I hope not. I guess I could rent one of those balloons... she'd probably say I'm worrying too much, again.
“Uh, Mister Caramel?”
Caramel jumped and twisted towards the doorway. Apple Bloom peeked her ribboned head in from the doorway and glanced around the kitchen.
“Yes, Apple Bloom?” asked Caramel, biting his lip.
“I just wanted to check on ya,” she said. “I know you said you didn't want any help, but it's been an awful long time for just a couple of turnovers.”
Caramel remembered the turnovers. He raced to the oven and pulled it open, coughing at the cloud of steam that rose from it. Please, oh please let them be okay...
He reached for the pan but pulled back when the heat blasted him in the face. Then he retrieved the oven mitt, nearly swallowing the pad, and quickly pulled out the tray. He sat it on top of the oven and looked over his creation.
“Well, that ain't half bad!” Apple Bloom said.
Caramel's ears drooped. The turnovers smelled delicious. The golden pastry rose triumphantly, each triangular treat swollen with deliciousness and apple filling. And the tips had turned brown, with just a hint of black at the very ends. A charred scale of burned pastry marred the top of each.
“They're burnt,” he said.
“Aw, it don't matter,” said Apple Bloom. “Just take that part off.”
Caramel smiled at her. She wouldn't understand. But he would have to accept them either way, because he was running late.
“I'm sorry, I'll clean this up later!” he said as he scrambled to throw the turnovers into a cloth and then into a basket. He grasped the basket in his teeth and bolted out the door, leaving the distressed filly in his wake. He would apologize later. He'd scrub all the floors in the barn if he had to.
Sassaflash was sitting under the tree in the park just as she'd promised. He dropped the basket on the checkered cloth and panted for breath. She didn’t wait for him to recover before throwing her forelegs around him and giving him a hug.
“I'm sorry I'm late,” he said.
The pegasus laughed. “You're fine.” Her eyes wandered to the basket. “What did you bring? More apples?”
“It's always apples, isn't it?” he said, looking down. He unfolded the cloth and revealed the contents. A couple of bottles of sparkling cider, a few fresh apples, a bouquet of flowers, and the turnovers.
Sassaflash lifted one of the turnovers in front of her muzzle and sniffed it. “Did you make these?”
“Yeah,” said Caramel, sitting beside her in resignation. “They're burnt.”
The pegasus took an enormous bite of the pastry and swallowed it. “They're delicious,” she said. “The crispiness makes them interesting! Thank you.”
Then they put the rest of the basket in front of them, and she sidled up against him, one wing over his back. He sighed and leaned into her. She could always diffuse all of his worries in just a few moments.
“So what's going on in the sky?” he asked.
“Well, Rainbow Dash is on vacation for a week for some training thing, so Raindrops had to take over organizing the weather teams. But Dash already wrote up the schedules ahead of time, so now too many pegasi are showing up...”
Caramel nodded, following her every word. He couldn't help but smile every time she paused to nibble at the pastry, at the way she licked the filling off of her lips. She didn’t mind that the turnovers were singed. She liked them. She liked him. That alone was enough.
"Inkie, just finish up the cleaning, would you?" A grey mare glanced up from the folder in front of her as the words were swiftly followed by the slamming of a door. Clearly the question had been more of an order, and Inkie Pie sighed softly.
"Sure, Lace. No problem," Inkie muttered. She looked back at the picture she'd been studying: a stallion with a wide smirk that showed off gleaming white teeth. Head shots were always carefully prepared, and Inkie couldn't help but wonder if anypony's coat could be that immaculate every single day. Resigned to the fact that she would never unravel the mystery, Inkie shrugged slightly and pushed aside the rather thick file. She'd bring it back to the apartment and read through it, though that was barely necessary. Inkie could already tell that--what was his name?--Creme Brûlée wasn't the high caliber actor Lacey Accent was looking for.
With that, the workday was officially coming to a close, and Inkie began to pack up, shoving the folder into her bright pink saddlebags. An odd color choice to be sure, and not one that Inkie was overly fond of, but she would never get rid of them. These particular bags were a gift from Pinkie, her excitable little sister. Inkie smiled as she remembered the rather large package that had arrived at their door a couple months after she had left the nest. There were notes included with the various gifts for each one of them, and Inkie had read through every excited syllable like she was living the adventures her sister described. She had felt the pride and care that went into Pinkie spending her very first savings on carefully selected presents for her family. The saddlebags were getting on in age now, of course, but they were still useable. Inkie hadn't even had a chance to really need them until a few years ago, anyway.
Shaking off the memories and settling the saddlebags on her back, Inkie moved towards the door to her 'office'. Truthfully it was much smaller then she might've liked, but Inkie wasn't one to complain. After all, it was bigger then any office she'd had before. Mainly because she had never had an office before this one. The jobs Inkie had managed to grab previous to working with Lace had all been on the lowest rung, despite her efforts to claw her way up.
Inkie pushed open the door and surveyed the room. It was Lace's audition room and part of the reason why Inkie's own office was as small as it was. The room was huge and took up most of the floor space. There were three other doors--a bathroom, Lace's office, and an exit--and a stage that spread a quarter of the way into the expansive area and filled up the entire free wall. Lace always said that seeing a pony in action on the stage was the best way to separate the amateurs from the true stars. She never really looked at the lengthy portfolios, always hoofing the paperwork off to Inkie. Lace was much too energetic and filled with creative zeal to be bogged down by the little details that went into running a business. In some ways, Inkie couldn't help but be reminded of Pinkie. Perhaps that was why she'd been drawn to Lace, and why she had managed to keep this position far longer than any previous assistants. Besides being able to handle the energetic outbursts, she was also used to dealing with things like accounts and taxes. Ma and Pa had started her in on it early, thinking that the oldest should know these things.
With another sigh, Inkie moved to pick up a dress that had been thrown over one of the various director's chairs scattered about the room. It was no doubt the result of a hurried change as Lace shouted out instructions to some poor, flabbergasted pony. Inkie moved around the room, gathering up the clothes that littered it and returning them to their places in the chests that were spaced about the floor. As she worked, she allowed her mind to return to the family business. Tradition was something her parents upheld firmly and tradition stated that the eldest would take over. For quite a solid part of her life, Inkie had just known she would be the one to inherit the farm when Ma and Pa passed away. It wasn't a question somepony had asked her, or something she had chosen. For Inkie, it was a fact of life. She often wondered at how much her life had changed since then.
There were a half dozen splintered hilts from wooden prop swords scattered around, and Inkie began to gather them up with a bemused smile. Lace managed to go through a whole shipment of these in a week, and it was an odd thing for Inkie to have to allot part of their income to. The overzealous hug whenever new swords came in, however, was well worth it, in Inkie's opinion.
Another glance around the room told Inkie that she would be here for a while yet. There'd been several hopeful newcomers today, wanting the famous Lacey Accent as their agent. She was known for being able to get the most inexperienced actors and actresses into prestigious roles--but only if she thought they were worth it. Sometimes it seemed that Lace’s method for determining if they were worth it was by throwing every prop and costume she owned at them.
The aftermath of a busy day reminded Inkie of some of Pinkie's wilder parties. Her very first one, the party that had gained Pinkie her cutie mark, was still a special day in Inkie's memory. Long before that, Inkie had sensed something in her parents that she hadn't been able to name.
Looking back now, she saw it as a feeling of rebellion against the strict customs they'd grown up with. Ma and Pa had never strayed from tradition and, in fact, marrying each other was part of that too. Not that they didn't love each other. The family wasn't so old fashioned as to force an unwanted union, but marrying other rock farmers was simply what the Pie's did. All those years of sticking to the rules must've suppressed the rebellious streak that Inkie was sure each and every family member had. Some, like Grammy Pie, welcomed it and flourished independently. Inkie could see now that Ma and Pa were rebelling themselves, if only a tiny bit, every time they invited the zany old mare over. However, it was at Pinkie's very first party that the cracks in the veneer of stoicism really showed. The smiles, the dancing, not minding that they were wasting precious working hours, the dancing... A grin split Inkie's muzzle, and she let out a giggle.
The floor was covered in glitter. Lace had probably tried to convince some unlucky soul to create a poster that 'captured the essence of everything' or something equally confusing to anypony that wasn't Lace herself. Inkie winced with sympathy for whoever it was and trotted across the room to the bathroom, where the broom and dustpan were stored.
That night really had been a turning point. Inkie remembered a lot more smiles after Pinkie finally gained her cutie mark. She had worried about the little pink filly, noting how the solemn atmosphere seemed to get to her most of all. Pinkie had never quite been fit for the life of a rock farmer. She always got frustrated and bored only a couple hours into a work day, pretending that the rocks could talk and having tea parties with them. Inkie had been surprised that she had built up the courage to throw a party in the first place. But then, Pinkie had always been the bravest of the three sisters. Perhaps that was why she'd been the first to get her cutie mark, because she was the first one strong enough to go against tradition. Even if it was in the most innocent way possible.
Softly humming a tune that Grammy Pie used to sing, Inkie began to arrange the chairs in rows. Blinkie had been next to get her cutie mark. She smiled slightly as the memories came rushing back. It had taken Blinkie days to work up the nerve to go to Ma and Pa and show them the system of wheelbarrows and tracks that would help with moving the rocks. Inkie had never really understood the contraption, but it had seemed reasonable enough. She knew that Blinkie had been terrified of her parents’ disapproval on the project, however. That was why the filly had done it after Pinkie's party escapade. Seeing proof that Ma and Pa weren't quite as uptight as they seemed must've soothed her nerves some.
Inkie brushed her dark hair away from her eye, only to have it fall right back. It had taken Ma and Pa a bit, they were still used to tradition, but they'd agreed to try it out and see what would happen. There had been problems in the beginning, but Blinkie had thrown herself into fixing those with gusto. It was when the whole thing finally worked smoothly that she'd found her flank adorned with a hammer and nails. Plus, the invention had cut down on the workload for the entire family
As Inkie slowly began to sweep up the stage, she pondered the way things seemed to happen as if fate linked them together. Pinkie getting her cutie mark had led to Blinkie getting her cutie mark, which had led to Inkie, the last of the three, getting her cutie mark. She fondly glanced down at her flank, taking in the half geode that she was so familiar with. The fact that it was a rock combined with her own humble origins--not that anypony in Manehattan knew where she came from--might lead somepony to think it had something to do with rock farming. That was about as far from the truth as it could get.
It had all started with the free time Blinkie's new invention had lent the family. They'd never really had much of it before and couldn't fill every spare second with a proper Pinkie party, as much as the energetic filly wanted to. It had started with short trips to Ponyville as a family to see what there was to do there. Eventually the trips became more frequent and longer as each pony found that they enjoyed their time there. They'd go their separate ways and meet back up for the journey home. Inkie had always liked to go to the schoolyard. There were so many other little ponies yelling and laughing and having fun. Being homeschooled had advantages, but it also meant no playing with other foals her age. Of course, it wasn't all fun and games, and she recalled a certain colt only a year older than her who'd enjoyed picking on the 'freak', as he'd dubbed her.
I have that bully to thank for my cutie mark now, Inkie mused. Even back then, she had never been able to bring herself to hate him. As mean as he was to her, Inkie had always thought there was sadness in his eyes. When she had mentioned this to the others, they'd just scoffed at it, but Inkie could never shake the feeling that there was more to the bully then he'd let on. That was why she had followed him home one day, simply curious, and how she'd found out his mom was very sick and that he took care of her. Inkie felt a twinge of sympathy as she recalled the frail mare she'd seen when her bully had answered the door. He'd been angry at first, but Inkie could tell it was just because he was sad and told him as much.
The stage was now fully swept and Inkie carried the dustpan towards the door.
Her bully had eventually broken down and reluctantly admitted how sad he was, which made him angry at the world. That was when Inkie had gotten her cutie mark. The geode had nothing to do with rock farming. It was all about seeing past the surface to find what was truly within. Inkie had always had a knack for looking past the facades and discerning what hid beneath. That particular talent was quite useful when one lived among the aristocracy. Not that Inkie had always appreciated her cutie mark.
Inkie shivered as she remembered looking at her flank and realizing her special talent didn't lay in rock farming. Pinkie's hadn't either, but that was different. Pinkie wasn't the oldest, and she hadn't been expected to inherit everything and take control one day. Inkie hadn't dared to think that her cutie mark would change that destiny and for quite a few years, her parents had agreed. Pinkie had flown the coop eventually, after she got a job at Sugarcube Corner, which was a surprise to nopony. She'd never been fit for rock farming. But then Inkie had felt herself getting restless. She had tried to hold it back, tried to focus only on the farm, but she couldn't help it. Inkie used to find herself gazing out at the horizon and wondering what other cities were like. Ponyville was nice, but it was small and Inkie discovered with horror that she was craving adventure.
A small chuckle escaped Inkie as she dumped the dirt outside. She had been so terrified the day her parents called her downstairs and sat her at the table. For a pony who was so good at reading others, Inkie had completely missed the signs then. Her own fear had blinded her to the compassion and love of her parents. Of course they'd understood and supported her. Inkie remembered the words well.
"Tradition is important, but old tradition can't fit with young ponies. Here's a new tradition we're starting right now; Pie's will always support each other, no matter what," Inkie recited to herself and felt her heart squeeze at the words. Purple eyes welled with tears and a bright smile nearly split her face. Ma had baked her a pie to take along, and Pa had lent her a couple bits to get started. It had been a unanimous decision that Blinkie would be the one to take charge of the farm, and Inkie had found herself on a train, staring back as her parents slowly shrank into tiny dots and then disappeared.
Times had been hard for a while. Inkie had been desperate for a job, any job, as she didn't want to send home for more bits. Meeting Lace had been the break she needed and Inkie knew now that she had what she wanted. Perhaps the unicorn was a bit flighty, and more than a little self absorbed, but Inkie saw the pure heart deep inside and knew she was worth it. Now she had a steady job, a good income, and a solid life. Of course, anything built on a rock foundation would be solid.
Inkie stored away the broom and the dustpan and gazed at her handiwork. The entire room was neat, though much darker from when she had started. The sun was setting and the shadows were deep across the room. Inkie trotted towards the exit, her mind wandering back to her family. All this reminiscing was making her rather homesick. Inkie always made it a point to write a letter at least once a week, but it wasn't always enough. It had been at least several months since her last trip home. Maybe she'd write to Pinkie and plan a surprise-I'm-visiting-again party.
The door swung open before her, and Inkie looked out at the street, still bustling with ponies. It was a bit chilly but she found the cold air bracing and refreshing after spending the entire day inside. Inkie trotted out, thinking about Blinkie and Ma and Pa and Pinkie. She had become rather accustomed to Manehattan over the past few years, but that rock farm outside Ponyville would always be home. A trip was really a good idea. After all, a Pie would always return home. It was tradition.
The sun’s brilliance crested the sandstone mesa that dominated the horizon, and Celestia’s glory painted the red landscape in complementary shades and hues. Early dawn light made limestone streaks and spires stand out from their sandstone bedfellows even more dramatically than usual. Flattop mountains shot forth from the San Palomino Desert sands like the bones of some colossal beast. The only color that broke through the reds and whites of rock and sand was the occasional shrub or cactus. But long ago, this dry and barren land had been a very different place.
Once, this desert had been an inland sea. The limestone had formed from the bodies of millions of generations of coral and other tiny aquatic animals. The sandstone had similarly been formed from the bodies of shellfish that had been broken down and compressed. While Equestrian geologists couldn’t agree on what had caused the inland sea to dry up a thousand years ago, they all agreed that the mass grave for millenia of sea life was a fitting place for the second most inhospitable area of Equestria.
All this was lost on Little Strongheart as she watched the sunrise. Looking over the barren and desolate wasteland of red stone—all she saw was home. The medicine-bull of their tribe had said the streaks of white were the ribs of old gods, that this was a sacred place. “To stampede on these hallowed grounds is to do honor to our ancestors.” This was her home, as it had been to her father, and her fathers father, and all the fathers of fathers before him. The Buffalo had lived here for as far back as the history keepers could recite.
The horizon of mesas and flattop mountains was more comforting to Little Strongheart than the rolling forests and plains that made up the rest of Equestria would ever be. The bareness and harshness of the landscape meant little to someone who had grown up here. To her, the desert was more beautiful than any forest, the seas of sand rolling beneath heatwaves more captivating than the ocean tides. This was home, and under the red dawn it was breathtaking.
Though Little Strongheart had been awake for hours, the rest of the herd would only just be stirring. While the dawn made this time of day beautiful, that wasn’t why she chose to rise so early. It had been hours ago when she had started her morning sojourn to the summit of the nearest flattop mountain. Many would say that calling Picacho Peak a mountain was doing a disservice to the nearby Macintosh Hills, but it was a mountain to Strongheart. She climbed slowly, carefully observing the rocky terrain to make sure that nothing large had shifted since her last visit.
When she had reached the top, the familiar sights of the petrified forest greeted her. It was a forest in name only. The few trunks left were made of brittle, red stone. Thin cylindrical pieces of petrified wood that had once been branches littered the ground. They crunched underhoof as she wandered around fallen stone trees and between those that were still standing. When the sun started to rise, she had ceased her wanderings and made her way to a large sandstone outcropping. It hung over the shallowest of the mountain’s sides, conveniently pointing back home. There she had watched the sunrise and let her mind wander over the tales and stories the medicine-bull had told her as a calf. Her favorite was the legend of the Winged Buffalo.
She could clearly picture him sitting across from the firepit, the firelight dancing across his features as he spoke.
Long, long ago when the world was young, there was a young Bison from a small tribe. He was not the strongest or the fastest of his tribe, but he was the bravest. One day when he was out playing with his friends—a sandlion attacked. The young Bison kicked stones at the huge sandlion, to gain its attention. He called out to his friends, and told them to run back and warn the tribe. Then, the young Bison galloped in the opposite direction to draw off the beast. For hours he ran, and it chased. Far, far off into the desert he lead the terrible beast. Eventually, his strength faded, causing his legs to fail him. He closed his eyes and prepared for death, but he was not destined to die that day.
As always, mother Gaia was watching. She saw his brave sacrifice and chose to intervene on his behalf. She blessed the young Bison with wings and great power. Using these gifts he was able to strike down the sandlion and fly back to his tribe. Once he had returned, the tribe saw his wings and knew that it was the will of Mother Gaia for this young Bison to lead them. The Winged Buffalo united the scattered tribes, leading them to great prosperity till the end of his days.
Even now the Buffalo wait for Mother Gaia to choose another Bison to lead them, looking always to the sky for a flying bison.
Little Strongheart sat on the edge of the mountain, hearing this story over and over again in her mind as she watched the sunrise. When the colors of dawn had been swallowed up by the oppressive heat of the morning, she stood and looked over the valley from her vantage point on high one last time.
Then she jumped.
The first ten hooflengths was a straight freefall. Strongheart smiled as she neared the mountainside and bent her legs ever so slightly. She glanced off a large, flat slab of sandstone by kicking with all four legs and turned her freefall into a bounding leap down the steep incline. Her hooves skipped over the mountain, and her eyes danced back and forth across the familiar terrain. She kicked off of the large, more stable boulders to maintain an almost gliding fall.
The feeling of wind in her mane was intoxicating, but the pleasure was offset by the irritation it meant for her eyes. The urge to close her eyes was almost overpowering. Strongheart resisted the temptation, knowing full well what would happen if she did. She started kicking off from the mountainside more frequently, now directing the force of her blows downwards, slowing her fall. By the time she reached the foot of the mountain, she had slowed to a gallop. Digging her hooves in and dropping to a crouch, she ended her “fall” by skidding to a stop.
Strongheart gazed back up mountainside, watching the gentle wind catch up and carry off all the dust her descent has raised.
“I may not have wings, but I can still fly.”
She adjusted her headdress to hide her windswept mane, and with sore hooves she returned to camp to start another day as a member of the Great Southern Buffalo tribe.
Written by: Admiral Biscuit Rated EveryoneCherry Berry carefully backed the stinking wagon alongside its shed, which was intentionally located on the downwind side of her farm, as far from the house as possible. Even with regular washings, the smell of garbage never quite left the wagon. She reached her head around and pulled the release pins on the yoke. Stepping forward, she let it fall to the ground—with the wagon against a stopping block, the yoke would dig into the ground if it tried to roll forward, keeping it secure.
Free of her load, she happily trotted into the shed, pulling the clip that joined the hip strap with the breaching seat loose as she did. She hung them on the wall carefully with her teeth, followed by the belly band, each to its own peg. A quick examination showed everything was in order: despite her hatred of the wagon and harness, Cherry Berry was a very meticulous pony.
She walked back outside into the golden early-morning light, head held high with a feeling of expectation. She sniffed her sides thoughtfully and decided that the odor of sweat and garbage wasn’t too pungent yet.
Cherry stopped by the fence surrounding her garden and pulled a wicker pack onto her back—of her own devising, it was a pair of baskets joined by a sturdy strap. Gardening tools were held in small cloth loops around the perimeter, in easy mouth reach. She opened the gate and stepped into her small garden. It was nowhere as neat as Golden Harvest’s, or the flower trio’s flowerbeds, but it was good enough for one pony and it was able to fit in enough vegetables that she only made half as many trips to the market as some ponies. Of course, that was only if she gave the best care to her crops. While she may not have had a green hoof, she made up for it with diligence.
Although it was still very early spring, and only a few of her vegetables had done much more than send a single sprout above the ground, weeds were ever-present. Some of them were horrible and annoying. Those she stuffed into the left basket. Others were tasty in their own right, such as young dandelion. She put those in the other side, saving them for a quick field breakfast.
She finally reached the end of the last row and looked up. To her surprise, the sun was higher than she expected, and her gardening baskets were full. Her hooves and legs were caked with mud, and sweat was drying on her fur. Cherry sighed as she walked out of the garden—remembering to close the gate behind her—and rolled her head around, wincing as her neck cracked. All that bending over can’t be good for a mare. She emptied the sack of noxious weeds into her compost heap, scraping dirt over them with a foreleg. She dumped a little bit of her fertilizer and wetted it to set the composting process in order. A few weeds grew in her compost pile, but that didn’t really bother her too much: like the garbage wagon, it was downwind of anything that mattered.
Cherry paced a few ponylengths away from the compost heap, then dumped out her other bag and began hungrily grazing on young dandelion leaves, quitch grass, and chickweed. Some ponies would find this disgusting, she thought between mouthfuls. No plate, no utensils, outdoors—well, to Tartarus with it. It’s good enough for an earth pony.
As soon as her breakfast was finished, she tossed the gardening baskets back over the wooden fence, then eagerly walked towards the southwest corner of her orchard. Years ago, when she was just getting started, a slick Manehatten salespony had sold her on a simple irrigation system ‘because weatherponies, bless their hearts, don’t always do what’s best for an earth pony like yourself, ma’am,’ and had further suggested that she install a separate, above-ground sprayer. When she had asked him what possible use that would have, he’d winked at her, and replied that she might be surprised to find how useful such a thing might be.
She stepped on the valve that started the water and took two steps sideways, shivering as the icy, sulphury artesian water sprayed on her flank. Gritting her teeth, she slowly backed up into the spray, wincing as it moved up her back and into her mane. The first time she’d tried this, she’d jumped right back of the shower, repelled by the smell and frigidity, but she’d long since gotten used to it. After a few moments, she’d become accustomed to the temperature and let the spray play across her, watching the rivulets of mud flow into the grass and disappear.
As soon as the water sluicing off her was clear, she shut off the sprayer and shook herself off. Celestia’s sun would finish the job of drying; anyhow, there was nopony she needed to impress.
Blonde mane still dripping, she began to inspect her saplings. She stuck her muzzle right against the dirt and sniffed carefully, making certain that the ground still smelled moist enough for them to thrive. To someponies, the smell of rich soil was off-putting; to Cherry Berry, it was one of the best smells there was. She inspected the stakes and twine, being sure that they were secure, and that they weren’t chafing into the bark. Each small leaf was scrutinized for any sign of pest. She cared for her cherry trees as if each one was a part of her family—which, in a way, they were—from the earliest saplings she had selected from Cherry Jubilee’s vast acreage, to the younger grafts and seedlings she added every spring.
She finally made her way to the oldest part of the orchard, and here she paused. The faint wind wafted the soothing perfume of the blooms over her, and she perked her ears up, picking up the faint omnipresent drone of bees over the soft rustling of leaves. A brief gust of wind sent hundreds of pink petals pirouetting earthward, falling like a gentle snow across the short-cropped grass and occasionally on her fur and mane.
She unconsciously made a happy noise in her throat, watching her trees gently sway in the wind. They were simple and undemanding and, if cared for, would go on longer than she would. Someday, the bright-eyed foals of Ponyville would sit with creaking limbs on their porches, and, while they might not remember who she was, they would know her orchard, and that was all a pony could ask.
She frowned. Normally her thoughts didn’t turn maudlin until the leaves were falling from the trees. Then she brightened, looking skyward. Today was a perfect day. The wind was mild and out of the east. The sky, cloudless. No rain scheduled for the next few days. Her garden was taken care of, and her orchard too. She had no responsibilities for the rest of the day, and by Celestia, she was going to take advantage of it.
A few quick trips between her hip roof barn and pasture and she had her hot air balloon set up, the envelope filling with hot air ducted off a small swampgas burner she’d devised. The basket was tied securely to the ground stakes, and everything had been inspected carefully. One failure of the parachute valve had driven home the need for a thorough pre-flight inspection more than any amount of lecturing could have.
This was a side of Cherry Berry that nopony but a pegasus understood. She could hardly explain to an earth pony how she had felt the need to take on a second job as a garbagemare to pay for her hobby, or to a unicorn why she just didn’t have a flight spell or a cloudwalking spell cast on herself. True, when she took foals and their parents and siblings up for rides, they enjoyed it, but she didn’t think they felt the yearning for the sky in their hearts like she did; only a pegasus truly knew. She shrugged. Who cares what they understand, or don’t? She tugged her cap tight and pulled on her goggles. Let them stay on the ground, while I soar free. She stepped into the basket and made one last check of the lines, then pulled the belaying pins loose, her smile growing as the basket lifted into the air. As always, unconsciously, she began whispering the words of a poem she’d once seen in a Wonderbolts program. Oh! I have slipped the surly bonds of Earth/And danced the skies....
Written by: Faceless Rated EveryoneA train chugged, slowly, over the dry desert. The sun baked the roof of the locomotive as the ponies pulling the mass of machine ploughed on, taking the unforgiving sun’s challenge into stride. The ground beneath them burned, but they had a duty to reach their destination of Appaloosa.
Appaloosa was a quiet town surrounded by other farming communities, but other than that, there was only the shimmering sea of sand. The train drivers called the track Deserted Drive. It was not the most imaginative name, but the drivers thought of it as ‘witty’.
The tranquil town slowly emerged into view. The drivers press on, trying to catch the minutes lost.
They all knew what it meant if they didn’t.
Sweat poured out of every pore in their body as they tried to reach their destination. They all knew what was waiting for the three passengers on board. The drivers gave a silent prayer to them, as they galloped the last mile into town.
~~~~
Billy sat with his two parents, Windy Kites and Budding Clay, waiting to stretch his legs at their destination.
Billy was a clever colt, especially at economics. He was extremely popular at school, being an exceptionally witty and sociable foal, despite being ‘out of shape’. However, his mouth got him into all sorts of trouble, ranging from back-commenting teachers to once being thrown out of museum. That, however, is another story. On top of this, he wasn’t too driven to work, giving him bad grades at school.
He was an earth pony, like his father, with a murky blue coat and mousy brown hair. A few freckles dotted his face. He was a little chubby around the sides. He did not have a cutie mark.
Windy Kites, Billy’s mother, was a pegasus with a short, purple mane and light blue coat. She was well built as she was in charge of Trottingham’s storms. Kites was always impatient, but was an extremely good mother to Billy, being a strong-minded, friendly mare. However, when she was in a mood, she could crack mountains. Her cutie mark was a wing with a lightning bolt searing through it.
Budding Clay was a dreamboat. Unfortunately, he didn’t know it. His muscles, although not too potent, were perfectly visible. He had a strong frame which held a luscious dark blond mane that reached to his shoulders. He was tanned and had a sapling as a cutie mark.
Clay was known as a miracle worker. He could craft any soil to fit the purposes of any plant. Every seed that he planted would grow. He wasn’t as good as keeping them alive after, but farmers thanked him, kindly. Clay could have been extremely successful, but he was a stallion with no common sense. Although Clay was extremely clever, he was easily led into absurd deals and was as orientated as a beached whale. His disorganised manner sent Windy Kites into a frenzy every time she had to fly to work, giving him a lost trowel or tie.
The Trottingham family were going on a short holiday to Appaloosa, after Clay had made a deal with a stallion by the name of Filthy Rich. They were alone in their overnight cart, so the atmosphere was silent.
“So what is there to do here, Mum?” Billy asked. Kites trotted over to Billy, giving him a fond ruffle of the mane.
“I bet there is loads to do here!” She turned to Clay, looking down at his little pocket guide. “Clay?” Clay lifted his head and nodded enthusiastically.
“Appaloosa is an amazing place! I’ve been here before and I loved it! I mean, horses drawing horse drawn carriages: who’d of thought it?” He smiled widely and turned back to the guide, mumbling approvingly and highlighting points of interest. Billy rolled his eyes and rested his muzzle against the side. Kites trotted over to Clay and lead him out of earshot of their alert son.
“I don’t see what you see in this place,” Kites sighed. “Billy doesn’t seem to be too excited by the trip.”
“He just hasn’t seen it yet!” Clay reassured Kites.
“But what is there to do for foal his age?”
“Darling, I chose this as a family trip. Honestly, do you really doubt my judgement?” Kites was about to tell Clay exactly what she thought of his decisions when he exclaimed, “The train’s stopping! Come along, everyone. Seize the day and all that!” He hopped merrily to the end of the carriage.
Kites rolled her eyes and gave Billy a playful nudge. “Try to keep enthusiastic for your dad. We’re moving on to Dodge Junction after this. We can take you to that museum. Have they forgiven you for the skull?”
Billy was bemused by now and had walked past the awkwardly smiling Kites. He followed his father through the hallway to the exit. The door swung open to reveal a deserted platform. Billy looked at the tumble weeds rolling carelessly and sighed.
“The party is all here, isn’t it.”
Two things happened at once. Firstly, the train lurched to life, leaving dust spiralling up into the open air. Secondly, Billy bumped into his father who was rooted to the spot, looking at the stallion in front of him.
~~~~
The drivers saw him lurking in the shadows. He stood there, as still as a statue, waiting for the familiar creaking of the door. His head snapped towards the drivers and they cowered in fear, knowing that they were late. Fortunately for them, a door burst open to reveal an oblivious stallion walking to his demise.
The silhouette fixated its eyes onto the individual. He shot towards the stallion like a predator to prey.
The drivers took this advantage to speed off before the predator turned on them. As the town faded into the sand, they could just hear the yell of victory as the platform terror had trapped the visitors in his snare of friendliness.
~~~~
“Hey there!” the stallion before them said. Kites and Billy looked at the stallions with mixed reactions. Clay looked at him with a chummy smile. It was obvious the two were like a duck to water. Kites was looking between the two, now seeing that Clay’s magnificence had a challenger. Billy looked at the yellow stallion oddly. Who was he? Why was he talking to a bunch of strangers like us?
“Allow me to introduce myself. I am Braeburn and I would like to welcome you to--” Braeburn jumped onto his hind legs, his mane flowing in the wind, his Stetson staying firmly on his head. Clay gasped in awe as he reached his full height. Braeburn took a swift breath in before shouting:
“AAAAAAAAPAAAALOOOO- WOOOW!”
The perfect image suddenly shattered as the screaming stallion toppled over onto his back. His Stetson rolled gently over the platform. Kites and Billy looked down, from either side of Clay, to stare at the fallen colt. He smiled and chuckled.
“Sorry, folks. Bad knee after too many bucks.” Braeburn retrieved his Stetson before continuing. “So you must be the only passengers. Shame really; the more the merrier, as it goes. On the other hoof, they seem to wander a bit more, and in the strangest places too. I mean, how did they get themselves on a train away? These city ponies are strange ones.
“Anyway, I see that your train was one minute late. Shame on you! That’s one less minute not to enjoy the delightful pleasures of--” Braeburn paused and carefully moved onto his hind legs. He paused when he reached full height, frozen in an awkward stance.
“AAAAAAPAAALOOSA!” he cried, suddenly, bringing time back into motion. He kicked his forelegs out as the sun seemed to brighten behind him. He brought himself back to the floor, smiled, and exclaimed.
“Wait, that’s two minutes now! There’s no time to lose!”
“Great,” started Kites, “could we first go see--”
Before Kites could finish, she felt a head at her side and the feeling of air hitting her face.
“Now this is AAAAAAPPPPPAALOOSA!”
Kites looked around at the humble town. Then she noticed the train station, at the end of the street. Clay looked around in awe, studying the ponies with interest as they gave him peculiar stares.
“How did he push us this far,” queried Billy, as he looked at the distance to the station, perplexed. However, the station had turned into a saloon before his eyes.
“Now this is our salt saloon. This is usually where all beverages are served.”
“He did it again,” Billy said. “How the hay…?”
“Billy! Language!” Kites said, sternly. “Now let’s go have a nice cooling-”
“And this is the bank!” Braeburn smiled again at the three ponies. “This is where-”
“Listen, Braeburn, wasn’t it?” Kites started through gritted teeth.
“That it is!” Braeburn exclaimed, putting his face closely to Kites. Kites looked into those emerald eyes and lost herself.
“Hey, Braeburn! Tell me more about the Bank.” Billy tugged on Braeburn’s vest to get his attention.
“Why sure, young ‘un! What do you want to know?”
“Well, what’s the currency here?”
“Bits, but not your old kind o’ bits! You see, we have been making the same bits since the founding of this here town.” He reached into his pocket and, in one swift movement, tossed a bit into the air. It spun and glinted in the sun before landing on top of Braeburn’s hat. He bent down so Billy could see.
“We have an apple tree on ours. Our primary income is apples! We have been thinking of changing our old traditional bit here. Let me show you!”
Another Braeburn Express later and the family were confronted by a lavish apple tree orchard. Clay started to impersonate a cat-fish as he gawked at the site before him. Looking closely, he could see dust rising from the orchard.
“Say, Braeburn,” he began, “why is that sand rising?”
“I’m glad you asked.” Braeburn reached his arms around and put the family’s heads together, turning them like a periscope. “As you can see, there’s smoke rising from over yonder. That’s the buffalo’s camp. They like to be all traditional as well. The track running through is their running path. We learned to share our orchard with them.”
Braeburn let go of the heads and put his hoof in another pocket. He pulled out another bit which he took more care of.
“Sherriff will kill me if I broke another one of these. This is a prototype of our new bit.” The bit was the same size and had the same gleaming apple tree. The difference was that the tree had a buffalo print over it.
“And I think that ends this here tour,” Braeburn concluded, tossing the coin back into his pocket.
Suddenly, a whining sound became audible. Clay and Billy looked at each-other, knowing the sound.
Kites stood rigidly, eyes closed, making the whining louder. It was like a kettle, ready to explode.
Billy had to do something, anything, to stop his mother. He knew that his mother would kill Braeburn when she reached breaking point.
“Mister Braeburn?” Billy suddenly said.
“Yes, young ‘un?”
“Thank you for taking us on the tour.”
Silence was an understatement; it had to be. It was like a bubble had formed around the group, blocking all noise. Braeburn had his Stetson down, covering his face, Kites had stopped whining, opening her eyes to look at the scene before her and Clay was looking absentmindedly at the orchard again.
Braeburn finally lifted up his Stetson, revealing a grin and a tear.
“No one has ever thanked me for a tour.” He paused and took a breath. “Thanks, young ‘un. That’s made my day. No, year! Go enjoy yourself.” Braeburn gave a kind nod to all three and walked back into the tranquil town.
“Well looky what we got here, brother of mine; it’s the same in every town!” Flim cheered as he leaped from The Super Speedy Cider Squeezy 6000. “Ponies with thirsty throats, dry tongues, and not a drop of cider to be found!” The sales pony pointed a hoof respectively to one of the mares in the growing crowd. “Maybe they’re not aware, that there’s really no need for this teary despair…”
“That the key that they need to solve the sad cider shortage you and I will shaaare!” Flam chimed in, leaping from the machine to his brother’s side.
The crowd began a wave of curious whispers. The two con artists sent sly grins to one another. What’s the point of morals or safe products when song and dance immediately made everypony crave your product?
They both cleared their throats as they resumed singing, “WELL YOU’VE GOT OPPORTUNITY, IN THIS VERY COMMUNITY!”
“HE’S FLIM,” said Flam.
“HE’S FLAM,” said Flim.
“WE’RE THE WORLD FAMOUS FLIMFLAM BROTHERS!” the two harmonized with voices flooding with enthusiasm.
“TRAVELING SALESPONIES NONPAREEEEEIL!” The two carried the last syllable for a while, adding to the charm of their little number.
One of the stallions at the front of the group groaned, “Nonpa-what?”
Right on cue, Flam chuckled, adding in a singsong voice, “Nonpareil—and that’s exactly the reason-“
The stallion raised a hoof to the mustached salespony’s muzzle. “What the hay does that mean?”
The con artists’ song and dance was cut short as a chatter of agreement slowly spread through the crowd. Flam sighed, “Come again?”
Another stallion called out, “Do you know what you just said?”
The mustached pony facehoofed and groaned, “Of course we know what we said, we’re not idiots!”
“Then what does that word mean?”
“It means…” Flam paused in annoyance, “…we’re the best of the best!”
A mare scoffed, “Why couldn’t you just say that?”
Flim chimed in, “Because it’s not as catchy.”
The crowd erupted with a harmonious, “Oooooohhhhhh!”
After a few seconds of silence, Flam started back up, “Nonpareil—and that’s exactly the reason why you see! Nopony else in this whole place will give you such—“
Again, he was cut short by a call from the crowd, “What’s the reason?”
The slick con artist slumped down in disappointment as the music cut again. He sighed, “What are you talking about?”
“’Nonpareil—and that’s the reason why.’ That’s the reason why what?” The mare shoved her way through the crowd, her face twisted in a confused knot.
It took Flam a second to understand the question. He quickly groaned, “When we said we were nonpareil, you all asked what it meant. That’s why we’re the best!”
“So you’re the best because you know fancy words?” the mare scoffed in indignation.
The mustached swindler said matter-of-factly, “Yes ma’am, that’s right!”
A tall stallion wearing an expensive pair of glasses stomped out of the crowd. He sneered, “Well Mr. Smartyhooves, how about you make your syntax a little clearer next time!”
Flam’s face went blank, “My what?”
“Oooh, I guess you aren’t so smart now, are you? If you chose your words better, then poor little ponies wouldn’t have to ask so many questions!” The stallion raised a hoof to his muzzle in a mocking fashion.
The outraged salespony yelled, “Fine, so we said things a little weird! How else can we make the song work?” He took a deep breath and continued, “Now, do you mind?”
With a silent shake of the stallion’s head, Flam signaled his brother to restart the music. Flim took the lead with, “Nonpareil—and that’s exactly the reason why you see! Nopony else in this whole place will give you such a chance to be where you need to be!”
Flam, getting back in the flow, jumped in, “And that’s a new world with tons of cider, fresh squeezed and ready for drinking! More cider than you could drink in all your days of thinkiiing!” The stallion regained his normal cheer, the song distracting him from his prior embarrassment.
The brothers joined in harmony, “SO TAKE THIS OPPORTUNITY IN THIS VERY COMMUNITY!”
“HE’S FLIM,” said Flam.
“HE’S FLAM,” said Flim.
“WE’RE THE WORLD FAMOUS FLIMFLAM BROTHERS! TRAVELING SALESPONIES NONPAREEEEEIL!” The two continued their cheery demeanor, moving right along with their number.
A random mare in the crowd gasped “Nonpa-what?”
The music scratched to a halt again. Flam’s eye started to twitch. He facehoofed and groaned, “We’ve already been over this!”
“Well I wasn’t paying attention!” the mare called back.
Flam shouted, “Well whose fault is that?! Hit it, Flim!”
The bare-faced brother did as requested, and the music started to play once more. This time, rather than the salesponies taking up vocals, the crowd chimed in, “SO TAKE THIS OPPORTUNITY IN THIS VERY COMMUNITY! YOU’RE FLIM! YOU’RE FLAM! YOU’RE THE WORLD FAMOUS FLIMFLAM BROTHERS! TRAVELLING SALESPONIES NONPAREEEEEIL!”
The mustached con artist did a double take. Why would anypony be singing along after asking so many questions and making him look like a jerk?
Flim started his next line on cue, “I suppose by now you’re wondering, ‘bout our peculiar mode of transport.”
The disbelieving brother fell in rhythm, “I say, our mode of locomoootion!”
“And I suppose by now you’re wondering ‘where is this promised cider?’” Flim carried on the number.
Flam happily joined in, “Any horse can make a claim and anypony can do—“ Again he was interrupted.
A rather young stallion called out, “What does locomotion mean?”
The music cut, and Flam let out an audible grunt of anger. He said through gritted teeth, “We literally just explained it! It was the lyric right beforehoof!”
“I musta blinked,” the stallion replied.
The now-angry salespony’s eyes began to twitch. He growled, “That doesn’t even make sense! What is wrong with you ponies?!” Flim attempted to hold back a fit of giggles at his brother’s rage.
“Yes it does! I blinked and wasn’t listening!” the stallion argued.
Flam snapped, “Look here, wisepony, locomotion means transport! Got it? Good! Now, are there any more questions, or can we just finish our happy little dance?!”
A small filly stepped out of the crowd and raised a hoof.
Flim politely asked, “Yes, little filly?”
In a cute young-pony’s lisp, the filly asked, “What’s cider, mister?”
Flam flushed red and charged around behind the Super Speedy Cider Squeezy 6000, letting out loud roars of anger and annoyance. Flim burst into a fit of laughter, keeling over on the ground and rolling, holding his sides in pain.
After a few minutes, the angry brother leaped onto the device, snatched his bare-faced twin from the ground, and kicked the machine into gear.
As the contraption sped away from the small town, Flim poked fun at his brother. The less-annoyed pony whispered something to the angry con artist, who then delivered a kick to the former’s head, sending him flying off into the dirt.
Flam carried on shouting profanities as he left Flim in the dust.
“Oh gosh I’m awake! I’m awake! This is awesome!” Fleetfoot spoke, her eyes closed shut. “Alright, a whole new day! A whole new day to live!” Her eyes shot open, staring up at the fluffy cloud ceiling in her room. “And... I’m up!”
Fleetfoot leapt up into the air, shooting through the sky and landing at the foot of her bed. With a large smile on her face, she gazed out of her window just in time to see the morning sun rise over the horizon, bathing Cloudsdale in its glorious sunlight.
“What a beautiful day to get to training!” Fleetfoot wasted no time, darting over to her bathroom sink before filling it up with water. Once the sink was filled to the brim, Fleetfoot sunk her head in briefly before pulling her head out. Her snow white mane fell flat over her eyes. Quickly, Fleetfoot brought her hooves up to part her mane, allowing her to see herself in the bathroom mirror.
“Oops!” Fleetfoot let out a cheerful giggle before extending her right hoof out and opening the mirror, revealing a collection of medicine and make-up. Swiping a bottle of wax inside the cupboard, she squeezed a generous amount of it on her left hoof before running it through her mane, styling it like every other Wonderbolt.
“Just a little here and... ta-da!” Fleetfoot shouted out triumphantly, gazing back into the mirror where she stood. “Alright, now to get dressed,” she told herself before racing out of the bathroom and snatching one of the many Wonderbolt suits which hung in her wardrobe. Swiftly, she zipped up the suit which stuck to her body tightly.
“Great morning! Great day! Time to make sure we get a great training session!” Fleetfoot recited the phrase she had been saying to herself every day as she opened her main door. Spreading her wings, Fleetfoot rocked off into the sky, her eyes set on Cloudsdale stadium.
Only a few minutes later did Fleetfoot’s hooves touch the stadium’s cloud floor. She darted her eyes around her surroundings, only managing to catch Spitfire and Soarin' present a few feet away on a bench. Just then, Spitfire had also met her gaze with Fleetfoot’s.
“Heya, Fleet! Early as usual! Just wait for about half an hour more for the rest of the Bolts to get here
Fleetfoot gave a firm nod when suddenly, a voice rang out from behind her.
“Oh, come on! You’re still earlier than I am!”
Fleetfoot spun around and was greeted with the familiar cherry-red mane of a stallion. He too was dressed in a Wonderbolt suit, his ashen-colored coat visible under the rubber-like material. Fleetfoot’s smile grew into a large grin as she jumped at him, putting her hooves around his neck.
“Firestreak! It’s so good to see you!” Fleetfoot yelled as she tightened the hug around the stallion.
“Heh, nice to see you too, Fleety. We just met each other yesterday.” He broke off the hug. “You don’t need to get all hug-crazy on me!”
Fleetfoot giggled softly, lifting her left hoof up to her mouth. “Sorry!”
“Anyway, I can’t believe you’re still earlier than me!”
“Why wouldn’t I be? I mean, there’s so much of the world to see!” Fleetfoot’s words started to increase in pace. “If you spend most of your time sleeping, you don’t really get to see much. However, if you do get up early, you get so much to see! The sunrise! The sunset!”
Firestreak stared at the animated mare as she continued her rambles. He was strangely interested in Fleetfoot’s explanation, even though he had heard it many times before. He trotted to a nearby bench, knowing she would follow him. He sat down, watching her do the same as she continued her speech...
“Alright everypony, get in line!” Spitfire commanded in a booming voice. It took only a few seconds for all eleven Wonderbolts to stand perfectly still in a line, all of their eyes staring ahead. “Now! I want one-hundred wing-ups! Is that clear!?”
“Ma’am, yes Ma’am!” all the Wonderbolts replied simultaneously.
“What else, Bolts!?”
“No slowing down! Nothing but our best!”
“Good! Now get down on those wings, and show me that you aren’t all weaklings!” Spitfire screamed. Immediately, all the Wonderbolts got on their wings, each of them doing wing-ups.
The Wonderbolts started to chant together in one deafening voice, “One! Two! Three! Four!...”
“One hundred!” the Wonderbolts screamed as loud as they could before leaping up onto their hooves.
“Track! One hundred kilometer flight!” Spitfire’s voice echoed through the stadium.
“Yes, ma’m!” the bolts shouted in unison before taking off to the track, circling it at a blurring pace. After mere minutes, Fleetfoot landed on the track, a smile on her face.
“Done already, Fleet?”
“Yes, ma’m!” Fleetfoot saluted.
“Well, you can go rest while the other finish up.”
Fleetfoot gazed upwards to the other Wonderbolts and noticed that some were struggling. Spreading her wings once more, she took off to the track, flying right beside the struggling Thunder Star.
“Come on, Star! You got this! Only a few more laps! Come on!”
Thunder turned to see Fleetfoot flying beside her, a large smile on her face.
“Star! Don’t give up! I’ll fly you to the end!”
Thunder gave a short nod before turning her gaze back in front, pushing herself as hard as she could. Giving a few flaps of her wings, she started to soar forward, Fleetfoot keeping up beside her.
“Almost... almost!”
Before she knew it, Thunder heard Fleetfoot shout once more, “You did it! You did it!” Thunder’s mouth grew into a wide grin as she raised her wings vertically, slowing her speed down as her hooves descended onto the soft grass again.
“Thunder, that was awesome!” Fleetfoot yelled, jumping towards Thunder and giving the mare a big hug.
“Heh, couldn’t have done it without you!” Thunder Star remarked in between gasps of air.
Unbeknownst to either pony, Spitfire and Soarin’ stood with a smile on their faces, gazing at Fleetfoot.
“That mare’s a true Wonderbolt, isn’t she? She’d do anything for her teammates.” Spitfire’s eyes followed Fleetfoot as she zipped up to help the others.
“Sounds like a pegasus I know,” Soarin’ replied with a wink and a smirk. Spitfire didn’t react as she waited for the rest of the Wonderbolts to finish the laps before she trotted in front of them once again.
“Alright, Bolts! I need all of you to take drink before we begin our next exercise! Team flight paths! Do I make myself clear?”
“Ma’am, yes Ma’am!” the Wonderbolts screamed in unison.
“Good! Now go!”
The sun had started to set over the horizon, coloring the sky a beautiful orange.
“Good training, Bolts! You are all dismissed!”
“Ma’m, yes ma’m!”
With a final salute, the Wonderbolts went their separate ways. Some stayed to chat while some flew off, no doubt having plans on their own. Fleetfoot took a deep breath in, taking off lightly into the air before flying away. Firestreak flew up into the air, trailing her.
Fleetfoot landed on a soft cloud, facing towards the sunset and its brilliant orange glow. She let out a soft sigh, a warm smile on her face. Soon enough, Firestreak landed beside her, both of them silent, their gazes locked onto the setting ball.
“It’s okay if I join, right?” Firestreak asked.
Fleetfoot laughed heartedly. “You ask that question every single evening!” Her speech was much slower than it was mere hours ago.
Both of them returned their gaze to the horizon. “Hey, Fleet.”
“Hm?”
“Why do you always move so fast? Talk so fast?”
Fleetfoot giggled, turning her attention to Firestreak. “After all these years, you’re asking that now?”
“Heh, I guess you’re not gonna give me an answer?”
Fleetfoot paused for a moment, before returning her gaze to the sky. “I move so fast because I keep thinking ‘What if today’s my last day?’” she explained slowly. “What if there is no tomorrow? Would I regret what I’ve done? What I’ve been doing? We only have one life. I find it odd that ponies won’t rush from day to day! Each day is a day to accomplish something!”
“Then why slow down now?”
“Because night...” Fleetfoot lifted her hoof, pointing towards the sun, which only had a little bit peeking out from the clouds. “Isn’t day any longer.”
Firestreak grinned, laying on the cloud as the last traces of light disappeared from the sky. As soon as the twinkling stars showed, Fleetfoot stood up.
“I really gotta go, Firestreak. See you tomorrow!” Fleetfoot explained, taking off into the air.
“Night, Fleety!”
Fleetfoot snuggled comfortably in her bed and blanket, bathed and out of her Wonderbolt uniform. She lifted a small framed picture on her bedside, bringing it up to her face. The picture was that of a small filly being thrown up into the air by a silver-maned mare.
“You always told me to live my life to the fullest. I guess sometimes I just forget to slow down... Love you, mum.”
Setting the picture back down, Fleetfoot closed her eyes, preparing to drift off to sleep. Though, just before she did, she muttered softly.
The air of the Everfree Forest was thick with the sounds of creatures waking from a long winter’s nap. Spring had just settled onto Equestria, and for most places that meant it was time for Winter Wrap Up. Pegasi would be busy bringing in a front of warmer weather, birds would be returning in droves from southern lands (also stewarded by pegasi), and the rest of the ponies would be performing whatever menial task they’d been assigned to. Normal, as all should be.
But for one zebra, that didn’t come close to normal.
“How they can find that normal, who knows,” Zecora thought to herself as she trotted through the thick underbrush of the Everfree. It was a question she’d asked herself time and time again on solitary walks like these. They were good for self-reflection, not that she ever went on walks with anyone while she wasn’t in Ponyville. Nopony would ever be brave enough to venture this deep into the forest that they considered so evil and foreboding, and who could blame them? They didn’t know anything about it beyond the few of its resident creatures that they’d encountered, who unfortunately happened to be the testiest. Even in those cases, the animals were usually just defending themselves or their territory. But ponies didn’t understand that, and ponies always feared what they didn’t understand.
“Just like me, I suppose.”
Having somewhat answered her own question, she let it fade into nothing, instead deciding to lose herself in the symphony of the forest. She knew the path well, so she didn’t worry much about getting lost; it was quite relaxing to let her body move on a set path so her mind could wander all it wanted. From the smallest insect to the largest beast, the sounds of the intertwining rivers and the light breeze rustling through the canopy of the trees; it had a rhythm no pony-controlled system could ever match. These, in her mind, were the true sounds of change. The only things that controlled this part of the world, her world, were the primordial forces of nature. Even the princesses couldn’t hold a candle to that power.
This was the purest freedom.
The sound of rushing water grew louder with every step she took. Glancing down, she noticed a myriad of imprints left in the wet mud. All of them were familiar, but one in particular stood out for her. It was a curved U-shape; her own from a few days prior, and the only of its kind that would ever be on this path.
Soon she arrived at the bank of the river, which shone a murky blue from what light pierced the canopy. For today’s journey, it was as far as she was going to venture; the ingredient that she needed never grew far from the water. Taking one more moment to experience the sounds and sights of the river, the zebra went to work.
She walked along the riverbank, scanning the forest floor for a particular shape amongst the less important foliage. The forest was covered in a shroud of twilight, a result of the natural ceiling the trees had created. Blotches of light decorated the tall ferns and scraggly vines, while the ground was paved with rocks and the roots of giant trees. How ancient some of them were; she guessed some might’ve been tens of thousands of years old. They were the guardians of the land, sentries that had lived long before the princesses brought order to a once unruly world.
Zecora thought about the stories she’d heard as a filly. According to the elders of her tribe, Equestria had once been a barren wasteland, ruled by chaos and misery. In that day and age, the Everfree was supposedly one of the few places ponies could go to escape the rule of the spirit Discord and was named in honor of the freedom it once gave them. Nowadays it served only as a place for mothers to threaten to send their foals when they misbehaved. She found it contemptible but a little funny how one could simply toss aside something that had once proved so invaluable. Such was the way of life; when one didn’t need something anymore, they simply tossed it aside.
Eventually she arrived at a small grove set aside from the rest of the path. In it was a circle of green leaves growing at various angles out of the ground, each emblazoned with a vicious orange stripe down their center. Her stock of the herb, a decongestant and painkiller known as tiger aloe, had been running dangerously low during the preceding winter with a large number of ponies catching the feather flu. Zecora smiled lightly as she opened her hoof-stitched saddlebags and began picking the leaves.
Often she’d wondered what the plants thought of her as they were plucked from the earth, one by one. They were living things, so did they hate her for what she did to them? Did they feel remorse for not living longer, for having their lives ended before they could do anything with them? And what would they do with them? She bent over and inspected the intricate grooves of the tiger aloe. What was it thinking; could it even think?
Her smile grew a little more as she sighed and raised her head back up. Those were exactly the kinds of questions Twilight Sparkle would ask. In reality, she knew the answers already. Yes, they did feel. They were living in this great forest just as much as she was. And while they couldn’t speak like other creatures, she knew they had their own brand of emotions, no matter what those like Twilight might say.
But she had a feeling that the plants she picked knew that their death would be to better the life of another, and even if she didn’t know for certain, she felt that they would be okay with that.
After she was finished picking what she needed, Zecora looked up at the sun arcing over what sky she could see. Normally on a beautiful day like today she would have spent more time hunting for herbs, but as luck would have it there was an order she needed to finish before the end of the day, a brew that needed to be stirred every hour to be fully effective. Leaving a few of the tiger aloe behind, Zecora started back toward her hut on the same path.
After she had been walking for a while, a glint of light caught the corner of her eye, and she turned to see the source as a singular plant growing in the midst of some otherwise nondescript brush.
“What have we here?” she began, puzzled that she had not noticed the item on the way to the river. She lowered her head and inspected the new plant more closely, studying the lines and patterns that separated it from those surrounding it, gasping as she recognized what it was. “Why, I believe this is equine ear!”
The herb was aptly named. It was cylindrical in structure, tapering off to a point at the top and leaving a cavity in the center. The leaf was fairly large, towering all the way up to Zecora’s shoulder. The leaf, however, wasn’t the important part; in fact, it was toxic, as a few unlucky zebras had once figured out.
Zecora looked inside the opening. A small hair-covered nodule seemed to levitate in the center of its protective shell, giving off a soft luminescence. She lowered her head into the cavity and gently gripped the bump in her teeth, being careful not to accidentally crush it. The moment she did, the rest of the plant shriveled up.
She dropped the still-glowing orb into her saddlebag. “Not what I had in mind, but still a lucky find.”
She wasn’t normally one to believe in luck; she mainly used the word because it was the only word to express how she felt. To her, everything had it’s own plan, even nature. It was the principle her people had lived by for many years. Everything had its place, and every place had its thing, and right now her place was here, in the Everfree forest.
Still, there wasn’t a day that went by where she wouldn’t think about her homeland. The noises of zebras bustling around the small market, the smoke of the bonfire during the equinox celebrations, the beat of the tribal drums; her memory was so vivid, especially the drums. There was nothing that could bring out one’s spirit as much as the drums. She would dance to their beat around the fire and sing of the wonders of nature, laughing alongside her family and friends…
Zecora opened her eyes. There were no drums. No bonfire. No zebras. Only the dim light of the Everfree and the sounds of the forest that still followed her, much more empty in their presence. She was standing, daydreaming yet again, in the middle of the path that led back to her hut, tread on only by her own hooves. No others, just the way it had been and always would be.
Her eyes fell towards the earthen path as the downtrodden mare continued on towards her hut. She lived a secluded life here in the dark forest; it was the only way to achieve ultimate concentration and tranquility, both being aspects her people had hammered into her brain as essential. But tranquility came at a price. The price was loneliness, and she often questioned whether or not she was still willing to pay it, or why she even did. What good was seclusion, anyway, if it cut you off from everyone you cared for?
It was a common, though not required, tradition of the zebra to go on a “walk” when they became an adult, which entitled them to go off into the world to discover who they were. More often than not they came back; the rest of the world ended up being much too advanced for them. Zecora, on the other hoof, had been different. As a filly, any excuse to go on an adventure was good enough for her, even just going with her father to look for herbs. She was the one who wanted to go everywhere and know everything.
This was probably the reason her family had been so upset when she’d announced she would be going on the “walk”. Nonetheless, they had respected her choice and silently accepted her going away as all zebras did. Her mother had made sure her saddlebags were packed with more memorabilia, books, and ingredients than were necessary, tears streaming down her face all the while. Zecora had felt guilty viewing that, especially since she had a feeling she wouldn’t return, but the walk was the only chance she’d get to satisfy her adventurous side.
Her entire village had given her the traditional farewell, one last celebration to remember them by. They told stories of the many times she’d wandered off into the nearby wilderness, and when she’d stowed away on the fisherstallions’ boats just to get a glimpse of the sunrise on the ocean horizon. All of the traditions had been done, wishing her a safe journey and that she might one day return. Through this final hurrah, it meant that even if she forgot them, her heart would be forever connected to theirs, just like their ancestors before them.
The next day, she’d left her village for the last time.
Almost immediately she’d known this was what she was meant for. The outside world had had so much to offer. Advances in science and civilization she’d only dreamed of abounded in every town, almost to the point of being overwhelming. Everywhere she went she picked up new knowledge of medicine, while keeping pieces of home close to heart. Her tribe had never told her anything about the outside world; now she knew why. If they had told her, she would have been even more eager to leave. Out here, she could find almost everything.
There had been one thing that had eluded her grasp: acceptance. The one thing she’d failed to find was acceptance. In every village and town the locals decried her as a witch, no matter how she’d tried to convince them otherwise. Eventually she’d grown used to seclusion and, in every instance, had given up and moved on, still searching for where she belonged. Ponyville had been the first and only place to accept her, and even then it was only after they’d labeled her a wicked enchantress. If it hadn’t been for dear Applebloom, Ponyville would’ve just been another on the long list of villages she’d left. But now, thanks to her, she had her first friends, friends who accepted her, her ways, her differences.
She had often fantasized about moving into Ponyville, into a real house, abandoning the dark and solitude of the forest, doing something a zebra would never do. Maybe she would go out and experience the “bars” that she’d heard of during her forays into town; they seemed like fun places. Perhaps she’d get a job, buy food for once instead of foraging.
And most of all, not be alone anymore.
Suddenly, a gust of wind shattered her reflection, rattling the flora and forcing her to throw up a foreleg to cover herself from a wave of dirt. After a short second it died down, and she lowered her dust-covered foreleg, looking perplexed. Mysterious gusts of wind were not something she’d ever experienced in this part of the forest—even the occasional breeze was a rare occurrence. It wasn’t that she wasn’t glad for it, as any wind in the stuffy forest was welcome.
Then she looked up and saw them. Hundreds of glowing balls of light danced above her head, hanging in the air unfettered by gravity. They were near-translucent, like large water droplets that had yet to decide whether they wanted to turn to rain. They shone a pale green under the dark canopy, just like the equine’s ear nodule in her bag. Looking closer, she could see small hairs growing from the center of each one.
Zecora’s jaw dropped. A moment ago the air had been abuzz with the disembodied sounds of the animals in the forest. Now it was silent, as if all of nature had stopped to appreciate this sight.
Beautiful.
“Spores of a mushroom, I presume.” Even as she said it, she couldn’t believe any one mushroom could produce all of these spores. It certainly wasn’t any mushroom she knew of; the wind must have blown them in from another part of the forest, one that she had yet to explore.
For a moment she was frightened, imagining that these seemingly innocent puffs could carry a powerful toxin. That fear soon gave way to satisfaction, as she took in a deep breath, immersing herself in the newfound marvel. At the same time, she began to wonder what medicinal properties this new fungus might hold. Soon enough the spores would be settling near her hut, and she would be able to examine them more closely.
Someday they might turn out to be nothing but a nuisance, and nature would find a way to retaliate, all on its own. Because that's what nature did. It wasn’t just an abstract concept. Nature was the very essence of life, a single being made up of all living creatures on the planet.
Still gazing at the little balls of life that danced lazily in the air, it became clear; she would never be alone. She was part of the great web of life, and that meant that those she cared about would always be nearby. They might live one mile away or one thousand, but they never left her side.
She held a curved foreleg out to catch a falling spore, and to it she gently whispered the last thing her mother had told her before she had walked off into her future:
“Upon the legs of the river and the wings of the wind Your grand adventure is about to begin On mountains high and valleys low Where you might travel, only you will know In caverns dark, across tundras chilly Never lose heart, my little filly And as time does pass, no matter what you do I'll always be watching over you”
The mare was old. Everypony knew it; they all got a fine chance to see Granny Smith in all of her archaic glory when she took ten minutes to cross the road. She had liked to think this hadn’t slowed her down…at first. When the eldest Apple began to feel the odd ache and pain she convinced herself it was due to, perhaps, working too hard. Maybe she had bucked too many trees or spent too long under the sun. However, time caught up, as it always does. Besides, it was hard to deny one’s feebleness when you were sitting on a sputtering mechanical stair-lift.
One green hoof tapped an impatient rhythm while the blasted contraption descended the staircase at about minus ten mph. The only thing stopping Granny Smith from throwing caution to the wind and swan diving off her perch was that it would certainly wake up her family. She often found herself up long past everypony else had retired as of late. When you spend the entire day napping in the front room it does make it slightly difficult to wind down at night. It had started small, but now the aged mare was downright nocturnal.
The stair lift had half-reached its destination; there was nothing to signify that though. A click would have been nice, or perhaps a little automated voice that said, “You’re halfway there, Partner!”
But no, Granny Smith knew only because she rode this machine every day, having grown quite accustomed to the amount of time the journey took. The stair lift carried on as normal, whirring steadily and emitting sporadic groans. It was an old device; in fact the Apple family could almost certainly afford one of those new-fangled models. However, there was something that tied her to the device.
Many ponies would assume it was camaraderie. These were two beings, both noticeably ageing and both being overtaken by society’s progression. This though was simply not the case. The thing tying them together was the fact that Granny Smith pitied the device. It simply drifted, aimlessly and consistently. This stair-lift was on a journey with no goal. It just travelled. It travelled and spluttered and occasionally needed fixing. Granny Smith had no such trouble though, the lime earth pony knew exactly where she was heading. She was heading to the kitchen.
Eventually, the apple farmer reached the end of her travels. Five metres of travels to be exact, and they had been covered in 10 minutes. Even Granny Smith thought that was abysmal. Her partner stopped and took a well-deserved rest. A normal stair-lift would have probably died down with an elegant beep or perhaps a whistle of air. This stair-lift was not normal; it choked and sputtered. To be quite frank, the contraption sounded like it was in pain.
After 20 seconds of enduring the disturbing death-rattle, Granny Smith could relax. The Apple-house was silent, and, by what was surely a small miracle, nopony had been woken up. To be fair to her steed, nopony ever had yet. She went through the same tense 20 seconds every night, and the end result was always the same. Silence, save for the odd creak or snore from upstairs -- it was always silence.
This was good though. Granny Smith didn’t want to wake any of her family up. It was not for them to be concerned with the rituals of an old mare. Ever since she had not been able to work the fields anymore, Granny Smith had been gently making herself scarcer and scarcer. A burden was the last thing she wanted to be.
On four already aching hooves, the farm-pony trotted steadily into the kitchen. The only source of light was Luna’s Moon. It shone through the windows, creating silver-lined shadows on the creaky wooden floor. Granny Smith needed better visibility though, so she fumbled in a drawer until she found a match-box. With a considerable amount of effort, she was able to strike one match against the dull red strip on the box.
With a pleasing simmer the match lit, creating a flickering glow in the room. Shadows ceased to be stationary and began dancing with the fire. They cascaded and gyrated in bizarre ways. By the time Granny Smith had finished lighting several lamps she was glad to blow the match out.
The kitchen was ready, her proverbial stage was set and she could now commence with her task. Every night, without fail, Granny Smith made cider. Not a whole barrel, not even half a barrel, just one glass of cider. One apple, a couple of drops of alcohol, a dash of tonic water, and some spice. Nothing more, and nothing less.
There was only one aim. No matter how she did it, no matter how much she made and no matter how long it took, Granny Smith was striving for perfection. She had been trying for years and tonight was no exception. Her previous try had not been without fault, and so Granny Smith had resolved to try again. Just as she always did.
The earth pony began to rummage through various cabinets, locating each piece of her toolkit. A juicer was needed; she couldn’t forget to include a knife as well as well as a large jug. Three cinnamon sticks and a lemon wedge also, and the apple couldn’t be forgotten. A single, shining red orb. Neither blemish nor bruise interrupted the consistently appealing surface of the fruit. A meal for the eye as much as for the stomach.
Granny Smith regarded the fruit for a second, totally perfect. It never had to try to be what it was, it never had to aspire. The apple simply was... it was perfect.
With a quick glance over each shoulder, Granny Smith darted over to an unremarkable cupboard on the kitchen wall. She opened it as delicately as her shaking hooves could manage. Despite her knowledge that nopony was up, and that a miniscule creaking noise was not going to cause everypony to gallop out of bed and stand to attention, she still had to be careful. Nopony knew about her secret stash, and she wanted to keep it that way.
Reaching into the cabinet’s gloomy interior, Granny Smith tapped the most average of average wooden panels, and, almost like magic, it opened up. The Apple matriarch couldn’t see very well in broad daylight, so she was having to feel her way along and play it by ear. That statement was, of course, purely metaphorical. There was no way in this life or the next that Granny Smith could rely on her ears for anything.
After a minute of fumbling around blindly, the earth pony felt her hooves come to rest on a cold, smooth surface. Still being careful not to make a sound, Granny Smith withdrew the bottle from its hiding place. It was alcohol, a distinctive mix of Trottingham and Canterlot blends. However, to Granny Smith, it was simply another ingredient.
It was the youngest Apple that was the cause of Granny Smith’s conspiratorial spirit-hiding. Safe to say, after Applebloom and her friends had tried to be ‘CUTIE MARK CRUSADER CIDER TASTERS!’, there was no way Granny Smith was going to leave a potent alcoholic elixir in plain view. Those three little fillies were hard enough to control when sober.
Now her set up was complete, the aged pony began to get to work. First things first, she needed the apple’s essence. With a single pale green hoof, Granny Smith seized the apple. With her other free hoof, she picked up her knife.
The lime pony began to carefully slice down the middle of the fruit; it was crucial to keep a nice, straight cut. A perfect cut. When that was done, Granny Smith picked up one half and gently pressed it onto her juicer.
There was an art to harvesting the delicious golden liquid. Granny Smith was a savant in all things apple, so drawing out the sweet tasting pulp was second nature to her now. With one hoof she held the juicer steady, with the other she gently pressed on the apple. It was key to rotate it slightly, so as she ground the fruit, more of her prize filled the reservoirs around the peak of the juicer.
When her current half was exhausted of its nectar, Granny Smith put it aside and picked up its twin. She repeated the procedure, grinding in slightly circular motions while keeping a measured but definite pressure on the apple. After a few moments the fruit was totally dried out, so the Apple matriarch placed it with the other apple half. After that, Granny Smith carefully poured the liquid from the juicer into her jug. This would serve as her mixing pot.
Now she had her apple essence, Granny Smith set to introducing some additional flavouring. Using spices was not essential in making cider, but the small touches were what set Sweet Apple Acres’ blend apart from others. Many breweries had begun to favour mechanisation; methods such as the ones favoured by -- ugh -- Flim and Flam were starting to become the industry standard. However, as efficient as they were, their new fangled ways just didn’t have the care and heart to compete with good old fashioned hoof-made cider.
These new methods forgot about flavour, texture, smell and care. They forgot about perfection.
Granny Smith had no such dependency on technology, she knew instinctively what spices to use and in what proportions. cinnamon, almond essence and a pinch of vanilla. With slightly shaking hooves, she was able to get the correct amounts into her jug. Added to this, by no small miracle, Granny Smith was able to not spill a single grain. That was good -- the spices only worked in their precise mix.
The next stage was the one the earth pony hated. She had no logical reason to dislike it, yet there was a thick fog of apprehension in her mind. A quick glance to either side, a hoof to wipe the perspiration from her brow, a deep breath, and she was ready. With a popping sound, the cork of her liquor bottle was removed. The smell of the alcohol was undoubtedly very strong. The earth pony winced as the pungent vapour stung her eyes slightly.
If anypony were to wake, Granny Smith knew they’d rush down to help her. The eldest Apple would have the one thing she could do without aid tarnished, and the pony who came down to aid her would have yet another burden. Literally nopony won in that scenario. This was why Granny Smith decided to clamp a hoof over the bottle.
Her fear was ridiculous to say the least. She was frightened the odour may just waft enough around the house to draw somepony downstairs. If Applejack or Big Mac were to get a lungful, Granny Smith would bet money they’d be down in a heartbeat.
However, to her great relief, nopony stirred. In fairness, there had not been one single interruption to her nightly tradition as of yet. Needless to say, that was a trend the aged pony did not want to violate tonight.
With the speed of a much younger mare, Granny Smith upturned the bottle and let a few drops fall into her mixture. She wasted no time in corking the bottle and setting it aside once again. A relieved sigh left her mouth, and her heart ceased to thump against her ribcage.
Finally, she poured in a dash of tonic water to take the edge off and add that crucial fizz. With her beverage almost complete, Granny Smith took the jug and swirled the liquid inside. Various shades of yellow and brown converged in the container. The ingredients collided and danced with each other. This pleasing display was short lived however. After a brief minute the ingredients reached harmony and the colour settled on an appetising shade of golden amber.
The farm-pony was considering taking a moment’s rest. However, she decided against it. There was only one final step in her nightly procedure now, and there was no use prolonging the curiosity. Granny Smith took a glass from the nearest cupboard and placed it next to her jug.
Gripping the vessel firmly in both hooves, she tipped it into the smaller container. The liquid frothed gently as it was transferred into the unremarkable drinking glass. Finally, it was done, and to the victor went the spoils. The spoils in this case being a nice glass of refreshing, rich cider.
The lime green pony stared at the liquid for a moment, not quite sure how to go about trying it. Granny Smith tasted her creation every night, and to this day she still had no standard method of sampling it. Occasionally she would just grab it and unceremoniously neck it back. Sometimes she’d swirl the liquid and inhale its odour before delicately tasting the smallest drop. Sometimes Granny Smith would simply drink the beverage without any theatrics or fanfare.
Tonight, she decided that the latter approach felt suitable. Gripping the glass firmly, Granny Smith took a swig of the drink, letting it settle in her mouth for a moment. It was close. It was exceedingly close in fact.
In fact, this was one of her closest tries. The earth pony afforded herself a giddy feeling of excitement. This could very well be it.
Granny Smith swallowed her current mouthful and went to take another sip of the rich, golden nectar. However, upon her second taste, Granny Smith realised she had jumped the gun. It was slight, too slight for most ponies to even register.
But Granny Smith was not most ponies. She was an apple farmer, she had been all of her life and she had sampled more cider than most ponies had hot dinners. There was a problem every night, and no matter how small tonight’s problem was it still counted.
When adding the spice, Granny Smith had been just a little too overzealous. There was too much cinnamon. It would only have been a grain; the smallest, most insignificant shaving. However this didn’t change the fact that it was still there.
A shrouded, almost playful extra spice. Somewhat pleasant when it hadn’t been noticed, however, Granny Smith could sense the unbalance. The cow-pony swallowed her mouthful and smiled. It was a content smile, but one that hid a tinge of melancholy.
The cider was delicious, sweet, rich and flavourful. But for all of these admirable qualities, the drink wasn’t perfect.
And so Granny Smith would come down tomorrow night.
She took her time clearing away her cutlery. A quick rinse with water was all they required. After that, they were ready for the next time. The spices went back to the pantry, the glassware back to the cupboards and her alcohol back into its hidey-hole.
Granny Smith blew out her candles. She should have really opened a window to banish the faint wisps of smoke that trailed from the smouldering wicks. However, she didn’t think there was any need to now. If nopony had been woken by the pungent waft of alcohol that briefly traveled the house earlier, then it wasn’t likely they would wake up now.
The eldest Apple took her seat on the chair lift, and it sputtered into life. They began their agonising crawl to the top of the stairs. Granny Smith felt the smallest stab of disappointment - she had been so sure after that first mouthful. But there was no use in dwelling on it.
Indeed, as her steed rattled upwards, Granny Smith felt content in the knowledge that she could try again tomorrow.
Maud Pie glanced around her room, the walls lined with tiny little shelves, and the shelves full of even tinier boxes. And every box with a carefully printed label on it. She’d finally categorized and obtained a sample of every known mineral from the mines around the rock farm.
Not every mineral in Equestria. That would take thousands of boxes. Thousands of boxes wouldn’t fit in her room. The thought was so silly that she opened her eyes a little wider. Good thing Pinkie Pie wasn’t there to see her lose control like that.
She actually had two collections in her room, and she’d attend to the second in a minute. A pun. She cracked herself up sometimes. Yes, very droll.
So, the first collection, from the local mines. She needed to recite them all in alphabetical order to prove that she knew them all. No way she could be caught off guard if a question came up at the mineral convention and she didn’t have the list memorized, especially for some of the more unusual specimens she’d discovered lately.
Starting with “A,” then. Aegirine. She had some of that in her second collection, too. But no reason to run wild. Back to the list. Agrellite, Aikinite… And now all the “Alumino-” ones. This could get tricky.
Still, Maud persevered, and she only had to start over twenty-three times before she finally reached that finish line of Zircon. She had Zircon in her second collection as well. But no time for that yet. In another hour, she’d treat herself. But she had to get everything in order before she could afford to indulge.
She’d need to look good at the convention, too, so she ambled over to her closet. Something in a nice gray. The first was far too dark, closer to a Graphite. The next, more of an elephant shade. She flipped through a hoofful at a time. Raincloud, concrete, pigeon, oak bark… nothing quite the shade that might liven things up a bit.
Ah, the next one. Gray. She’d forgotten all about it. That would do perfectly.
Upon seeing the brown dresses in the back, she even breathed out a little harder. Maybe she could get away with those out west, but to wear brown at an eastern convention? She’d never live it down. The last thing she needed was a reputation as a wild mare. Best to stick to gray.
Wriggling into the dress, Maud let her thoughts drift to Boulder. Would he behave himself? She trusted him not to run off, but he might take an attitude with the other pet rocks there, and she couldn’t have him getting territorial. She might be able to convince him to play camouflage and hide in her pocket again during her keynote address.
Yes, her keynote address. She checked the clock—still almost three hours until she had to catch her train. She could practice her speech again. It’d only take about twenty minutes. “Aegirine, Agrellite, Aikinite,” she began, staring at the wall. Plaster walls. Gypsum in the plaster. No, gypsum started with a “G.” She’d have to begin again.
And so on through Zircon. She glanced in the mirror and blinked. She just couldn’t help herself, but if she put on a display like that, everypony would think she was showing off.
“Keep it together, Maud,” she said. “Remember Fillydelphia.” One of the delegates had gotten all uppity about reclassifying a polytype, and the panel had frowned at him. The entire panel. She couldn’t deal with becoming an outcast like that.
She just needed to relieve some stress. Over to her second collection, then. They weren’t in any sort of order. Really, they shouldn’t be. They had a purpose, and it had nothing to do with organization—quite the opposite. A little randomness once in a while did her good.
One by one, she looked over her second collection, her special one. Aegirine, Zircon, Hedyphane, Quartz, Hauyne, Orpiment, Rutile, Anatase, Litharge… Dozens of them. These were her inspiration, her muses.
So many minerals ended in “-ite.” Why? Well, she knew why. From the Peloponysian root “lith” for stone, but most dropped the “L.” Thousands and thousands of them. That was the surest way to write boring poetry. Amateurs peppered their verses with night and light and bright. And the rest who knew real poetry would squint a little bit at them. Pretenders.
It was like that dumb game kids would play, where they take turns naming places that start with the same letter the previous one ended on, and it quickly degraded into listing places that began with an “A” until they ran out. It was a dead end, a black hole where art went to die.
Of course, poetry didn’t have to rhyme, but when it did, those were the go-to minerals. She’d just let them lead her where they wanted to go. No need to interfere with their natural creativity. Really, she only gave a voice to what could speak so eloquently already.
“Corundum,” she blurted out.
“Crunchier than gum I’d like to eat some Digesting Acid etching Alimentary, not sedimentary.”
The comedic undertones almost had her weak in the knees. She might even have to write that one down, though she preferred to record only her serious efforts. Lighthearted verse had its place, after all, but not among her real works of literary art.
She closed her eyes for a moment, took a deep breath, and found a blank sheet of paper. Inspiration was almost upon her, then the emotion crashed over her like a wave. She almost flinched.
“Euchlorine You are green Around scoria cones and fumaroles Roles A rolling stone gathers no moss But moss is green, and so are you Even when you don’t roll Two things at once Paradox Pair of rocks.”
She nodded. That one would go in the book. But she’d have to meditate on the deeper meaning later. It sometimes took her a few days to understand the wisdom that the rocks taught her. She could contemplate it on the train ride, though. Time to leave for her convention.
What a risk to try and write something at the last minute, but she’d needed some time to find her center. That effort was never wasted.
She stretched her pocket open. “Now, don’t act up, Boulder. I don’t want a repeat of last time, when you almost got us kicked off the train.” He stared back. Whenever he stayed quiet like this, she knew he was too ashamed to speak. He wouldn’t cause any trouble today.
“Aegirine, Agrellite, Aikinite…” Maud said on her way out the door.
Hoity Toity shivered and pulled his scarf tighter as the door slammed shut behind him. After fumbling with the locks for a second, a satisfying click made itself heard. Turning his eyes skyward, Hoity sighed. The blood-red rays of the evening sun danced just above the rooftops of Canterlot, a silent warning to all of Equus; night is falling, seek shelter!
Hoity's gaze dropped from the light show above toward the dark and empty storefront. His dark and empty storefront. The mannequins usually placed there had been moved to the storeroom in the back, since he had yet to figure out what use a naked mannequin had.
A white sign on the door announced, “Opening times: 11 to 17”. Hoity Toity snorted before turning and beginning his walk home – it had been way too long since he had left his boutique when it actually closed. His two employees, a shop assistant and a bookkeeper, he let leave at due time, while he himself always went to his office in the back to keep working.
During daytime, the city of Canterlot was undeniably one of the more beautiful sights in Equestria. The sunshine reflected of the white stone structures, basking the city in their glow. The buildings themselves were nothing short of architectural masterpieces; erected nearly a thousand years ago on the mountainside, they still stood both tall and proud and would likely do so many millennia to come.
At night, however, the city was different. The marble buildings of the White City felt cold, yet still not unwelcoming; theirs was a regal and awe inspiring kind of cold. Rising high above the streets, like mountains of silver, their towering shapes bathed the alleys between them in pitch black shadow. The magical lamp posts provided just enough of their flickering, warm glow to reach the next small circle of light, and a chilly wind raced unhindered down the empty streets.
The lingering daylight was now fading by the second, and stars were emerging across the sky. Flickering to life one by one, they slowly filled the atmosphere with a cold, faint glow. Hoity Toity paused a second to watch and – for what felt like the thousandth, yet still the first, night in a row – got to witness the rise of the moon from the eastern horizon.
A slow, uneventful walk through the starlit city later, Hoity stumbled in through his front door.
Stifling a yawn, Hoity pulled off his scarf and threw it over a hatstand, before dragging himself through his home. In contrast to Hoity's posh demeanour and fashionable style, his home was barren, empty and simplistic – a perfect birthplace of inspiration.
Stepping into his kitchen, Hoity shook off his weariness. One last thing to get done today.
Hoity Toity sat down in a simple, brown chair, placed in front of a matching table. Leaning over a small stack of paper, he yawned. The first few letters he didn't even bother opening. Always the same, anyway.
“Collect the ten thousand bits you've won! Try the new number one method of losing weight! Impress your partner with a horn extension!” Frankly, he was amazed they still tried.
Hoity nearly missed it. It was a plain, light grey envelope with black print. They don't get more inconspicuous than that. Hoity almost didn't notice picking it up, and he wouldn't have noticed throwing it away, either.
A black logotype picturing a letter encased in magic was printed on the corner. Equestrian Telegrams. Machine-written text stated the recipient, Hoity Toity, Canterlot, and the sender, Twilight Sparkle, Ponyville.
Ponyville.
Twilight Sparkle.
Hoity suddenly felt more awake. He knew of her, of course. Everypony of importance did, and most common ponies as well. Child prodigy and personal protégée of Princess Celestia. Element of Magic. Saviour of Equestria. Also one of the hosts of an absolutely horrendous fashion show, but one can't be expected to excel at everything.
The empty envelope was cast aside. Hoity didn't even bother aiming for the trash bin. Leaning far out of his chair, he quickly read through the piece of paper. And then a second time. Hoity even got halfway through it a third time before he put it down on the table and leaned back. His brow was furrowed, and he stared intently at the piece of paper. A frown crept upon his lips as he thought back to the previous weekend.
The fashion show hosted by the six element bearers had been the cause of lots of commotion and speculation before it was held, and even more afterward.TheEquestria Daily had published a two page review of the fiasco, and the 'fashionista' behind it had been the laughing stock of the entire Canterlot elite for days.
Hoity glanced at the text again.
”A second chance?” He was surprised they even had the gall to ask. And the story of why the dresses turned out the way they did; how it wasn't really the designer's fault, but their own for pressuring her into sewing them like that?
Plausible, at best.
Hoity Toity groaned. So Twilight Sparkle and her friends might be telling the truth. This Rarity might, in fact, have an ounce or two of talent. Getting in touch with the fashionista might prove beneficial.
Hoity's thoughts returned to his empty storefront. It would be nice to get the mannequins out again, if only to reduce the emptiness of the boutique. Staving off the bareness of the shelves was, after all, the biggest problem with his recent breakthrough. But still...
“No.”
Hoity Toity hadn't gotten where he was today by being soft and forgiving. If Rarity truly had the talent they all claimed, she would shine in due time. Until then, Hoity would wait. Patience was a virtue, after all, and those who gave up after a single setback weren't going to make it anyway.
Hoity stood and headed out of the room. A work calendar hanging on the doorpost drew his attention, and he eyed it as he walked past. Tomorrow: an autumn inspired fashion line launching, Hoity being supposed to make an appearance, and a business meeting with a potential investor. Busy day.
“Guess that settles it.” Hoity Toity drew his glance back from the face-up letter on the table and rounded the corner out of his kitchen.
The style of Hoity Toity's chamber was akin to that of the rest of the apartment – minimalistic, with only the essentials occupying the floor. A bed and an accompanying bedside table, a mirror, and a drawer. One of the walls featured a large window facing out toward the city. The building wasn't higher than those around, though, so the view was quite mediocre. Mostly rooftops and façades, as well as the top of the castle spires in the distance.
After having left all his clothing and accessories in the chamber, Hoity headed for the bathroom for his regular routine. Shooting a glance upward, toward that one loose strand of hair bobbing up and down just barely within his field of view, he smirked.
It had always been a trade secret of his, the mane. Nopony knew how he did it, or if it was even his real mane – the magazines had referred to him as “Big Wig” when he first started making a name for himself. Not that he would ever let that deter him, though. The hair was as big a part of his image as the glasses were, and, after all, what did the tabloid journalists know about fashion?
When Hoity re-entered his bedroom a short while later, his mane rested undone upon his head. He had pulled the curtains shut earlier, blocking out both the moon's eerie glow as well as any snooping eyes. The willingness of paparazzi to go extreme lengths for whatever would sell was not unheard of, and one would be foolish not to take precautions.
While Hoity's chamber was indeed minimalist in style, it certainly did not lack comfort. The mattress' stuffing was densified cloud, imported directly from Cloudsdale. The pegasi magic had made the cloud both heavy enough to not float off, as well as preventing it from dissolving. In terms of softness, it was unrivalled by any conventional materials.
As Hoity slipped underneath the sheets, he allowed himself to finally exhale. While sinking even deeper into the comfort of his cloud mattress, his troubled thoughts of parasitic paparazzi and false fashionistas all melted away.
Yes, his bed was surely the best of all beds to fall asleep in.
The bed did not, however, make waking up more pleasant.
“Hoity Toity!” Accompanied with a ring of his doorbell, the shout rang throughout his apartment. Groggily sitting up in his bed, Hoity rubbed his eyes. His alarm clock not having gone off yet told Hoity the hour was too early to deal with anything properly, but he had recognized the voice. Hoity begrudgingly got out of bed and made his way toward the front door.
The bell rang again as Hoity approached the door.
“Hoity! Come on, open the door!”
The fashionista in question rapidly unlocked and pulled open the door. Dragging in the stallion standing outside before swiftly redoing the locks, Hoity Toity turned and gave him a stern glance.
"At this hour?" he said, a bit louder than he had intended. "Really?"
"Eh..." Hoity Toity's agent, Time Table, winced and fidgeted under his stare. "Terribly sorry, Hoity, but something important has... Hey, what's up with your mane?"
"Table, just get to the point."
"Jeez, you could afford to keep up your 'sophisticated-and-polite act' outside of business too, you know?”
“Table...” Hoity said slowly, narrowing his eyes.
“Fine, fine.” He raised a disarming hoof. “That launch you were supposed to attend today? It's been called off.”
“Hold up a second,” Hoity continued after a short pause. ”You're telling me that you woke me up in order to tell me I have the morning off?”
“Uhm, yes.” His agent shot him a smile. “That's it!”
“I swear to Celestia, that stallion is going to be the death of me.”
“You still have your meeting with Filthy Rich of Ponyville, though.” Not having noticed Hoity's deadpan stare, Time Tableproduced a slip of paper with some scribbled notes from a pocket and hoofed it over. “You'll be meeting at two at Horte's Cuisine, a small café located close to the town square. Can't miss it.”
“Did you say Ponyville?” Hoity raised an eyebrow.
“Yes – he was very specific about that. No worries, though; trains depart frequently throughout the whole day. Just hop on one you fancy.” The stallion handed over a plastic card. “I took the liberty of refilling your season pass. Several train trips in the coming weeks.”
“All right...” Hoity nodded in thought. “Yeah, I'll see you later then, I suppose.”
Time Table gave a brief smile and went to unlock the door, before looking back towards Hoity.
"Oh, by the way. I hear Filthy Rich much prefers his last name."
A few hours later, Hoity again walked out of his chamber. Perfectly styled mane upon his head, fashionable collar around his neck, trademark glasses covering his eyes – he was all set to go. Briskly trotting down the hallway toward the front door, he shot a glance into the kitchen as he passed by. And came to a stop. The white letter with the black typewriting still lay open on the table where he'd left it yesterday.
“If you would feel so inclined, please meet us tomorrow at noon outside Rarity's boutique in Ponyville.”
The ticking of a clock hung upon the kitchen wall drew his attention. He did have time to spare.
Hoity Toity gave a wry smile as he picked up the letter and stashed it away in a pocket, before heading toward the door. There was fashion to be found.
