Roseluck falls for Big Mac, they both fall for poetry.
Every story has a beginning, middle, and end. But mine, the story of my life, is far from interesting. My hobbies, my work, my cutie mark, all are dull. Flowers and poems ruled my life, until I fell in love.
My name is Roseluck, and this is the only story I have worth telling.
Her hoof shivered as she moved the scissors forwards, every tiny motion seeming to be amplified by the pure silence hanging in the air.
The tip of the scissor’s blade brushed against the very edge of the bonsai’s unruly branch, causing her to gulp nervously. A lock of her mane fell across her face, and with a single gentle motion, she lifted the red hairs back behind her ear.
That’s it. Slow and steady. Just nip that one little stem and it’ll be perfect.
The scissors slipped forward, the blades clamping down under the tiny amount of pressure exerted by the mare.
“Hiya, Rosey!”
With a clean snip, the sharp edges cut through the main branch of the minuscule tree, slicing the priceless heirloom’s topmost branch and allowing it to tumble onto the previously spotless ground. As her hoof shivered, Roseluck deposited the scissors on the table’s edge and let out a gentle sigh.
It’s not her fault; she’s like that, she told herself as she rose from her bench and forced a kind smile onto her lips.
“Hi, Raindrops. How are you doing?”
The familiar flash of the pegasus’s yellow body complemented an orchid nearby, and Roseluck thought about her friend as she watched her sniff at the flower. Roseluck’s eyes settled back upon the beheaded bonsai tree. With another sigh, she studied her own beige coat, comparing it to the soft yellow of the pegasus wiping pollen from her nose.
“Not bad,” the mare finally answered as she wrinkled her nose, staring cross-eyed at the few remaining grains of pollen sitting upon her coat. “I was just bored.”
“Uh-huh,” Roseluck said, hoping that the other mare would leave her and her flower shop alone. For her part, Raindrops kept wandering around the florist’s shop, eyeing the plants with something between boredom and detached judgement across her features.
Why does my only friend need to be so... well, so unlike me?
“So... I was thinking.” The mare trotted around a wall covered entirely in shelved potted plants of every colour and shade. She took a deep breath, as though building up her resolve, and then smiled contentedly before going on. “That poetry contest. It’s this weekend, right?”
Roseluck nodded, returning her attention to her injured bonsai. This is going to be a pain to hide, she thought as she leaned in. She inspected the damage even as she kept Raindrops in her peripheral vision.
“So, I was thinking...”
The mare lifted a hobby knife, and calling upon her earth pony magic, she brought the simple instrument to the tree. I could make it look natural, but it’ll take some doing, she realized as she pondered the little tree.
“You should totally invite Big Mac.”
The knife cut a deep groove along the delicate bark, scarring it from top to bottom. Roseluck said nothing, simply standing there, studying the gash. Calmly, Roseluck deposited the blade beside her scissors and pushed away from the table and bonsai. “Raindrops,” she started with only the slightest annoyance, “I thought we had agreed not to talk about that?”
Roseluck brushed back the wafts of red that had fallen from her mane and looked around her shop, taking in the perfectly placed rows of potted plants, the draping perennials just beginning to flower under her care and the sun’s light. She took a deep breath, recognizing the scents of a dozen species of herbs and plants caught in her nose. She watched Raindrops flap among her plants as she calmed herself down. “We talked about this already,” she said after a moment, tapping a hoof on the well-worn wooden floor. “You agreed not to meddle in my affairs... or lack thereof.”
Raindrops sighed and rolled her eyes. “It’s not meddling. It would just be cool if he was there, you know, to see how cool you are?”
“I’m not ‘cool’. And it’s none of his business what I think of him,” Roseluck said, turning her eyes back to the desecrated bonzai.
Raindrops landed nearby with an audible thump, her wings flattening to her sides. "But—" Her words stopped short as she froze under Roseluck's glare. “Oh, fine,” the pegasus concluded, looking away. “So, how are things?”
Roseluck abandoned the mess that was the bonsai, moving towards the front of the shop and to the big window taking up the majority of it. “Not too good. I really do need to win that contest,” she said, eyes and mane glowing as she trotted into the sunlight. “Last year, that annoying mare beat me. I won’t let that happen twice.”
Raindrops trotted across the room, her wing tips brushing against potted plants which made them rattle on their shelves. “Aw, don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll beat everypony this year!” she exclaimed with contagious enthusiasm.
“Yeah, maybe. The shop needs the bits,” Roseluck said, her hoof absently fixing an arrangement of petunias. “We can’t have another winter like the last.” The mare glanced at her friend, particularly her long, thin wings. “Hmm, maybe you can help me?”
“Sure thing!” the pegasus agreed, her head bouncing up and down.
Roseluck gave her a quick smile before walking to the back of her checkout counter. Reaching behind it, she pulled out a long folded up piece of cardboard and a roll of tape. “Could you place this at the top of the window?”
Raindrops stared at the sheet before snatching it from her friend. “Ahraght,” she said, fumbling through the word as she held the paper in her mouth. In an instant, she was hopping into the air and hovering near the glass. In three quick moves, she had plastered the poster at the top of the glass, spread it across evenly, and wasted half a roll of tape as she affixed it to the window. “So, what’s that about?” she asked, flicking a hoof towards the advertisement.
She didn’t even read it before putting it up? Roseluck thought as Raindrops settled to the floor once more. “It says ‘Plant Care Services’. I’m going to start offering to cure houseplants and watch over gardens for other ponies. I... I need the bits.”
Raindrops studied the advertisement once more, her eyebrow arching in doubt. “Care services? For plants? Really?” she said, deep skepticism painted in her voice.
“I need the bits, Drippy,” answered Roseluck with a sigh. “I really do. I really do...”
Raindrops watched as Roseluck trotted to the window. The pegasus tried to think of something to say as her friend sat watching each potential customer trot by. Jovial grins adorned the faces that came and went, the two pondering as every lost chance for a sale simply walked past the shop.
That all changed when a group of three fillies pranced by. To Roseluck’s surprise, one of them stopped, smiled, and then pointed towards her florist shop.
“Ohh! Looks like you have a client!” Raindrops said as her face squished against the glass, her excitement growing visibly. Roseluck walked to her side, eyeing the energetic cream filly that hopped towards the front door.
With the dinging of chimes, the front door opened, allowing the wide-eyed earth pony to sneak into the shop. Roseluck smiled kindly at the tiny customer, crossing the room to greet her. “Hello, how are you doing today, sweetie?”
The filly blinked at her. “No, ma’am, Ah’m Apple Bloom; that there is Sweetie,” the filly said matter-of-factly, pointing at her friend who sat outside. Raindrops gave a few giggles, stopping short when Roseluck’s hoof found its way to her chest.
Roseluck nodded back at the filly, suppressing a grin as she did so. “Yes, dear,” she said, regaining her composure. “I know who you are.”
You’re Big Macintosh’s little sister, she noted to herself. How couldn’t I know who you are?
“So, miss, why are you here today?” Roseluck inquired. “Looking for some flowers for a date? A new hobby, perhaps? Searching for a flower-related cutie mark?”
The filly’s eyes widened at the last, but she shook her head. “Nope. Ah’m here ‘cause of the poster.” The filly nodded towards the recently-installed sign, her bow bobbing on the back of her head. “Bloomberg’s brother is sick.”
It was Roseluck’s turn to blink dumbly. “Who?”
“Twigster.”
“What?!”
Apple Bloom rolled her eyes and huffed. “Our tree, Twigster, is sick. Mah’ brother’s been tryin’ to help him, but it ain't workin' none. Twiggy is the last tree that came from Alder— that bein’ the old tree that my great-grandpa planted when they came and started up the farm here in Ponyville.”
“Oh. But, um, I don’t do house calls.”
Although, she thought, biting her lower lip, her brother will be there...
The filly shifted her weight from hoof to hoof. “But... but Twigster really needs the help!”
“I... I can’t start doing this now. I can’t carry all the tools, and who’ll watch over the shop while I’m gone?” the mare asked, her eyes searching the shop for anything she could add to her list of excuses. Her eyes went wide as she settled on her friend. Raindrops had raised a hoof to volunteer for the position with a huge grin on her face until Roseluck drove it away with a baleful glare.
“I-I might be able to go sometime next week?” Roseluck said, turning back to where the filly still stood. As Apple Bloom stared back her expression seemed to drop out of the child, and her heart hit the floor.
Apple Bloom pawed at the ground, studying her forehoof as a little miserable sound of worry began to rise from her. Slowly, she lifted her head, catching Roseluck’s eyes and playing at her sympathy. Both of the filly’s cheeks were puffed out and her eyes went watery even as Roseluck looked down over her.
“Please... please, miss flower-lady, you need to help us, and... and me and my friends can help,” the filly whimpered in the most obvious of falsified tones.
Roseluck looked up to the window, and there the faces of two more fillies sat, echoing that of the little earth pony. One, the unicorn, was the aforementioned Sweetie she guessed. A pegasus filly similarly dripped crocodile tears across her window pane.
Roseluck gulped as the combined looks of pure adorableness flowing off of their faces slowly eroded her ability to resist.
“Pleeease,” the little earth pony begged, her puppy eyes increasing in size exponentially.
It was the most hilariously overexaggerated play on her sympathies she could imagine, and it worked completely.
Well, what’s the worse thing that could go wrong? she thought as a sigh of uncertainty escaped her lips.
“Okay, fine.”
Happy squeals began sounding out amid the potted plants, and both Apple Bloom and Raindrops began prancing around the inside of the store, giggling happily as their jubilant bounds made every shelf in the vicinity shiver. “Cutie Mark Crusader shop keepers!” the filies and one mare chanted. The farce had dropped, and Apple Bloom was once more the happy, energetic filly Roseluck had seen in Big Mac’s company.
“Not you, Raindrops,” spoke Roseluck as her mind suddenly came alive, the mare picturing any number of things which truly good go awry. “You’re coming with me. We need to have a little talk...”
Why did I agree to this? Roseluck wondered as bullets of sweat poured down her coat. Her eyes shifted from one side of the narrow road to another, taking in all the bright greens and deep browns of the apple orchards even as new scenarios flitted through her mind.
“Rosey, you’re sweating,” Raindrops said, pointing out the obvious as she fluttered along, drooping under the weight of the two saddlebags.
The red of her blush competed with the beige of her coat for dominance as Roseluck responded to the pegasus. “You’re one to talk, Drippy. You’re drenched. Keep sweating like that and I won’t need a sprinkler in the shop.”
Raindrops laughed, shifting the weight a little before landing at a trot at her friend’s side. “C’mon, Rosey, what’s wrong, really?” she asked, a note of compassion disguised in her otherwise brash voice.
“Nothing,” Roseluck answered, no hint of hesitation betraying itself in her voice as she focused on the road ahead. For a few short moments, both mares walked down the rough path in silence, the thick smells of nature permeating the air around them. Small buds dotted the orderly apple trees and it seemed that soon, the trees would be in full bloom.
“I don’t believe you,” Raindrops finally said, breaking the silence. “What’s wrong, really? You can tell me.”
“I don’t like leaving the shop like that. What if a customer walks in?” She sighed. “Or what if those fillies set the hose system on fire? Who knows what havoc they could cause in there.”
Raindrops shook her head. “C’mon, they looked like responsible fillies; I’m sure everything’s going to be fine. Now tell me what you’re really worried about.” The mare gave a swift poke on her friend’s beige shoulder.
Roseluck huffed. “I’m not worried about anything else.”
“Not even Big Mac?”
The flower-flanked mare tripped, stumbling forwards even as she tried to regain her footing. “No, it’s nothing like that,” she said, her face’s colour matching that of her mane.
“It isn’t?” Raindrops asked, an eyebrow rising even as she smirked cruelly. “You’re not thinking of his strong, muscular body? His beautiful blonde hair waving in the air? That huge c—”
“All right!” Roseluck shouted, shoving a forehoof over Raindrop’s yapping mouth. “Fine, I want to see him, too,” she admitted. “But I don’t want any of that awkward lovey stuff. This is purely business. And anyway, I don’t have time for a relationship.”
Ahead of them, the very top of the red-roofed barn appeared over the hill, slowly growing as they marched forwards. A few chickens clucked and went up and down the ramp of the henhouse, poking at the ground with their sharp beaks, while a herd of cows watched with curiosity as the mares walked by them.
“Howdy!” came a voice. The two friends turned as another mare made her way down the path towards them. Roseluck gulped a little as she recognized the other Apple sister, Applejack. Roseluck tried to look like somepony who didn’t have developing feelings for Apple Bloom's brother as she greeted them. With a welcoming smile, Applejack doffed her stetson with a flourish. “How’re you mares doing on this fine day?”
Raindrops returned the smile and added a gleeful giggle. “Not bad. How’re you?”
“Ah’m... okay,” the mare said as she slowed to a stop a few hoof-steps away, her gaze shifting to the fields of apple trees. “So, what are you fine folks doing in this neck a’ the woods?”
Roseluck looked around to the buds sprouting on every apple tree, then to the abnormally dry ground baking beneath the midday sun. Slowly, she returned her gaze onto Applejack, eyes roving over the cowmare’s baggy eyes and matted mane. “Apple Bloom sent us over.”
“Apple Bloom? What’d she send ya here fer?” Applejack asked, her brows furrowing in worry and suspicion. “This ain’t one o’ her crusadin’ things, is it?”
Roseluck shook her head. “No, she said that some of your trees are sick, one called Twigster in particular?”
Applejack sighed, shaking her head as she touched her temple with a forehoof. “That filly...” she whispered. “Yeah, we have a few sick trees, and Twigster’s one o’ em. But we don’t need your help. Ah do thank you for coming, though.”
“What do they have?”
Applejack shrugged. “Some sorta bug or somethin’. Their leaves are turnin’ brown and the tips are curving over. Nothin’ much, I suspect. I bet Big Mac’ll have ‘em fixed up in a jiffy.”
She’s out of her league, Roseluck realized. They have no idea what’s going on, do they?
After a moment of hesitation, Roseluck hung her head sadly. “Oh, well, regardless, if I can help, I’d be more than happy to do so.”
Applejack’s smile turned patient and calm. “No, but thank ya’, nonetheless. We know how tah’ handle our trees.”
Roseluck sat down with a thump, a fine dust puffing off of the ground. Guess we should go, she thought before biting her lower lip. But, I really did want to see Macintosh. The mare looked at her friend who was discreetly trying to pick her nose. I can’t let her know. Maybe I can...
“Would you mind if, maybe, I take a look at the sick tree?” she asked, giving the farmhoof her sweetest smile.
Applejack returned the look with a suspicious glare. “Why?”
The beige mare coughed, a distinct look of irritation crossing her features for a wink. “I study plants, and I take care of them; it’s my talent and calling. I need to know why ‘Twigster’ is sick and if it’s contagious. Would you like to be responsible for a tree-borne epidemic? What if other trees are affected? What if, because of your inattention, every apple tree from here to Appleoosa loses their crop?”
The blonde-maned mare took a half-step back, her eyes widening. “It-it couldn’t do that... could it?”
“Well, you could have Apple Scab. If that’s the case, then that’ll make the fruit rot right on the limb and be covered in scabs. There’s Phytophthora Rot, Cork Spot... oh, I could go on.” She watched a pale Applejack gulp hard.
“Sounds mighty serious... but you sure you know what you’re doing?”
Raindrops hopped ahead, her boisterous voice ringing across the farm. “Know what she’s doing? Rosey here is the best darn flower... care... pony thing, in the entirety of Equestria! Of course she knows what she’s doing!” The pegasus pointed a hoof towards her friend’s face, almost jabbing her eye out.
Applejack’s frown returned. “Right, well, I don’t see no harm in lettin’ her take a look,” the mare said before turning her attention to the pony in question. “Just head out back; it’s in that clearing. Big Mac should be there, carin’ for the tree.”
A huge grin split Roseluck’s face. I won! “Right, no problem. I’m sure we’ll find the solution in no time,” she said as she quickly gathered up one of the saddlebags and trotted by Applejack. Raindrops took to the air, beaming proudly while tailing Roseluck. “No,” she said, making a half-turn towards her winged friend. “You stay here, Drippy, and watch over my other stuff. I’ll take care of it.”
Her eyes sparkled mischievously as it caught the midday sun. “Alone, with Macintosh.”
Raindrops nodded knowingly before landing with a firm thump on the dry ground. “All right, you two have fun,” she said as Roseluck strutted away.
“So, A.J.,” the pegasus began as she leaned upon a fencepost, “what does a mare like you do for fun around here?”
Roseluck charged ahead, eyes fixed on the ever-growing scenery behind the imposing red barn. There, a glade made up of trees was spread out, their shadows playing across all sorts of farm equipment kept in tip-top shape.
A few wildflowers grew along the building’s edge, filling the air with their hearty aroma. A few insects buzzed by, inspecting the newcomer before flying away with a single swish of her tail to encourage them to be on their way.
In an opening amongst the trees, a tall, thick, and very red stallion was bent over, slowly moving a trowel along the edge of a sickly tree, the tool practically caressing it as he carefully moved about.
Roseluck’s heart skipped a beat as she stared at his sweaty, muscle-filled back. She studied his strong forehooves as they delicately worked the tool in a steady rhythm.
Oh Celestia, he’s so...
She squeaked in surprise as he looked up, his deep emerald-green eyes locking onto hers.
Slowly, he rose to his full height, his surprise registering on his face at the sight of a pretty mare in his orchard.
They stared, mare and stallion, unmoving, as a smooth breeze worked its way around them, swaying their manes softly. “Um, hi?” she said, her voice almost a whisper.
The colour of the massive stallion's face seemed to deepen for a moment as his eyes glided across her. “Howdy,” he said, the word fighting up to her through his parched throat.
“I, uh, I’m here to help,” she said, working through the crackle of her voice and the beads of sweat pouring through her mane. “With the tree, I mean.” She wiped a hoof across her forehead.
I must look so stupid!
“Do... do you want me to help?” she continued.
“Eeyup.”
She approached him, bringing the canteen that rested on a nearby stump, hoofsteps loud on the smooth grass as her heart pounded in her ears. Her eyes shifted from the hunky stallion to the damaged tree. “Oh, my,” she whispered.
Every branch on the tree ended with dead tips, all of them darkened as if somepony had set them afire. Cracks ran along some parts of the trunk, while the newer blossoms were limp and dead.
Oh, this is bad, she thought as she visually inspected the plant.
“So,” Big Macintosh began, running a hoof through the nape of his neck. “Um, not that I mind, miss, but why’re you here?”
Roseluck blushed heavily, her attention immediately returning to him. “Oh, uh. I’m just curious about Twigster here.”
“Oh. It’s pretty bad, all right,” he admitted, his gaze returning to the tree in question. “The bark, the leaves, and the new buds are rottin’, almost like they have been scorched, but the cork cambium and the roots seem healthy. It’s showin’ no signs o’ having any injuries inside, only external ones. For the life o’ me, I can’t figure out what’s causing this, short of somepony coming out here every night and holding a torch to it...”
She nodded to herself, her mind running through every piece of knowledge. It could be... but no, that’s not the right kind of scarring. Perhaps Scor— no, that doesn’t come around these parts... but those marks, just like a burn. And the core isn’t ruined, yet...
“It’s Fire Blight,” she said, her tone giving no room for doubt.
He stared at her for a moment, slowly dropping into a sitting position as they looked at Twigster. “Fire Blight, miss?” he finally asked.
“Yeah, it’s rare in this area, and this isn’t exactly the right time of year. But, yeah, with that kind of marking, I can’t see it being anything else.” She sat at his side, fully aware of the way his coat brushed against hers after every deep breath he took.
“So, how do ya’ plan on curin’ it?” he asked. With that, he took a drink from the canteen and passed it to her.
Oh Celestia, he’s just trusting me like that? she thought, almost swooning on the spot. “Well, you’ll need to trim the outer branches, then prune any part that’s infected.”
The stallion nodded and got up in a single smooth movement, moving past and around her. His hoofsteps faded somewhere behind the unmoving Roseluck before becoming louder as he returned, a long pair of pruning shears in mouth.
Rearing up, the silent pony climbed onto the side of the tree, swaying the scissors from side to side and cutting the branches with firm snips. The parts he cut fell to the ground, crashing at his hooves under Roseluck’s attentive gaze.
Within minutes, the farm pony was done. Twigster was now small, the tree’s summer splendor long gone as its once majestic branches lay in a heap on the ground below. Big Macintosh walked back to her side, the clippers still in mouth. “Whelp,” he said, letting the exclamation hang in the air around them.
“Ummm, yes,” she replied, giving a little chuckle. “We’re... well, we’re not quite done.”
Roseluck walked over to the tree, face blushing slightly, as she dropped to her chest and laid hooves on the tree.
“Fire Blight is a magical ailment, not a fungal infection.” Searching, she found a part where a gouge was cut into the tree, exposing the green of the corewood. She lowered her face to the bark, letting her forehoof rest on the scratch that betrayed a hint of green.
With that, she listened. Her earth pony magic awoke within her, her mark coming to the fore. She felt the life flowing through the tree, how it was still trying to send water to, and retrieve sunlight from, the bits they had just removed, and her heart sank at the feel of it. The mare focused on the roots nearby, felt the way the roots were supporting the entire system. The gift of the earth ponies, the deep, internal magic, moved from her to the tree, and from there into the soil.
"Oh ancient, deep and dark,
causing blight of fire and spark,
return to the earth and be remade,
become blessed once more, be not afraid."
The tree shivered as she removed her hoof from its side, leaving the slightest of impressions. Along the remaining branches, the leaves that were crippled and warped unfolded, regaining a glint of bright green.
“Damnations,” Big Macintosh whispered, gawking at Twigster. “Ah didn’t think that possible.”
With ease, and a little sigh, the mare rose up. A contented smile adorned her face even as sweat fell across her eyes and down the length of her nose. Roseluck swiped a lock of hair thick with perspiration away from her face with a forehoof. She turned again, sighed once more, and found herself looking at Big Macintosh.
The stallion stared back, eyes wide and mouth agape. He shifted his footing before thumping down into a sitting position. “Whelp, that was right impressive, Miss...?” he asked, stressing the question at the end.
Her own eyes sparkled as she answered. “Roseluck. My name is Roseluck.” The mare looked down, a slow blush spreading across her features. Did- did he compliment me?
“A pleasure to meet you, ma’am.” He looked at the tree and the new blossoms and bright green leaves still sprouting across it. “And thank you for the help; much appreciated.”
Her blush deepened, the redness of it crawling across her face. “No problem. It’s my joy to help plants, big and small.”
The pony smiled. “That’s understandable. What you did was mighty impressive. I haven’t seen earth pony magic work like that since I was a foal.”
Roseluck scuffed the ground with a forehoof, turning away. “No, not really. I’m just doing my work.”
One of his brows rose. “Applejack called you?”
“No... no, not really. Apple Bloom did. She said that Twigster needed some help,” she said, her confidence growing as the subject turned to something more mundane.
“Well, she did the right thing. Without you, Twigster might've been a lost cause. Thank you, Miss Roseluck.”
“It’s nothing, really,” she managed to choke out as she attempted to shrivel up and disappear. His green eyes radiated thankfulness, honesty, and worry as he approached her.
“Are you okay, Ma’am?” he asked, bending towards her as his forehead creased, questioning. “You look awfully pale.”
She blinked at him, her face losing what remained of its colour. “I-I’m fine. But, um, maybe you could walk me back? Unless it’s a problem?” she asked, almost pleading. Please say yes, please say yes...
“Nnope, no problem at all,” he said. Moving aside, he extended a foreleg, pointing the way towards the barn and the Apple family’s house. Roseluck stepped past him, flashing a timid smile as she marched across the grassy ground. Big Macintosh walked at her side, keeping pace with the mare.
They trotted side by side quietly, enjoying the fluttering of butterflies and the little motions of nature as dozens of critters played beneath the shadows of the apple trees, running after each other and nibbling at the occasional snack. Birds flew overhead, calling out to each other with their melodic voices and peaceful songs. It’s so romantic, she thought, her gaze working towards the stallion at her side just as she let out a peaceful sigh.
Big Macintosh misunderstood the noise and coughed awkwardly. “So, how’re things in town?” he asked. “I don’t get off the farm too much...”
“It’s the same as always. Quiet, other than the occasional disaster.” She chuckled, happy at how casual the conversation had become. “But on the whole, it’s a nice, quiet town.”
“You’re not from here,” he said, his words halfway between a question and a statement.
“No, I’m from Canterlot.” she replied, quite unsurprised that he could see it in her. “I moved here a while ago. There are a lot of flower shops in Canterlot, too many to start my own. So, I moved here, rented a small shop, and am trying my best to make ends meet.”
He nodded sagely. “You own the flower shop?”
“Yup, the best, and only, one in Ponyville.”
He smiled slyly at her, peeking at her form from the corner of his eyes. “So that’s where ya’ got so good with the plants.”
Roseluck misstepped, almost tripping over the sudden compliment. “I-I’m not that good...”
“Eeyup, you are.”
She tried to hide her blush.
“Ah was right impressed that ya’ were able to rhyme like that as well,” he said, looking out over the farm. “Was that some sort o’ ancient magical spell or some such?”
“Oh, heh, no... I could have said almost anything and it would have worked,” she said, flattered that he had noticed her words. “I-I wrote that myself. I... I just like the poetic way it sounds, that’s all.”
“That right?” he said, his head swinging back towards her. “Ya’ know, I’m a fan of verse mahself...”
Oh, Celestia! Do not say that you like poetry, too! she said, her eyes coming alight. If you do, I’ll drag you into the shade of those trees right now and...
“Well, you’re quite good yourself,” she said, dragging herself out of her train of thought. “You came up with quite the diagnosis back there. You were very close to the solution. And anyway, you’re the one that did all the work, I just sat and watched.”
“Sat and watched?” he repeated in his deep baritone. “What ya’ did there at the end, that was magical... tain’t no other word for it.” He gave a good, firm nod, leaving no room for argument.
Roseluck gulped. He’s awesome. “So... ummm, so... where did you learn to care for plants? I know you work on a farm, but you know more than you’re letting on, I know it.”
He blushed, and she blinked at the sudden reaction, her heart going wild within her chest. “Whelp, I like bucking as much as any other warm-blooded pony, but there’s something about caring for plants that makes me feel... relaxed.”
Roseluck slowed her pace, letting the big pony pass her as she stared after him, blinking dumbly. Oh Celestia, he’s... perfect, she thought as she sat down. Should I... do something? Ask him out, maybe? That’s what Rainy would do. Bu-but I can’t... Can I?
She recalled his gentle baritone and the admiration that appeared in his eyes as he watched her work. Just on a small date, maybe? she argued.
The mare charged ahead, quickly catching up with the stallion. “So, um, Big Macintosh.” He looked down at her, a quiet smile on his large face. “I was wondering, if, maybe, someday you'd like to...”
Roseluck looked away, hoping that her blush wasn’t as strong as it felt. Taking a deep lungful of air, she tried again. “To, uh, go o—”
“—Out!”
Both ponies turned, their gaze shifting onto Raindrops and Applejack.
The mares were at each other’s throats, their hackles raised, as they glared at one another. Applejack stomped forwards, a puff of dust rising off the ground.
“Ah’m telling you, no good’s gonna come out of this!” the cowmare said in an even tone, stabbing a hoof at Raindrop’s chest.
“No good? Your brother’s the one that’s no good!” the pegasus taunted, sticking out her tongue defiantly.
Behind the two of them was the horseshoe rink, though not one of the rounded pieces of metal was near the pole and glass littered the ground near the barn’s side where a window was coincidentally missing.
“Why, I ought to... Don’t you dare talk about my fam’ly like that. You and that... that ugly red head!”
Raindrops took to the air with a single broad strike of her wings, the gust reaching Big Macintosh and Roseluck standing nearby, watching the procession. “Rosey isn’t a... Well, she is a redhead, sorta. But she’s not ugly! I’ll bet she’s better than that fat brother of yours!”
“Better, huh? In what way!” Applejack yelled back as she reared into the air. “Mah brother could beat her at anything!”
“Anything?”
Applejack nodded firmly. “Anything.”
Roseluck groaned, slapping her face with a forehoof. This won’t end well.
“All right, the annual Ponville Poetry Competition is this weekend,” Raindrops said, landing inches away from Applejack’s face.
Roseluck took a half step forwards. “Drippy...”
“I’m sure that fat brother of yours couldn’t come close to touching Roseluck!”
Roseluck and Big Macintosh shared a quick look before she spoke. “This won’t end well, will it?”
“Nnope.”
Applejack stomped the ground, her eye twitching sporadically. “All right, you’re on!”
Roseluck paced around the desecrated remains of her florist shop.
Her hooves clicked and clacked across the wooden floor as she marched back and forth, ducking beneath the same low-hanging vine and skirting around the same overgrown geranium with every pass. I can’t believe this is happening, she thought.
She gave a low sigh somewhere between frustration and fatigue. The mare looked across her shop and at the mess it had become in her absence.
Some flowers were wilting as they seemed to swim in great pools of excess water dripping down the sides of their pots. Others were torn, cut, and split under the ‘intensive care’ given by a certain group of fillies. In the far corner, the remains of her workbench and the water control system sat amid a mess of crackling browns and blacks, the remains of the fire that she had barely contained upon returning.
Yesterday was... an odd day, she conceded before making her way over to the workbench. Her bonsai lay there, half of it now charred to a crisp. The floor was still marred, the black tendrils indicating where her valiant battle to contain the flames finally ended.
Upon arriving at her shop the previous evening, she had still been berating Raindrops for her thoughtless words. That continued right up until a draft composed of burning flowers and a veritable wall of ashes blew past her. In the corner, three fillies were playing at ‘Cutie Mark Crusader Fire Fighters’ with a blanket and a bucket full of a very flammable type of fertilizer.
Her night had generally gone downhill from there.
Might as well just go home. Roseluck looked at the door behind her shop longingly, her mind easily visualizing her bed and her bookcase filled with good reading material. She bit her lower lip, her gaze returning to the upturned table where the real fighter fighters had set up, and to the pile of unfortunate plants that weren’t going to make it. Light poured in through the shop’s windows, strong and vibrant despite the layer of caked-on soot.
I can’t just leave; it’s hardly even noon, yet. Ah, but I have to practice for the poetry competition. She shifted her weight from hoof to hoof. I wonder how Big Macintosh will fare.
The thought of his name sent a wave of excitement through her mind, blanking out all other thoughts until she recovered a few moments later. She returned to cognizance to find herself panting and sweating heavily. Well, we’re both going to be in the competition... does he even know how to recite poetry? she thought as she searched out an unscorched cloth to wipe away her perspiration. Oh no, what if he makes a mistake! He’ll be a laughing stock! Or, or what if he starts liking... her.
The mare slapped herself, her head bouncing away as pain cascaded through her cheek. Come on Roseluck, you’re not like that. She huffed. You’re a respectable mare who can take care of herself, not one of those bimbos that go all gaga when they see a good-looking stallion...
...Although, Big Macintosh is reallygood-looking.
She slapped herself again. “Gah, I don’t have time for this; I need to study.”
Stomping ahead, she walked around her workspace to the door, swinging it open with a quick twist of the handle.
The interior of her house was the stellar opposite of the mess of her shop.
Everything was tidy and neat. Not a speck of dust could be seen within the tiny apartment, nor was there so much as one misplaced piece of spartan furniture. The walls glowed with their pastel hues that somehow complimented the bright decor and elegant placements.
She marched in, sighing as she made her way to a bookshelf tucked into a corner, one filled with books on plant care, poetry, and planting plants poetically. Hmm, maybe something dark by Allen Poeny. I certainly feel that way. Reaching out a hoof, she touched the edge of one of the books. To her own surprise, she stopped. She brushed back the feeling, and then hesitated. Hmm, maybe something light and heart-warming would be best? Her gaze shifted to a collection by Lord Alfalfa Dragonson.
As she sat down, Roseluck let her eyes wander over her collection, names and tones shifting absently through her mind. I wonder what Big Macintosh will recite? She blinked, realization flooding in. “Oh no. He- he probably doesn't have half of this. Goddess, I'd be surprised if the Apples have so much as a single book on poetry.”
She inched away from the bookshelf, walking to the centre of her living room in a daze. Should I help him?
No, of course not. Applejack would probably not appreciate me showing up, and I’ll probably just be an interruption. It would hardly be business-like of me to pop in like that. I could go check on Twigster, though... and dropping off a book or two wouldn’t be too hard. The mare bit her lower lip until it hurt.
No, I’ll stay home, she concluded as she walked over to a wardrobe. She opened it wide and pulled out a saddlebag.
I can have a soothing cup of tea.
Roseluck returned to her bookshelf and pulled out four books, all of them for novice poets.
Maybe put some soothing music on and relax; then, I can study until evening.
She brought the books to her saddlebag and, with a twist of her dextrous hooves, opened it to carefully place the objects within.
Roseluck’s green eyes blinked at the bag at her feet. “When did that get there?!” she asked aloud, her voice incredulous and confused. To her relief, nothing answered her.
“I’m going to regret this.”
The door to her shop squeaked open and Roseluck stepped out, the afternoon sun beaming down onto her head. Slowly, she took a deep breath of the fresh spring air, catching hints of wild flowers and unwashed bodies.
“Beautiful day, ain’t it?” a voice said from right behind and above her.
Roseluck jumped and spun around, blinking dumbly at Raindrops, whom was upside down on the flower shop's roof. “What are you doing there, Rainy?” she asked, frowning up at her friend.
With a smile similar to that of a cheshire cat, Raindrops nimbly hopped off the roof, landing silently on the roadway with a flutter of her wings and the barest clatter of her hooves on the dirt road. “Do you see a single cloud in the sky?” she asked, almost daring Roseluck to find a speck of white.
Roseluck bit the bait and looked up, only to flinch away from the bright sunlight. “Okay, so you finished work?”
“Yup! A whole hour early!” The pegasus smiled and pranced on the spot. “I came here to help!”
Oh, anything but that, she begged wordlessly.
“It’s okay, Raindrops; I’m leaving. And anyway, I don’t think there’s anything you could do to really help at this point.”
Raindrops’ ears lowered and she looked away. Her gaze went to the townsponies walking around and the other shops lining the streets of Ponyville. “Okay, I guess. I’ll just go home, then. There’s nothing else to do.” She sighed. “All alone, in my room. Maybe I’ll play with a ball, tapping it against the wall until I fall asleep...”
Roseluck rolled her eyes. “All right, you can escort me to the town’s edge,” she said. “But no further. Or else...”
“Or else what?”
Roseluck gave her a sly grin. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
She shrugged. “Not really. So, where are we going?”
Roseluck turned and began walking, the hill Sweet Apple Acres resided on right ahead of her on the horizon. “I’m not sure, yet.”
Raindrop’s face scrunched up as she walked at Roseluck’s side. “You don’t know, yet? Well, what’s in the bag?”
“Oh, just books.”
“Books about what?” Raindrops pushed.
Roseluck swallowed hard. “Books that may or may not teach one to write and read poetry.”
The pegasus gasped, jumping to the air with her wings extending. “You’re going to see Big Mac!”
Roseluck misstepped. “What? No!”
“Yes you are!” Raindrops replied, turning it into a chant as she flew tight circles around her friend. “You’re going to Big M’s! You’re going to Big M’s!”
The earth pony’s hoof shot out, grabbing Raindrops by the scruff of her neck to drop her on the ground. “Shush, you!” she hissed, glancing at the few other ponies nearby. “That’s... well, okay, so I’m going to Sweet Apple Acres,” she said, her tongue tangling up. “I’m just bringing him some help. Nothing else.”
Raindrop’s waggled her eyebrows. “Oh, I’m sure that’s the case.”
“Well, it is!” Roseluck said, pouting.
Isn’t it?
They walked along, the edge of the town quickly approaching. “I understand you, Rosey. Do you know how few eligible bachelors there are in Ponyville? Let alone one as delicious as Big Mac? You've got the right idea to jump on him now! Not to mention what he might think of you-know-who. They’ll both be competing, you know...”
“Oh, her...” Roseluck looked at Raindrops. “Do you really think he’d like her?”
“Well, she’s sorta cute, I guess, and her vernacular is pretty hot, too. Last year, she spun circles around you at the compe...” Raindrops’ voice faded to nothing and she giggled twice, then blushed. “Well, you almost won. She’s just a natural showboater is all.”
They exchanged a look. “Yeah, almost... but it’s not the same this year. I really, really need the bits, and, well... he’s going to be there.” Roseluck’s eyes filled with a certain degree of hope and wishful thinking.
“Right! So, you have to do your best to help him,” Raindrop’s said matter-of-factly. “That way, you’ll win his heart, and the competition, despite there being no links between the two whatsoever.”
“Well, probably.”
“Although,” Raindorps’ said, touching a hoof to her chin, “I don’t see how asking Big Mac on a date would hurt your chances.”
“A-ask him on a what?” Roseluck asked, her mane standing straight on edge.
“You know, a date. All quiet, just the two of you, maybe at some schmancy restaurant. Then, you go to your place and... play with the birds and the bees and plant some seeds. Who knows what will sprout?”
A Raindrops smirked at her own wordplay Roseluck went stark still.
“A date?!” She’s mad! “I can’t ask him out on a date!” Ponies were stopping and staring at them, knowing smiles crossing more than one pair of lips. “What- what if he says no? What if I’m not his type? What if he’s got some weird fetish?”
Raindrops creeped closer, wrapping a wing around her friend in a semi-hug. “Don’t worry! I’m sure he’ll fall for you before her. You’re smart, talented, and your colour scheme’s one of the sweetest ones out there.” She tugged her friend closer. “What I mean to say is, you’re a great pony, and he’d be a big fat idiot if he didn’t want to date you.”
They arrived at the town’s edge, the houses and shops thinning out until only fields remained on either side. The hill dipped behind them, revealing a few thatch-roofed homes and a tall windmill spinning gently.
Roseluck slowed to a stop, adjusting the saddlebag on her back as she faced Raindrops. “Okay, Rainy, this is where we split.” Her friend’s ears drooped again. “Don’t worry, I’ll be right back.” She sighed and looked at the hill she needed to climb to reach her sought-after objective. “This is a bad idea, isn’t it.”
Raindrops placed a reassuring hoof on her shoulder. “There’s no such thing as a bad idea on the road to love,” she said, her voice resounding with an unfathomable wisdom. “You know, unless there’s kumquat involved.”
With a barked laugh and a quick roll of her eyes, Roseluck wheeled around and trotted away.
Stupid.So, stupid.
She walked towards the familiar path leading to the Apple family farm, trying her best to suppress the rising sense of deja-vu. The narrow road snaked around the apple orchards as it rose with a slow gradient, allowing any pony that willed it to walk amongst the fluttering butterflies and the cooling breeze playing with the leaves as if they were the finest of harps.
Insane.
Cresting the hill, Roseluck stopped, bags thumping at her sides as she sighed in exhaustion. The Apple Family barn rose ahead of her, the gigantic red building almost glowing as the midday sun illuminated its side. One of the double doors was open, revealing a much darker interior the light couldn’t quite touch.
Beyond it, the family’s house sat atop a small hill, shutters wide open and a fresh pie cooling on the window sill. Roseluck let out a deep sigh of relief when she saw nopony other than the inoffensive grandmother rocking in her chair, her head tilted back as she snored.
This is the stupidest idea I have ever had. No, the worst idea ever thought up by any mare in the long history of Equestria. Now, where’s Big Mac?
Her gaze travelled on, alighting on the barn. Worth a try, I guess. She trotted on, her ears perking at every bird call and whisper of wind on grass, hoping beyond hope to hear a certain baritone.
The barn’s entrance loomed above her, tall, dark, and ominous to the mare who was already searching for excuses to turn tail and bolt.
“Ah love you,” a deep voice said, filled with passion and strength, yet it still had the subtle tones of honesty.
Roseluck’s face reddened madly, her mind misfiring as she entered a daze.
“Love... dove... boxing glove... labour of.... Nnnope,” the voice spilling out of the barn said.
She blinked dumbly, edging towards the opening before sniffing. The musky odours of hay, fresh apples, and sweat were thick within the greenhouse-like building. Is that? No, it couldn’t be.
The sound of pen scratching on paper filled the room for a few brief seconds, followed shortly by a grunt that came from beyond a wall made of hay-bales. He coughed, just as Roseluck reached the bales and climbed up to look over the top-most block.
The straw scratched her chin and belly, tickling her as both her beige ears and eyes peeked over.
Big Macintosh sat on the rough dirt ground, brows furrowed as he glared at a piece of paper. In his massive square jaw was a quill slowly dripping ink onto the ground with tiny splatters. But the most important feature Roseluck immediately noticed were the thick spectacles just barely hanging onto the tip of his nose. Sweet Celestia, she thought, immediately smacking a hoof over her mouth to smother a squeak.
He leaned forwards, the taunt muscles in his neck stretching as he scratched out a line of text and scribbled another. “Nnope,” he sighed, the frustration in his deep voice carrying through the building.
Turning, he gently deposited the quill into an ink jar and squinted through his spectacles at the text. Clearing his throat, he began:
“When I see your smiling face,
Nopony else can compare,
But alas, I continue unrequited,
How I so desperately wish you were aware…”
Big Macintosh sighed and placed one of his hooves over the sheet, slowly beginning to drag it down.
“No!” Roseluck cried as she climbed further up the bale and stretched out her forehoof.
They froze, staring at one another unblinkingly while both their faces gained a few hues of red. “Uh, um, hi?” she said.
Beneath her, the hay shifted, the once neat and square bale ripping asunder under her weight to send her tumbling forwards.
Roseluck looked up from the ground at Big Macintosh, a sheepish grin crossing her lips as she lay sprawled at his hooves.
“Um, ya’ need a hoof, Miss Roseluck?” he asked.
She blinked at him before scrambling back to her hooves, her entire body covered in bits and pieces of hay. “Oh, no, I’m good and all right and good,” she babbled. Look at yourself, turned into a rambling idiot just because he has those incredibly adorable little glasses that make you want to press your tongue to his face as though he were a lollipop. Roseluck shook her head, and the burgundy locks of her mane went tumbling to and fro as she shook off the dust and grime. She tried to clear her mind her mind as the shafts of hay and straw fell from her.
Stop being so silly. Focus.
“So, um, hi?” she said.
“Hello.”
“Were you... was that... poetry?” she asked while pawing the ground.
For a few moments, the sound of her hoof rhythmically beating the barn floor was the only thing heard. A breeze snuck into the building, shuffling the loose hay and stealing his attention before he answered, “Eeyup.” Blood rushed to the stallion’s face.
“Could you read it?”
“Eeyup,” he replied, not moving an inch. Both ponies stood in the middle of the barn, old wooden walls and well-worn stalls all around them giving a sense of tranquility and peace.
One of her eyebrows rose. “Would you? What you read was really pretty...”
“Well, Ah guess Ah could.” Scratching the nape of his neck, his eyes skimmed over to the piece of paper. “But only if ya’ promise not tah laugh.”
Oh, Goddess, I get to see Big Mac, alone, reading a romantic poem. The mare’s head bobbed up and down, straining all of her muscles as she vigorously agreed.
Clearing his throat, Big Macintosh lifted the paper to his face, glanced at it, then peeked at her from over the edge.
“Once more, she deigns to grace us mere mortals with her presence.
Her brilliance and grace threaten to reduce me to tears.
Such beauty was not meant to be wasted on fools such as myself,
but the heavens themselves have seen fit to bestow her radiance upon my dreary life.
Were I a greater stallion, I would sweep her off of her hooves
and I would not rest until I saw each and every one of her desires fulfilled.
But alas, I am quite so beneath her, a humble laborer slaving in the fields.
Pining on the ground at her hooves, no more fit to care for her than the soil she trots.
One day, I hope to free myself from the endless cycle of loneliness I find myself trapped in
and confess my heartfelt wishes to her.
To spend each day with her in my embrace,
in deepest love, together, forever.”
He finished, his deep baritone echoing against the walls for a few precious seconds, repeating the last syllable endlessly. Roseluck’s mouth shut with a smack, and she swallowed hard. Was he, was he talking about... No, he couldn’t. Her cheeks reddened at the thought.
“That was beautiful,” she said, eyes sparkling as she demurely focused on her hooves. Her eyes widened at a thought before she jerked her head up. “So, um, who did you write that for?”
“J-just...” The stallion stuttered, setting her heart aflutter. Big Macintosh cleared his throat and looked right at her, unblinkingly staring into her eyes. “Ah wrote it ‘bout a mare, one Ah only met just recently an’ find mahself respectin’ more that a fair touch.”
Tears sprang to her eyes and quickly disappeared under a flurry of rapid blinks. He’s... no... really? she thought, her heart swelling to the breaking point even as she began to feel faint. Maybe I should ask him on a date. We could eat together, and recite poetry, and... then... maybe...
The mare shook her head, prompting the stallion to study the hay dejectedly.
“Oh! I-I, um, I would really like to meet that mare, one day,” she said, her own attention on the ground as her cheeks flushed red.
Big Macintosh let out a tiny, almost imperceptible, sigh of relief. “Eeyup.”
“So, um.” Roseluck pawed at the ground. “Oh!” Spinning around, the mare unclasped the buckles of her saddle bag and tossed the velvety flap aside, revealing the small bounty of books within. “I was going to bring these for you. I thought you’d like them, and I know they’ll help.”
Gently, she pulled out one tome after another, creating a stack on the dirt ground that reached up to her knees. Her work completed, Roseluck sat down, a sheepish look crossing her features as she bit her lower lip. “I do hope they help.”
“Ah’m sure they will, ma’am,” Big Macintosh said, nodding firmly and solemnly. “Thank you fer bringing them; Ah’ll study them diligently.”
They sat apart from one another, exchanging quick embarrassed glances before staring off to another obscure corner of the barn. “Would you...” Come on Roseluck, you can do this! She squinted her eyes shut, feeling the vivid heat touching her cheeks. “Maybe we could, go out... side. It’s really warm in here!” Horseapples!
“Ah’d be delighted to escort you out, ma’am,” he said, allowing her to notice the bullets of sweat pouring down the nape of his muscular neck as he walked to her side and gently pointed the way to the entrance.
Head down, Roseluck tried to stomp down the voice whispering at her to explain to Big Macintosh her feelings right then and there. Instead, the mare found herself fighting against a massive lump in her throat as she blindly followed his lead towards the exit. The cool outdoor air washed over her, playing with her mane even as it sent shivers down her spine.
“One sec; Ah’ve got something to fetch,” Big Macintosh's deep voice announced before he spun around and trotted back into the barn, his hoofsteps fading as he walked deeper into the structure.
Roseluck took a deep, calming breath, her eyes playing across the awesome view of Ponyville below and the ever smaller fields of apple trees in bloom. Maybe it’s for the best? She sighed. I guess I’ll just make an excuse and go back home. The competition’s in less than a day.
The stallion returned, a scrap of paper held tightly between his lips before he gently placed it at her hooves. He lifted his head and looked at her. “Miss Roseluck, Ah... Ah wanted you to have that, please.”
“You thanks,” she said, feeling the words fall from her in the wrong order. All her excuses melted away the split second their eyes met, rendering her words into a puddle of mumbled phrases and incoherent syllables. After a quick, soothing puff of air, the mare spoke in plain pony. “I-I should be going. Thanks for... that.” She coughed, bent down, and picked the note up, before practically galloping away.
Behind her, Big Macintosh’s shoulder drooped and he wiped a powerful hoof across his sweaty forehead.
“Eeyup.”
She ran.
Hooves tramped the soil of the path connecting Sweet Apple Acres and Ponyville as she galloped down the hill, ignoring the sights and smells of the nature around her. Trees blurred by and the birdsong became an incomprehensible mess.
At once she felt herself lift, and as she cleared the ditch she found herself in the grove of trees, the petals of apple blossoms falling around her as her lungs burned and her legs began to become weak.
Roseluck slowed to a halt. She laid down beneath one of the trees, breathing heavily as the warmth of her chest met the coolness of the shaded earth beneath the branches. “I’m so stupid,” she said aloud to the apple blossoms as she fumbled with her hooves, dropping the note.
Roseluck stared at the piece of paper for a few moments before finally giving in. Picking at it carefully with both her teeth and her hooves, she carefully unfolded the sheet and laid it flat across the ground and read:
“You are the most exquisite thing in all of creation,
Much more so than the beloved apple.
For although they serve towards hunger’s placation,
Harvesting them can be quite a hassle.
No written work could ever compare,
Their measured meter and careful rhyme.
As their pages fade and succumb to wear,
Forever lost in the sands of time.
But nothing can surpass such a wondrous mare,
Whose laugh puts the melodious chime to shame.
Unmatched grace, unparalleled care,
Oh, how I wish your heart I could claim!
Perhaps courage will one day descend from above,
And allow me to ask if you could return my love.”
After a few minutes, Roseluck remembered to begin breathing again.
She sat there, rereading the note again and again, the feeling of breathlessness returning each time. She read it to herself six, seven times, and soon she found that she was no longer looking down at it.
Somehow, she had rolled over onto her back. The poem was held above her, in her hooves, and the words were now highlighted in the midday sun.
Slowly, she lowered it to her chest and barrel. She blinked in the few beams of sun that fell through the shady branches of the tree, and then closed her eyes.
A few apple blossom petals fell around her, gently touching across her body before settling to the earth. She held the poem closer to herself, concentrating on the feel of the flowers... but imagining that their touch came from a different source.
“He wrote me a poem,” she whispered. A small breeze rolled through the orchard, freeing a cascade of petals from the trees and fueling her imagination.
Huge thank you to Cpl Hooves for aiding with the cheesy poetry.
Wrought by: -RavensDagger -High Lord of Grammar, Mighty Avenger of Orthography, Defender of the Poetic Prose, the Common Word, and his pet Raven called Charles: The Descendant*
Edited by: -StapleCactus
Pre Read by: -Cpl Hooves -Frederick the Saiyan -FlutterSyke
It was the light of the breaking dawn that roused her.
A sliver of the sun peeked through a crack in her lacey, flower-patterned curtains and splashed across the mare’s face, illuminating her vibrant mane. She sighed as she hid her face from the light, some part of her mind wishing it would simply disappear and leave her to the soft feel of her little bed.
Roseluck breathed a contented sigh, stretching her limbs in every direction until each and every muscle pulled taut and the sleepiness drifted out of her. That accomplished, she relaxed, letting out a much deeper sigh, one that emptied her lungs.
It was only then that she allowed her eyes to open and blankly stare at her stucco ceiling. I’m in love with Big Macintosh, she thought, allowing both a blush and a smile to cross her sleepy features.
Twisting herself, the mare glanced at her alarm clock. More importantly, her eyes settled upon the crumpled note beside it, trying to recall just when she had deposited the precious object on her nightstand.
Ahh. He loves me too. Her smile widened, and the mare flashed a toothy grin at the world around her as she rolled out of bed. Plenty of time to get there; it’s a big day and I should be as ready as I can!
Stretching once more, the mare allowed her gaze to freely wander around her small apartment. Ahead of her was the antique stand and mirror where she kept the few bottles and jars of makeup she owned. She could see her own disheveled form in the reflective surface. Her mane was plastered against her head by the night’s sleep.
She giggled at herself, and then trotted forwards. Everything felt like it deserved a giggle. Everything was suddenly so much... happier.
I’m in love with Mac...
She lazily wove among the tall stacks of books, avoiding the piles that adorned the otherwise spotless floor of the room as she made her way through the wide-open door to the living room beyond.
The couches were covered in open textbooks with highlights and scribbled notes on the margins. The bookshelves lining every wall were missing half of their contents, most of which resided in columns haphazardly placed around the room. At the far end, her favourite rocking chair stood still, a cup of now-cold coffee staining a ring on its wooden arm.
She partook of the aroma, reveling in both the scent of knowledge emanating from the open books and the faint smell of orchids and lilies. With gleeful prancing, the mare excitedly made her way across the living room into the open kitchen, tossing two pieces of bread into her toaster and pressing down the tab with her tail. Roseluck waited patiently, her mind travelling over the mental checklist of things to do.
The smell of baking bread assaulted her before the toaster popped. Humming to herself in verses, the mare took the toast and began spreading jam across the warm surface. Her soft humming continued as she took her breakfast in her mouth, turned...
… and came face to face with a smiling Raindrops.
“Hiya, Rosey!” the pegasus called.
Pieces of the jam-covered toast went flying everywhere as Roseluck flopped to the ground.
From the floor, Roseluck gently lifted her head, staring into Raindrops’ sparkling eyes. “Hi, Rosey!” the mare repeated. “How’re you doing?”
What’s she—? But the door’s loc—but how? Roseluck shook her head, eliminating the wild thoughts running through her mind as she scowled and stood.
“What’re you doing here, Drippy?”
Raindrops hopped up and down in place, her wings fluttering hard enough to bend the frail leaves of the bonzai on the window sill, the tree losing yet another of its bent leaves to the breeze.
“I just wanted to see you! It’s the big day, after all!”
Roseluck’s frown refused to fade. “Uh-huh. You know, I was having the perfect morning before you arrived. It was great. I got up on the right side of the bed, made my favourite toast, and was just running through the list of poems I memorized for the occasion when, bam, here you are!”
“Here I am!” the pegasus repeated joyously. “So, are you excited?”
Roseluck picked up her toast from the ground, glaring at the long spidery lines of jam connecting it to the floor. That’ll go for another day, she thought as she tossed the thing into the trash.
“Yes, Raindrops, I’m excited. Now, how’d you get in here?”
“The window,” Raindrops replied, extending a wing towards the nearby window. The very tip of her feather brushed against the potted bonzai, pushing it the millimeter it needed to slide out of the window to the world beyond. One-hundredth of a second later, Raindrops and Roseluck both cringed at the sound of ceramic crashing.
“Ooops?”
Great, and I was having such a good morning...
“All right,” Roseluck sighed. “Go outside, get the bonsai, and bring it back, but take your time!” she said, emphasizing the latter. “Meanwhile, I’ll finish preparing myself to go.”
Raindrops saluted, forehoof slapping at her forehead as she executed the crisp maneuver. “Yes, ma’am!” With that, the mare spun around and took a few steps, then hopped into the air to slip through the window.
Roseluck reared up and slammed the windows shut, shoving a nearby book into the frame to keep it closed.
That should win me a few minutes. Now, what to do first? I’ve lost my appetite; I took a bath to relax last night...
Her eyes wandered across the room, landing on a particular set of notepads on the door’s edge. Her secret weapons. Every poem ever recited by her utmost rival, including all her favourites and the ones used to win the competition the preceding year.
Roseluck shook out her hair and tried to get it to settle before crossing the room and picking up the pad. Beside each poem was a counter, one she knew was its equivalent or better.
Ah, I have it in the bag this year. I have to win, and I shall!
With a happy heart and plenty of self-confidence, Roseluck picked up the notes and tossed them into her saddle bags.
“What’d you put in the bag?” Raindrops asked, not an inch behind Roseluck’s head.
The beige mare climbed into the air in fright before crashing to the ground once more. Blinking, Roseluck’s gaze went from her puffy-faced and smiling friend, to the still-closed door of her house. “How in the name of Luna’s dark behind did you get there?!”
Raindrops looked away, ears tilting down in shame. “Well, I used the other window...”
What?
“What other window?” Roseluck asked.
“The one in your bathroom. I’m real familiar with it.”
“I-I... No, I don’t want to know. Should we get going, already?” The earth pony mare spared a few seconds to peek at a wall-mounted clock and almost cringed as she noticed the time. Time waited for nopony, not even those seeking love. “We’re going to be late.”
“Yup! Let’s go!” Raindrops said as she took to the air and headed to the back of the house.
Where’s she going? Raindrops wondered. “The door is this way,” she said, pointing towards the exit.
“Oh, hehe, I was going out the window again,” Raindrops tittered and giggled aimlessly.
Rolling her eyes, Roseluck turned and trotted to the front door, adjusting her saddlebag as she went.
Backs straight and heads held high in confidence, both mares left the house. They shut and locked the door behind them, leaving the home devoid of life, but for a lonely bonsai in a corner. One she had forgotten to water.
The streets were packed.
Or, at least to the nervous mare, it felt as though they were packed.
In reality, a mere dozen ponies were trotting in the same direction, leisurely taking their time as they headed to the great stage set on the town’s edge, some purposefully, most out of an innate curiosity.
Celestia’s sun beamed down at them, the rays just hot enough to warm their coats without burning them or causing an undue amount of sweat. That did little to help Roseluck.
“Don’t worry!” Raindrops said as she batted a hoof through the air dismissively. “I’m sure she won’t even be that good. Remember how she totalled you last year? It looked like she was leagues ahead of you. But honestly, you worked your fanny off; I’m sure you grew a ton!” The mare fluttered behind her, eyeing her friend’s backside. “So did your fanny.”
“Um, thanks?” Roseluck said, her voice soft and threatening to crack. As she got closer and closer to the location of the event, her back curved and all of her confidence slowly ebbed out.
Raindrops was spurred on by the quiet as they crossed the town’s busy business district and into residential area. At the end of the road were groups of ponies staring over the picket fence that marked the performance area’s limits. “I mean, she had plenty of time to practice, too. In fact, I heard a rumour from Fanny—the clerk at the post office, not your behind—not that it doesn’t speak very fluently.”
“Anywho, she told me your little rival actually spent last year’s winnings, or some of it, to pay herself a month off. One she used to study. Can you imagine? A whole month of becoming better!”
“Raindrops?”
The pegasus fluttered a little higher, seemingly happy just to be addressed. “Yup, Rosey?”
“Would you kindly change the subject?” Roseluck asked, undisguised menace lurking within her voice.
“Oh, okay,” she replied, discouraged for only a second before her good cheer took over. “So, are you going to snog Big Mac if he wins?”
Roseluck sputtered, whatever saliva she had spraying out in an arc before her, creating a tiny rainbow as the day’s light flowed through it. “What?!”
“I mean, if he wins, then you have to give him a victory kiss. And if you win, he’ll probably think that you’re pretty darn cool... for a geek.” Raindrops flew ahead, spun around, and let herself glide backwards, ignoring the approaching crowd. “Did you forget he’d be there? The love of your life? Really? If he’s participating, then he gets to judge you too, and his hooves sure make some noise. So, it'll be easy to see if he likes you.”
“I-I guess.” Roseluck blushed.
Will he like me? I’d like him to.
“And what will you do if you’re set against each other? It’s a competition, after all. Will you let yourself lose? The Apples love winning. Or will you try to beat him? Show him that you’re the mare?”
“I don’t know...” Roseluck replied, her voice sliding into an uncertain quietness as her mane slowly deflated.
Will I be good enough for him? Oh no, what should I do? she wondered as she bit her lower lip.
They kept walking in relative silence, only the sounds of the milling crowd and Raindrop’s spontaneous and off-key humming filling the air. “Did you wear any makeup?” Raindrops suddenly asked.
Roseluck blinked. “Um, no?”
“Huh, I can tell.”
Roseluck slowed to a halt and touched her face. Do I look bad? What if I look silly, or messy? I should have taken a shower, and dressed up. She’ll be dressed; I know it. Oh, Celestia, I’m going to fail so horrendously!
They both carried on, Raindrops clapping her hooves together excitedly as she raced ahead. “Look, Rosey! It’s so awesome!” she called over her shoulder.
The stage before them was clearly meant to rival the preceding year’s, and then blow it away. And then set it on fire. And then write nasty things about it in the local newspapers. Thick wooden beams criss-crossed together as they rose from the ground to hold up a wooden platform. Behind which, a three-sided wall drew the attention of the viewer to the centre. There, two stands were set, both of them topped with a muffler-covered microphone.
At the base of the stage, behind an oaken desk covered in blank sheets, score systems, and forms, was the head judge and scorekeeper: Mister Inky Scribeswell. The blue unicorn huffed in derision at a young foal that approached for a signature.
Roseluck’s eyes were drawn to a board placed to the side of the seating area. On it were dozens of names at the bottom, as well as a skeleton of connecting lines ending in two meeting at the very top.
Oh, Celestia... the scoring brackets, she thought as she unconsciously walked towards them.
Raindrops thumped to her side and followed her friend, smiling dumbly at any passerby. “Where’re you going?”
“If you sign up early,” Roseluck explained, “you get a designated spot on the board. Then, you can see who you’re going to go up against. There are only four rounds. Entering, Semi, Semi-final, and Final. It’s what all the professionals do.”
“Is that what you did?” she asked as they neared a desk tucked beneath the board.
“Of course,” Roseluck said as she stepped up to the table.
“Hello,” said a secretary sitting beyond the wooden surface. “Registration, ticketing, or joining?”
“Joining. My name is Roseluck.” Roseluck reached out and grabbed the ticket hoofed to her by the secretary, then looked up. “And one guest, please.” She received another.
“I’ll register, too!” Raindrops shouted as she pushed her friend aside.
The secretary blinked at her, then shrugged. She muttered something about ‘cannon fodder’ as Raindrops signed the sheet.
“Raindrops!” Roseluck protested. “You don’t know anything about poetry! How can you...”
“Oh shush. I can try, can’t I?” the mare said as she grabbed onto the form. “And I think I’ll do all right!” she huffed before walking by Roseluck and heading to the nearby benches. There, she melded into the single file line of ponies slowly funneling through the gate guarded by a suit-wearing bouncer.
Roseluck shrugged. At least she’ll make for easy competition, she thought as she caught up to her friend. As they slowly coasted into the winding column, she closed her eyes tightly. I need to win. If I lose, it’s not only my love life; it’s my home, my job, my everything. So much counting on this one event. The mare swallowed hard, then let out a shuddering breath, one Raindrops picked up on.
“Are you okay?” the pegasus asked, leaning in towards her friend. “You don’t seem so hot.”
Roseluck shot a glare at her. “Thanks. That’s all I needed to know right about now. That I’m not pretty to boot. I’m already going to fail at this, make myself look like a fool, and fight against crazy odds.”
“Rosey, you’re so stupid!” Raindrops said aloud, drawing the attention of the others in the line. “You’re the single best mare I know! Every time I’m in trouble, you save my sorry flank. Every time somepony’s plants get sick, you’re right there helping them, sometimes for free. You’re always giving away the things you work hard for, you do your best to help everypony, and you study like mad for the things you love and are passionate for!” The mare stomped a hoof into the ground while her eyes filled with passionate tears. “I love you, you stupid mare!”
Raindrops slammed her side onto Roseluck while the beige mare blinked dumbly, wrapping a wing around her tightly. “And don’t you ever think you’re not good enough for anything, ever!”
The crowd was staring, dozens of eyes fixated on Roseluck as she gently pried her friend away from her. She might be crazy, but she’s a real friend, she thought, an unwilling smile making its way to her lips. “Thanks, Drippy... now, let go of me, will you? We have a competition to win!”
I can do this. I might not be the best or the greatest, but I’m the one with the most on the line. I can take pride in that. Shepuffed out her chest, confidence building in her as she stomped past the gate, her ticket fluttering in the air in her wake until the bouncer caught it.
Raindrops pranced at her side, smiling dumbly at the ponies that lifted eyebrows at her. “Yup, we’re going to win, because we’re the bestest at poems.”
Not the most eloquent delivery, but I can appreciate the sentiment.
Six rows of chairs were laid out on the lawn in front of the stage. All of them leaned at just the right angle for comfort and allow their occupants to tap their hooves onto the wooden knockers below.
Maneuvering forwards through the dense crowd of ponies, Roseluck tried to find a pair of free seats. Her green eyes were focused for any spot that seemed to not have half a dozen ponies questing for it. But, instead of finding the elusive seat, her eyes alighted on a combed-over blond mane belonging to a familiar stallion, one that happened to be sporting the tackiest of bow ties as his little sister wiped a kerchief across his face.
The mare’s heart fluttered madly, bouncing from side to side within her chest as she watched the stallion of her dreams gently bow under his sister ministrations. The sudden feeling of two warm hooves on her back sent a shock down her spine, one that made her jump in fright.
Raindrops head inched into her line of sight. “I’mma go find us some seats. You go talk to him.”
“No, I coul—”
“Yes, you could, and you will.” Raindrops nodded as sagely as she could.
“But, what if he... and... but... I couldn't... ” she yelped, face as red as her mane as she lost all dignity and clutched onto her friend. “Don’t leave me!”
Raindrops’ eyes rolled, and she threatened to leave as the crowd thickened around them. “Look, go there, say hello, wish him the best of luck. That’s it. I’ll be around here somewhere to swoop in and save your pretty plot if anything goes horribly wrong.” The mare shoved Roseluck forwards, almost sending her reeling into an old stallion. “Now go!”
Right, it’s no biggie. I’m acting like a foal. I am a mare with dignity; there’s no reason for me to fear that hot, sweaty piece of stallion. Again, she swallowed hard and walked stiff-legged through the assembly of prose-loving ponies.
Big Macintosh didn’t see her. Instead, his gaze was scanning through the seats, going from the face of one mare to the other. At his side, Applejack spat onto her hoof and rubbed the viscous liquid on a stray strand of mane on her brother’s head.
Roseluck took a deep soothing breath, one that calmed her nerves as she settled at his side, saddlebags shifting into place. “Hello, Mister Macintosh,” she said over the hubbub of the ponies.
The stallion immediately gave her his undivided attention, much to the ire of his sister who rolled her eyes. Applejack sat back and looked upon the two of them judgmentally as she used her hat as a fan. “Hello, Miss Roseluck,” he said before giving her a court bow of his head. “How’re you doin’?”
“I-I...” Roseluck shook her head, mane sliding in front of her eyes. I can do it; stop acting like a school-filly! she abused herself within her mind. Her blush deepened. “I’m doing fine, thank you. I just wanted to wish you the best of luck.”
She extended a hoof.
“Ah don’t mind you two sharin’ well-wishes and all,” Applejack said as she looked quite firmly at Roseluck. “But keep it at that. Wishes.”
Big Macintosh ignored his sister and shook her hoof, his strong limb only gently caressing her own. “Eeyup. Ah’m sure you’ll beat me by a landslide. Ah just hope to keep up long enough to say what I ought to say.”
The possibilities of just what it was the big stallion wanted to tell her raced through her mind before being banished to a far and dark corner.
It’s probably nothing.
“I’m not that good.”
“Nnope,” the stallion denied, shaking his head. “Ah’m sure you’ll be the best,” he continued.
Roseluck blushed and took a few moments to examine her hooves. “Thank you—”
A hush spread out as the last of the ponies found themselves seats and Inky Scribeswell climbed onto the stage. The blue-grey unicorn licked his lips, sat down in front of one of the microphones, then reached into his coat pocket to pull out both thick reading glasses and a large wad of papers.
“I guess I should go,” Roseluck whispered before starting to turn. “I’ll see you soon?”
“Eeyup.” Big Macintosh nodded as he watched her go. His sister gave his shoulder a swift jab before huffing and dragging him to their seats.
Roseluck glared at the orange mare before closing her eyes and finishing her turn. It doesn’t concern me. Now, where’s Drippy? she wondered.
Behind her, nearly every seat in sight was filled and hundreds of ponies flocked beyond the picket fence, quiet despite their quantity. Mares and stallions peeked over each other’s head, only looking back to glare or shush any that made so much as a peep. The air began to feel hot and thick to Roseluck as she made her way to the back, the knowledge that she would soon be performing in front of that entire crowd weighing on her.
I can do it. I have to... Now where’s Raindrops!
“Rosey!” the pegasus shouted as she stood near the far row, a hoof on an unfortunate pony’s head as she climbed onto a chair.
A hundred glares shot out, all of them deflected by the mare’s inattention. “I found us a chairs!”
Roseluck looked elsewhere. Maybe there’s a free spot? Somewhere far, far away from her? she thought while boldly attempting to deny any foreknowledge that she knew the prancing mare.
“Ladies and Gentlecolts,” the old buck said, his voice reedy and thin. He coughed onto the sleeves of his tweed jacket. Some of the uninformed in the crowd bent forwards, perked their ears, or even dared to giggle at him.
“Laaadiiieeees and Gentlecoolllts!” The stallion’s voice blasted out across the assembly, disheveling manes and knocking over fillies.
“Welcome to the two-hundredth and third annual Cross-Equestrian Poetry Com-pe-ti-tion!” The old stallion leaned forwards, tipping the microphone stand and winking at a few pretty mares. “Are you fillies and colts ready? We’re about to reveal our contestants and the who’s who of this wonderful event!”
Roseluck skipped forward, head low as she made her way to Raindrops’ side with profuse apologies to those she disturbed. Come on, I need to see the tables! she thought before sitting at Raindrops side. To her immediate left, a seat was left empty.
Hundreds of sparklers and fireworks went off around the billboard near the entrance, grabbing and keeping the attention of all as the tarp on it waved and fell, cascading to the ground in a massive woosh.
In the front row, a first-time attendee slapped her forehooves rapidly onto the wooden plaque in front of her seat. Inky made his way to the stage’s edge and glared down at her until the claps subsided into nothingness. The mare bowed her head in shame.
Roseluck sighed in relief. I’m not against Big Macintosh. Her eyes then scanned down the list, fixating on the name of her worst enemy, the one who had consistently defeated her.
“Are you okay, Rosey?” Raindrops asked in a whisper, earning herself a few more glares. “You’re shivering all over. Ya’ know, kinda like that time I realllly had to go, and your flower bed was just there...”
“I’m fine, just a little, tiny bit nervous.” She waved in dismissal. “I’ll be better once it starts.”
As long as the competition isn’t too hard, I should be able to do well.
Inky coughed into his microphone, voice amplified by the two magical speakers at either end of the stage. “Competitors and audience, you can now see who is going to fight with whom in this battle of words. May the words be always in your favour.” Every veteran nodded as one, including Roseluck who gave the tiniest of smiles upon seeing Big Macintosh's confused look.
“Now! For the prize for our victors!” With a flourish, the bow-tied old stallion twirled his hoof and pointed to the centre stage where an explosion of smoke and glitter appeared before dissipating in the light wind. As the cloud faded, a thick sack appeared, one with the iconic symbol of the bit emblazoned on its side. “Our lucky winner shall receive a grandiose award of five hundred bits!”
Swallowing hard, Roseluck tallied the large sum in her mind. That’s... that’s more than I make in peak season, if it lasted six months! I need to win.
With another puff and putter of smoke, the bag disappeared. “We have one last thing to ask for: your absolute quiet. Silence is golden, as is this competition, so please, be as discreet as possible at all times unless prompted to vote. The voting shall be carried out with your hooves.” He pointed to the desk where he had been sitting earlier, located near the stairs to the stage. On it was a tall device with gilded decorations and a huge gauge. “I present to thee, our Clopometer: a device that measures the level and enthusiasm of any crowd. That is all.”
The stallion spun and walked off the stage towards his desk where he adjusted a black stick ending in a net-covered bulb. Scribeswell pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “I shall call upon our first competitors: One Madam Rarity, and one Sir Snowflakes. Please step onto the stage.”
Two rows in front of Roseluck, a white-coated mare stood, her gleaming purple mane catching onto the sun’s rays and sparkling as it settled perfectly around her neck. Rarity pranced forwards, muzzle in the air as she stepped upon the stage, oozing confidence the entire time. She looks like trouble, Roseluck thought as her eyes narrowed at the mare.
From the opposite end of the crowd, a full grown pegasus stood, his tiny white wings fluttering as he hobbled towards the stage. With massive muscles bulging at every step, he visibly held back a scream.
“The usual rule of ladies first shall apply,” Inky said, pushing up his glasses as he spoke. “Madam Rarity, who would you like to start?”
“Hmm,” the mare hummed, tapping a manicured hoof to her chin. “I believe it only fair to begin myself,” she spoke into her microphone, voice perfectly pitched to sound both educated, fair, and condescending. Lightly, she coughed, before beginning.
“Dreams fancied her another time
And in those times she'd work and rhyme
Dancing, humming, singing of love
She longed to be adored above all else around
Her chance did come, oh at long last!
To leave her prince fully aghast
Lost in her eyes, his heart would fly
And together the two would lie under the stars
When he saw her, he turned away
No, it was not to be this way!
She took flight after him with haste
But the mare was not of his taste, the poorest dear
The prince was cold as his namesake
His heart was stone, his smile fake
Desperately clinging to her dream
She knew her fight had turned upstream, her fancy died
She left the Gala in a trance
She had not even had a chance
To show the land her noble heart
Nor her business did she impart, not that they'd hear
For her the night had come to close
Over nobles, her friends she chose
The night was a wash, oh no doubt
But her heart escaped pending drought of broken dreams”
Throughout the crowd, dozen of ponies clapped their hooves against their wooden bars, including a reluctant Roseluck. She’s pretty good, she thought as she eyed the clopometer. The red bar within the machine ticked up to the six mark.
“I believe it’s your turn, Mister... Snowflakes?” she said, raising an eyebrow at the stallion. “Try your best.” With a sly smile, the mare spun around and walked a few steps from her microphone.
“Yeah,” the stallion said under his breath, flexing every muscle in his massive body as he stepped up to the microphone.
“If you can LIFT when all others around you are flailing their weak little hooves,
Looking like a bunch of sissies;
If you can look yourself in the mirror every morning and go,
‘YEEEAAAAAHHH, take a look at this fine speciman!’
If you can can make mares swoon with just a manly glance,
Or, being glared at, glare back and break a window,
Or tell haters: ‘Deal with it son.’
If you can dream of being strong,
Yet not only dream but be strong
Then son,
You'll be a stallion.
YEEEEEEEEEEEEEE--”
The massive pony took in an equally massive gulp of air before screaming, his entire face contorting as his jowls flapped around and a deluge of spittle assaulting the ponies in the foremost rows.
“--EEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAH!”
The clapping was as deafening as it was sporadic; nopony seemed to know whether they should clap or blink dumbly at the prose. That was... impressive. Roseluck’s eyes narrowed as they looked at the Clopometer.
The red needle twitched forwards before finally freezing on the mark of seven point one.
“Yeeeaaahhh!” Snowflakes shouted as he reared onto his hind legs and flexed. Throughout the crowd, a murmur of surprise and elation at the first victory spread around unabated, until Inky slapped a gavel onto his desk, the loud tap cutting off any conversations.
“Sir Snowflake has won.” The old pony coughed, then flipped a tiny hourglass over, allowing a steady pour of sand to dribble to the bottom. “We will take a two minute pause. Noise is allowed, but please keep it at a respectable low.”
Raindrops placed a wingtip on her friend’s shoulder. “That was so cool! Way better than last year’s! Didn’t you love it?” she asked, eyes sparkling even as her entire body shivered with excitement.
“Yeah, much better.”
It was hard enough to scratch by last year...
Her gaze wandered to the scoreboard as a pegasus moved Snowflake’s plaque forwards, turning his victory into an absolute. Roseluck gulped. “I don’t know if I can do it,” she suddenly admitted aloud.
“Aw, don’t say that. I’m sure the rest of them are all shaking in their boots. Except for Her. She doesn’t wear boots.”
“Yeah...” Roseluck sighed. On stage, Rarity was walking away, escorted by a young gentlecolt as the mare bawled her eyes out, long runs of makeup running down her cheeks. “But what if I end up like her?” she wondered aloud.
Raindrops hummed. “Well, you could live with me?” The mare’s eyes suddenly widened and she gasped. “It could be like a slumber party... but foreveeeeer.”
“No, I can’t afford to lose.” Roseluck stomped a hoof down, clacking it against her clopping device.
“Rosey, you don’t get it, do you?” Raindrops shook her head. “This isn’t about being the best; it’s about pushing yourself, becoming better. It’s not for others, or to entertain, or to make somepony happy. It’s about making something out of yourself.” She smiled conspiratorially and leaned towards Roseluck, eyebrows wagging the entire time. “And making sure Big Mac knows you’re hot with the vernacular. If you know what I mean.”
Roseluck stifled a giggle, one that shot saliva up her nose and sent her into a fit of coughing.
“Feeling better?” Raindrops asked, voice soft and kind. “I don’t like seeing you beat yourself up like that. Cheer up, will you? You have me, a great friend if I do say so myself, and Big Mac, a tender stallion that is really, really into you.”
A tiny blush spread across Roseluck’s cheeks. She is a good friend. “We don’t really know that...”
“Whether or not he loves you? Please, I read that poem...”
“I guess—” Roseluck froze as a nagging tingle travelled through her mind. “Wait just one moment. When did you read that poem, exactly?” she asked, glaring suspiciously at the pegasus.
Raindrops pointed at Inky as he levitated his gavel. “Look, it’s about to begin; no chit-chat timey now!”
Scribeswell climbed back onto the stage, his old back creaking in time with the wooden steps as another eerie silence spread across the assembled ponies. In the nearby forest, Roseluck could see a timid yellow pegasus gently encouraging the birds and critters to quell their noise.
Right, we’ll talk about that later.
The old stallion tapped a hoof against one of the microphones, as if to ascertain his role as orator. “We are about to begin the second round of this event! Are yooooouuu reaadyy?”
Nopony cheered. All was good.
“Our next contestants are Madam Twilight Sparkle and Mister Big Macintosh!” As he uttered the name of her beloved, Roseluck simultaneously slid to the edge of her seat and bit her lower lip, eyes narrowing onto Big Macintosh as he stood. The stallion looked over and right at her, his green eyes reflecting the midday sun with a calm twinkle as they locked into hers. He nodded, a tiny smile crossing his lips.
Roseluck swallowed hard as she watched him leave, joining Twilight Sparkle’s side as they made their way to the stage. Like the gentlecolt he was, Big Macintosh stood aside and aided the lavender mare up the steps before trotting to his position on the stage.
“Madam Twilight, do you wish to begin, or will the honours go to Mister Macintosh?” Inky asked as he sat at his desk.
“Statistically, those that go first have a twelve percent increase in viewer attention. I shall go first,” Twilight said as she adjusted the height of the microphone. Her horn glowing, the mare made a pair of thin glasses and a scroll appear out of midair, both levitating in front of her before she placed the purple glasses over her nose and unfurled the scroll. “And I quote:
What is in a name?
What about a summer’s day?
Simple. Lots of quarks.
They surround us all.
They make us all. Yay science!
They create us all.
The ravens above.
The cacti in the deserts.
The world we stand on.
All are made of quarks.
The Prench Astrophysicist
As he watches stars.
He is not concerned
Over the most noble quark
For he fears the mobs.
The mobs stalk the streets
Seeking to learn of the quark
But he hides in fear.
The quark is noble.
We must embrace its friendship.
For it makes us strong.”
“What’s a quark?” Raindrops asked as the sound of a hundred hooves slamming down on their wooden cloppers drowned out her question.
Worry and fear shot through Roseluck’s mind, but almost immediately they were drowned out by the sound. Still, one thought persisted: Poor Big Macintosh.
The Clopometer hit a solid seven point nine before freezing. Twilight blinked at the result. “Hmm, my math was off...” she murmured unknowingly into the microphone before trotting back to her place.
With a solid slap of Inky’s gavel, the crowd subsided, impatiently fretting in their seats as Big Macintosh walked to the microphone. Taking his time, the stallion bent down and grabbed the stand's adjustments, fixing them until the microphone was high enough to reach his chin. “Ah wrote this for somepony Ah really care about... Eeyup.
Words cannot do justice to the beauty of this mare,
My humble offering will surely fall short,
For she sets my heart off like a frightened hare,
Making my words impossible to sort.
Time and again I have tried to express
My deepest feelings for this angel,
But my attempts could only be labeled as tragic.
I can no longer, my love for her, suppress,
And have resolved that as long as I am able,
To confess to her just how she makes me feel fantastic.
Her radiant red mane can catch every ray of sunlight,
Amplifying its elegance a thousandfold.
But even in the dreary darkness of night,
She sets the world aglow with fairness untold.
The crimson she bears in both mane and tail
Match her perfectly to her namesake flower,
Streaking idly by, as she, her plants take care,
Leaving no doubt in my mind that she could never fail,
For a cure for her plants she would the world scour,
Time that I would give my hind legs to share.
So once more I attempt to speak from my heart,
Letting the dice fall where they may,
Yet I found it hard to make myself start,
Worried my speech might lose its way.
Then I thought about the object of my affections,
And how her presence makes me feel like I’m floating,
And I realized there was only one thing to do.
Ignoring any lingering objections,
I found the greatest thing worth noting:
The simple fact that I love you.”
Roseluck was the first to react, madly stabbing at her clopboard even as most mares -and some stallions- wiped their hooves across their eyes and finished their d’awwing.
He-he does like me.
Slowly but surely, every pony that had half a heart began pounding at their boards, the noise rising to a crescendo above them all. The red bar of the Clopometer gently and steadily rose until it shivered right below the eight point five mark.
Roseluck’s eyes went wide, sparkling in the midday sun as the sound of the thundering hooves hovered around the edge of the forest before dissipating into the clear blue sky.
“He won! He won!” Roseluck shouted as she hopped on the clopper, slapping the poor object with her hoof well after everypony else had stopped.
“Um, Rosey, I think you can stop now,” Raindrops whispered.
The mare’s eager clapping slowed to a halt as she became aware of the massive amount of attention she was attracting. On stage, Big Macintosh beamed proudly, their eyes meeting once more in a way that inflamed her face. “Sorry?” she squeaked to those around before bending her back and lowering her head; trying to hide from the hundreds of eyes seemingly boring into her from all sides. She snuck another look up at Big Macintosh before looking away once more.
“Sir Macintosh has won,” Inky announced in a dull monotone that conveyed no emotion. “We will take another short break and resume with our competition in mere moments.”
Another wave of murmurs crossed the crowd, most just above a whisper. Raindrops shoved Roseluck to the side, almost sending the mare tumbling out of her seat. “Huh?”
The pegasus waved Roseluck away with a flick of her wrist. “Go on, Rosey! Go congratulate him.”
Roseluck shook her head, mane settling around her shoulders. “No, I couldn’t...”
“Yes, do it.”
“No.”
“I know everything about you.”
The earth pony mare blinked. “What does that mean?”
A sly smile crossed her friend’s lips. “Everything.”
“I don’t—”
Raindrops leaned forwards, whispering a single word laden with both finality and dread: “Rosebud.”
Roseluck backed away, her shocked eyes refusing to blink as she gasped. “You-you wouldn’t...”
Raindrops smiled mischievously. “I dunno, Rosey... Big Mac looks like he could really use some congrats over there.”
Grumbling beneath her breath about ‘blackmail’ and ‘that one time in college’, Roseluck climbed out of her seat, tumbled her way out of the row, and began making her way to the stage.
The huge red stallion of her dreams was climbing down the steps, Twilight Sparkle prattling on at his side as she glared at number-covered sheets of paper. “I don’t know why I lost. Clearly, the crowd did not understand my references to the Prancian Revolution as told from the point of view of an astrophysicist. It’s really not fair; I spent days researching and fact checking. I don't think these ponies can understand the brilliance of history and science brought together in the bonds of prose!”
“Eeyup.”
“Honestly, I don’t think I could have done better. I tried so hard.” Twilight huffed.
“Nnope, couldn't have done better.”
“I guess I should just try again!”
“Nnope,” he said before shifting his attention to Roseluck. His gaze trailed the length of her body, taking in every minute detail as she shuffled towards him, trying to hide the fierce red threatening to inflame her cheeks. “H-hello, Miss Roseluck,” he said, bowing to her as a gentlecolt would.
“Uh, hi, Big Mac... I mean, Macintosh,” the mare faultered.
Nearby, Twilight eyed the two curiously, then shrugged before trotting away at the behest of a purple dragon.
“How are you doing? No, I mean, you did a wonderful job on stage. Your prose is very eloquent,” Roseluck said.
“Thank you, Miss Roseluck. You can call me Mac, if you wish. Ah don’t mind.”
They both stood there, opening and closing their mouths and waiting for one or the other to bring up a conversation. Finally, Roseluck broke into a fit of giggles. The sound of it called a gentle smile to Big Mac’s lips, and his ears perked towards her.
“We look like two foals, both too shy to talk to one another.”
The idea had flit around both of their minds at once, the two ponies unknowingly sharing the same thought as the murmurs of the whispering crowd drifted around them.
Big Macintosh joined in on her laughter, his deep baritone complimenting her light, fluttery voice. “Eeyup... So... um... maybe you’d like to sit... together?” he asked, one eyebrow rising.
Her heart skipped a beat. “I-I’d love that. There’s a free seat, right next to mine. If you want.”
“Ah’d love th—”
“Ladies and Gentlecolts!” Inky shouted through the speakers. “Our third contest of the day is about to begin!”
Already? Roseluck wondered with some trepidation. Oh well, he’ll be beside me the whole time! The mere thought of being so close to the hulking stallion visibly weakened her knees as they walked back to her seats. The few ponies between herself and her chair moved out of the way with stunning haste as Big Macintosh pushed forwards, carefully avoiding their scrambling limbs.
Finally, they sat, just as Inky resumed his presentation. “Get ready to welcome the third group of contestants: Miss Colgate, and Miss Derpy Hooves!”
A scattering of shameless applause spread out through the crowd, despite the old stallion’s fiercest glares. Roseluck shifted into her seat, keenly aware of the giant form at her side and Raindrops incessant winking. Nothing can go wrong; I’m okay, she thought. Still, the clapping unnerved her.
A blue and white unicorn trotted down the centre aisle, a tiny grin on her face as she made her way to the stage and up the steps. The mare then reached the far back and sat down, tail twitching impatiently.
Nothing happened.
Ten seconds, then twenty, flashed by, but of the other competitor, there was no sign. “Maybe She won’t show up?” Raindrops said, cringing hopefully.
The first thing they heard was a fizzle, like that of a match being struck. The simple sound grew in fervor and drew the attention of everypony to the town right behind the contest grounds.
Fluttering in midair with a massive sparkling blue cape was Derpy Hooves. Behind her, hundreds of fireworks took to the air with a cornucopia of whistles and swooshes, only to pop and explode in a flurry of sound and lights. The sparkles drifted through the sky, encircling the grey pegasus in a halo of multicolored light that blinded and awed.
A single whooshing ‘ooohh’ escaped her fans as she swooped down, gaining speed as her altitude dropped and she glided down over the crowd. On her back, partially hidden by the streaming cape, was a bottomless saddle bag from which muffins fell, drifting to the grabbing assembly on tiny silver parachutes.
“I’m here everypony!” the wall-eyed mare said before crashing into the microphone stand.
Even Roseluck cringed as the mare tried to untangle her cape from a pole. Muffins kept dropping to the floor, either rolling around or being squashed by the mare’s attempts to free herself. “I just don’t know what went wrong,” the mare whined.
With much groaning and sighing, Inky Scribeswell trotted across the stage and began helping the mare out of her predicament, chastising her in a low whisper the entire time.
Everypony waited patiently, some nibbling on muffins as the mare spun out of her web, removed her saddlebags, then gave them all a deep, penetrating stare with her right eye. The left was focused on the microphone stand on the ground.
Grumbling to himself, the unicorn levitated the stand until it was upright before huffing and stepping off stage. Upon reaching his desk, he spoke, “You may start, Miss Hooves.”
The mare scowled at the microphone, her eyes slowly aligning with the bulb just as she giggled and smiled gleefully. Stepping forwards, the mare began.
“The nights turn to long days and I try To keep my head up and not to cry To find a way through their stares and sneers Because all these have been lonely years I wish on the stars now and then To grant me just one, just one friend I don’t ask for anything more I don’t deserve much, nothing more I’d like to help but I can’t I’d rhyme for you, but I’d rant I’d sing a song out of tune If it would lighten your mood I’m not so good with words It’s hard to make long lines I tried to no avail I think I’ll stick with mail I'll just finish this With your approval Though I don't want to Waste your time at all I'm quite stupid I have been told I should keep in My lowly place But it is Very hard Not to want Just one friend I guess I'll take A bow, and re- Turn to Obscure- ity.”
The crowd was still, many touching their eyes and wiping away fresh tears from their already soaking cheeks. Finally, through the sobbing, a single brave soul tapped onto his clopper, setting off a rousing tide of clacking as everypony gave it their all.
Roseluck began to shiver uncontrollably. I-I-I can’t beat that. I knew it was going to be good, but... but this, she thought, her face draining of colour. I won’t win. I’ll lose. I'll be a laughing stock. How... how can I defeat that?!
The clapping never subsided; it only grew in intensity as if it would thunder on forever. Her entire body reeling, Roseluck slumped back into her seat, Raindrops comforting hoof on her shoulder and Big Macintosh's presence at her side doing little to help.
“She is good,” Raindrops admitted, a mixture of awe and fear in her voice. “But I’m sure you’re better.... right?”
“Eeyup.” Macintosh agreed, never removing his look of firm determination.
“There goes my shop...” Roseluck lamented.
“Don’t worry, Ah— We’ll find a solution,” the stallion murmured in his baritone.
Roseluck was left wondering, ears still ringing at the outpouring of love for the grey mare on stage, when a single shy cough was heard, one that pulled the three’s attention onto the stage.
Colgate rubbed a hoof against her elbow, shoulders slumped, as the crowd settled and split their attention between herself and the Clopometer. The red bar within the machine ticked and shivered a hairs-breadth below the nine point five mark. A single low ‘ahh’ of wonder crawled through the open space before one and all looked at Colgate, wondering how the mare would cope.
She stepped up to the microphone and cleared her throat.
“The waves in the sand, Those caused by sea currents, Fill my hooves with those Tiny, um... shell recurrents,”
The mare paused, coughing self-consciously.
“F-foam upon my fetlocks It reminds me of that night When all was still And no teeth were bright
‘Brushing is im-mportant,’ I would insist upon my pears, uh, peers, but none would hear the words until one was lost in tears.
She was in much pain Having bitten in ice cream So I showed her how to clean And soon her woe was a dream.
My message then spread And soon I saw the crowd Lining up upon my door Every pony moaning loud.
I fixed them all Every tooth, sore, and gum line And soon every night Sounds of brushing brought cloud nine
So if you want to shine Brush every noon and, uh, nine.”
Through the assembled ponies, a scattering of applause was heard, just a few gentle taps on the boards. The pitiful sounds hardly carried above the awkward shuffling and shamefully cast glances.
A few in the crowd snickered and laughed. “A poem... about dental hygiene? Somepony should wash her mouth.”
“Did she forget to floss before going on?”
“Whoa, that was cheesier than quarks, or even like, flowers, dude. Really, how can you be worse than a poem about plants?"
That’s what I’m going to be like, Roseluck thought as she watched the mare hobble off stage on three legs, one of her forehooves desperately trying to hide the tears streaming out of her. Pitiful, a failure. Oh no. Oh Celestia! I-I’m going to lose! I’m going to lose!
Within her chest, Roseluck felt like her entire body was squeezing in, heart and lungs refusing to work as she convulsed with a single sob. I need to get out of here.
She stood, the movement sudden and jerky as the mare shot to her hooves. “I-I have... I can’t,” she said before twisting away and lithely hopping over Big Macintosh.
The large red stallion and her friend watched her go, speechless until Raindrops gave the stallion a swift punch. “Go after her, you doofus!” she whispered vehemently before pouting at him, her bottom lip sticking out as her entire face scrunched up. When Big Macintosh froze, her pout quickly turned into a glare, one accompanied by a smack behind his head. “Go on, thick-skull; your damsel’s in distress!”
“Eeyup,” he said before saddling his seat and hopping over the nearby ponies with a single heave of his powerful legs.
The stallion landed at a gallop, one that carried him through the alley and right to the beige mare who had already walked past the entrance booth. Her posture was stiff, dignified to a fault. “‘Scuse me, sir—” the booth’s guard asked before Macintosh blurred by him.
“Rose,” he called at her, only spurring her on as she quickened her pace into the fields beyond Ponyville. “Rose, wait!”
With thundering hoofbeats and a grunt of determination, Big Macintosh caught up to her, sliding to a halt beside the mare and sending wads of unearthed grass flying. “Wait, please.”
Roseluck stopped, chest puffed out, back straight, and eyes hinting at barely-suppressed tears. “What?!” she asked curtly.
“Ah’m sorry,” he began, to which the mare opened her mouth and scowled. “Just hear me out, please.”
Gently, Roseluck nodded, suspicion and the need to escape registering across her features.
“Ah know what yer thinkin’. You think yer not good ‘nough, that you can’t do it. Y’er wrong. You, Miss Roseluck, are the prettiest, kindest, and sweetest mare Ah know, and Ah’ll be damned if some muffin-lovin’ filly hurt your feelings!” Big Macintosh stomped at the ground as he vented himself out to the befuddled mare.
“I-I...”
“Ah’m not done, Miss Roseluck. If yer really the proud mare Ah think you are, you’ll turn right around, walk back onto that there stage, and try your damndest. Ah can’t let you quit, and Ah know you won’t.”
“Bu-but if I mess up, I’ll... I’ll be a laughingstock.”
The stallion shook his head. “Ah won’t laugh.”
“And... and if I fail, I won’t get the bits I need,” she added.
“There are plenty o’ bits and business to be made on the farm. But you’ll never get ‘em if you don’t try.”
"N-no pony will ever talk to me again without remembering how bad I screwed up!"
The stallion stood in front of her quietly, looking at the mare as a single tear found its way through her iron will. He sighed sadly. "Rose, yer one of the best poets Ah've ever seen. Your friends will always talk to you; they won't care what happens out on that stage... And Ah swear to you, no matter what number that thing gives you, Ah'll always love you." Blushing through his already-red coat, the stallion pushed forwards. Her heart beat madly as his green eyes locked with hers.
Their lips touched.
For the briefest of moments, a moment that seemed to pause time itself, both ponies became one.
But that single moment felt like an eternity.
The second their lips met, the rest of the world melted away, trapping the two in an existence devoid of anything other than the newfound love they were sharing. Although it was intensely pleasurable, it was nothing like the mare had always imagined. She had always thought such a big, sturdy stallion like Big Mac would be an aggressive partner, taking the lead and softly bending her to his will.
But that was far from the case, as Roseluck found him gently massaging her mouth with his own. He began to utilize muscles she wasn’t even aware existed to convey his affection for her, his lips seeming to vibrate and fluctuate with every movement of her own. Speaking of her own mouth, she was putting a surprising amount of passion into her own oral ministrations, almost certainly due to the stallion she was kissing, as well as the impossibly romantic buildup he provided.
Eventually, reality came crashing down upon them. A soft breeze parted a dandelion with its seeds, causing them to dance lazily in the air, their soft touches bringing the couple back to Equestria as a few stray seeds landed on their faces.
They pulled away, physically forcing each other apart as their bodies and hearts protested against the abuse of no longer being with one another.
Not a sound escaped them, save for their own ragged breathing and the stallion’s strong gulp. Did he? she wondered through the daze, knowing the answer full well, but savouring the doubt.
“You ought to-to return, Miss Roseluck. It’s going to be your turn soon,” he whispered, breaking through the heavy tension hanging around them.
Roseluck cleared her throat and lifted her head to stand taller. “I... Um, yes, I suppose we should be returning to our seats, and I to my presentation.” The mare spun around and began walking back, her face refusing to cool down from the deep shade of red it had gained. Th-that was... Yes.
Big Macintosh walked at her side, a spring in his step and an almost comically dopey grin plastered on his face as he kept pace with the much smaller mare. He kissed me, she thought, her mind filling with a euphoric glee. He really did.
The couple arrived at the gate, only to be greeted by the bouncer. “Sorry, sir, ma’am, can’t pass now that the show’s begun.”
The mare blinked, leaning to one side as she looked at the rows and rows of seats where ponies were quietly talking to one another. She spotted Applejack, the mare’s massive glare sticking out like a sore thumb. “But, mister, it’s in intermission.”
“Sorry, cutie-buns; the rules are the rules,” the burly bouncer said as he leaned against his booth.
“Pardon me,” Big Macintosh asked. “What’d you call her?”
“Ah, what’s wrong big guy? I insult your dame? Got to admit, she’s got a fiiiin—”
Macintosh took a long stride forwards, his chin practically resting on the stallion’s nose as he stared down at him. “You oughta be about to say ‘mane,’ else...” The huge red stallion huffed and flexed his impressive array of finely-crafted muscles.
Nearby, three mares fainted.
The bouncer's eyes whipped back and forth to both sides, seeking assistance from the crowd behind him. Not a single pony gave him any sympathy as Big Macintosh pressed closer. The tan pony seemed to lose his attitude as the threat of a far stronger stallion loomed before him.
“I-I, uh...” the bouncer began, his voice lowering until it was almost a squeak. “I really like her mane?”
Macintosh took a half step back and nodded firmly. “That’s what Ah thought. Now, let the lady through.”
Fumbling forwards, the bouncer ripped the gate open and ushered them in with a sheepish smile and a downpour of sweat.
Roseluck trotted ahead demurely, exchanging a quick look with the red stallion at her side as they crossed the gate. “Someponies oughta learn some manners,” he grumbled in his deep voice.
On stage, Inky was pointedly staring at his hourglass where the very last of the fine sand was trickling through. Finally, the very last grain hung on the edge of the glass before gently sliding to the bottom. “Ladies and Gentlecolts, the next contest is about to begin! Let us invite Doctor Hooves and Madam Roseluck to the stage... discreetly.”
“You can do it; Ah know you can,” Big Macintosh said as he gave her a comforting push.
Taking an enormous puff of air, the mare bounded forwards, face flushed, ears perked, and tail swaying from side to side like a filly about to eat dessert. I can do this! He kissed me! The two thoughts, despite having no common ground, melded into one in her mind until all else faded to nothing.
Roseluck climbed the steps two by two and pranced to the back of the stage, flashing a smile to Raindrops as the pegasus waved and gestured from her seat, much to the detriment of those around her.
A thin, almost scrawny stallion climbed on stage, his eyes taking in the hourglass on Inky’s table which perfectly matched the one on his flank, before smiling and finding his place. “Hello,” he whispered over to her. “Isn’t it fun?”
Roseluck eyed him. “Being in the show?” she asked, suddenly aware of the hundreds of eyes judgingly watching her. He’s a little odd, but he looks nice enough...
“No, being a horse,” he replied.
Before she could question the doctor further, Inky announced the beginning of the event. “Madam Roseluck? Who would you like to begin?”
“Oh, Doctor Hooves can start; I don’t mind!” she said as she bounced on the spot.
“Why, thanks! I love being first; being first is pretty cool,” he said as he stepped forwards, adjusting his bow tie and fez.
Without pause, the doctor began.
“A horse is a horse, Of course, of course.
Unless that horse is a slyvene, Whose name is Sylvene.
Hailing from Raxacoricofallapatorius, They would much rather just get it over with and devour us.
We soniced her good, just as an ood should.
Then the cybermen came, That was a little lame.
The Dalek arrive too To make the trouble two,
We felt a little mortal As they opened their portal.
And with a little ‘Blimey’ We met Timey Whimey.
When I first met the ponies, I thought they were little phonies.
Then I noticed my grooves, then called myself Hooves.
I wear a fez and bowtie And I’ll never lie.”
A single pony clapped like mad from the back of the auditorium as she leaned against a misplaced blue dumpster. Then, another and another joined in, many of them clapping uncertainly while shrugging to their friends and neighbours.
With an enormous, beaming smile, Doctor Hooves trotted back to his place beside Roseluck. “I think I did pretty good! They’re clapping their hands like mad!”
Hands? Roseluck bit her lower lip and nodded. “Ah, look at that. An entire four points! I’m on fire!” he said, laughing as the Clopometer jiggled around. “Um, I think it’s your turn Flower Cheeks.”
Shooting a tiny glare at the odd stallion, Roseluck skipped forwards to the microphone, not pausing before she jumped into her prose.
“The light of the sun itself has a purpose and pride For life showers upon the ground and has where’re it stride
‘Come, children,’ the light calls out As a mother would As over the blades and petals It feeds them as only she could
The light of the sovereign’s sun Ignores not any plant And gives them all her comfort and all that she can grant
They lift their leaves in happiness And take their fair share and the sun gives freely of herself Without demand or care
Great oaks of ancient times she feeds And has since the very first day That the acorn sprouted forth And cares for it in her own way
She sings her song and the annuals burst forth from bulb beneath the ground And daffodils and tulips lift and look upon her joy gathered all around
The seeds of autumn have sat Silent beneath the snow But at her touch they now spring forth And in her songs they grow
The sun calls out to them ‘Give in kind!’ So the plants give forth their bounty For she keeps all in mind,
So it is that the blossom is given up And the shade of the tree And my love brings the gifts of the sun And gives them all to me.”
The mare huffed contentedly and smiled at the crowd, eagerly anticipating a wall of cheering.
They cheered, not long or strong, but many cheered, some even nodding in approval as they clacked at their boards.
That’s it? she thought as the clopping turned into a drizzle, then faded to nothing, only a select few braving embarrassment to clop on publically. Raindrops stood on her chair and pressed her hooves around her mouth. “I’m her stalker!” she yelled before being tackled by an aerial bouncer.
To her left, the Clopometer shivered forwards to the five point five mark, just barely clinging on to it, before it swooped down to nothing. “I-I...”
“You won!” the Doctor said as he passed by, a gigantic smile plastered on his face. “I guess they don’t understand Gallopfrey poetry. No biggie.” He extended a hoof forwards, grabbed hers, and shook it. “Truly excellent work. Never have been a large fan of horticulture, but that was quite enjoyable.”
“Oh, thanks. You did good too, I think,” she said, her mind not really there as she stepped by Inky who was climbing onto the stage.
The old stallion spoke, his voice muffled and tinny to the mare as she walked away from him and down the alley between the rows of seats. Various ponies, random and unknown to her, waved and saluted to her as Scribeswell announced one of the last intermissions of the day.
I almost lost. All that time spent preparing... The mare looked over her shoulder at the stage, her eyes blurring over as she seemed to be able to focus on nothing but the dust flying by the spotlights. If I had gone upagainst Derpy, there...
Roseluck had been pondering such bits of chance, carefully considering the larger motions of fate, when her best friend suddenly pummeled her.
Both mares flew off to the side as the golden mare tumbled head over hooves with her beloved friend. “You won!” she cheered at the top of her lungs, barely suppressed glee registering all over her as she shivered and danced on the spot, hopping from one hoof to another as her tail wagged like a dog’s. “I can hardly believe it!”
Roseluck blinked, the last sentence uttered by her faithful companion slowly sinking in. “Wait, what do you mean by, ‘I can hardly believe it’? What’s that supposed to mean?” the beige mare asked as she righted herself.
Raindrops’ smile lost a tiny morsel of its lustre and her dancing became a nervous sort of prancing as she broke contact with Roselucks’s eyes. “Well, it’s not like I totally didn’t expect you to win or somethin— Oh look, it’s Big Mac, the guy you traded tongues with earlier!”
Macintosh trotted over to them, his face a shade darker as he shot a glare at the pegasus. His gaze turned softer as it alighted on Roseluck. “You did excellent, Miss Roseluck,” the stallion said as he reached out a hoof and touched her side, the warmth of his touch making the mare jump. “Ah’m sorry,” he immediately said before flinching away. “Ah just wanted to clean you off.”
Roseluck looked at her side, a side that was now covered in dirt and stray pieces of grass that had gathered to her after Raindrops celebratory pummeling. She shot another glare at Raindrops, adding to the pegasus’ collection. She winked back.
She couldn’t have planne— No... that’s too complicated for Drippy to pull off... I hope.
“It’s fine, Mister Macintosh; your gesture simply surprised me. You can continue, if- if you want?” She bit her lower lip, trying her best not to look too coy.
“Ah just can’t stand seeing such a pretty mare dirty like that.”
Raindrops pushed the stallion’s forehoof down with her wing. “Riiight, how about we go sit down before things get too... steamy around here, all right?”
Reluctantly, both stallion and mare nodded and meekly followed Raindrops back to their seats. “Next up are those two scrawny kids,” the pegasus said over her shoulder as they inched into their row. “I remember them fairly well; used to pay them to spy— uh, you know, do chores and stuff. Tall one’s going to win.”
“Nnope,” Big Macintosh said as he found his seat. “Ah talked to the littler one before. He used to make up excuses and do things that had me running all over town. Often Ah ended up right near yer flower shop, Miss Rose.”
Roseluck nodded, studying the scoreboard.
“I’m sure you did... Hey!” Raindrops suddenly exclaimed, raising a hoof in the air. “How ‘bout a bet?”
Macintosh shook his head. “Nnope, s’not right to bet.”
“I could bet... things...” Raindrops said, pointedly looking at the mare between them.
“Hmm,” the stallion said, giving her a firm nod. “Eeyup, I’ll bet on that.” He shot a hoof forwards, one that was eagerly met by Raindrops.
“All right! A hundred bits if Snails wins, and some... information if it’s Snips.” Big Macintosh blinked at the mention of the quantity, but didn’t fuss.
On stage, Inky tapped his gavel against the floor and waited the half-second necessary for all to quiet. “We’re about to begin yet another exhilarating, awe-inspiring, heart-fluttering, and uber-exciting round of prose! Let’s watch in quiet as our two youngest competitors duel it out!”
Two colts, still school-aged, walked out of the same aisle, tripping and flopping around as they walked about with eight left hooves. Whoever it is that has to compete with that next round’s going to be lucky. Once more, Roseluck trailed her eyes to the scoreboard, her mind doing some quick and simple math. Tomorrow, I’ll face Derpy Hooves, she thought, a gust of cold air battering her as her mind faced the very serious possibility of losing. I need to win.
On stage, the shorter of the two hobbled over to the microphone, hopping up and down until his teeth firmly clamped the lever and loosened it, sending the microphone crashing onto his head. “Oops, sorry,” he said as a burst of static crossed the audience.
Snorting, the colt began.
“She is the best in the town, no, all of Equestria! She shines brighter than a lantern when somepony has an idea.
She may not have vanquished an Ursa Major, But that’s no reason for you all to hate her.
Come to one of her shows and you all will see, No pony can top the Great and Powerful Trixie!
With powers so amazing, it’s no wonder she boasts, She leaves the ponies she challenges looking as white as ghosts.
I’m not a fair weather fan; I’m here for the long haul, I will always be at her beck and call.
Whatever she commands, I will make sure it’s done, Proving to her, that I am the one.
She takes her smoothies with extra hay, If she asked, I would fetch her one today.
With feelings deeper than any sea, Trixie’s the only mare for me.”
I wonder what Derpy’s going to pull off tomorrow, Roseluck asked herself, the smattering of applause not doing the least to interrupt her. I’ll really have to up my game if I want to win. I need to win. For myself, for my shop, and... She looked at the red stallion at her side, a stallion who was eager to peek back.
Snails stepped up, a dopey grin on his face as he tried and failed to fix the microphone before giving up and levitating the object off the ground.
“Trixie is the best, no pony can compare, Especially if it’s her plot against any other mare’s.
She has great magic abilities, to be sure, But her beauty is definitely her biggest allure.
Her perfectly toned and shapely body, Surely makes her a ‘major’ hottie.
It’s not enough to simply say she’s good looking, She looks more delicious than a big jar of pudding!
The way the wind makes her mane swish and sway, I’d let her tie me up any day.
The first time I saw her hat and cape, I felt my feelings for her take shape.
Some ponies may call me dumb or slow, But there is one thing that I surely know:
One day Trixie will be mine, And I’ll love her ‘til the end of time.”
Big Macintosh’s grumbling as he hoofed a bill past Roseluck’s face did nothing to the mare whose mind was a thousand leagues away, trying to minimize the losses of the competition. Hmm, I could stay up and study all night, but then I won’t get my eight hours, and I know quite well what a lack of sleep does to my mood.
Cheating’s not an option; I don’t know how and it wouldn’t be very nice of me. Even Derpy is honourable... sorta. The mare groaned, leaning her head onto the back of her seat as she looked at the sky. Winning. Do I have to win? she wondered, tilting her head just enough to see the large red stallion at her side. I already have him, sorta. She began to turn her head to the other side. And I have a... sorta good friend.
Raindrops was absent.
In the pegasus’ stead was a single empty carton covered in gaudy and colourful images, the scent of popcorn wafting out of its butter-splattered sides. “Where’s Drippy!?” she asked as she twisted around towards the stallion at her side, her chair creaking softly as she shifted her weight.
Macintosh hummed a tune to himself, his gaze snapping between Roseluck and the stage.
Raindrops was on the wooden platform, an enormous grin splitting her face as she pranced on the spot and beat her wings, much to the irritation of Inky and the magenta mare at her side. Everypony stilled, waiting with anticipation and a little bit of impatience for the last and final show of the day to begin. After that, they were free.
“Ladies and Gentlecolts, not a sound as our last two competitors battle with wits. First, Lady Punch,” Inky said before gesturing at the tipsy-legged mare who wobbled past the microphone, around it, then fell onto her haunches nearby. With an audible groan, the mare picked up the device and dragged it to her mouth.
“The great drinks of the world, I have cherished them all, from a droplet of dew to a glass six-feet-tall, from the East to the West, I had drinks wide and far. Does anypony care what my favorites are?
If work is tough and just drags on and on, the bossmare starts to really grind my gear. My worries and my sorrows are all gone once I sit down and pour myself a cup of jasmine tea; it really helps calm my nerves.
The stallion of my dreams has left poor me in favor of another, what a swine! But in a bar I once again feel glee when barkeeps come and hoof me some white whip cream to put on top of my cup of cocoa.
When I come home I see my lighting's broke, I slip and fall and feel my head go numb, my dinner on the stove goes up in smoke my remedy becomes a glass of juice – with some fast food that makes an overall healthy dinner.
But tea and milk can't handle all my ails I have some needs that juice leaves unfulfilled. And when a glass of cocoa somehow fails I reach for something stronger and distilled: I don't think it's a sin to pour myself some gin, or drink a tasty ale , when I don't want to wail. When life is pretty plain, why not drink some champagne? I think that life is fine with a sweet glass of wine. A well-prepared Manehatten makes my throat feel like satin. But don't you dare botch a fine, pure glass of scotch Against somepony's quackery I advise a daiquiri A cup of high-proof grog will cloud my mind like fog I get rather frisky, when I had some whiskey. But then again some rum can make me act all dumb. A mug of apple cider soon makes my grin much wider. I guess that any liquor will soon end up as snicker.
And if the next day I awake in drool, and know I must have made myself a fool, I curse my reckless idiocy, but then one day I know I'll fall for it again.
What's more to say than drinking's rather vile, there are a thousand other ways to smile, but there is some to savor so do yourself a favor and pour yourself some liquor every once in a while.”
One of Roseluck’s eyebrows shot up while the rest of her face contorted into a deep frown. “Was that... modern poetry? No, more like an... epic? No, not nearly long enough, and it’s missing the...” she pondered above the din of clapping. And it’s getting a surprisingly good reception, too.Maybe I can do something like it?
“Ah think it’s called a pint too many.”
On stage, Raindrops’ excitement only seemed to intensify as the needle on the clopometer rose up to six and a bit.
Roseluck shook her head, snapping her attention back onto her marefriend. “Oh, sweet Celestia, no.”
“What’s wrong?” Macintosh immediately asked, his back straightening and his massive shoulders hefting up.
“It’s Drippy.”
“What’s wrong with her?” he asked, his eyebrows lowering as he squinted at the pegasus.
“She’s in a poetry competition... This is not good.” The mare touched a hoof to her forehead and groaned. “The entire time, and I forgot.”
“Why’s this bad, exactly?”
“It’s Raindrops! The mare who thinks that flushing is optional, that weeds are also pretty, and that the sky is always bluer when you’re having fun. There’s not a chance in Tartarus that she’ll do anything good here.”
Big Macintosh sighed as she settled back into his seat. “M-maybe she’ll surprise you?” he mused aloud, prompting a quick eye-roll on the mare’s part before she focused back to Raindrops.
“I don’t know. I just don’t want her to make a fool out of herself.” Roseluck sighed, folding up her forelimbs until she hugged herself, eyes never straying from her friend on stage. “She might look tough and funny, but deep down, she’s a fragile little mare who just wants to love her friends and be loved back. I don’t want to see her get hurt just to offer me a giggle.”
Macintosh sighed in turn, leaning just a tiny bit towards the smaller mare. “You’re quite special too, deep down.”
“Wouldn’t you like to know,” she snapped back at him playfully.
Raindrops hopped over to the stage and stood a hair’s breadth away from the business end of the microphone. With a gigantic wheeze, the mare filled her lungs, her chest puffing out as she took in as much air as she could.
Oh boy, Roseluck had time to think before her friend began.
Upon the stage, Raindrops danced her hooves once, gave a smirk, and then began her recital.
“You wake with dawn Let your heart race Today is the day when you give it all a try That is it, after all, what you get to choose, We’re the pegasi.
Live fast, break hard left Dive with a spinning roll Keep the wind at your back as you fly Commune with the winds We’re the pegasi
Dance through the rains Ten thousand feet in the air Crash through clouds with a cry Feel the ice sting on your face We’re the pegasi
Crash through them Force them back Hear their falling cry Feel the victory in your veins We’re the pegasi
Let the touch brush your lips Tomorrow she could be gone You feel her touch even as you sigh Love is fleeting, but strong We’re the pegasi
This then is how it comes and how it goes This is how you live and die As the winds sings past your wings We’re the pegasi.”
Raindrops tossed the mic over her shoulder. As another smirk sat across her lips, she reared up onto her hind legs. She crossed her forelegs across her chest before nodding at the crowd.
They went wild.
Every pony in the seating area, those beyond, even the guards and bouncers, cheered, the noise reaching a deafening crescendo as every pony assaulted their boards with reckless abandon.
How did she... but... Roseluck reeled, the only pony in sight not clapping or cheering.
On stage, her old friend looked right at her, and beamed.
Oh, right, she’s crazy. No wonder I love her so much...
The mare cracked open her front door, allowing a sliver of the pre-dawn’s yellow light to slip into her home. With a sigh and a bent back, she reached out and fumbled around with her forehoof on the flower-patterned mailbox beside her door. The cold, metallic clapper gave way as she tossed it aside and shoved her head into the box, pulling out of it a thick stack of envelopes that burdened both her mouth and mind
It was that time of the month again.
Turning, Roseluck trudged back into her home, her delicate crimson and rose tail dragging along the wooden floor, brushing dust around before she bucked at the door and slammed it shut.
Letters in mouth, she moved across the apartment and to the side of her dining-room table that had only two chairs around it: one well-worn and the other collecting dust. With a sigh, she dropped the letters on the tabletop and lifted a hoof up to them, gently pushing them aside and staring at the names.
The first was the electric bill, one that had decreased since the construction of Ponyville’s own dam. The second was the mortgage of both the shop and the house tied to it. The third was as thick as her hoof—or almost—and was filled with the hospital bills that she had accrued after years spent around Raindrops.
The last of the bills gave way to an assortment of useless pamphlets that she flung onto the table. This isn’t good. I’m behind already, and at this rate, I’ll be living on Raindrops’ couch in no time... does she even have a couch? Or a home?
She spun around and fixed her gaze on the simple wooden door with the tiny window, one that gave her a perfect view of the morning sky. Beside the threshold, and sitting squarely in the centre of a coffee-stained bedstand, was a thick pile of papers, papers that held her poems for that day: Twenty different pieces of her best literary trials and favourite verses, her only chance at victory.
Hooves tapping dejectedly at the ground, the mare moved to the door’s side, picked up the package, and opened the door.
Right in her face was a bright yellow beacon of happiness, glee and despair.
With a shriek, Roseluck tumbled backwards, hooves flailing and her entire stack of papers fluttering noisily through the air before tumbling back down and over her head.
“Should’ve used a paperclip,” Raindrops said as she flipped up and off the roof to land on Ponyville’s rough road in a clattering of hooves. Bending over, the pegasus used her wings to pick up the scraps of paper, tossing them into a haphazard pile on the ground beside her. “So, what’s got you so spooked?” she asked, twisting her head to one side. “The semi-semi-finals? Snogging Big Mac while almost nopony was looking? The fact that your mane looks like my bedroom after a night of rough... uh... Scrabble?”
Groaning, Roseluck twisted onto all fours and pushed herself up. Okay, this day went from bad, to worse, to having Raindrops in it. “Hi, Drippy. What’re you doing here at,” she said, glancing at a wall-mounted clock, “7A.M.? The contest doesn’t start until ten.”
“Well, I saw that you were out and about, and I figured you could use a little moral support! It’s going to be a big-big day!” the pegasus said, her face contorting into an enormous grin.
Saw that I was out and about? I was in my own... no, not going there. Roseluck picked up the sheet, noting absently that they were in a completely wayward order, and that the great majority had been trampled, crushed, or bent out of shape. “Yeah, a big-big day...” she repeated.
“Uh-huh,” her friend agreed, head bobbing up and down fiercely while her aquamarine mane swished with it, filling Roseluck’s nostrils with the unfortunate scent of shampoo and turtles. She didn’t ask questions. “So! I was thinking...”—Roseluck groaned—“I got a pamphlet to go to Aloe and Lotus’ spa, and I figured you’d like to come with me.”
Roseluck blinked at her friend, mouth working soundlessly as she silently repeated the proposition to herself. That... doesn’t sound half-bad. “I— thanks for the offer, but I couldn’t afford it; I should go back and practice some more...”
“Oh, please. We both know that you know that I know that you know every piece and part and line of all those poems. Stop whining and come with me. I’ll even pay.” The mare stomped a forehoof on the ground and tried her best to pout and smile at the same time.
Roseluck sat down and began slipping the crumpled pages into her waiting saddlebags, occasionally glancing at her forlorn reflection on a nearby pane of glass. Well, I guess it couldn’t do too much harm. “Okay, fine. A quick combing of my mane and maybe a small hooficure won’t hurt. But first, why’re you here?”
Raindrops shook her head silently before talking in a low, grave tone. “Rosey, we don’t want to go there. Trust me.” She placed a hoof on Rose’s shoulder. “Let’s just get to the spa and find another subject to talk about. Something not as awkward. Like your imminent marriage into the Apple family.”
What little spittle Roseluck had escaped in a rainbow-spray that crossed the room before she began to cough frantically. “Ah,” Raindrops began, scratching at the nape of her neck. “Too soon?”
The beige mare nodded, her body still wracked by rough coughs as her face turned the same shade as an enraged Scootaloo. “Just shut up and take me to the spa.”
Nodding sagely, Raindrops backed out of the flower shop's apartment and sat on the roadway beyond.
For a few magical moments, Roseluck was alone in her house. She rushed across the building, picking up her saddlebags and spending a few wasteful seconds staring at the great mound of dirty dishes surrounding her sink—most of which were bowls that had recently held unfortunate quantities of ice cream. Maybe later, she thought before she trotted back to the door, tossing her precious poems into her bags and heading out.
Her irises burned as the full light of the dawning sun over Ponyville assaulted her. Turning away from the radiant light, Roseluck brought her focus back to her marefriend, who happened to be staring at her outstretched wing with glazed-over eyes. A few of the town’s early risers were glancing at her with undisguised curiosity as they walked by.
“Drippy?” she asked, grabbing the pegasus’ attention. “What are you... no, let’s just go, all right?”
Raindrops finished her staring then shifted her haunches. The townsponies’ glances became all-out staring. “Yeah! C’mon, follow me! I’ll even walk to make it easy,” she said before galloping ahead.
Almost immediately, Roseluck lost sight of the excited mare as she spun around a corner, hooves scraping against the gravelly path and sending a tall plume of dust billowing across the street and onto the ponies standing around. Sighing, she set after Raindrops at a brisk pace, murmuring vague excuses to those she passed.
Roseluck trotted around the corner, and stared at Raindrops before rolling her eyes. The pegasus was sitting in front of a boutique, tail swishing from side to side as she waited with bated breath for her friend to catch up. “It’s over here,” she said, pointing at the building behind her.
Jammed between two businesses was a tiny storefront, merely two windows with a door wedged between them, as if the builder had had an after thought and decided that there was enough space for just one more on the long row. Above the pristine white walls of the spa was a sign that read, A and L's Spa-tacular: Massages, Moans and Mud Baths.
“Um,” Roseluck said as she looked down the somewhat unfamiliar street, searching for another place they might have been heading to. Nothing matched what she sought; every other building was either a shop or a house of some kind or another. “Right....”
Hopping ahead, Raindrops grasped at the handle with a wing-tip, then tore the door open with the frantic jingling of a bell. “Come on, it’s sweet in there!” she said as Roseluck slipped ahead and into the spa.
She was immediately assaulted by the thick, cloying scent of a hundred perfumes, shampoos and billowing clouds of steam. Through the puffy clouds of white-grey vapours, she could make out the vague outlines of a circular room, one filled with a few wooden benches, plastic potted plants—which she cringed at—and a hole in the far wall.
“Yo, ’sup,” said a pink mare within the box before she spat out a hoof-file and sent it flying across her tiny office and into an upturned cup filled with similar tools that clattered as they rejoined each other. “What’re ya here for?” she asked in a gruff tone.
“I’m here for the spa... stuff...” Roseluck said, scratching at her foreleg.
The blue-maned mare rolled her eyes and sighed in a single gesture of infinite impatience. “All right, which sort of treatment,” she asked, reaching out to tap against a wooden board nailed to the wall beside her cubicle.
On said board were a dozen treatments, ranging from The Chiropractor to The Meat-Bag Tenderizer. “Uhh...”
“We’ll take the full treatment!” Raindrops shouted as she pranced into the room with a straight back and a proud beam. The steam began to waft out of the open door, wisps of it flirting with the colder air outside. “My friend here’s about to become a very popular somepony; she needs to look, and smell, her best!”
Roseluck stared at Raindrops. “‘And smell?’ What’s that mean?”
At her desk, the spa pony began to fill out some forms as Raindrops leaned to her friend’s side, whispering conspiratorially. “Well, you smell like a pony that cares for flowers.”
“Isn’t that a good thing?” she seethed back, red-faced.
“Well, it would be, but to care for those flowers, you need... well... fertilizers.”
Another pony trotted into the room, this one the counter-mare’s polar opposite with a pink mane that clashed against her blue coat. “Hello everypony!” she said by way of greeting, her voice high-pitched and giddy. “I’m Lotus.”
Finally, a normal shopkeeper, Roseluck thought as she watched the spa-pony point to her pink companion. “And that’s my evil twin, Aloe. We’ll be caring for you today.” They both bowed, one deeper than the other.
“Ah, this is going to be sweet!” Raindrops said as she bounced to the counter, stared at the sheet presented to her and quickly signed it with a flourish, marking the page with her unreadable scrawl before turning towards the next door and walking through it. “C’mon, Rosey, we’re going to get our appendages sharpened and our manes scented pretty.”
Reluctantly, the flower-flanked mare stepped after her friend, trotting into the marble-tiled room next the the foyer with delicate taps of her hooves. Lotus led them ahead, tail swishing from side-to-side as they crossed a series of lounge chairs, some screened-off areas, and finally a jacuzzi, the miniature swimming pool gurgling and chugging the chlorinated liquid.
The spa mare spun around and gave her only two customers a dignified, restrained smile. “So, ladies. Where do you wish to begin?” she asked, her voice travelling across the vaulted ceilings of the spa.
Raindrops’ attention was everywhere, her eyes flicking from one corner of the surprisingly large room to another. “You pick, Rosey,” she absently said.
“Um, well, to be honest I’m not really familiar with this sort of,” Roseluck gestured around, “this sort of place. So, maybe...”
Lotus’ smile changed, becoming kind and comprehending. “That’s fine. You’re not the first spa-virgin we’ve received. How about you scoot on over to the steam room for a quick moment, then into the mineral baths and finally a quick massage? Perhaps a mud bath later, if you’re feeling adventurous?”
“Ah!” Raindrops exclaimed, her wings twitching as she turned her full attention to Lotus. “It’s been years since I’ve played in the mud! Last time I got arrested.”
“All right, all of that, minus the mud bath.” Roseluck’s smile strained while Lotus knowingly led them to the spa’s far end. There, the blue mare opened a door and stepped aside as a massive plume of thick steam slithered out.
Within, Roseluck could only just make out the outlines of smooth, wooden benches and walls, all surrounding a chest-high tower that poked out of the centre of the floor.It’s a prison, she realised. A holding cell made expressly to steam-cook her poor pony loins. “How about we skip straight to the bathing?” she asked, smile strained at the edges.
Lotus immediately complied, closing the door with a solid whoosh and thunk. “Please, come this way then,” she said with the deep patience of one who had done this before.
Roseluck sighed, then began following the mare, casting her friend a quick look before moving on. For her part, Raindrops just shrugged her wings and marched on, seemingly content with just having her friend nearby. This is odd. Raindrops was happy to bring me here, which is fine, she thought while her hooves clacked on the shiny floor. At the entrance, another mare slipped in and trotted around with familiarity. But now that we’re here, she’s... docile? I understand that she wants this to be fun for me too, but....
Behind a set of artfully decorated folding screens was a row of baths, all of them already filled with bubbling water, each bubble that burst released the cloying aroma of sweet oils and soft lavenders. Oh, this I can get into!
Lotus dipped a hoof into one of the baths and skimmed it across the surface, quickly gauging the heat before she reached out, grabbed a long, fluted glass jar from a nearby end-table, and poured some beads into two of the baths. Almost immediately, thick patches of bubbly white foam coated the watery surface.
“I imagine you two mares can take care of yourselves?” Lotus asked.
“Of course, thank you,” Roseluck replied, bowing her head slightly.
“Perfect. Then how about I grab those saddlebags and put them behind the front desk? They’d be rather cumbersome in the tub.”
Roseluck blushed, slipping out from beneath the rucksacks as quickly as she could, letting them tumble to the ground with a series of heavy thumps. With a quick swipe, Lotus picked up the bags and sashayed away.
Okay, now for a quick dip—
Above the tub opposite her own floated Raindrops, the mare suspended in the air by the quick beats of her wings. On her face was a cruel, mischievous smile.
“Drippy, don’t,” Roseluck said.
The mare snapped her wings shut and came plummeting down. With a fierce slap, her body punctured the water, sending great waves of liquid and white foam flying in every direction, only to be swallowed by the grated floor-caps.
“Now that, that, was awesome,” Raindrops sighed as she bobbed up and placed her hooves along the bath’s edge. Gently, the bubbles slid back around her, forming a pillow that surrounded her frame.
Roseluck blinked at her friend, then rolled her eyes, deciding to get into her own bath instead of wasting precious time questioning Raindrops’ motives in life. Forehoof first, the mare slid into the warm liquid.
It was bliss.
The warmth spread up her limbs, soothing and relaxing her tense muscles and loosening parts of her she wasn’t even aware were there. “Oh, this is nice,” she whispered, diving beneath the surface. The water swept through her mane and coat, fingers of heat massaging their way through her fur and pressing against her skin. “Ohh, this is really good.”
“Yup,” Raindrops replied, sliding deeper into her tub.
“Yeah.... Do you do this often?” she asked, her eyes half-lidded.
“Eeyup.”
The simple imitation sent a few warning bells ringing through Roseluck’s mind. Oh, right, the competition’s today... but I have time, right? she thought as she languidly floated in the scented waters.
“So, still nervous?” her friend asked from within her own tub.
Roseluck remained quiet, pondering for a moment. “No, I guess not.” She peeked at Raindrops from the corner of her eye. “Thanks, I needed this,” she admitted.
“Hey, no problem, anything to take your mind off of Big Macintosh and your inevitable marriage!”
Roseluck groaned. “Did you really have to bring that up?” she asked, only to be answered by a thick silence. “Fine,” she said, rolling her eyes. “I know what you’re up to, Drippy. You want to make me spill the beans, that’s why you’re relaxing me. “
The mare allowed a little, sly smile to cross her lips. “Maybe.”
“What did you want to know?” Roseluck asked, feeling somehow lenient as the bath drew out her tension. Time was slowing to a crawl.
“Rosey, you know I only want you to be happy. And I think that Mac’s good for you.” She sighed. “You two make a great couple, and I look forward to being beside you the entire time.”
“Yeah... but, what if it’s going too quickly?” Roseluck asked, her own question startling her.Is that what the issue really was? That it’s going too fast?
“Oi, it’s not your first relationship,” Raindrops said, skimming a hoof across the water’s surface. “Remember Gustav le Grande?”
As curtly as she could, Roseluck interjected.“We agreed not to talk about that.”
“Whatever. The point is, you know what a relationship is like: they take time to develop. But love’s something else entirely. That’s like... boom, headshot! And then you’re married and have six foals.”
“... Uh-huh. Right. But I still feel like it’s sudden.” She tapped the now-tepid water. “Just last week, we were still bumbling foals. We could hardly talk, and now he went along and took my mouth’s virginity.”
It was then that Roseluck’s senses decided to inform her that Lotus was standing nearby. The mare smiled at her kindly, then moved between the two tubs, a pair of clean towels bouncing on the arch of her back. “Oh, don’t stop for little old me. Do go on...”
“N-no, it’s fine,” Roseluck stammered, sinking below the lukewarm water and wishing she could vanish. Darn Raindrops, making me flap my tongue around like that.
“Come on now,” the spa-mare teased. “Out with the secrets!”
Roseluck sank deeper, only the top of her head and the tip of her muzzle sticking out and blowing away a layer of bubble bath.
“Aww, she’s shy,” Raindrops said. “Don’t worry, I know all the details! Even the ones I made up myself.”
Lotus made a point of paying attention to Raindrops as she gently placed a towel on the edge of each bath. “So, Big Mac, is like way in love with Rosey here. And she likes him back,” Raindrops began to prattle, ignoring the fierce glares from her friend. “And so, through my exceptional and amaranthine wisdom, I decided to pick a fight with Applejack.... That was a few days ago.”
The spa mare blinked, arching an eyebrow as she waited for more.
“See, I needed the two to spend time together, so I figures I could get the two to participate in that poetry slim thing—”
Roseluck splashed out of the tub in a single fell swoop, slid across the floor and jammed her pretty beige hoof in her friend’s mouth. “Drippy, I don’t think the nice spa-lady needs to hear every little detail. And it’s called a slam, not a slim.”
“I’d like to hear the details,” Lotus said rather weakly.
The three stared at each other, expressions mixing from barely-concealed hostility, to curiosity, to a form of pure mischief. “Maybe later,” Roseluck conceded before she grabbed the soft, cottony towel and began rubbing herself dry.
With a shrug, Raindrops slithered out, then shook herself like a dog. Thousands of droplets took to the air, creating rainbows through the room’s soft lighting before splattering onto every surface. “So, now we get massaged, right?” she asked while stretching out her wings and wringing out the last drops of water.
A wet-maned Lotus grinned. “Oh, yes, I can’t wait to get my hooves on you,” she said, surveying the mess left behind. “Please, come this way.”
Grumbling under her breath, yet visibly trying to restrain her anger and keep her composure, the blue mare spun around and marched away, hooves delicately clicking on the marble floor. Roseluck followed, pitying the mare, but knowing that it could be far, far worse. One never knows with Drippy around.
She led them across the room and to a circular portion of the room, one beside the hot tub she had noticed on entering. There, six beds stood, all lined up with enough space between them for a mare to stand comfortably. “Please, lay down,” Lotus asked sweetly, crossing the beds and turning to face them.
Roseluck stared at the angled beds for a moment, doubting them. Well, the bath felt wonderful, so I guess this might be okay.... Taking the initiative, Raindrops leapt to the air, and dove onto the bed, landing on it with a firm thump. Okay then, Roseluck thought as she—with a slightly more reserved enthusiasm—climbed on.
The suede-covered cushions sank under her weight, just enough to feel comfortable without losing the firm support it gave her. She tried to relax, her limbs sticking out on the sides and sprawling out behind her in a gangly fashion, the cool beginning to steal her warmth.
Lifting her head, the mare looked at Lotus as she was joined by Aloe, the pink mare stretching and making her limbs pop as she got ready. Lotus, the calmer of the two, trotted over to Roseluck’s side and leaned low. “Have you ever received a massage before?”
“No, not really. I sorta know how it works,” she said, idly watching as Aloe headed to Raindrops’ side.
“Don’t worry then. I’ll be really slow at first, then I’ll try to work the knots out of you.” She reared onto her hind legs and, as gently as she could, placed a warm hoof on Roseluck’s shoulder. “How about you tell Aloe and I about this romantic bout of yours? We love our gossip!”
Roseluck frowned. Didn’t I just tell her that I didn’t want to talk about i—
Raindrops howled.
From her vantage point, she could only see her friend’s wings and legs arching out in every direction, followed by deep thumping smacks and the cracking of bones. “Okay, I’ll talk!” she squeaked.
Lotus smiled and applied a little pressure with the flat of her hoof, slowly kneading the tense muscles of Roseluck’s back. “That’s better. Now, if I overheard correctly, you said something about Big Macintosh?”
Roseluck’s blood decided to rush to her face in a rather unpleasant manner. “Yes, Mister Macintosh and I have been, um, well....” She coughed.
“They’ve been doing lewd things during the halftime,” Raindrops said before she cut herself off with a deep groan.
Roseluck stiffened. “That’s not true! We just kissed a little!”
“Ah.” Lotus pressed with her hoof, untying a knot in Roseluck’s back. “So, he likes you too, huh? Well, aren’t you lucky; Mister Macintosh is a very fine gentlecolt.” She moved her hooves, applying pressure on another point, then gently relieving it. “I know more than one mare that had their eyes on him. I’d watch over my prize if I were you.”
“Prize? He’s not a prize... and it’s not really that... official, yet.”
Lotus kept rubbing her hoof, then began pressing various points along the mare’s back, to the point that she cringed and bit her lip to restrain her moan. Oh, Goddess she’s good.
“So, not official, but you like him?”
“Yes,” Roseluck squeaked as the talented blue mare began working down her back.
“And he likes you back?” Lotus said with a sing-song voice.
She could do little more than nod her head and try not to squeal too embarrassingly as Lotus worked her magic.
“Then what’s the problem? Why aren’t you out there picking apples right now?” She leaned forward, whispering into Roseluck’s perked ear. “I hear they grow them big down at the farm.”
Roseluck swallowed hard, then gasped as Lotus put her full weight into her work. “I-I-I, I feel like it’s going too—oh sweet Celestia’s crispy flanks that’s good—it’s going too fast with Macintosh and I...” Her hip popped, and the mare groaned, face crashing into the pillow.
Aloe pushed off of a twitching Raindrops, hooves clacking on the bedside as she joined the conversation. “Oi, I was around during that poetry thing—good job yesterday by the way, the both of ya—and I saw Mac doing his thing. Now, if it were me, and I ain’t like most ladies, but I’d have conked him over the head by now, dragged him to the nearest chapel, and we’d be halfway to Appleloosa by now.”
“Appleloosa?” Lotus asked.
Aloe shrugged. “In the desert, nopony can hear you scream.” The pink mare paused, brows furrowing in thought. “Or was that in outer space?” She blinked a few times, chewed her gum, then hopped back onto the bed’s side and went back to work torturing Raindrops’ back. “Anywho, go on with the too fast thing.”
“Hmm, right. I feel like I haven’t known Macintosh long enough for him to... get me.” Roseluck said as Lotus began to climb back up, working her back like a piece of raw meat being tenderized, and she loved it. Her eyes rolled back into her head as she let out a low, shuddering breath.
“What do you want in a stallion?” Lotus asked.
The spa-mare continued her ministrations while Roseluck tried to think. The constant touching, probing and rubbing of her back did little to help her focus. What do I want in a stallion?she wondered as a tiny smile crossed her lips. “He would protect me without being stifling. I'm not looking for drastic passion, but the slow, deep kind of love that is nurtured like my roses; we would bloom, supported by the quiet strength of the earth and bolstered by the warmth of the sunshine. He needn't be flashy or brash, like a waterfall or racing current; I would prefer still and calm waters that run deep, so that no matter how long we spend together, I'd never touch bottom. He would shield me like a warm sweater, in that soft sense of security and warmth, instead of armour which is heavy and inflexible. Oh, and he must be willing to share the same hobbies and motivations as I.
“We would complement one another instead of clashing, and walk side by side instead of one or the other having to lead. Our silences would be the comfortable kind, without the need for the pointless buzzing of unnecessary words.” One that can give this sort of back-rub would be a bonus... a very bigbonus. “Oh, and looking really, really handsome and all that would be a boon.”
Raindrops stretched forward, looking out from behind the two colourful mares. “So, basically your perfect dream stallion would be Big Macintosh?”
All four mares began to giggle as one, unable to avoid the awkward humour of the situation. Then the laughter died out, and Roseluck spoke once more. “I guess I see your points. I’ll talk to Big Macintosh again, and maybe we can work something out... a compromise of sorts?”
Raindrops nodded heartily. “Yeah, then when he agrees, you snog him!”
“Won’t ya be seeing him in that competition today?” Aloe asked.
“The competition!” Roseluck shouted, standing erect upon the bed in the blink of an eye. “What’s the time?”
Lotus trotted to the middle of the room, then glance at a wall-mounted clock in the entrance hall. “It’s nearly noon.”
Roseluck hopped off the bed, her entire body flexing to the impact of landing in a way that it never had before. She felt much, much lighter, but she was still out of time. Her hooves assaulted the marbled ground beneath her, thundering as she sped ahead. “Thanks for everything!” she said, calling over her shoulder. “Raindrops will pay!”
As the mare charged out the bell above the door rang and the sun touched her gleaming coat once more. Within the building behind her, Raindrops floated in the air, twiddling her hoof-tips together while the two spa-mares glared at her.
Roseluck panted lightly as she exercised limbs that felt brand-new. Behind her was the constant whoosh of Raindrops’ wings beating up and down. They were late, really late. Oh Celestia, oh Luna, ohwe’re going to get disqualified, then ridiculed, then I’ll lose face and my shop and.... The mare’s frenzied thoughts blanked out in a millisecond as she rounded the last corner between herself and the showgrounds.
Hundreds had gathered, a sea of talking, chattering ponies of every age and shape, a veritable army of impatient fans that waved and fluctuated in a haphazard fashion. The bouncer-ponies of the previous day were running to and fro, trying to organize the too-big crowd and preserve some semblance of order. Within the cordoned-off area, the elite and those familiar with the event were gathered, glancing around themselves with a simple quiet.
There’s so many, she thought, eyes growing until they were no longer proportionate to her face.
Raindrops fluttered to a landing and hummed. “Cool. Guess we’re growing a fanbase, huh?” she said, nonplussed. She ruffled her wings, shaking them free and stretching. “There should be more, no?” she asked, furrowing her brows at the group.
Roseluck stared at her sides, sides that she could clearly see thanks to the very noticable lack of saddlebags. “My poems,” she whispered in horror. Gently, she looked up and along the homely row of pastel-coloured houses behind her. Can I make it? she wondered, mentally tracing the route back to the spa and trying to calculate the time. The erratic, mad beats of her heart made it hard to concentrate.
“You won’t make it,” Raindrops said, reading her mind. “But don’t worry, I know that you know all of them like the back of your hoof. You can do it. Plus, the entire town’s here, and Big Mac. So if you mess up, it’ll be horrible! Could you imagine that? Never able to set hoof out of your shop again for fear of being laughed at? And it’d take years to get over it too! So, you’d better go up there, do your best, and not mess up.”
She glared at her friend. “Thanks, that’s so helpful,” she said, voice overflowing with sarcasm. I guess it’s doable... maybe.
“Good, glad to help!” Raindrops said before thumping Roseluck on the shoulder. “Now let’s get moving; we should probably be near the stage when it starts.” With both forehooves, Raindrops began to shove, drag, and goad Roseluck along, glaring and shouting at any that stood in their way.
As they neared the cordoned-off area, Roseluck caught site of the show’s host, Inky Scribeswell, pulling his mane out at the sight of the less-than-quiet crowd. In the foremost row were six seats, two of them notably empty amongst the battle for placement that was ravaging around the area. In one of the seats was an unmistakable red stallion that peered into the crowd with his deep green eyes.
Roseluck’s heart skipped a beat, and her entire focus wavered, turning into little more than jelly as she slid to the edge of the cordoned area and stared back. Their eyes met, and locked onto each other. Ignoring the small scuffle between Raindrops and a few of the bouncers, the infatuated mare lifted a hoof and waved at the stallion. He waved back.
With a hop, skip and jump, the mare was over the red-velvet cordon and trotting down the aisle, ignoring the throngs of ponies as she focused on Big Macintosh. She rounded the corner, only a few steps away from the stage’s edge, and trotted over to the six chairs. Snowflake, the massive white pegasus, nodded politely to her while Derpy Hooves and Snails talked in hushed tones. Her attention, however, was solely on Big Macintosh as he stepped up and almost bowed to her.
“H-hel-hello,” she stammered, then coughed, trying to disguise her fumbling. “Hello, Mister Macintosh.”
“Hello, Miss Roseluck.”
She glanced away, but her focus was pulled back to the massive stallion as if by gravity. “I... we should talk. About things... and stuff,” she said. Darn it, I sound like Raindrops. I’m a poet, why can’t I even string together a simple sentence?!
“Let me rephrase that?” she asked, smiling timidly. To her great enjoyment, she noted that the stallion flushed red beneath his coat. “I, I really enjoy your company, and you’re the bravest, kindest stallion I know. And I do wish to be with you.” She gave the ground below an undue amount of attention. “But I fear that things are going a little too... fas—”
“Ladies and gentlecolts,” Inky Scribeswell said from upon the stage, his speaker-enhanced voice blaring out over the crowd.
At once, the chattering and small talk began to quell, with only the slow-on-the-uptake ponies gabbed on. “Will you all shut up?!” the host-pony screamed into the microphone, the sound punching through the air and knocking any strands of conversation out of the minds and mouths of all. “Thank you. The second day of our wonderful competition shall now begin.”
Silent as a well-behaved bull in a china store, Big Macintosh led Roseluck to her seat and made sure she was comfortable before plopping down into his own spot. They sat side by side, trying to ignore the presence of one another while simultaneously reveling in it.
Raindrops slipped across the air, performing an aerobatic tumble at the very last second before crashing into the stage, landing with with a thump in her seat. “Not late,” she proudly whispered as her wings ruffled along her sides.
“I was hoping that you’d be really late,” Snails whispered back, “that way I wouldn’t have to embarrass a mare in front of all her friends.”
A slow, evil smile crossed the mare’s lips as her entire face contorted into a cruel mask. “Are you saying I’m going to lose, little paste-eater?”
Snails grinned back, too oblivious, or perhaps too stupid, to note the dangerous tone of the mare's voice. “Uh-huh. You’re going down, old lady.”
Her eyes and wings twitched. “Oh, you are on!”
Again, Inky Scribeswell coughed into the microphone. “If everypony agrees to remain silent, we will begin.” His grizzled old eyes swept across the much-larger crowd and he grumbled something incoherent. “The rules, ladies and gentlecolts, are elementary. The contestants shall take the stage in their respective pairings and then deliver their bardic performances. One at a time, mind you! We most certainly do not need to repeat last year's Lily-Daisy debacle, after all. The victor will be determined by our spectacular Clop-o-Meter, which functions, as I imagine you plebeian lot need to be reminded, by measuring your approval in an auditory manner. The louder the cheering and stomping for a given poet, the higher the rating they receive from our wonderfully impartial moderator of machinery! The conquering poet advances to the finals, to be held on the morrow. That is all.”
He glared at them all, as if daring them to cheer then and there. “The only other rule is that there must be absolute silence at all times. No commenting, no jeering, no laughing. You can save your peasant-like foalishness for after the show.” He huffed, content that silence reigned. “Our first pair is Sir Snowflake and Sir Big Macintosh.”
“Yeah, it’s my turn!” Snowflakes exclaimed as he hopped off his bench with a flutter of his wings and strutted up the steps and onto the stage, the entire construct bouncing under his gait.
Big Macintosh followed at a slightly more subdued pace, bowing slightly to Roseluck before gently trotting away. His lips were twisted in a tiny, passionate smile that somehow complemented his size and strong muscular bulk. Roseluck heard a few mares behind her swallow hard.
With a last adjustment of the microphone and its stand, Inky nodded and trotted off the stage and to the back of his desk where another such device waited. “Stallions, you may begin.”
Big Macintosh was the first to talk, gently asking his compatriot if he wanted to be first. His voice carried over to the microphone in a soft, humming whisper.
Snowflakes ‘yeahed’ then thumped forward and grabbed the device, brought it down to his muzzle, and began:
This is an ode to the burn, to knowing what it's like to earn
Biceps that make buffalo cry, pectorals to catch a mare's eye
That ache when you push the extra mile makes me smile
Screw wing-size, I can break trees with my thighs
In my spotter I trust, yeahh, ten more squat-thrusts
My pectorals are poetry and my deltoids delicious
So don't think me oblique because I'm unique
Protein shakes are tasty and nutritious
When the cardio gets going problems fade away
I'm an anaerobic machine and a metabolic dream
Trim and fit, press and lift, twenty more reps
If you want a piece of this you just gotta scream...
YEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!
The first contender of the day always received the easiest cheers, and Snowflake was no exception.
Everypony cheered, if not with gusto then with polite taps of their hooves punctuated by the occasional hoot or piercing whistle. The massive white stallion reveled in the cheers, bursting out “Yeahs!” that created feedback with the speakers and deafening half the crowd.
The Clop-o-Meter ticked forward, the long metallic finger tapping the edge of the eighth digit. Oh no, he did really good, Roseluck thought as she looked at Big Macintosh. The red stallion was calm and composed as he aimed a genuine smile at the mare. Those behind her fainted, but she didn’t care.
He made his way to the fore, taking gentle steps with dainty precision until he stopped a half-step from the podium. His green eyes surveyed the now-quiet crowd, digging into the soul of any and all with a fierce determination. His set and stance said that he was going to win, and his voice, as he opened his mouth and spoke, was decidedly going to prove it:
“You are the apple of my eye.
I have to continually reassure myself that I’m not living a dream.
I feel so blessed that I want to cry.
I constantly find myself asking “why?”
For over other mares you reign supreme.
You are the apple of my eye.
There’s no glamour my profession would imply
Which renders me awestruck that you hold me in such high esteem.
I feel so blessed that I want to cry.
You heal every plant under Celestia’s sky
Nothing can wither beneath your radiant beam.
You are the apple of my eye.
My love for you I cannot deny,
I adore you too much to win you over with a scheme.
I feel so blessed that I want to cry.
I will no longer fear things will go awry
And something will happen for which I cannot redeem.
You are the apple of my eye.
I feel so blessed that I want to cry.”
A hush fell over the assembled ponies as the last line, weak in tenor, yet powerful in meaning, echoed out through the air. Lifting his head, the stallion looked at them all. “I love you,” he spoke his final verse.
The sound of hearts breaking, mares—and a few of the odder sort of stallion—gasping and bodies thumping to the ground as a clear lack of consciousness filled the area. Then the clapping began, started by Roseluck assaulting the ground with a fury and passion she was unaware she possessed and carried on by every pony within ear-shot. The Clop-o-Meter’s staff twitched, then shot up, passing the eight and reaching nine.
The two stallions shook hooves, nodding to each other in a clean display of sportsponyship. Inky quickly stepped onto the stage and crossed over to its centre. With a small cough, he brought the microphone down to his head’s height and quipped into it. “We shall now have a small intermission, then continue with the competition with our second grouping. Miss Roseluck, and winner of three consecutive years, Miss Derpy Hooves.” With a curt nod, he walked off the stage.
Roseluck blanched. I’m next? Already? But... I’m not ready! A warm hoof touched her back, patting her in an awkward attempt to instill some confidence in her. No! I can’t worry, she realised as Big Macintosh made his way to her, politely and kindly turning a few autograph book-toting mares away. He did so much for me. I have to return the favour. For him. For my home and business. And for my future.
“Hello, Miss Roseluck,” he said.
“Hello, Macintosh,” she replied, dropping part of her formality.
“Hi, Mac Attack!” Raindrops shouted from behind the mare. A twin pair of glares shot her way, and quiet as a ghost, she returned to her seat, bickering with the colt beside her. “You’re ugly...”
“So, Macintosh. That was... absolutely beautiful. I can only imagine how good that mare must feel right now,” she said, attempting to play coy and failing as her entire body flushed red and began panting against her wishes.
“Thank you,” he said, and, not for the first time, Roseluck was jealous of his coat, one that hid his emotions so well.
Biting her lower lip, the mare flipped a mental coin, deciding whether or not to broach the delicate subject of their relationship so early in the day. It landed on heads. “So, um, I was wondering,” she began, hoof rising up and running along her forehoof. “About us. Are we a, um? You know?”
“Eeyup.”
She instantly brightened, feeling an enormous load being removed from her back. Now her heart soared, prodding and pushing in every feasible direction before twisting back to the stallion at her hooves. “Just to clarify, you’re talking about us being in, uh, in a relationship, right?”
“E-eeyup.” The stallion looked like he was on the verge of a panic attack, sweat collecting beneath his mane. She took a little pleasure in the idea that reciting poetry about flowers in front of hundreds had little impact, but talking to her made him antsy.
“Right, I wanted to talk to you about that actually....” He edged closer to the panic side of things. “It’s going too fast. I-I’m afraid that we’ll hurt ourselves if we take things too far. So, like responsible ponies, I suggest that we calm ou-ourselves and take it one step at a time. And get to know each other.”
“Eeyup. Ah agree heartily.”
“B-but that doesn’t mean we can’t do things. Together. With one another,” she said, twirling her hoof-tips together.
“Eeyup.”
She stammered on. “Like, being together, and visiting each other, and maybe.... kissing, and stuff. Maybe.”
Inky momentarily saved her from further embarrassment as he hopped onto the stage and trotted back to his position behind the microphone. “Ladies and gentlecolts,” he said, commandeering immediate attention and quiet. “The second part of today’s competition is about to begin. I invite Miss Derpy Hooves and Miss Roseluck on stage.”
She swallowed hard, vaguely aware that Derpy had taken to the air and swept over to the stage’s back, landing clumsily. At her side, Raindrops’ and Snails’ argument was reaching new heights. “Your friend’s going to lose,” he taunted before she smacked him upside the head.
“Don’t worry,” Big Macintosh said, his tone soothing, comforting. “Even if ya don’t win, Ah’ll still... Ah’ll still love ya. And Ah can help financially if need be. Ya’ll’ll never have to worry.”
She turned to him, eyes watery with sadness and pain. “You don’t get it, do you? You big oaf. I don’t want to need you. I’m my own mare, Mister Macintosh; you ought to learn that rapidly.” She turned and made her way around the stage and up the steps, her legs weak, just barely strong enough to support her. Did I just brush him off? she wondered, mind filling with a thousand stray thoughts, none of them poetic.
“So, Roseluck,” Derpy said, a soft smile adorning her grey lips. Her eyes were cruel, mischievous. “Do you want to go first, or should I?”
Going first gives your clopping ratio a boost. But I need time. Which poem? Which verse? Gah! “You can go, Derpy; thanks for offering.” Roseluck returned the smile and nodded politely. A single bead of sweat slid down her forehead.
Ruffling her feathers and shifting her wide-eyed attention to the crowd, Derpy Hooves stepped up to the podium. With a deep, mournful sigh, she began:
I wish I could be
Be my own me;
Find somepony who loves to see
Me succeed.
But all I receive is hate,
Anger; no possible abate
Why wont somepony love me?
I want to succeed.
I have dreams, too;
Aspirations, desires;
It is sings a beautiful tune,
Its notes going ever higher
But yet, I am forgotten; trampled;
A delicate flower broken by animals.
Why can’t I succeed?
I want to be me.
Through my rhymes, I try to tell a story.
One not of fame nor glory.
But of pain and hardship; struggle and sadness
That would drive some into madness.
Why am I ostracized?!
Put down, vandalized!
Do you all not realize
That every single day, I cry?
But today, I swear
I will no longer wear
A face of abuse; it will no longer be an excuse.
I will face you all today
And show you in this way
That I...
I am different.
I am me.
I am magnificent,
Because I am me.
Is it that hard to see?
I want to succeed....
I want to be me....
Even before she uttered the last verse, ponies were standing and shouting, whistling and cheering. The mare acted abashed, blushing and looking away shyly until she turned around and winked at Roseluck.
The beige mare didn’t pay attention to the Clop-o-Meter. Instead, she closed her eyes and allowed the words to flood through her. Prose, verse, rhyme and meter flowed around her, touching her, caressing her and whispering in her ear their sweet messages of love and unending fidelity. She visualised the rose and waited as the figurative petal hit the metaphorical ground.
Opening her eyes, she was ready.
A perfect star, soft in color
Shining for all who approach it’s grand perch
Five crimson points invite me t’wards
A grand center of the world where I search
For perfection. And hark! wonder
Fills my soul, for this angel of the sky
Has brought forth new life- perfect spheres
Of desire and health. Share your love, milord
With your caretaker, lest my tears
Flow to the earth, giving life to your high
Perfect tower. O, life-giver
Of our town, show me your heart, like the stars
From whence you came. To be restored
To my true self, to remove cursed scars
From my life, you must deliver
Your love, your attention to my weary
Soul. I see your magnificence
And I am in awe. Truly, you reward
Me simply with your mere presence.
You remove from my life things so dreary
I seek your love, my star so red
The apple of my eye, which blossoms forth
With beauty compared to, ignored
Is my garden. With good reason: henceforth
To the apple tree, I will wed
My love. It shall be as grand a tower
As those the fruit of the divines
Call home. And as valuable a hoard
As the delicious red, so shines
Our orchard, as gorgeous as a flower.
The crowd clopped their hooves on the ground politely, but they lacked the gusto of before. Only a few shouted, notably Big Macintosh and Raindrops, who hooted like mad ponies. Roseluck’s eyes peeled away from them and to the Clop-o-Meter, duly noting the slowly-rising bar: seven.
In a daze, the beige mare watched as Inky Scribeswell climbed on stage and made his way to the microphone, gently staring at her with an emotion she never thought she’d see in him: pity. Stepping back to the device, he coughed lightly, and confirmed her worst nightmare. “The winner of our second round, Miss Derpy Hooves!” he exclaimed, raising a hoof and pointing it at the wall-eyed mare.
I lost, she thought, not in fear or in anger or in anguish, but with a simple resonating defeat that coursed through her and left nothing but a void. Big Macintosh looked at her, sadness plain in his eyes. No, she decided as she began to walk, passing Derpy and moving off the stage in what seemed to her the blink of an eye.
Down the alley she walked, her focus on nothing as she began to leave. It’s okay. I’ll find something. I have to find something. Bits. I need some bits. Gosh, I’m so stupid. So much time wasted on this poetry crap that I could have spent on the shop. I can’t ask for help. Begging’s not my way. I have to make do, that’s al—
Big Macintosh spun her around with a single thrust of his massive, powerful hoof. “You lost,” he said, the simple truth slapping her across the face in a way that she could never have seen coming. She cringed away.
“Nnope. Ah won’t let you feel bad about yerself. You deserve better.” The stallion punched the ground with a forehoof. “Ah refuse ta see ya like this.”
She snapped at him, “Who’re you to decide what I’m to be like?”
Macintosh shook his head. “You silly, silly filly.” He stared down at her, one emotion shining in his eyes. “Ah don’t get to decide what you act like. Ah get to worry about you, and support you, and love you and worry some more. And if ya don’t understand that, that as a stallion it’s my duty to care for ya, then we’re not gonna get anywhere.” He grabbed her forehoof with one of his own; she didn’t resist. “Ah refuse to see anypony hurt you, especially not yerself.”
“I-I,” she stammered. What?
“Miss Roseluck, Ah’m sorry, but I’m about to break the agreement we made.” He swept forwards, grabbing her and pulling her in tight, their bodies crushing together and exchanging warmth. Gentle as a butterfly alighting on a petal, Macintosh kissed her.
Around them were a hundred mares and stallions, all those that were waiting for the next segment of the show to start. Their attention had long ago shifted to the feuding couple, and now, every last one of them sighed blissfully and wiped tears away.
Roseluck was in a heaven, one that nothing, no matter how strong, could destroy. He’s right, I really am a silly filly. We have nothing to worry about. We have each other. Nothing could ruin the moment. There was not a force on Equestria strong enough.
Except for Raindrops.
“Come on, you bargain bin-rejected, snot-nosed little brat! I’ll wipe the stage with that ugly mug of yours!” the winged mare screamed at the top of her lungs as she stood upon her bench, precariously leaning over Snails’ form.
“Oh yeah! Well you’re just some old hag!”
Raindrops physically recoiled, eyes widening as she gasped in shock. “Oh, you’re dead,” she said.
“Shut up, you smelly flankface! Y-you glue sniffer!” Snails fired back with juvenile venom. He opened his mouth to fire off another insult, but, quick as a viper, Raindrops clamped it shut with a wing-tip and tugged.
The colt flopped off his seat and was unceremoniously dragged across the ground in the general direction of the stage. Everypony—two love-birds and a certain show host—watched as Raindrops forced him up the stairs and to central stage.
“Inky,” the enraged mare shouted. “I need another mic; we’re having a rap battle!”
Snails blinked dumbly. Then, with an equally dumb expression plastered to his visage, he nodded. “You’re going down, lady.”
Muttering to himself about flagrant breaking of the rules and the cruel loss of tradition, the host-stallion snapped a drawer of his desk open and pulled out another microphone that he then carried with him onto the stage. The crowd had time to recede and find their seats as the angry Inky stomped across the stage and spat the device at Raindrops’ hooves. Still grumbling, he trotted over to the microphone and announced, “The third and final... battle of the day is about to begin.”
He backed away and everypony waited with bated breath. Raindrops began, her scratchy voice filling the air while she nodded her head to a nonexistent beat:
“Let’s get the rules out, before you lose and pout. First I scream at you, then you try not to fall through. You’re gonna reap what you’ve sown, now you’ve fallen for my scheme! When I'm done with you, you gonna wish this was a dream.”
Snails glared at her, his face contorting into as mischievous a look as he could manage. His gangly legs and too-thin body didn’t help.
“Snail’s my name and I’m going to make you look stale! I’m going to put you on the scale and show that you’re a whale! You’re looking a little pale, maybe some Snails as ya bend over a hay bale?”
He snorted a laugh. “Kidding, even I wouldn’t go for that tail.”
Raindrops smirked at him, took a deep breath, and launched her assault.
“Ah, put a lid on it kid, you little two-bit sh—squid. Rip that smirk off your face; you’re a bucking disgrace. You’re hardly outta school and I know this is cruel, But I’ll fill you with fright asmy sick rhymes bite. I’ll run you out of town, like that clown that you followed around.”
“Shut up, you old hag! All your lines drag. Can’t shag if you leave in a body bag. Your rhymes make me gag while your old wingies sag.”
Snails retorted with glee. Raindrops blinked at him, then began to giggle uncontrollably.
“Okay, time to take out my spectacular vernacular. I beseech you to cease as I teach you to preach. My words are a theology, yours belong in archeology It’s a sad twist of social psychology that you’ve got this ideology! Beats should be narcotic, erotic, hypnotic. You're just idiotic, So get off my stage, before I start to rage.”
Snails stared at her for a moment, the crowd silent in jubilant anticipation. He glanced at them, swallowed hard, then fell into his prose while deep pearls of sweat slid down his forehead.
“Uh, your poems are flat, and you’re sorta fat. I’m going to kick your butt You’ll never pass! You can suck my nuts, which are made of... brass?”
An awkward, thick silence stretched over the assembled ponies, ponies with discerning taste in poetry who—for the most part—were open to new things and experimental verse. But rap battles were not part of that. Some clapped, most just blinked in a stunned awe, still trying to process what they had seen and heard.
Raindrops grinned at them, tossing the mic over her shoulder and grabbing Snails’ side. Lifting him up, the mare waved at the crowd in a show of camaraderie and friendliness. It was then that they cheered, everypony raising to their hooves and shouting at the top of their lungs and clopping like mad. They stomped at the ground, the reverberating shocks echoing through the open-air arena and beyond.
Inky Scribeswell groaned and slid off of his seat and trotted to the stage, grumbling through the cheering as he climbed up the solid steps and marched—stiff-legged—to the stage’s centre. Waving his hoof wildly, he gestured for silence, which he managed to earn from the begrudging crowd after a few moments.
“It is rather... difficult, to judge if you all stomp at the same time. Perhaps we can split the voting.” His hoof swiped across the air and pointed at Snails’ gangly form. “Whomever votes for the young master, please do so now.”
The feeble clopping of hooves filled the surroundings before Snails stumbled out and blinked dumbly at them all, his mouth hanging agape. The Clop-o-Meter hit six as the smattering of applause died down.
“And now... that one,” Inky said.
An absolute deluge of thunderous hoof-stomping filled the minds and ears of everypony as one and all cheered for Raindrops. The mare grinned wildly at them, then bowed.
A certain couple failed to join in the rejoicing as they found their own joy in each other’s arms.
Snowflake: Silly Filly (AKA: Loeden) Big Macintosh: Cpl Hooves Derpy Hooves: JustAnotherTimeLord Roseluck: Pax Bellorum Raindrops Versus Snails: Pax Bellorum, Loeden (silly), Fred, RavensDagger, TimeLord, Cpl Hooves. But Mostly Staple
There was no shadow cast over the ground as Big Macintosh walked out of the woods; only the blue of the pre-dawn sky painted the grass in its exotic hues. The stallion took in deep breaths of air that swelled his massive chest before whooshing out with surprising gentleness.
Orderly rows of apple trees stretched behind him, each one beginning to show the fruits of the farmer’s back-breaking toil, each tree unique in a fashion that few could comprehend. He knew them all. Some of these were familiar to him by name, others in passing, but they were all his constant companions, and with this knowledge came a primal sense of pride.
This was his magic.
But it feels so... empty now, he thought as he slowed to a plodding trot. A breeze swept through the countless leaves as the trees spoke to one another, flirting with their mates and greeting those with whom their roots were entwined. They were a family and he only a friend. Will Ah have a fam’ly of mah own someday? Brow furrowing, Big Macintosh continued his stroll, the yoke around his neck swaying with every step.
Ahead, his familiar home and barn stood, their bright red exteriors painted a deep purple by the permeating light of the early morning, forcing a melancholy smile on his face. He did have a family, one composed of three beautifully spirited mares.
As the distance grew shorter, his hooves found purchase on ground that had been crushed and pounded by a thousand hoofbeats and prints. It was the great path that led to the barn, their home, and the dozens of little buildings and utilitarian shacks that surrounded their property. From there, he could clearly see one of the mares in his life.
Granny Smith was already perched on her well-worn chair, rocking back and forth with her eyes closed in an image of serenity and ageless wisdom. Big Macintosh nodded to her and shared a smile for a brief moment, knowing that it didn’t go unnoticed by the all-seeing matriarch.
He approached, trotting by the barn and taking in the thick aroma of warm hay mixed with apple cider that was one of the many constants of his daily life. With a deep sigh, Big Macintosh trotted on and cut around the red building’s corner. Ahead loomed his home where the creak of the old mare's chair could be heard from all directions. The creak slowed with every step that Big Macintosh took.
“Hello, my little Mac,” she said, using the name only she ever used on him, a precious moniker of days gone by.
“Howdy, Granny,” he replied, completing the ritual.
She smiled her old, cracked lips, which curled up to reveal a lack of teeth. She then lifted a steaming mug of cider and took a long draw. “It’s going to be a good day today. Nice and sunny,” she said as she looked up at the perfectly blue sky.
Eeyup, Ah don’ feel anythin’, he thought as he followed her gaze, an’ the trees didn’t say nothin’... and the mornin’ flowers are gettin’ ready t’ go inta full bloom. It’s goin’ t’ be a hot, warm day. “Eeyup.”
“You’re going off to that competition? The one in the town?”
Yup, goin’ t’ see Roseluck today. And Ah’m goin’ ta fight tooth n’ nail fer a victory against the wit and knowledge o’ ponies better ‘n myself as hundreds watch. All this, just t’ show her that Ah care. “Eeyup.”
“Going to see that pretty mare? The one that’s good with the flowers?”
“Eeyup.” Ah pray that Ah’ll see her, that Ah won’t make a fool outta mahself and that maybe, just maybe, she’ll see me too. A noticeable blush began to seep along the upper edge of his cheeks, and the old mare’s eyes twinkled at the sight of it.
Granny Smith chuckled mostly for the benefit of seeing the redness spread. “You’re going to treat her nice, aren’t you? I won’t have an Apple lad mistreat or abuse the heart of a young lady, it wouldn’t be right.” She lifted a hoof in caution. “But don’t let her play with your heart either. Be a good stallion.”
Ah, but Granny, she can fiddle n’ play n’ abuse mah poor heart as much as she wishes, for Ah would never complain as long as her presence is near me n’ mah eyes can be laid upon her and her mind’s intellect can skirt around mah own and spin circles around me. Ah love her, and such is final. Ah count for nothin’ in this. “Eeyup.”
Granny Smith nodded, her eyelids drooping shut as the first true rays of the sun broke through the horizon and splashed a warm, orange glow across her wrinkly skin. “You go on now, little Mac; you stink somethin’ fierce. Finish off your chores, and get soaked up. Don’t want the pretty missy to smell you coming and bolt, now do ya?”
“Nnope.” With no further need for conversation, Big Macintosh turned about and headed off, hooves shuffling along the dusty path as he made his way around his home, eyes cast toward the ground and mind floating high above. He passed one, low-hanging window after another before reaching the backyard.
There, spread out in a semicircle, was a garden filled with the spring’s blessing; croci, irises and bluebells all twisted about, ready to bloom whenever the sun reached them. In the middle of it all was an old water pump, one that had stood the test of time and had lasted many generations within their family. It stood there, waiting and primed, a dozen layers of paint visible on the edges where the last had peeled.
Huffing, the stallion marched over to the device and placed a muscular hoof on the lever, pushing down with little effort. The pump gurgled, then spat out a jet of lukewarm water that splashed against the dew-covered soil.
He sighed and pushed a few more times, allowing the water to change from a murky, slimy muck to a cool, fresh and crystalline liquid that flowed from the pump. He let go of the handle and ducked his head under the torrent, closing his emerald eyes as the water washed over and through his carrot orange mane.
Moments later, the water dribbled to a halt and the stallion was obliged to pump once more, starting the process again, but this time cleaning his forehooves. The familiar grind of the lever sounded out beside him, and Big Macintosh peeked at the machine.
Apple Bloom was at the pump, standing on the tip of her hooves to huff and puff as she worked the device and forced a constant flow out of it. Below her was a tipsy stool she had dragged over from the side of the doorway to be able to reach.
Smiling, Big Macintosh resumed his shower, clumps of dirt and grime sliding off his coat along with sweat and the pure, honest odour of work.
He waited, knowing that soon a slew of questions would escape the little filly, the second mare of his life. He didn`t have long to wait.
“Are ya goin’ to that poetry thing?” she asked. “Miss Cheerilee said that it’s a really, really important... thing, for Ponyville. She said that it was, um, ‘trade rich ya know’ll.’”
“Traditional,” he corrected, his smile twitching ever-so-slightly larger. “And eeyup, Ah’ll be goin’.”
She swung down harder, releasing another spray of water. “Will ya win?”
“Ah don’t know.” But Ah certainly hope so; little else would impress her as much.
The filly remained quiet for a moment, then hopped off the stool to sit in the soggy grass. “Sis says that you’re only doin’ this for somepony she calls ‘beige flower-pick’r’, is that true?”
His smile faltered a little, but remained. Mah, poor, poor sister Applejack; she doesn’t yet understand love. Not yet. “Eeyup. One day you’ll know,” he cautioned.
She sighed, a sound so sad, so disheartening that the older brother could do little else but turn to his sister and watch as her tiny shoulders slumped and her mane slid before eyes filled with grief. “What’s wrong?” he asked, approaching her and casting his long shadow over her shivering frame. “Why’re you cryin’?”
Through her sniffles, the filly made herself understood, “AJ says that ya wanna marry that lady, but if you marry her, you won’t be ‘round here no more, and then Ah won’t see you, and then Ah’m goin’ to miss you a lot.”
Big Macintosh huffed, both in indignation that she was crying for such a thing, and at his own stupidity for not foreseeing this eventuality. “Ah’m not goin’ nowhere, Apple Bloom. Ah’ll be right here, wantin’ to help ya, forever,” he said as he crouched down and touched her forehead with his muzzle.
“You promise?” she asked, sly eyes peeking out from beneath her mane.
“Eeyup. An’ when colts come ‘round to court you, Ah’ll be right there, waitin’. An’ when you make a ruckus with yer friends, Ah’ll be right there, glarin’ at ya.” He shared a smile with her, a real, heartwarming one that pierced through his stoic demeanor. “You’re the most specialest lady in mah life. But Ah think we have place for just one more... you think you can handle that?”
“Ah think Ah can.... Are ya gonna marry her?”
“Mmaybe.”
“Did you two try to make foals yet? Ah really want a lil’ sister.”
Not for the first time in his life, Big Macintosh thanked Celestia above that his red coat disguised his embarrassing blushes. “Nnope. Wouldn’t be proper.” Not that Ah haven’t thought ‘bout it. His blush deepened. He was going to need more than a red coat to hide it, he realised. “Go get ready; you’ve got school.”
“Nope. Miss Cheerilee says that we’re going to that poetry thing, the one you’re in. I’m going’ to watch mah big brother kick some flank! The whole entire town’s gonna be there, all watchin’ you and judgin’.” She beamed proudly up to her brother. “Maybe we could become Cutie Mark Crusader Poets?”
“Eeyup. Ah’ll see ya there.” With a pat on her head he turned and began trotting away. As he walked by his home and past the iconic barn, his coat began to dry itself with the constant thumping steps and the aid of the warm sun.
The glowing orb decorated the sky and air with jovial light. All around him, Big Macintosh could hear and feel the earth rising to greet its warmer friend. Plants shifted an imperceptible amount to catch the brightest rays. Shadows skirted off and hid where the light dared not shine. The few animals that had not yet woken startled into consciousness; birds chanted, and critters crawled out of their dens.
Apple trees shaded the path off the barn that led to Ponyville. Without a second thought, Big Macintosh dove into the passageway and began the long descent towards the one he cared for.
Humming a happy tune, the stallion made quick work of shortening the distance. Soon, the thatch-roofed homes of the town were visible through the leaves and branches.
An aquamarine and yellow blur zipped by Big Macintosh, followed a half-second later by a powerful wake of wind. His brows furrowed and he stared after it until it faded in the distance. Shrugging, the stallion went on his way with bigger worries clouding his mind.
A few ponies waved at him as he marched into the town proper, some even calling out well wishes and congratulations for the competition. He answered these with simple ‘eeyups’ and ‘nnopes’. Others, especially young, unwedded mares, waved shyly at him as they tried to hide their blushes.
As he rounded a corner, the stallion heard another faint whisper: that of feathers fighting against the pull of the wind. Four hooves thumped against the ground at his side, accompanied by the flutter of wings snapping shut.
Twisting around, Macintosh stared into Raindrops’ baby blue eyes. Her mane was a mess, dirt and mud stains climbed up to her calves, and the dark bags beneath her eyes did nothing to conceal the twitch she had. “Howdy,” he said, greeting the mare who was not acting quite normally, even considering her normal behaviour.
“Hiya, Big Mac,” she greeted him, face splitting in a grin. “I was wondering if I could ask you a bit of a favour. Could you help me?”
He sat down and let his eyes waver over and around the mare as he worked his patience to hear what she had to say. “Eeyup.” Any friend of Rose is a friend o’ mine. Even Raindrops. And maybe she can help me get closer to her.
“Coolbeans! Ya see, Roseluck’s kinda in a scuffle with these three big mean stallions; there was some screaming going on. One of them pushed her, I think. So I figurafied that you might be able to help?”
The mare hadn’t finished her sentence when Big Macintosh started charging down the road. Clouds of dust rose up behind him while homes and businesses became blurs along his side. The thunder of his hooves was all that warned those ahead of him of the oncoming storm of masculine fury.
What happened?he wondered. The competition’s gonna start soon. Is this related? Did somethin’ go wrong? Raindrops wasn’t worried. Is it a trap?
He spun around the last corner, a few ponies jumping out of the way while he focused solely on the colourful storefront where Roseluck worked. There stood three burly stallions, just like Raindrops had described. Two pegasi with yokes around their necks were standing near a boxy carriage while the third, an earth pony almost as large as Big Macintosh, leaned towards Roseluck’s shivering form. Most of his bulk came from thick flabs of dangling flesh.
“So, little missus, you going to pay, or you going to let us pass? No in between,” said the earth pony.
One of the pegasi stepped up, hoof rubbing at the chafe marks left by his yoke. “Hey, Collateral Damage, don’t you think you’re going a little heavy on her?” he asked.
“She’s been dodging her bills for the past three months! I won’t let her talk us out of this again. She owes us the bits, and if she can’t pay, then we’ll take the equivalent.” He turned and glared at the beige mare. “You’ve got to understand, miss; we can’t just let you get away with not paying anymore.”
“Nnope,” Big Macintosh said as he ended his gallop not twenty paces from the group. His coat glowed with the thinnest of sweaty sheens. The three stallions turned and stared at him, uncertainty mixed with their curiosity at his presence. “Nopony’s doin’ nothing to Miss Roseluck,” he said before cutting the distance at a brisk pace. “Not on mah watch.”
Collateral Damage blinked, then, in the time it takes for a chicken to mention Rainbow Dash, his expression became stern, revealing a fierce glare as he puffed out his chest defiantly. “What in Celestia’s name are you talking about, sonny?”
“Yer tryin’ to take Miss Roseluck’s possessions?”
“Yeah, we are. That’s what happens when ya can’t pay up. Got it, bud?” The repo-pony took a long step forward until his breath washed onto Big Macintosh’s coat.
“Ah can’t let you,” the larger stallion replied, shaking his head for emphasis. That these ignorant beasts dare to hurt Miss Roseluck’s feelings is unforgivable! Ah’ll never live down the shame if somethin’ bad were to happen to her while Ah was right there. And Ah’ll be damned if these mongrels touch a hair of her head with their dirty paws. “Nnope.”
“Macintosh, I can handle it,” Roseluck said, her voice calm and firm. The stallions ignored her.
The two pegasi circled around, wings beating at the morning air with restrained intensity. Macintosh kept his focus on the large earth pony, but was aware of their movement around him. The air was thick with hostility and the electric tingle of future violence. “Look, buddy. She might be your mare and all—”
“No one owns Miss Roseluck,” he interrupted. “She’s a self-made mare, and that’s what Ah love ‘bout her.”
Collateral Damage rolled his eyes. “Uh-huh, self-indebted too. Now, missy here promised that if she won that poetry thingy, she’d give us our bits. She didn’t.”
“Then Ah will.”
“Hah! Maybe, but until then, we’re going to waltz in there and take what’s rightfully ours. There’s a greenhouse installation in there with my name on it. And unless she finds a way to get bits in my pocket or—” he put on a dirty smile “—finds another method of making us all happy, we’re leaving with it.”
Big Macintosh took another step and towered above the repo-pony, his deep glare piercing into the fat stallion’s soul. “What’d you say ‘bout Miss Roseluck? Ah’ve got the impression that you were implyin’ something unkind.”
“Boys,” Roseluck protested again, but her feeble glares and furrowed brow did nothing to the stallions. “Stop this horsing around. You’re making yourselves look like idiots.”
“I’ll say whatever I want about her ‘till she pays me.”
“Watch yer tongue.”
“Bring it, farmcolt. We’re three to your one fat hide.”
Big Macintosh stared down the unflinching repo-pony while the two pegasi watched warily, shifting their weight from side to side.
Raindrops fluttered to a landing above their sky-carriage and watched them with wide, giddy eyes and a huge, cruel grin. Ponies that would usually be talking and laughing were now staring at the circle of testosterone. A cool wind, uncommon for so late in the spring, whistled by them all, rustling manes and sending shivers.
The stallions stared each other down through narrow eyes, not daring to blink or look away. Muscles became tense, then loosened, ready for a fight while their heartbeats raced under the calm surface.
“Oh, for Celestia’s sake,” Roseluck muttered under her breath. In half a second, she was between Big Macintosh and Collateral Damage. She pushed hard on both their chests. “You two will shut up, and sit down. Right, now!” she barked.
The two stared at her, blinking dumbly. “Both of you will sit down and listen to me. Understood?” she demanded, voice filled with venom. Her green eyes alternated between the two before finally settling on Big Macintosh. “Let’s start with you, Mister Macintosh, shall we?”
The stallion swallowed hard and managed to nod.
“I appreciate you coming,” she said, a blush crossing her features. He wondered if it was caused by embarrassment or anger. “But really, Macintosh? Defending me like that? I’m not some little filly that needs pampering. In fact, I’m more than capable of taking care of myself. The thought was nice and all, but I don’t want a coltfriend who can’t act civil every time another stallion walks by.”
With a huff, she turned to the repo-pony. Whatever love had snuck into her eyes faded as she reached up and pushed a stray hair back into her mane with a sigh. “And you, Mister Damage. I know your mother.” The mare stepped up to the fat pony and stabbed at his chest with her forehoof. “She’s a beautiful, kind mare who buys flowers here every single week, and I’ll be sure to tell her the whole truth next Saturday, when she asks why I can’t give her a bouquet of marigold and tulips. Oh, and let’s not forget your wife!
“If I recall, I was the one that furnished the decor for your wedding. What will she say when you tell her that you ruined my store without even giving me one more little chance?” Face burning, Roseluck jabbed at him again. The stallion began to stumble back.
“Hurt me? Hurt me! Look around you, bud! We’re three, you’re three. If you want to pick a fight, now’s the time. Heck, I’ll take the bunch of you swine on my own if need be!” Roseluck stomped a forehoof onto the cobblestone street. “You want your bits? Well, you’ll get them! Just as soon as my little Macintosh wins.”
Two stallions spoke at the same time. “What?”
Roseluck turned to Big Macintosh, flushed and exhausted, but her eyes sparkled with an enticing joy that he would have done anything to share with her. “That is, if you’d be will—”
“Eeyup,” he replied without thought. Anything for you.
“Perfect, then it’s a deal.”
The repo-pony stared between them, then let out a low, long sigh. “Fine. You two love birds can enjoy yourselves. But I’ll be back, tonight if I have to, to rip those pipes out if you fail.” Collateral Damage turned around, his gait making him wobble as he moved back to his carriage with his tail twitching sporadically. The two pegasi followed behind before making a beeline to the carriage and hooking themselves to the front.
Raindrops hopped down from the carriage and skipped over to her friends with a wild grin on her face. “Oh, that was some awesome stuff! Awesome like a... possum. You should go all dominatrix on ponies again, Rosey! I didn’t know you could do that.”
“Um, thank you?” Roseluck said, unable to wipe neither the proud grin nor the concerned look from from her face. She turned to Big Macintosh and lowered her eyes, averting them to the ground. “I’m sorry about that. I just thought that it would be best not to gang up on them alone. And I can take care of myself. But I appreciate it. Truly.” Leaning forward and tipping up onto the end of her hooves, Roseluck planted a peck on his cheek. Then she kissed him again.
Big Macintosh blushed the fiercest of pinks as the mare’s lips entwined with his own. Her warm, succulent breath escaped her in a ragged gasp that he swallowed up hungrily. A deep, guttural moan rose from his chest as she pulled back slightly with a light nibble on his lower lip.
As suddenly as it had begun, Roseluck shied away and stood near him, blushing and looking away before patting her foreleg against her lips and licking them. “Yes, well, thank you....”
“Eeyup.”
“Yes, well, um, thank you,” Roseluck repeated as her hoof pawed at the ground. Big Macintosh scratched the back of his neck and focused on those hooves.
“Yer welcome.... Weren’t nothin’,” he said.
Raindrops’ eyes spun a wide circle in her head as she sighed. “Okay, it was cute at first. Now it’s just creepy. Can you two hurry up and either make out for reals or get going? The show’s going to start without you. ”
Both looked at the aquamarine pegasus and blinked dumbly, their overheated brains straining to make sense of the situation. “The show?” Raindrops tried to explain. “With the poems and the bits and the bet that you just made.... Very important.”
Big Macintosh shook his head, trying to clear the plethora of cobwebs marring his mind's vision. Course. Ah have to get goin’. And win too. Ah made a promise, and Ah intend to keep it. “Eeyup, we should go.”
With a slow reluctance, and much urging from Raindrops, the trio began to trot along. Ponyville seemed to fade from their surroundings, becoming only a backdrop to the quick and furtive glances the two enamoured ponies gave each other. The road seemed to melt away beneath them as their light hoofbeats carried them ahead at a pace that was both too fast and too slow.
Like two moons in orbit, the couple were drawn together until they practically stepped on each other's hooves. Roseluck hummed a long, wordless song inspired by the simple joy of living, while Big Macintosh listened with glee.
Along the road’s edge, wildflowers bloomed with sudden vitality, the grass became greener on their side of the fence and the sun’s bright light bathed them in a warmth that soothed and calmed.
Ahead and around a final bend was the stage, where not much had changed from the previous day. It was still an ornately decorated platform, surrounded by banners and bedecked by a sound system that seemed keen on tearing through the eardrums of any nearby ponies.
Mares and stallions were milling about at the foot of the stage. Smiles were being traded as a joyous cacophony droned about, grabbing any within earshot and pulling them in. The bouncers were running about, making sure that their lines stayed secure, but they did so with smiles and kind gestures. They too were excited.
Big Macintosh caught sight of Miss Cheerilee and her band of school foals on a nearby hill. With an inpony amount of patience, the teacher herded her children like a hen and gently brought them towards the show-grounds. He caught sight of a bow hopping up and down amongst the group. He swallowed hard, adam’s apple noticeably moving as his throat began to dry out, but he didn’t let it show... or at least, he tried not to.
“Don’t worry,” came Roseluck’s sweet voice. “Everything’s going to be fine. Even if you lose....” She looked away, and he knew that it was in shame, not of him, but of her own failure.
Roseluck, you’re such a silly, naive filly. How can Ah lose, when Ah’ve already won? You’re here, and Ah’m here. Mah family’s here and we’re all gonna have a good time. Of that Ah’m sure. He smiled down at her, eyes locking until Raindrops hopped between the pair and broke the magic.
“C’mon! I wanna win already! It’s going to start in, like, twenty minutes! And it takes a whole two to get onto the stage!” the mare whinnied.
“You know you could just fly there, right?” Roseluck deadpanned, her expression a painfully obvious sign that she did not quite wish to deal with the pegasus just then.
Her friend smiled and rubbed at the nape of her neck. “Yeah, but it’s more fun when we’re all together, no?”
“Nnope. Go along now,” he said, adding just enough playfulness to his deep tone that the mare could understand.
“Sheesh, fine. I’ll go bug Inky or something.” With a final roll of her eyes, Raindrops spun around and darted away.
They watched her leave, wings beating at the air as she soared above the crowd, cat-calling and beaming proudly at her quasi-celebrity status. She stopped a few times, kissing signature books and signing foals. At his desk, Inkius groaned aloud and thumped his hoof against his face.
Roseluck allowed another kind of smile to crack through as she watched her friend’s antics; it was a half-cocked grin that was both sly and knowing... the sort of smile, Big Macintosh reasoned, that could drive a sane stallion mad.
Ponies cleared out of their path, nodding and waving in recognition as the couple neared the stage and were easily allowed into the cordoned-off area. There, they found ponies of the more elusive sort: those that could pay for their seats. With civility and the ingrown sense of gentleponyship that had been hammered into his skull from a young age, Big Macintosh moved aside and let Roseluck find her seat first before sliding up beside her.
Their coats brushed up against one another’s, sending electric tingles up along their backs. This is so perfect, he thought. What could a stallion want more’n a beautiful mare by his side, flashin’ him timid smiles, and a bright, big show to let her see and to impress her with? Eeyup, life is beautiful.
A soft hoof caressed his own, and Big Macintosh blushed as he stared down at Roseluck. “It’s going to start soon,” she whispered, as if afraid to startle the moment away.
Tearing his attention from her, he looked and listened to the crowd. Mares and stallions shuffled in place, moving their haunches to a more comfortable position as they paid rapt attention. The solid thumping of hooves on hollow wood drew Macintosh’s attention back to the stage. There, Inky Scribeswell was moving toward the centre with the long stem of the microphone held firmly in his greying jaw.
The racket of the older gentlepony screwing the stand in place was enough to end the last of the conversations and commandeer all the respect that the crowd had. A sharp, piercing screech escaped the sound system, as if somepony had stepped on a banshee’s foot.
“Excuse me.” The stallion placed a hoof on his throat and let out a hearty cough. “Excuse me ladies and gentlecolts! The final part of our wondrous show is about to begin!”
With a grand wave, Inky pointed at Derpy Hooves, then Big Macintosh, then finally at Raindrops, who happened to be sitting upon his desk and biting her tongue like a stick of moldy chewing gum.
“Three ponies remain and the prize of a grand total of ten thousand bits!”
Polite clapping and hums of contentment filled the area.
“Now, without any further ado, let us invite our three final contestants onto the stage.” Inky, with a last flurry of movement, took a long step back from the microphone and sat down, a sly smile adorning his features as he scanned the crowd.
Raindrops hopped to the air and beat down with a powerful stroke of her wings, sending out a gust of wind that battered the ponies around her. With a smile splitting her features across familiar lines, she spun through the air and alighted on the very tip of the platform with an almost dainty tap of her forehooves.
Derpy Hooves was next. The grey mare surged out of a group of fans like a dragon roaring out of its cave. Loose feathers and beads of sweat decorated the air as the pegasus twisted around in a tight barrel roll and slammed onto the stage to skid to a halt.
She turned, the aviator goggles adorning her face catching the dawn’s light and splashing over the crowd. None cheered, but the adrenalin-fueled hype was felt by all like an electric tingle right below their ribcages.
Big Macintosh pushed himself out of his seat and looked at Roseluck. She smiled, nodded, then urged him on with a timid sweep of her hoof. He smiled back and lifted his head up high.
Eyes closed, the stallion absorbed the midday’s sun as it caressed his back and coat. The wind, silent and lonely, shifted about the crowd, carrying with it the scent of a hundred ponies, all eagerly awaiting for him to act.
He moved one leg at a time, hooves tapping and crushing the ground in a luxurious pace until he reached the staircase leading onto the stage. Raindrops and Derpy Hooves were trading smile-disguised glares as he climbed onto the stage proper and trotted over to their side.
“Now, to our three contestants, I ask: who should start?” Inky asked as he faced away from the microphone. His voice rang out, muffled by his distance to the crowd. “Please, pick amongst yourselves.” A slow, crawling tear of sweat began to slide down his balding forehead as his anxious eyes hopped from Derpy Hooves to Raindrops.
The aquamarine mare hummed then tapped her chin in thought. “Well, I’ll be going last. ‘Cause I’ll be coming in first. It’s only fair, right?” she asked. With a twinkle in her eye, she gave Derpy Hooves a great and innocent smile. “You don’t mind, do you, Miss Hooves?”
The grey mare’s brow furrowed and she glanced back at the growing crowd with the look of a dog sniffing out the traces of a predator. “No, it’s okay. I’ll go second.”
Four eyes fell upon Big Macintosh. Welp, Ah guess they wish for me to go ahead of ‘em. Ah’m not one for goin’ first, but it’s the stallion’s duty to respect the wishes of mares. Nothin’ Ah can do about it.
With three long and sure strides, Big Macintosh crossed the stage and stepped up to the microphone. Upon seeing his approach, Inky spun around and left the stage. A stray bolt of telekinetic power flicked the Clop-o-Meter on before he circled his oak desk and plopped himself down on his seat.
Macintosh brought his muzzle within a centimetre of the phone and took a deep breath.
All sense of meter and rhyme flew away from him like leaves on autumn winds, in that terrible moment when he opened his mouth to begin. His poem had been perfect; he had slaved over it in the quiet hours before dawn for months with painstaking care: his eloquent magnum opus that would make the world right and solve the problems and get the girl. It was gone, and for a moment he stared at the crowd in utter blankness, jaw working soundlessly as if on a hinge. His mind was empty, but his heart was full and it flowed over from the depths of his chest with the force of a broken dam.
He was supposed to be Quiet Macintosh, stallion of few words, who doled them out with economy and thought. He was supposed to be Dependable Macintosh, who planned ahead as any farmer does, who usually took time to consider things, working them over in his mind like a field being tilled. He was supposed to be Polite Macintosh, who had been raised right and didn't speak out of turn or line.
"The first time Ah met you, you smelled like manure," he stated with a halting, hoarse voice.
Somewhere within him, his mind kicked back on with faint 'danger, danger, danger' signals, but it was like the rusted pump behind the farmhouse. His heart frantically worked the lever, but there was no stopping it, even as he stared at Roseluck's growing expression of bewildered mortification. The pump was primed, and words streamed from him in a cleansing torrent.
“Ah liked it. It wasn’t pretty. It wasn’t beautiful. It was... earthly and fresh and so, so real.” His voice broke, as if he was once more a foal fighting through his growth spurts—a child.
“You were timid, then strong, but so weak. Like a flower that stands up after bein’ trodden on, or a rose that’s so easy to break, but whose thorns are enough to make anypony think twice before trying.
“Ah remember your anger, like the sun on my face but with no warmth, just a cold passion that drains the blood. And your happiness, tiny sparks of bubbly cider that sweep through mah every vein as you smile and laugh and try to hide your tears.”
One of his large hooves ran along the edge of the microphone. Its cold side reminded him that he was trotting right beside the edge of a precipice. Yet as he looked up and met the perfect eyes of a certain mare, he knew that jumping off was something he would do, even if it only made her happy but for a moment.
“Ah want to make you happy,” he said. The uncertainty that he saw in her evaporated and was replaced by the shining strength of pure joy.
“Granny always told me that there was no price to happiness.” The stallion looked down, tearing away from the overbearing contact with the mare and ripping apart the tendons of his heart in a single gesture. “She was wrong. There is a price, but it’s not in bits and cents; it’s time.
“Every second Ah spend with you is like a glimpse at bliss. A peek at what it’s like to be happy. You’re different, Miss Roseluck. You’re wild and strong and pretty and could hurt me with a single turn of your head or make me beg ‘n grovel with a tiny smile.” Still staring at the natural grain of the wood beneath his hooves, Big Macintosh smiled. “Ah always thought I was rather tough. You proved me wrong in all sorts of ways.”
What am Ah doin’? part of his mind asked. Ah’mmaking love, another answered. Still another, one that had once been tiny, minuscule but was not permeating and expanding across every part of him, spoke; it said, Ah’m making her happy.
“When Ah first met you, you were tryin’ ta save the trees around the town’s square. Miss Pie had buried all sorts of implements under the roots. The Mayor said that it was pointless. A bunch of ponies had given up trying. But you were different. You were new to the town, we owed you nothin’, but you still wanted to save the trees.”
With a wispy smile of remembrance, the stallion looked to the sky. Only two clouds floated in the silent blue ocean, both circling each other as long white tendrils mingled.
“Ah saw you covered in dirt and sugar and firecrackers, diggin’ patiently between the roots and whisperin’ to the tree, tellin’ it that it was gonna be okay, that you would fix it, that everythin’, in the end, would be all right.
“Every blossom on that tree sprung to life, every woody vein pumped and pulsed, every root shivered in contentment, and it’s only then that you stopped. Ah’ve always loved the earth. Ah’ve always felt Equestria’s pulse under my hooves. Ah could hear the trees whisper and laugh and feel when they were ready ta blossom. But you, you knew t’em. Ah didn’t think it was possible. But you had a magic. And when you climbed outta that hole, smellin’ of manure and smilin’ at the sun as if it was an old friend... I loved you.”
He wiped a hoof past his eyes. “And that’s all Ah have ta say about that.” He didn't even wait to see Roseluck's reaction, for he turned his head to Inky Scribeswell. The organizer’s mouth was ajar as his brain attempted to process all he'd just heard. “Ah’m sorry, Mister Scribeswell, for ruinin’ your show. ”
With a light step, as if Equestria’s gravity held no real grasp against the floating of his heart, Big Macintosh stepped around the microphone and hopped off the stage.
Ponies scuffled away with wide looks of both concern and curiosity as the stallion landed with a trot in their midst and made his way toward a beige mare. Her brilliant green eyes served as a pole to his heart’s compass.
Pushing herself off her seat, Roseluck took a few timid steps toward her stallion and the two let their lips meet halfway under the canopy of a thousand cheers.
This, Big Macintosh thought as his breath and hers became one and their bodies intermingled under the awed stares of many, this is what Ah want. This is love. This is mah mare n’ Ah’m hers.
“Just wait one Luna-darned second you two!” a hoarse, strongly accented voice called. The breaking of the silence was like a cascade as ponies gave way to sighs and groans as the lucky couple exchanged another deep and passionate kiss. “Hey, stop snoggin’ mah brother!”
Big Macintosh, as reluctant as he had ever been, pulled away from the tender lips of his mare. Their eyes met, emerald in emerald, until they both turned to the one that had interrupted their moment.
Applejack was there, hat perched above her furrowed brow while she stood seething. “Big Mac, we have to have ourselves a talk, now.”
“Applejack, Ah don’t think this is the time.”
The cowmare’s forehoof thumped against the ground. “Ah think it is the time.”
“Nnope,” Big Macintosh said as he shook his head from side to side.
“What’cha mean, ‘nope?’ Brother, you’re comin’ home with me, pronto, and we’re gonna talk about yer... situation.”
Before Big Macintosh could react once more, a firm hoof was placed on his forehoof. “Let me handle it, okay, Little Mac?” Roseluck said in a soft whisper that carried to the ears of other ponies. She batted her eyebrows at him and any thoughts of refusal melted away. This mare is awful dangerous.
With a quick, bouncing step, Roseluck trotted by Applejack. “Enjoy the show, Macintosh, I’ll return in a moment.” With her unwavering smile, the mare stared right at the Element of Honesty, sparks littering the air between them. “Come on, let’s have that talk of yours.”
Two mares left the arena, one grumbling under her breath and the other walking with the brisk confidence of a pony on the cusp of victory. As they disappeared around the stage, the crowd returned to its usual self: calm, composed and ready to hear some fine, elaborate prose.
The Clop-o-Meter’s arm was still ticking away at the mark of two before gravity pulled it down to nothing. Inky, who was standing with two hooves on his desk, and shared a look with Big Macintosh. Understanding passed between the two stallions in the form of quick, curt nods. With a silent groan, Inky hopped off his desk, stood and marched onto the stage, ponies parting out of his way.
“Ladies and Gentlecolts, a round of applause for Mister Macintosh who has made it this far,” he said as he reached the microphone. Clapping followed as ponies young and old joined up for a last chorus to the big red stallion. Blushing beneath his coat, Macintosh lifted a forehoof and saluted them, vaguely aware of the growing number of fanmares circling him, all with defeated looks of resignments. Sorry ladies, I already have a special somepony.
“Please welcome, in silence, Miss Derpy Hooves!”
The grey pegasus moved to the stage’s edge, locks of blonde mane sliding over her eyes as she looked at the ponies nearest the side. Taking a long draw of air, she brought her muzzle next to the wire-mesh of the microphone and sighed. “This is a little something for the ponies that deserve better.”
Once upon a summer day,
I came upon a thorny vine,
A gnarled message of my life,
And the source of my aggression.
I asked myself, “In what way,
Does this old bramble entwine,
The harbinger of such needless strife,
To learn this painful lesson?”
Around me its terrible grasp did grip,
And lesions it did cruelly form,
Squirm as I would, I never could,
Escape from this hateful prison.
But lo! in the embrace of this whip,
A comforting presence I felt born,
I felt a kinship with its wood,
And great life in this fission.
I felt the echo of the sad and alone,
Who will never be loved and never be known,
A life that is dead and never grown,
To be embittered and turned to stone.
I harshly screamed and I blindly cried,
But not out of senseless fear,
For this great friend that I had met,
had always been sought with a frown.
And down, down it writhed,
A valiant attempt to disappear,
For it had sympathy and regret,
For this stalwart it tried to drown.
I begged and pleaded,
To my friend gave all I had,
But still it fell and lost itself,
In wallowing depression.
The only thing that it needed,
Was to be made whole and glad,
And instead it gained a wealth,
Of its own shortsighted confession.
To support is to strengthen,
To nourish is to lengthen,
To help is to awaken,
And to fail is to be taken.
“Thank you.”
Ponies clapped. not for the beauty of it, or the awe, but for the simple elegance and timidity of the piece, the unobtrusive prose that took so little and meant so much.
Big Macintosh hummed to himself, gently adding to the drone of the ponies seated around him. His gaze wavered and slid to the stage’s side where the drapery ended and the edge bent around the corner, where Applejack and Roseluck had headed. Again his thoughts circled back to the mare on the clockwork that had been running his life for the past few weeks. Is she going to be all right? he wondered as the clock struck twelve.
Applejack can be a little... rough, but Ah’m sure she’ll be considerate. His chest puffed out and a burstl of air escaped him. No, Ah have other problems.... The bits. Where am Ah going to get the bits? He slapped himself in the face, adding the the polite cheering.
We have some at the farm, but they don’t rightfully belong to me. Or Ah could let that no-good bit-hugger take the hoses down... Ah’m sturdy with mah hooves, buildin’ something to replace it would be a breeze... and Ah’d have to spend the day at Roseluck’s... maybe a few days, buildin’ can take an awful long time. Eeyup, everything’s going to work out.
Derpy Hooves bowed, her eyes only ever focusing on the rising and falling of the Clop-o-Meter’s dial as it hovered around the mark of eight. She said something under her breath that curdled the ears of every mother within earshot before standing tall, unfurling her wings and beating through the air until she reached the far end of the stage.
Inky climbed back onto the platform. “Our next and final contestant,” he said, his shoulders slumping as if massive weight was being deposited on him at the very thought. “Miss Raindrops.”
A yellow streak raced up and around Inky, butting the old stallion out of his spot and revealing a grinning Raindrops. “Howdy, everypony!”
A hush fell over those gathered, only punctuated by the taps of Inky’s hooves on the hollow stage as he made a prompt exit with his tail and ears twitching.
The mare reached around and poked her muzzle under the crook of her right wing. After a moment of rummaging, she twisted around with a pair of thick-rimmed glasses which she pressed onto her nose with a touch of her forehoof. A few more seconds were spent with her yanking a rolled up scroll from the down of her left wing. “All right. Ladies and Gentecolts. This poem is a little something for the best of us. This is a little something for those that deserve far worse.”
Life was a jest, but still the very best
Until I found a friend, who made me suspend,
Feelings I had repressed and who set me to disclose;
to possess and to address
my growing distressed:
Of apples and roses and thick purple proses
She fell in love, they fit like a glove
A quick little blend, and some enemies to fend.
Feelings she was sick of, the need to impose;
to possess and address
Her growing in love:
With apples and roses and thick purple proses
Now they’ll get hitched, or maybe ditched.
No thoughts of floating, only of soaring,
feeling bewitched, a need to enclose
to possess and address
Their growing enriched
With apples and roses-- and thick purple proses.
Together for life, stallion and wife
I’m just the crony, of a little beige pony
That will face strife, this everyone knows
to possess and address
her growing rife
with Apples and Roses and Thick Purple Proses.
Raindrops backed away from the microphone, nodded to the crowd, then to Inky, and waited.
The applause began from the most unusual source. Inky Scribeswell clacked his hooves together, an easy smile plastered across his features and intermingled with the soothing relaxation of one that had just surmounted a challenge.
Big Macintosh soon joined in the noise, even humming an ‘uh-huh’ as the applause grew louder and louder.
Raindrops took a modest bow, twisting her wing about with a rapid swoop before ducking her head behind it and lowering her forehooves. The cheering continued as she rose up, flashed them a smile, then gave a less-than-subtle wink to Big Macintosh before blowing a kiss to Inky.
The old stallion froze mid-clap and glared at her. With a huff that was heard even above the cacophony, he took note of the Clop-O-Meter rating and made his way onto the stage, a noticeable limp in his step.
Raindrops backed up to sit near Derpy Hooves, a gloating smile adorning her lips. The two turned their attention to Inky, but still found the time to whip their wings at one another.
Inky’s tapping at the microphone was enough to kill off the last of the enthusiastic fanfare as a peal of screeching thunder echoed forth. “Ladies and gentlecolts. It is with great joy, jubilation and excitement that I bring our event to a close,” Inky said with a stone-hard face.
“It was a close competition in many respects; still, in the end, the singular winner was quite clear and concise.” He paused, allowing the gathered to wait with bated breath for the stallion to reveal the one they had chosen as winner.
“I am proud to announce, the the contestant that has paved the way to... new and, um, interesting forms of poetic freedoms this year, is Miss Raindrops!” Twisting around, Inky waved at the lucky pegasus.
With a skipping step, Raindrops made her way to the microphone and to Inky’s side under the eyes of all, including Macintosh.
Something orange and brown and beige moved on the stage’s side, prompting the stallion to look that way. Roseluck and Applejack were coming around. The farmpony’s hooves were trembling and a sheen of sweat was pouring down her mane, as if she had been working the farm all day long. Roseluck, on the other hoof, was resplendent. Smiling, maroon, eyes narrowed as they took in Big Macintosh in his entirety.
“Mister Macintosh,” she said crisply as the three converged. Her tone, at the time all-business, somehow carried a tiny underline to it that made the hairs along his back rise. “Your sister and I had a discussion; it was very... fruitful. Wouldn’t you say, Applejack?” Roseluck asked the muscular mare.
Applejack nodded, her loosened mane drooping down her shoulders. “Ye-yeah. We, uh, sure did,” she said, her voice rattling about like a hog-tied rooster.
Ah’ll have to have a talkin’-to with Roseluck ‘bout this later. In the meantime.... Big Macintosh leaned in toward the shorter mare and touched her cheek with the barest nudge of his muzzle. “Hello, Miss Roseluck.”
“Um, brother, Ah think Ah’m gonna head on over to the house,” his sister said, her attention noticeably riveted on the trampled grass below. “So, right. Ah do hope you two have a good time. And, um,” she raised her eyes and affixed them to his own. “Ah love ya, brother, but so does she. Now, you take care of her, all right?”
Was that the issue? She was afraid that Ah’d be rude to Miss Roseluck? Or, was she worried about me all along? “Eeyup,” he said while the corners of his lips twitched up.
“Well.... that’s that. Ah’ll see ya tonight brother.” Turning, Applejack shook her head, removed her hat, and wiped a layer of sweat from her forehead before heading out through the attentive crowd.
Roseluck began to walk away. Her tail swished under his chin and flicked at him, luring him after the young mare. “We can head back and... talk in private. I’m feeling very affectionate towards a certain stallion right now. Shall we get going?”
“Eeyup.”
Filling his nostrils, Big Macintosh took in the thick scent of ponies held too close together, the overpowering cologne of some stallions and the faint, almost imperceptible, aroma of flowers emanating from Roseluck, before he followed.
As they made their way up the pathway between lawn chairs, the toneless drone that Inky spoke with assaulted them from behind.. “Miss Raindrops, it’s with much incertitude and irresolution that I present to you, the grand prize of ten thousand bits!”
A sparse clacking of hooves filled the field as the attention of the masses were on a heightened buzz but still flagging after the long morning of competition. “Miss, if I may ask,” Inky began as he pushed a wide check across the stage, “what do you plan to do with your winnings?”
She shrugged and hugged the check close. “Oh, nothing much,” the mare said as a slow smile made its way across her lips. “I have always wanted to mount an insurrection, though....”
Roseluck and Big Macintosh reached the outskirts of the inner area just as a flabbergasted Inky tried to reason Raindrops out of rebelling against the current institution and imposing her own tyrannical government.
“So, Miss Roseluck?” Macintosh asked.
“You can just call me Roseluck, or Rose. What is it?”
“What’d you tell mah sister?”
Roseluck winked at him. “I told her that every poem starts with one verse.”
The two poets marched under the bright sun with their eyes gazing at one another in a vain attempt to stave off the times when they would not be together. But, as birds flitted by and insects chirped and ticked and buzzed their calls, the two knew that time was on their side as long as they had each other.
The End-ish
This chapter was mostly (as in, they addded bits and pieces) edited by: -Nova Force -Scootareader -Just Another Timelord -Loeden (Who really helped with Big Mac's poem) -StapleCactus -Frederic The Saiyan -Gurumane -Cpl Hooves Basically these guys: The Misfits
Warning: The previous chapters of this story are composed of a heartwarming tale of love, romance, friendship and poetry.
This is not one of those chapters.
This chapter contains:
-A disturbing lack of Raspberries (x0)
-”Gangsta” ebonics (Muchly)
-Luna (XL)
-Those hubcaps with the spinny wheel things. (x2)
-Uzis (x2)
-Lots of sugar (Many-Kg)
-The concentrated hopes and dreams of hundreds of authors. (Crushed, Minced and Regurgitated)
*The Descendant is not responsible for this madness, nor is he liable for any bodily harm caused by the reading of said content
The smells were familiar.
Moth balls mixed with antiseptics, the faint, wafting odour of caramel tea and that vaguely questionable stink that old ponies let off. One of the nurses trotted by, the tray balanced on her back filled with half-empty bowls of soup and used silverware that tinkered with every skipping step as she headed out of the sun room and into the main sections of the facility.
A creak sounded out, then repeated itself. Again and again it squealed, metal protesting against movement and a distinct lack of oil. Causing that sound was a mare in one of the room’s shadowy corners, the beams of light pouring through the ceiling-tall windows missing her by a wide margin as she sat in the darkness and smiled.
Her aqua-blue eyes cracked open and scanned the room before she reached out and petted the quilt blanket that lay over her knees. “Ah, hello there,” she said.
Tilting her head to one side and allowing her mane to fan out, the mare spoke once more, “Do you want to hear a story? It’s quite nice.”
“Oh, of course you do!” she said, adding a tittering, wheezing giggle to her expression. “Come, sit by the floor here, where there’s a carpet. I’m going to tell you the tale of Raindrops the Bold. She who leads and she who loves. The Last Princess of Equestria....
The crowd clopped their hooves like there was no tomorrow, hollers and screams echoing out and over Ponyville as the lone mare on stage bowed and beamed. A stallion joined their heroine, scowling at the sound but pushing forwards with a great big bowl of money on his back.
“Ponies,” he called out, motioning for silence with a forehoof. “I present to thee, with all the gladness of my heart, the winner of this year’s Ponyville Pneumatic Poetry Party, Raindrops!”
The cheering grew once more, powerful but short lived as Inky Scribeswell hoofed the bowl to Raindrops. “Miss Raindrops, what will you do with the money?”
The mare smiled at the crowded ponies, her eyes seeking out the comfort of her friends. In mere seconds she found Roseluck and Big Macintosh near the stage’s edge, wrapped in each other’s hooves as they smiled with her. “I want to give some to my dear friends, to help them with their upcoming marriage and to make their life easier; they’ve been through much. I also wish to donate a large portion of the proceeds to the local hospital and chocolate addiction aid clinic.”
“Ah, a true philanthropist then, aren't you, Miss Raindrops? A clinic to help rid ourselves of vile addictions would be truly helpful.”
“Rid ourselves?” Raindrops blinked at him, her wings beating at empty air. “And I’m not a flatulent pianist, I just wanna give back is all. And anywho, I'm going to take whatever's left over, buy a trampoline, a swimming pool full of cake frosting, and about twenty strapping stallion butlers in tight swimsuits, and then I'm gonna.... Are there any kids in the crowd?”
The mare stopped mid-sentence as a peal of thunder and lightning sliced through the skies. Above them all, the clouds formed an oppressive spinning disk with dark tendrils reaching out, flashing white and blue and yellow as lightning coursed through it all.
The ponies below swallowed hard, taking a few steps back as they shook and shivered. Ponyville had grown quiet, every bird landing and hiding, the critters and creatures of the field found their burrows and snuck underground where they hoped to be safe.
The clouds split, a gigantic rift tearing itself through the inky expanse. Within was a growing speck of gold and pearlescent white, slowly descending towards the little town like a brony stalking the toy section of a Walmart in search of an unsuspecting Pinkie Pie.
“Yo-yo, how is everypony?!” came a voice from the heavens, its strength shattering eardrums and sending lighter ponies reeling.
The carriage spun on its side, the great alicorn within hopping out and taking flight to land on the stages edge with a shuddering boom. “Whaddup, mah subjects!” the princess said, hanging her forehoof out and waving it about to make signs in the air.
“P-princess Celestia!” Raindrops said, bowing down in reverence to the deity. “How may we serve you on this day?”
“Yo Ah, not much, ah'm just here fo' all yo' cash biatch.” Her horn glowing a golden hue, the princess grabbed a thick clump of bit from the opened bowl and levitated it over to her carriage. She then began to stroke the heavy gold chains wrapped around her neck. “Gotta pay yo taxes, girl, or Imma pop a cap in yo flank!”
“Oh, Princess Celestia, we would never slight you,” the pegasus said, bullets of sweat pouring out of her as she dutifully stared at the floor. “We gladly pay our dues, knowing that you use that money to serve us all.”
“Damn right ah do. Look at them mags,” she said, pointing to her carriage. The gold-and-silver gilded vehicle was covered in logos and emblems. At the front, two burly stallions flexed their muscular wings, both of them wearing grill-shaped masks over their faces. But it was the wheels that were truly impressive: a pair of thick wooden carriage wheels outfitted with golden spinners. “Check then out! That stuffs worth more than your whole town. When I roll in with them, bitches know that I’m their pimp.”
The princess huffed, made another obscene sign with her forehoof, then hopped into her carriage. “I’m outta this ghetto.”
As the princess took flight and left, the entire crowd let out a collective gasp of relief and began to part ways, the celebration tainted so much that it felt like crunching into a chocolate chip cookie and discovering dates instead.
Shrugging to herself, Raindrops picked up the remainder of her winnings, a moderate half, and hopped off the stage, landing in between Big Macintosh and Roseluck.
“Are you okay?” Roseluck asked, an eyebrow arched as she touched Raindrops on the shoulder.
“Yeah, but I’ve got to admit, Celesta’s all sorts of cray-cray.”
A collective gasp came from all those nearby, and Big Macintosh placed a hoof over her mouth. “You don’t say that sort of thing,” Roseluck admonished. “Thems are fightin’ words.”
“Well,” Raindrops muttered as she pushed Mackintosh's hoof away. “Maybe we ought to fight some time. It’s only a matter of time before they do something really bad.”
Roseluck sighed, seeming to deflate as she began to walk out of the makeshift arena. “Don’t waste your time worrying about it, Rainy.” She perked up, trying to put on a bold face but failing under Raindrops’ astute observation. “How about we go celebrate the victory? Goddess knows how much you like sweets.”
The three nodded in unanimous agreement and began trotting into town. Despite the rough intervention by their favourite sun-tyrant, Ponyville was abuzz with excitement. There was that particular tingle in the air, like that of an oncoming storm only different. Something big was going to happen, but it was something good.
The contagious tingle infected every pour of our heroine’s body and she rushed ahead of her friends and beelined to Sugar Cube Corner, intent upon eating her way through far, far too many snacks.
Standing tall and proud, the candy shops’ doors were wide open, beckoning the burgeoning sugar addict to come in and feast on tasty treats. In the entrance, cast in the glow of shadow and doubt, was a blueish black from, its equine shape too large to be true.
Raindrops slowed to a halt, her friends catching up and doing the same at her side. “Who’s that?” she asked.
A moment later and she was answered.
Long limbs poured out of the shop, jiggling with every step as massive folds of fat fluctuated and waved about. Luna, the largest princess, stomped out of Sugar Cube Corner, her every step causing the houses along the street to shiver in protest. “It’s not fair!” the princess whined, all six of her chins bouncing about. “You must make more, immediately!”
Pinkie Pie followed after her, dark pouches under her eyes as she tried to abate the princess’ anger. “I’m sorry Princess Luna, I did everything I could, really. I stayed up all night and only worked on your order.”
“Then why isn’t there more?” Luna, with a wicked glow of her oversized horn, pulled out a pastry from seemingly thin air and chomped down on it, pouting all along.
“I’m so sorry Princess, I tried really hard, but I couldn’t make more than six hundred cupcakes overnight.” The pink pony wiped the back of her hoof over her eyes. “C-could Pinkie Pie maybe do something else? Make a deal?”
“A deal? For what?” Luna inquired, licking her lips as she bent forwards and over the cowering form of Pinkie Pie. The streets suddenly found themselves devoid of pony life as the Princess grew angrier and angrier. “What are thou going to giveth me to make me rejoice, hmm? You are not that appealing to Luna that she would want of you. You are far too fat.”
Pinkie Pie blinked a few times, the gears in her mind spinning and spinning so loud that the entire town could feel the whirling. “Um, I was sorta meaning a discount, on the price?”
“The price? Do you, do you?” Luna staggered back, jaw dropping inasmuch as her chins allowed. “You expect Luna to pay for your atrocious services? Why, you will be the one to pay Luna, vile peasant!”
“B-but I don’t have a lot of bits!” the mare exclaimed, standing up in her own defence even as tears sprang to her eyes.
Again, Luna licked her lips. “Then we will find other ways to entertain me! Come.” With a final barked order, the princess picked Pinkie Pie up with her magic and tossed the pink bundle of confusion into the store. Next, she levitated her loveless handles and trotted after her.
“This is ridiculous,” Raindrops said, spitting on the roadway in disgust. “Look at that, that was nothing if not bullying!” With a stomp of her forehoof, the mare huffed with indignation. “I’m tired of this, this unbelievable tyranny. Just because they’re all powerful does not give them the right to mistreat ponies.” She crossed the roadway, ponies all over staring at her with marked indecision, like a chipmunk in the headlights.
Grabbing onto a box marked “Soap”, Raindrops dragged it to the centre of the thoroughfare and climbed atop it. It is then that our heroine became true to her calling. “Ponies of Ponyville! Please, gather around, for I have things of great import to say!”
A cool wind rustled, grabbing the mare’s mane and billowing it out behind her as she stood above them all, glowing in the fresh light of the sun. “We have lived our lives in peace, always seeking to do good, always working hard, always being fair. And yet, those above us, our trusted leaders, have no qualms about breaking this trust, of shattering our peace and of idling in stagnant laziness while whipping us into doing their bidding.
“It’s time for this to end!” She puffed out her chest and made herself tall, wings ramrod straight on her back. With a forehoof, she pointed to Roseluck. “Roseluck, my friend, how much do you pay in taxes?”
“Um, well....” the mare said, backing away at the sudden attention. Ponies were gathering from everywhere, awed and curious.
“Please, have no fear, Nopony will hurt you.”
“Um, well, right now the taxes are at eighty percent. It’s the new swagger tax that’s really hard to pay....”
Raindrops nodded sagely then turned to another pony. “Thunderlane, didn’t you want to buy a new carriage? Why couldn’t you?”
The black pegasus blinked a few times, coughed into his hoof, then answered, “I wasn’t allowed to. Celestia passed a law that said that only she’s allowed to have a pimpmobile, and that means that nopony can have any sort of vehicle anymore.”
“Terrible. Derpy, tell me, what happened to all your muffins?”
“Luna ate them!” the pegasus wailed, tears springing to her eyes as she knelt over and cried. Some nearby ponies patted her back consolingly.
“Ponies, I believe that it is high time that we do something about this. We must march and face the vile wretches that dare to hurt us. But first,” Raindrops said, rising a hoof to calm the crowd. “We must pave the way. We must entice our fellow ponies into joining us. For the more we are the more powerful we will be.”
“Ponies, are you ready to rumble?”
And that’s how Raindrops started a war.
Ten thousand marched for the mountain of Canterlot. A long snaking row of ponies wielding rolling pins and brooms that stretched out to the horizon and back marched out. Pegasi from Cloudsdale marred the sky like a black cloud. Earth ponies from Appleloosa and the far west congregated about, pushing carts and honing their makeshift weapons. Unicorns from every corner of Equestria sharpened their horny heads. But one and all they looked at the mountain with fear and awe.
Canterlot’s mountain tore out of the ground like the jagged edge of a knife, rising higher than the eye could see as dark clouds milled around its peak. Jutting out of the omnimous rock masses’ side was the city of Canterlot itself.
A collection of dark, needle thin spires reached for the sky, like claws trying to choke the throat of the world. It was over the city that the clouds congregated, spinning in perpetual circles while slices of thunder and lightning surged out and played across the tower’s sides.
“It’s rather bleak,” Roseluck said, shivering until Big Macintosh place a hoof across her back.
The trio of friends were walking at the fore of their makeshift army, stepping on the well-trod path that gently led up to the castle. They avoided brambles and cruel plants covered in thin, wicked barbs and tried not to blanch at the indistinguishable stains on the roadway.
“It’s okay,” Raindrops said, adjusting the edge of the thick clock that now adorned her. Perched on her head was a thick helm of steel, an ancient symbol of leadership in an Equestria long gone. The row of gaudy feathering sticking out of it didn’t seem to bother the young pegasus one bit. “Our ponies our strong, it shouldn’t be much of a problem.”
For well over six months, the trio had gone from city to city, from town to town, freeing ponies from the oppressive government that ruled them and showing them a new way of life. Ponies were picked to lead and many joined her cause, following her as she went from town to town and preached her message. Now, they stood at the gates of their worst enemy, ready to talk.
“Do you really think that Celestia’s going to listen to you?” Roseluck asked.
“Nope, but I can try. And if it doesn't work, I’ll kick her flank so hard she’ll wake up next Tuesday with a mustache.” Raindrops took in a deep breath of the mountain air, taking in hints of lavender and sulfur and that weird smell that comes from a battery that exploded.
The ponies behind them started to move erratically, murmurs and worried, hushed tones filling the air as they moved about. Staring over her crowd, Raindrops saw their attention rising to the skies above, a million uncertain eyes following the downwards trajectory of something.
Snapping her head around, Raindrops narrowed her eyes as she searched the skies, spotting after a moment’s looking the target of everypony’s attention.
A white chariot, pulled by a pair of stallions, was coasting to the ground, the spinner caps on both sides spinning wildly in the wind, whistling as the princess’ carriage came charging down. A white head poked out the side, adorned with a pair of shutter shades that were pinched onto the tip of her muzzle. “Yo, yo every poneh!”
“Would you look at that! Man, I’ve never seen this many ponies in one place since like, forever! This gonna be one cray-cray party fo’shizzle!” With a hop, skip and jump Celestria tumbled out of her carriage, the golden chains on her neck swaying from side to side and displaying to all the sign that said “PIMPSTER”.
“This isn’t a party, Princess!” Raindrops said as she pushed of the ground and rose to the air.
She spat out the princess’ title like it was worthless and tasted of cabbages and bad hentai. “We’re here, all of us, to give you a warning.”
“What’s this? Yo phreaks here ta tell me how ta act? Gurl, Imma make you mah bitch before you tell me how to roll.”
Raindrops ground her teeth together but kept her cool. “Please, just listen to us,” she said as they reached the same height and hovered near one another. “Your tyranny, your vile actions, will not be allowed to continue. If you do not start changing, right now, then everything that is decent will rebel. We are powerful, more so than you. And you must realise this.”
Celestia rolled her eyes and yawned into her hoof. “Hun, you wacked out. Didn’t ya learn in school that ya ought not waste time tryin’ ta piss of a deity? It ain’t smart.”
“Well, perhaps my schooling would have been better, if you didn’t cut the budget to build a ‘really flippin’ sweet hot tub yo’ the size of a small town!”
The princess huffed, crossing her forehooves over one another as she looked away. “Fine, so ah wasted some dough. What’cha gonna do about it? I’m half a mind to kicking your flank.”
“You’re always half a mind,” Raindrops retorted. “We want our kingdom back, and we want it now!”
“Over mah dishy dead body.”
Raindrops offered Celestia a grin and for the first time the princess’ mind gave her a little hint that she might wish to reconsider. “Gladly.” After whispering, Raindrops spun about in mid-air and faced her make-shift army. “Equestrians, today we take back what is rightfully ours! Today, we will win!”
The roar of ten thousand ponies was deafening, battering the two airborne mares like a solid wall of fierce pride. The crowd surged ahead, galloping even as they emptied their lungs in shout or fired magical missiles towards the castle.
The princess took flight, rocketing towards the sky like an editor running away from bad grammar. “Wake up, sound them alarms, we’ve got ourselves some bad stuff goin’ on down here!”
Like a slumbering giant, the city of Canterlot awoke, lights appearing in the cloud-shrouded darkness and pegasi clad in dark armours taking to the sky. The gates opened and hundreds of guards poured out, forming thick battlelines that reeked of iron and magic.
Still the free ponies charged on, loud enough that their call rallied about even the loudest defender. In the skies the two armies met, clashes of thunder and screams of pain echoing out as a rain of blood and bone began to fall.
“Yo, you the baws of them roundy punk-ass kids?” the princess asked, her ethereal mane billowing out behind her and forming a great wall of brilliant light. “Cos Imma gonna cut ya.” Her horn glowing a deep indigo, Celestia squinted and focused as a beam of light appeared and formed a rough circle in front of her. Sparks of magic flashed within her creation and the princess slid a hoof into it, coming out with a piece of cold metal.
With a flick of her wrist, the circle disappeared and her switchblade slid open. “Imma cut you, Imma cut you so bad, you wish I didn’t cut you.”
Celestia had no more time to gloat before her head was twisted aside, a pair of hooves crushing into her lower jaw with frightening strength. “Suck it, Princess,” Raindrops growled as she pulled back and flew in a tight loop.
Wings beating against the wind, Raindrops reached out, grabbed Celestia by the mane, and pulled. Her hoof entwined in the material and Celestia’s head was yanked back, eyes growing wide as her scalp moved. “You are not my pimp!” Raindrops screamed into the deity’s ear. “I am my pimp.” Reaching down, she fumbled with the chains around the princesses neck, then grabbed a firm hold of them before jerking them back.
Celestia’s horn glowed once more, a tendril of magic wrapping itself around Raindrops and whipping her around.
Like a wayward banshee, Raindrops zipped through the sky, only stopping when she crashed back first into an unsuspecting stallion of Celestia’s army. She coughed, her screams cut off as her lungs emptied.
Roaring in defiance, Raindrops shrugged away the damage as she fell and searched the skies.
It wasn’t long before she found her target.
Celestia was in her carriage, duel-wielding uzis while she screamed obscenities at the ponies below.
Bullets marred the sky as the princess fired into the air without bothering to aim. Twisting her wings around and forcing herself against the strong winds and tides, Raindrops plummeted towards the princess, veering off violently when one of the strings of bullets zipped her way.
Placing both her forehooves in front of her face, Raindrops aimed precariously for the wooden staff that connected to the yokes of the two cart-pullers. Like a toddler ripping through licorice, Raindrops shattered the bar, bits of shrapnel flying everywhere as the two stallions let out a shocked cry and spun about.
Wide-eyed, Celestia gasped as he carriage lurched forwards and began to spin out of control, her body crushed against the dashboard under the pressure of centrifugal force. “Aw, man, you busted my ride. I’mma kill you fo’shizzle now!” she screamed at the top of her lungs as she pushed herself up and tried to face Raindrops.
Thinking fast, Raindrops grabbed on to the carriage’s edge and bit into one of the spinning hubcaps. With a grunt she ripped it out, the sharp edges biting into her as she let go of the cart and freefell above it, the disk still firmly held in her jaws.
“Aw, you stole mah wheels!” Celestia said as she finally freed herself from her carriage and allowed it to crash on the mountainside far below. “That ain’t happen since the last time ah parked in Manehattan. You gonna pay.”
“Eash shish,” Raindrops swore, twisting her entire body about and whipping around with her head. Just as she reached the zenith of her turn, she let go of the disk.
The hubcap whistled through the air, weaving from side to side as it beelined for the very surprised Celestia. With a sickening thud it stabbed into the monarch, like a shuriken that had lost its way.
Chocked and gasping for air, the princess reeled back, momentarily forgetting to flap her wings as she began to drop like a stone. “I’ll show you what it means to be a pimp,” Raindrops screamed as she surged after the wayward princess. Landing on the white monarchs form, Raindrops lifted a forehoof and backhanded the princess. “You have got to learn your place!”
“Never! It’s my milkshake that brought all the boys to the yard!”
“Well, maybe you might wanna add some rock to it!”
They crashed.
A great gout of dust and ash took to the air, puffing out around the scene and hiding everything from view in a grey cloud. Rocks tumbled down the hill, displaced for the first time in eons as they crumbled and moved.
The dust cleared, revealing a morbid scene that would replay in the mind of many for decades.
Raindrops stood atop Princess Celestia, sweating from head to hoof as she panted. Royal blood marred her features, turning the mare into a deep crimson as she looked around her. The Princess was curved in an unsightly fashion, her wings wide open and bent at odd angles as shallow breaths made her move almost imperceptibly.
“Raindrops?” she asked, her failing eyes searching for the mare.
“Yes, Princess Celestia?”
“Your milkshake is are the sucks.”
With that, Celestia died.
Raindrops nodded, revelling in the wisdom of the monarch’s last words. Around her, the battle raged on, but the would-be winners were obvious. The free ponies, outnumbering their enemies a hundred to one, were pushing deep into Canterlot territory even as some of Celestia’s once-loyal subjects suddenly decided to change sides. “We’ve won,” Raindrops said.
The Princess’ body began to move, alarming Raindrops as she stared at the white coat of the monarch evaporating with gouts of bluish flame. The smoke of it wrapped itself around her body, smooth and oily as it pressed against her.
A horrible tearing coursed through Raindrops, ripping and rending her delicate skin and eliciting a massive scream of ethereal pain. Her wings shot out behind her, each and every feather splayed out as a blueish glow enveloped them. Under her gaze and that of many thousands, the feathers grew thicker, then jutted out, becoming fine blades along her back.
Her legs were next, first her hind legs that grew suddenly and pitched the mare forward then her forehooves spiked out, crushing the soil underneath with a massive boom that left a circular imprint on the rock mass.
“What’s going on?” Raindrops asked before a sharp pain lanced through her mind, splitting connections even as her eyes glowed and her mane began to flow on a non-existent wind. Her forehead moved, the bone becoming soft while the still-burning ashes of Celestia’s body formed a funnel-like tornado that connected to her head.
When the winds dissipated, a collective gasp echoed across the mountains. Ponies on both sides of the battle stopped their fighting and crowded on the edges to watch as Raindrops stood.
She stared back, magical mane whipping as she looked to them with glowing eyes and a glowing horn. Stretching out her massive wings, Raindrops shot to the air and pirouetted, scatterings of glowing, magical ash flowing out from her and burning into the air, turning the dusk into a brilliant dawn. “Ponies, this is the start of a new day! Put down your arms, for now we glorify candy and gum-gums! All hail me!”
The dark ponies that had followed Celestia scattered, running with their tails between their legs as the vengeful minions of our heroine chased them, spurred on by their new god-emperor’s words and presence.
Some, the braver pegasi of Celestia, charged towards Raindrops, screaming and shouting about the obscene things they would do to her.
Uncertain but willing, Raindrops shut her eyes and attempted to focus her magic on the oncoming ponies, thinking of doing them harm, of eliminating them from Equestria by means of death.
A massive red beam shot out of her horn, swaying from left to right and washing over the charging pegasi.
Under the eyes of everypony gathered, the skin was torn off their backs and their bones were turned into burning embers. Their eyes melted and sizzled, popping out of their sockets while the ponies screamed with lungs that spewed out thick gulps of acidic candy.
They did done die.
Raindrops blinked, biting her lip as she cringed. “Oops?”
Immediately, what little resistance was left evaporated and nearly every pony crushed their faces to the ground, worshiping their new princess.
That night, in Canterlot castle, the heads of Raindrop’s new nation congregated around a table that had been set in the throne room. The ponies, some of them of simple birth, glanced up in awe at the cathedral ceilings and the gigantic panes of stained glass that towered above them.
“Ladies and Gentlecolts,” Raindrops said as she sat at the table’s end, her wings wrapped around her body like an enveloping shroud. “We have a bit of a kerfuffle on our hooves. Luna, the other traitor to pony kind, is missing. With her disappearance we have also lost sight of the great majority of our foodstuffs. Important chefs and cooking ponies from all across Equestria have also faded into obscurity. We need to address this pressing matter and immediate, else my coronation party will be without cake. And that, that would really suck.”
One of her generals a pony stood and coughed to gain some attention. “I believe we have another bit of an issue, your ladyship.”
“And what would that be?”
“The moon is falling towards Canterlot. And Luna is riding it. Also, she’s prepared a feast. On the moon. That is coming to us at terminal velocity.”
Abandoning her congregation, Raindrops zipped to the nearest window and glared at it, wishing that she were on the other side. A pop of magical energy later and the glass teleported itself behind her, leaving an opening in the wall. “Close enough!”
As she reached the window sill, Raindrops looked up, eyes narrowing as she saw the gigantic grey orb that was gently descending to them, threatening them with its slow spinning as it grew ever nearer.
“Huh, well, that’s the sucks.” Firing out a beam of magic, Raindrops sliced the moon in two and pushed it back to its place in the night sky. Then, still using her power, she grabbed the very surprised Princess Luna and slid her between the two massive rock halves then pressed them together with massive power.
Raindrops turned and faced the stunned assembly of generals. “She was hungry, so I made her a sandwich.”
“A sandwich.”
“Sandwhich.”
“Which.”
“Which pills is she supposed to take?” Roseluck asked, the tip of her hoof tapping against a clear plastic bottle.
The nurse touched the two pill bottles in turn. “Two of these in the morning, and one of these after supper. That’s all. Also, you should lighten her meals a little.”
“Oh, Roseluck said. “So that the food doesn’t conflict with the pills?”
The nurse shook her head, blond mane weaving from side to side. “No, she could stand to lose a few kilos is all.”
She sat down, a grin forcing its way across her face as the dawn’s light snuck between the open curtains of the nearby window. “So, this is the sun room, right? Does she usually sleep here, or does she have her own room?” she asked, waving a hoof at the mare in the nearby rocking chair. The chair had long since stopped rocking.
In it sat a mare, wrapped up in a quilted blanket with a gentle smile on her face. Her cheeks were puffed and red as she breathed in and out slowly. Licking her lips in her sleep, the mare twisted in her spot and murmured, “In the moon, Beee-yatch.”
“Whelp, as long as you can take care of her, she can go home,” the nurse said, looking at Raindrop’s sleeping form. “I still can’t believe she won. And what she did with the bits...”
“Is hardly surprising?” Roseluck finished, arching an eyebrow.
“Pretty much.” Again the nurse mare shook her head. “I can’t believe she blew ten thousand bits on candy and pastries, then ate it all in a day. That’s the wildest sugar rush I’ve ever seen. Oh, miss Pinkie Pie visited earlier, talked about cake and some Princess coronation thing.”
“Oh, yeah.” Step by step, Roseluck approached her friend then placed a hoof on her shoulder. “Come on, Rainy, let’s go home.”
“I am the batmare.”
That’s all folks!
Oh, I’d like to waste your time here to advertise my newest book. We’ve got it in print and in Ebook format! Of course it’s a tad more... serious, than this chapter has been. Here’s a link if you feel like checking it out!
A huge thank-you to all those that commented and liked this work and I bow down to the many who helped in big and small ways to make this... thing
