Two ponies that live lies find truth in each other. Shutter clicks and mending wings draw two souls together when they never thought they would even meet.
Life is art. At least, that's what Soarin's always heard. He's never been one for appreciating the beauty of a masterpiece. Flying has always been all that he's ever needed. But, after an accident leaves him unable to fly, he may give the topic a little more thought.
Buck. Am I alive? I hope so. I don’t think I did anything to deserve this Tartarus. Soarin’s wings felt like they were being danced on by two ponies made of stone. His attempts to move were met with a riotous protest. Not only that, but his wings were about four times as heavy as they should be. Opening his eyes, he found that they were encased in a pair of large, plaster casts.
“Try not to move them.”
Soarin gave a start at the obviously female voice. Looking around, he realized for the first time that he was not in a hospital as he had originally thought, nor was he alone. Sitting in a large purple comfy chair was a blue mare with short, cropped white hair and a cup of tea in hoof. Soarin knew he had seen her before, but for the life of him he could not place where.
“Merriweather set your wings, but it is going to take about a month to heal. Would you like some tea?”
Soarin just stared at her. A month? I can’t fly for a month? What about the team? We have a show next week!
“Are you sure?”
“Quite sure. Merriweather does not make mistakes.”
“But what about the team?”
“I took the liberty of calling your team captain and informing her of your condition. She went ahead and granted you a leave of absence.”
So that’s it then. Both wings broken and I’m in the house of a mare I don’t even know. Soarin glanced around and took in his surroundings. The decor was nice, if a little sparse. The large bed he was in dominated the dim room, and the only light sources he could spot were a dark window to his right, and a lamp on the nightstand to his left. Two large bookcases that dominated the wall opposite him were the only other furniture in the room.
“Not what you would expect, huh? I’m not actually as interesting as everybody thinks.”
The mare took a sip of her tea and looked at Soarin’s confused face.
“Oh of course! You don’t recognize me do you?”
The mare set down her tea and walked over to the nightstand. Opening the drawer, she removed a pair of large, magenta glasses. Donning them, she raised a hoof in the air with a flourish and said,
“Vhat about now?”
“Photo Finish?”
“In the flesh, as they say.”
She removed her glasses and stowed them back in their drawer. Looking back to him she said,
“Come now, don’t look so shocked. I feel like there’s something on my face.”
“But, you’re Photo Finish! You’re all about the accent and the style and the eccentricity!”
“Exactly. Ponies like a show. If I came and talked to them like this, they wouldn’t give a bad apple about what I think. I came up with the silly accent and the strange personality to get people to listen to what I had to say. Would people like the Wonderbolts as much if you were just a bunch of ponies that got together and flew around? Of course not. You dress up, you fly in formation, you give them a show. Sure you’re talented, so am I, but that’s not enough and you know it.”
Soarin’ took a moment to digest this. He had never thought about it, but it made some sense. Certainly she was the only photographer he knew, but surely someone would have recognized her without the act? As he opened his mouth, she interrupted him.
“No one cared. I tried twenty times before I came up with the accent. The very next time I was a success.”
Closing his mouth, Soarin’ descended into a contemplative silence. Photo Finish walked back to the chair she had been sitting in and retrieved her tea.
“I’ll have Danish bring you up something to eat in a bit. For now, you should sleep. It’s getting late and you need a lot of rest”
Soarin’ waited for her close the door before carefully slipping out of bed and walking to the window. His wings roared in protest, but he ignored it. The sight that greeted him was a far cry from the Canterlot lights that he had grown accustomed to. All was dark except for the light of the crescent moon and what appeared to be a small pond. Soarin’ took this in for a moment, before rushing back to the bed to avoid passing out from the pain. As he settled in, he gave a sigh. Man, I didn’t think that a flight to Cloudsdale would end like this. I guess next time I’ll walk around the mountains. Sighing, Soarin turned off the light and tried to make himself comfortable.
---
Soarin pumped his wings as fast as he could, but the beast behind him wouldn’t relent. It took all he had just to keep it from gaining. Each wingbeat made the next harder and brought with it a new twinge of pain. A quick glance backward told him that the creature showed no signs of wear. Soarin knew that if he didn’t do something quick, his remaing lifetime could be counted in minutes. With a tilt of the wings he shot backwards, rocketing past his pursuer and dropping into a dive. The stress on his wings was excrutiating, but he pushed past it and continued to gain speed. A shriek told him that he wasn’t out of the woods yet. A funnel of air began to surround him, and realized that this was his only hope. Summoning reserves he swore he didn’t have, he flew harder than he thought possible and broke the cone in a blinding flash. The creature’s shrieks vanished as Soarin found himself flying at impossible speeds over the countryside. The mountains disappeared and he soon found himself losing height over the Equestrain countryside. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t overcome his increasing weariness. It was all he could do to steer towards a lake before he found himself slipping into unconsciousness.
Soarin gave a shout as he impacted the lake at the speed of sound, only to find that he was, in fact, lying safely in a soft bed. Panting, he gave a start as the door opened and an icy blue mare with a pink mane entered and flipped on the overhead light. Rushing up to him, she put a hoof on his head and gently laid him down. She grabbed the glass of water that was sitting on the nightstand and gave him a sip. One he was settled in, she turned to leave before stopping and gesturing at the bookcase, giving Soarin and inquisitive look. He gave her a blank stare for a second before realizing her question and responding,
“Oh, uh, yes please.”
Nodding, she inspected the bookcase before selecting a small book and depositing it in front of him. Before he could thank her, she turned on his lamp and exited the room, turning off the overhead light on her way out. Giving a couple of stunned blinks, Soarin shook his head and looked at the book in his hooves. He was greeted with a hoof written inscription of, “Notes On The Trees Surrounding My Home”. Curious, he turned the book about, looking for a title. The small green book provided no such information, nor, for that matter, any information at all. With no other option, he carefully opened the book to the first page. On it, he found a detailed pencil drawing of a Pine Tree. Many notes were scribbled all about, including a scribble indicating this as a Tsuga, canadensis. The next page offered a detailed cross section of a needle and a detailed description of the tree and the function of its needles. Each page contained Drawings, facts, descriptions, and notes on every tree imaginable. Flipping through, Soarin noticed that the subject of photosynthesis was brought up and examined again, and again. Each section provided more insight the further into the book he went. Near the end, he found that bits of poetry were scribbled in the margins. Lines describing the movement of leaves, and the filtering of sun through the branches, were plentiful. One line in particular, though, stuck out to him.
“On wings of sky, he flies on by. But me, he’ll never know.”
Soarin couldn’t place it, but something about the line felt important. Reading it again shed no light on the line. Sighing he closed the book and placed it on his nightstand. The clock indicated that it would be a couple of hours before the sun would rise, so he did his best to settle back in and go to sleep.
---
The light from the morning sun served as Soarin’s next wake-up call. The window seemed to make the room glow and he found himself unable to go back to sleep. Stretching out as best he could, he looked at the clock and took note of the time. Only 6:43? I guess I have a bit of time before anyone else is up. I might as well keep reading that book. His hoof came up empty, however, and a look at the nightstand beside him revealed that the book was no longer there. What the? Did I dream that? Any further contemplation was cut short by a knock at the door.
“Hello in there, are you awake?”
“Yeah.”
“Good, may I come in?”
“I guess so.”
The door opened and Photo Finish walked in followed by a brown pony with a straight yellow mane carrying a tray of assorted breakfast items. Photo Finish pulled the chair up to the bed and the other pony set the tray on Soarin’s lap before departing without a word.
“Forgive the intrusion, but I don’t often get to play hostess and I didn’t want to leave you up here by yourself.”
“It’s no problem, really. I’m happy to have the company.”
Silence descended as the two ponies began to partake in the offerings before them. Soarin was at a loss for what to say, but he could tell Photo Finish had something on her mind. She remained silent for another minute before finally speaking.
“I must apologize that we only now got you food. I came up earlier but you were sleeping so soundly that I didn’t want to wake you.”
“It’s no problem, really. I haven’t been working nearly as hard as usual so my appetite is really not all that big.”
He paused for a moment.
“Something is bothering you. Do you mind telling me what it is?”
Photo Finish bit her lip and looked down at the bed. She opened her mouth, and closed it again. Soarin saw her look away and slump her shoulders.
“Miss Finish?”
“Photon”
“Excuse me?”
“My name is Photon Storm. The name Photo Finish is as fake as your surfer stallion accent.”
“My accent? What make you think my accent is fake?”
She gave him a disbelieving look before replying,
“Do you really think I could convince the world using a fake accent without being able to spot one used by someone else?”
“Well I couldn’t spot yours.”
“Mine is better.”
Soarin gave a sigh before replying,
“Alright, fine. I’m from Whoofsconsin. I didn’t want anybody to figure out where I was from so I acted like I was from Coltifornia so they wouldn’t go digging into my past.”
“Don’t worry, you’re secret is safe with me. I am in no hurry to alienate you.”
“Thanks. I wasn’t planning to, but you have my word anyway that I won’t tell anyone about you.”
“Fair enough, but as long as you’re staying here I want you to call me Photon and not speak in that accent. I think we both need a bit more truth in our lives.”
“Deal.”
The rest of the meal passed in silence as the two ponies hurried to finish before their food got cold. At the summation of the meal, the brown mare returned and cleared the dishes away, leaving the two ponies alone once more. Photon glanced at clock and bit her lip. She looked at the door, then back at Soarin.
“Is everything okay?”
“Yes, but... Oh I’m afraid I have to go. I have an appointment in an hour and I need to get into character. I hate to leave you alone, but I’m afraid I have to pay the bills somehow.”
“Go ahead. I’m staying at your house uninvited, so I’m happy just to see you this much.”
Photon’s face reddened slightly and she gave a quick nod before retrieving her glasses and running out the door. Poking her head back in, she said,
“If you need anything, just call. Somepony will come to tend to you.”
With that, she left him alone in the room. Whoulda’ thought so much of what I know about her is wrong? At least I know one thing, she’s clever. No one has ever called me out on my accent before. Soarin looked around the room. So much to learn, yet all I can see is these four walls. I guess I’ll just have to ask her when she comes around next. Laying back, he gazed at the ceiling.
Photon Storm looked at the model before her in disinterest. Despite her best efforts, she could not find the energy to devote towards the photo shoot she was currently engaged in. After five more minutes of halfhearted effort, she gave a sigh of defeat. Striking a pose, she shouted
“Enough! ... I am not fveeling ze magicks today! ... Come back next wveek and wve wvill finish zis then.”
After holding the pose for a couple beats more, she turned and accelerated out of the room. Once she had reached the safety of her office, she let out a sigh and removed her glasses revealing her weary magenta eyes. Her forehead met the table with a thud as she collapsed, letting her mental strain take a more physical form. Two short knocks sounded, and without looking up she shouted,
“Come in!”
A pink maned, icy blue mare entered and set a cup of hot tea next to Photon’s head. Quietly walking around the desk, the mare placed her hooves on Photon’s shoulders and began to gently work the tension out of them.
“Oh Merriweather, you’re a miracle worker. What would I ever do without you?”
The other mare simply smiled and continued working.
“But still, I couldn’t focus at all today. I wasn’t kidding when I said I wasn’t feeling it today.”
Merriweather stopped her work and turned Photon’s head towards the framed, autographed, Wonderbolts poster that adorned her wall.
“Yes, I guess I was thinking about him. But how could I not? He literally fell into my life. It’s like something out of a storybook. All that’s left is an upcoming ball to attend and a fairy godmother.”
At this, Merriweather stopped. Nodding her head, she reached into Photon’s desk and produced a pen and a sheet of paper. Placing this in front of her employer, she pointed at Soarin’s picture, then back at the paper.
“You think I should write him a letter?”
Merriweather shook her head and walked over to the nearby bookcase. Scanning the contents, she grabbed one of the books and placed it on the desk
“Poems for the Wandering Spirit? You want me to write him a poem?”
Merriweather gave a small nod.
“Why?”
Merriweather simply tapped the side of her muzzle with a smile and exited the room. Photon stared at the paper in front of her. A poem? I’ve never written a poem for anyone, much less a stallion. Looking up, her eyes locked onto the poster. On the other hoof, Merriweather may be right. She certainly hasn’t steered me wrong yet. After staring for a few seconds more, Photon grabbed the pen and began writing.
---
Merriweather descended the stairs leading from Photon’s office to the laundry room that served as a communal meeting room.. The room held a wide variety of cleaning products and equipment, all neatly packed onto the many shelves that filled the area. Ducking under a drying rack, she approached the cork board that served as the communal message system. As she checked for news, she grabbed a paper and scribbled a note to the rest of the staff. Satisfied that nothing needed her immediate attention, she turned and exited the room.
---
Wow, I never realized that there was so much going on in a tree. Soarin had spent the past hour reading a book on the function of trees that the brown pony with the yellow mane had so graciously retrieved for him. Despite his initial misgivings, he had quickly found himself enthralled by the tome. What do you know, looks like I’m into reading after all. His contemplation was disturbed as the icy blue pony entered the room carrying a large binder on her back.
“Can I, uh, help you?”
The blue pony responded only with an impish smile before dropping the binder on the bed and looking at him expectantly.
“Do you...want me to read this?”
The pony simply nodded.
“Why?”
A hoof tap on the side of her muzzle was his only answer as she turned around and quietly exited the room. Soarin watched her leave before turning to the binder. Like the little green book he had been given before, the binder held no clue as to who was its author. With a suspicious gaze, he carefully opened it up to the first page. A series of pictures of a cat from all different angles covered the page before him. the next page was all of trees, then flowers, then, some of ponies. As he flipped through the pages, the photos became clearer, then brighter, and by the time he was midway through the photos were clearly artistic. Ponies were perched upon rocks, resting in trees, standing in the rain, and any number of other poses. Each page showed him different emotions, different subjects, different elements. Mares cried, stallions rejoiced, foals triumphed, and storms grew. Soarin watched as the entirety of pony society was systematically photographed. Each snapshot a window into the world. Each frame, a moment forever preserved. Soarin watched in increasing awe, as the photographer transcended physical beings and began to photograph ideas themselves. Full page photographs bearing titles such as Life, Fire, Green, Magic, and Sadness filled the remainder of the binder. Only three blank pages existed in the entire collection, each one bearing a carefully printed label, just like the others: Flight, Truth, and Happiness. Soarin simply stared at the blank pages. Out of all the ideas in the world, what could be so hard to grasp about these? I don’t know about Truth, but I fly every day and I’m sure I have felt happiness. What about these three things could confound an artist as obviously talented as this? The pages, however, remained blank and Soarin let out a sigh before closing the collection and placing it next to the forgotten book on trees. Might as well get some sleep.
---
Soarin was awakened by the clatter of a serving tray as the ice blue mare set down his dinner. Before he could even open his mouth, she was at the door, and turning off the lights. Horseapples! Why does she always have to leave so fast? A quick sniff dispelled his frustration as a warm slice of cherry pie and glass of milk greeted him from the tray. Carefully, he turned towards the food and began to dig in. Each warm, gooey bite filled his mouth with the taste of autumn and before he could blink, he had taken the final bite and was licking the plate.The warm distraction gone, he noticed an envelope below the plate. Careful to wipe his hooves on the provided napkin, he extracted the envelope from its ceramic prison and inspected it. His name was the only adornment to the white mystery. Finding it unsealed, he took the single sheet out and began to read:
Earthbound eyes gaze towards the sky, The unattainable beast. The sky so blue, so strong, so new. The sky above my heart. My heart that yearns to fly, to soar, To live there with your clouds. Clouds in which I’ll play and live, And love, and feel your heart.
These earthbound eyes gaze towards your sky, That’s not so far away. The sky which fell to meet me here, The sky which touched my heart. My heart that soars among the clouds, The clouds which came to me. The clouds that grace my home today, And sleep within my sheets.
Some years ago, these clouds came by, And caught around my heart. They left me then, they left me here, To travel, far and wide. Those wings of sky, which passed me by, It’s time they took me too.
Oh god, why did I send that? He's going to freak out and never talk to me again! Photon Storm sat, unmoving, at the same desk she had been sitting in for the past hour. Her head lay cradled in her hooves as she worried a hole in the table. Raising her head, she gazed at the scribbled notes and crumpled paper that were the remnants of her fevered work. I guess I'd better put this mess away. No sense in being entirely unproductive. She reached out a hoof and began to collect the papers. I know I won’t get anything done now that I’m all worked up. Maybe I should just go lie down for a while. A nap would probably do me some good. Photon stuffed the papers into her desk and surveyed her office. Finding it to be acceptable, she turned off the lights and left the silent room.
Photon began the long walk down the many hallways of her estate in search of her bed. Despite the purposely circuitous route she was taking, she did not enounter a single other soul. Where is everypony? They can’t seriously have finished everything that needed doing? Maybe It’s just a coincidence. She stopped as she passed a large glass door that led out to an open balcony. A moment passed as she pondered the door. Deciding, she exited out of the door and into the warm afternoon. The cool breeze skimmed across her mane as she stared at the distant horizon. Even those mountains remind me of him. So far away and so untouchable, yet so close I feel like I could reach out and take them. It’s such a nice evening, I wish I could share it with him. Her gaze dropped to the ground beneath her. He’ll probably ask to be taken to a hospital now. I really blew it this time. Stallion of my dreams and I freak out and come on way to strong after knowing him for a day. With a sigh, she sat down and closed her eyes.
“Today was the last day I ever knew ye. Today was the last day I ever was free.”
---
Was that a love poem? Soarin stared dumbly at the folded sheet before him. Slowly, a tentative smile began to form on his lips. She actually took the time to write me a poem. I mean, Spitfire’s gotten some, sure, but nobody’s ever written one to me. Soarin clutched the paper to his chest as he let out a nervous chuckle. She loves me. Why do I feel so giddy? Plenty of mares have proclaimed their love to me. Soarin turned towards the window. It’s just...important. Like it’s the only thing that matters. Do I...Do I love her? He brought the poem up to eye level. Yes. I do.I think I really do.
“I need to tell her.”
---
Photon Storm gave a shiver. Opening her eyes, she saw the sun setting and night beginning to creep in She sat and watched the sun fall below the horizon before turning around and heading in. She took all of one step before stopping dead, with an expression of disbelief upon her face. Before her stood Merriweather, draped in the pink folds of a lacey pink dress and bearing a large pair of gossamer wings upon her back. She raised a wand up to Photon’s face and gave a twirl. The wand gave a little winkle as Photon continued to stare worriedly.
“Are you okay? Do you need to take a day off?”
Merriweather smiled and tapped her hoff on the glass. Before Photon could react, four mares dashed out carrying dresses, jewelry, make-up and more. One of them immediately grabbed her in a magical grip while the others worked her into a dress. As she opened her mouth to protest, she was unceremoniously dropped and was quickly assaulted by combs and brushes attempting to work the day’s knots out of her mane and tail. A set of curlers were pulled out and one pony started to curl her tail while another began to put Photon’s mane into a bun. No sooner was her hair finished than one of the mares began applying mascara and another began comparing silver necklaces. After all of five minutes, a rather unsteady Photon Storm was presented with a mirror displaying her unexpected makeover. She found herself wearing a gothic black dress and silver choker. Her tail and mane, now curled and done up respectively, had been given black bows to complete the look.
. “Merriweather, I demand you tell me what’s, Woah!”
The four mares grouped around Photon and began pulling her inside. Photon once again found herself helpless as she was swept along towards another mystery. As they got closer to the unknown destination, Photon began to notice changes had been made to her estate. Lights and windows now bore elegant drapes and ribbons flowing every which way. Freshly planted roses filled every windowsill. Finally, she was deposited before the large wooden door that lead to her large dining room. Similar decorating had been done here and she was sure she could hear orchestral music coming from within.The four mares assumed positions in front of the door before pushing out open to the scene within. A red carpet extended all the way across the hall bisecting it neatly and ending at the rear garden. Her large tables had been removed and replaced with a small, candlelit table for two. A ragtag orchestra sat to the right of the door playing a quiet melody that filled the room with an effervescent air of comfort. Finally, her gaze rested on a white figure that stood at the center of the room. Soarin stood, wearing a white tuxedo, fidgeting in place. He gave a small wave as she approached.
“Uh, Photon, do you know what’s going on?”
“Not a clue. I was just...wait...” Photon spun around in place. “Of course! A ball! She gave me a ball!”
“What?”
“Don’t you see? She’s the Fairy Godmother, I’m the Princess, this is the Ball, and you...are the Prince Charming.”
Soarin’s eyes grew wide and he began to blush.
“I’m the what?”
“Prince Charming, here to sweep me off of my hooves and take me to a life of happiness.”
Soarin, now glowing, offered his hoof.
“I don’t know about a life of happiness, but how about a dance?”