What You Mean To Me

I never did like the idea of having foals.

The entire song and dance always seemed like such a burden. Foals are noisy. Needy. Expensive. Able to siphon away your entire life savings just by providing them the essentials. Estimates of six figure costs over the course of their lives locking you into a lifetime of wage slavery that never directly benefits you.

How anypony could willingly accept to shoulder such a burden has always been beyond me. I’m certainly not a pony with anything resembling outlandish ambition, but even I can’t shake the feeling that a foal would severely cut into my free time, and hamper what meager productive activities I attempt to cultivate. Being a regular at Sugarcube Corner, I’ve been blessed with crystal clear perspective on just what these little bundles of joy do to a pony that actually tries to do something worthwhile with their lives. I couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt for poor Mr. and Mrs. Cake every time I walked through their doors for my morning cup of joe. You could watch as the vitality was sapped from them in real time as they sacrificed all that they once were in order to give their children the best they had to offer, the added strain of bearing the weight of two more lives eerily apparent on their faces. Even in the short time I'd been in Ponyville, they just seemed to be so much more worn than when we first met, as if the years had finally caught up with them. The sleepless nights and stressful days marring their complexion with fine wrinkles and permanent bags under their eyes; battle scars of a conflict yet to bear fruit, the twins just as needy as ever.

Their lives were over now. No longer were they true individuals, but merely vessels attempting to usher forth a better generation. Their lives for their spawn. It was lucky for them that they had started their business when they did, and had Pinkie to keep it afloat in light of their current obligations, and that Bon Bon seemed to have no interest in encroaching on their pastry niche. Their dream would have crumbled otherwise.

I could never burden myself like that.

Foals are a hassle. A handful. A ball and chain around your hind leg. The end of a stallion's freedom.

Not for me.

And yet, here she is, curled up next to me, completely and utterly spent, a satisfied smirk on her face as she silently slumbers. Her head nuzzled perfectly into the crook of my neck, a foreleg draped gently around my shoulders, hind legs curled around my torso in a delicate unconscious embrace. Her soft breathing caressing my coat, the occasional shifting in her sleep causing her short magenta mane to tickle the tip of my muzzle and forcing me stifle a sneeze, lest I wake her. I run my hoof up and down the back of her neck in a slow massage, sending shudders through my body as I ingest the sweet soft sensation of stroking her unkempt orange coat.

I look down at her: She is the definition of innocence. The expression on her face a gateway into the unfettered condition of her soul. The very ideal of youth.

Complete tranquility.

What were we to each other now? Was she my daughter? My little sister? My conspicuously young roommate? None of those definitions ever really seemed to fit, and they certainly didn't anymore.

A smile greets my face as I pull my hoof away from her neck, careful not to wake her. She shifts for a moment, trying to find the sensation again and return it to her body before quickly giving up, exhaling deeply and falling back into a still sleep.
"How did all of this even happen?"

_________________________

The first thing I noticed about Ponyville was the silence.

Stepping out of the carriage, tipping the driver as generously as my meager finances would allow, and levitating my few worldly possessions out of the back seat, I noticed that my thoughts were oddly focused, uninhibited by the expected dull drone of society I had become so used to in Trottingham. The only sounds that permeated Ponyville's atmosphere were the soft chirping of the birds and the buzzing of the summer cicadas, punctuated by the occasional mirthful laugh, evidence of heartfelt conversation. I looked over the inviting picture of rural living sprawled out before me and couldn't help but smile.

"I could get used to this."

I took a minute to enjoy the crisp summer breeze running through my deep grey coat as I meandered my way towards Ponyville’s town hall. The air here was indescribably more pleasant than that of Trottingham. Each breath seemed more pure, but in a way that a city native like myself couldn’t really put into words due to lack of familiarity. The denizens of Ponyville all welcomed me with a smile and a jolly hello, each seemingly familiar enough with each other to realize I was a new face. Everything about Ponyville seemed to ooze with genuine warmth, and I picked up my pace from a casual trot to light canter, giddy like a schoolcolt, eager to meet the with the Mayor, get settled, and begin my new life in such a pleasantly alien atmosphere.

I believe it was around this point that we first ran into each other, quite literally I might add.

I was taking in the sights (and smells, as I believe I was passing by Sugarcube Corner for the first time), when a tiny blur of orange and blue creeped into my peripheral vision. Making the mistake to pay the small object no real mind, a few seconds later it collided with me, sweeping my forehooves out from under me and sending me into freefall, the impact of my face hitting the ground breaking my concentration and loosening my telekinetic hold of my luggage, acquainting it with the ground as well.

I felt the sensation of something else falling and instinctually reached out with my magic, stopping it mid-flight. A dull groan from in front of me returned my attention to the scene at hoof, and I finally got a look at the source of my current predicament: a small filly, collapsed in a heap from the crash, still attempted to pull herself together after taking the brunt of the impact. Lucky for her she had the sense to wear a helmet.

She shook her head and blinked a few times, wiping away the remaining mental fog, then suddenly seemed to panic, frantically looking around for something before noticing the aura of my magic and looking up, a muted gasp escaping her lips as she seemingly found what she sought: a tiny blue scooter hovering inches away from her face, held firmly in my telekinetic grasp.

She looked over to me with an expression of wonder, as if the simple feat of levitation was somehow the most incredible thing she’d ever seen. Our gazes stayed locked for a few more seconds before I started to get up, bringing us both back to reality. I slowly set the little filly’s scooter down next to her as she too got up and began dusting off her bright orange coat. She started to brush her foreleg off and winced a bit. Apparently she didn’t escape the fall without a bit of battle damage. She quickly got over it and instead turned her attention to her scooter, looking over the thing meticulously, running her hooves over the handlebars and grips, cocking her head to check the limbs from all angles for warping. I continued watching her with a most peculiar sense of fascination. Her enthusiasm over the toy was oddly infectious, and I suddenly found myself worried too over its condition via proxy. I walked over to the other side of the scooter, sitting back down on my haunches and leaning over a bit to get a better view as she looked the vehicle over.

“So, what’s the diagnosis?”

She responded without looking up from her work, “Well...the front truck seems to have loosened up a bit from the impact, gonna need to tighten that back up when I get the chance...” She paused for a moment to run her hoof along each wheel, letting them spin for a few seconds while bringing her head closer to get a better listen. She stopped at the third wheel as an expression of annoyance crept over her face, “...and this bearing is probably gonna have to be replaced, but that’s just normal wear and tear, nothing to do with the crash.” She took an even closer look at the bottom of the scooter, “Still, no cracks in the deck means the board itself is fine. Which is good, not like I have the bits to buy a new one anyways...”

This little filly knew her stuff.

She continued her inspection in silence, but then stopped suddenly and looked over at me again, eyes wide and cheeks flushed. “Oh crap...I totally just blew off apologizing to you, didn’t I?”

I simply smiled in response.

“Ugh...talk about uncool.”

I chuckled at her single mindedness, and she seemed to relax a bit. “Don’t worry about it. I’m just glad you and your scooter are OK, leg notwithstanding.”

She looked down at the foreleg in question. “Ehh, I’ve had worse bruises. And worse crashes. I’ll live.”

The filly turned her attention back to her scooter. “This baby, on the other hand, takes to crashing a lot worse than I do. The way you snatched it outta the air with your magic right before it landed was totally awesome! The deck would’ve split for sure if you hadn’t been there.”

I laughed again. “Well, if I hadn’t been there, you probably wouldn’t have crashed in the first place.”

And with that she joined in, her soft giggles contrasting against the summer ambiance.

We both stood there for a moment, smiling, ignoring the fact that a few onlookers were staring at the grown stallion laughing like an idiot with a filly half his age, his worldly belongings still sprawled across the street. I had to admit, it was nice bumping into someone as genuinely happy at this little filly. Nice enough to leave my dignity on the ground with the rest of my possessions.

“So kid...you got a name?”

She smirked. “Yeah, but if you want it, you gotta gimme yours first.”

A fair enough request. I could appreciate a kid with a bit of backbone; not afraid to stand up to their elders when the situation called for it.

“Of course. Where are my manners? I’m River Rhyme.”

“Scootaloo.”

I glanced from her to her scooter. How fitting...

“Well Scootaloo...think you could point me in the direction of the Mayor’s office? I’m actually new in town, and was supposed to meet up with her to discuss my living arrangements here in Ponyville.”

She lifted a forehoof and motioned towards a large building in the distance. “Sure. It’s the big building with the pointed roof. Can see it from here, actually. Three streets down, take a right, then your second left. Quickest way there. If she’s not in her office she’s usually at the park. Wouldn’t recommend tracking her down there, though. She goes there to get away from work stuff.”

The fact that a random filly knew the general habits of the town mayor surprised me. This place must be a lot closer knit than I thought.

“Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind. I should probably be going though. Don’t wanna keep the Mayor waiting.”

“Later. It was nice bumping into you.” Scootaloo smiled, “Literally.”

We shared another quick laugh as I gathered my luggage back together and began heading down the street. I turned back and noticed that Scootaloo had hopped back on her scooter, but was lingering, watching me depart, seemingly entranced by my coat. She suddenly gasped as an idea seemed to strike her, and she zoomed off in the opposite direction, leaving me very confused and oddly...flattered? It was kinda nice making such a positive connection with the first pony I got to know in my new hometown, even if she was just a kid. I decided to take the encounter as a good omen, and continued towards Town Hall, eager to see where the rest of the day would take me.

___________________________

"...it seems bigger on the inside..."

The tiny house that I had been able to secure in Ponyville prior to my arrival was hardly what one would consider high class living. It barely contained all the modern amenities: one bedroom, one bath, single floor. It was as spartan a living space one could still consider tolerable. And yet, with my meager possessions, combined with the home's scarce furnishing, it still managed to feel empty. I flopped down on my disappointingly hard mattress with a cold cider —a welcoming gift from the Mayor— and a worn notebook, levitating a quill and ink bottle over from the tiny desk in the far corner of my bedroom, too small to be comfortable for a pony of my stature.

I pondered for a few moments to collect my thoughts before slowly bringing the quill to paper, the first few marks hesitant, as if testing the parchment’s worthiness of bearing the impending information. The subtle texture of the paper resonated up the quill as it began to sail across the page, reverberating the sensation through my magical grasp and causing me to feel the soft friction in the nerve endings of my horn. The familiar feeling of the paper returned my challenge, making sure its body wasn't about to be wasted on an idea only partially realized.

A few lines in and pen and paper began to bond, no longer at odds with each other but working together, combining their abilities to bring forth something greater than themselves. The bedroom was filled with a cyan glow and a muted hum as my horn worked overtime keeping the quill up with my thoughts. The hum intensified as I grabbed a few more quills off the desk and began levitating them next to me along with the ink bottle, pre-dipping them so I could cycle from one to the next without having to lose the rhythm I had quickly established.

The sudden knocking on the door couldn't have come at a more inconvenient time.

The ambient noise of magical exertion ended abruptly, replaced by a sharp exhale framing my frustration as I dropped my notebook onto the desk, giving less care to the ink and quills, letting them simply fall out of my grasp and impact against the mattress. Ink splattered on some of the bedsheets, but I could muster little chagrin given the situation. I could already feel the words I’d plotted out beginning to slip away.

Ehh...I'd probably be buying new furnishing soon anyways.

I did my best to stifle my sudden sour mood as I made my way to the door, the bottle of cider following me as I raised it to my lips and took a rather large swig. The knocking entering its third rapid burst by the time I got to the living room, the front door connected to the far wall. I called out to affirm my approach to my guest, less as a courtesy at this point and more to prevent a migraine setting in on top of everything else.

I opened the door and was surprised to see two little fillies staring up at me. Their contrasting aesthetics made them an interesting pair. One was the definition of utility, an Earth Pony with a soft cream coat and a simple cherry colored mane, her large pink bow the only inkling of appearance done for the sake of style alone.

The other seemed almost oxymoronic. She was a unicorn, her mane a blend of light pink and purple, and done up in a rather extravagant sequence of curls, framing her face masterfully, highlighted further still by the subtle elegance of her snow white coat, shimmering in the sunset in a way that could only come from a constant application of designer product. And yet, her green eyes showed no sign of a filly of high class taste. The blissful indifference of youth was written all over her face and emanated from her body language. Clearly her fashion sense came from somepony else.

I tilted my head to the side, unable to hide a dubious expression as I attempted to wager a guess as to why a pair of random fillies would be seeking me out so late in the day. Realizing my current company, I quickly placed the bottle on the floor out of sight, quietly hoping that the smell of the drink wasn't too strong on my breath.

"Can I... help you?"

My confusion was apparently contagious, as the two fillies seemed to lose a bit of their momentum at my less than enthusiastic greeting. The cream colored one spoke up first after clearing her throat.

“Umm...hi there! Mah name’s Apple Bloom, and this here is mah friend Sweetie Belle!”

She paused for a moment, waiting for Sweetie Belle to say something. When nothing came, Sweetie Belle caught a swift elbow to the shoulder from Apple Bloom.

“Oh...umm....hi!” Her voice cracked a bit at the end as she introduced herself a few decibels louder than was necessary. Yep,definitely not a filly fascinated by high society.

Apple Bloom looked over to her friend with an annoyed expression followed by a quick roll of her eyes, seemingly used to this behavior.

“As ah was sayin...reason we’ve come all the ways out here t’see ya is cuz we’re the founding members of a special club here in Ponyville.”

“Yeah!” Sweetie Belle chimed in, “A secret society!”

The comment earned Sweetie another deadpan look from Apple Bloom, “Yeah...secret all right...so secret only the entire town knows about it.”

Sweetie Belle stopped, needing a moment to think before responding, “Yeah well...Ponyville is just a small town so, statistically speaking, barely anypony knows about our club!”

This time Apple Bloom paused. “...statistiwhut now?”

I strongly considered grabbing my cider and downing the rest in one go.

“Girls...I uhh...appreciate your enthusiasm, and your willingness to come to visit at such an hour. However, I was kind of settling in for the evening. It’s been quite the long day, moving in and everything. So, if there was something you wanted to say...”

“We want you to join our club!” Sweetie Belle blurted out.

“Your...club?”

“Yeah!” Apple Bloom continued, “The Cutie Mark Crusaders! We go on adventures and try out new things all the time!”

“Like skydiving!” Sweetie Belle piped up again, “ and scuba diving! And bowling!”

“We do everything we can think of, “ Apple Bloom said, taking the reigns again, “so we can one day earn our cutie marks!”

With that the two girls struck an obviously rehearsed pose, showing that they indeed were blank flanks.

“And we thought we’d extend an invitation to you since we noticed that you’re a blank flank too!”

My eyes went wide as a lump formed in my throat, my drink once again begging for some attention. I turned my head to look at my flank, which was indeed devoid of any sort of mark. The same as it has always been. My cider finally got what it wanted as I grabbed it in my forehoof and took a nice long swig.

“Uhh...mister...you all right?”

I let the liquid down my throat slowly as I felt the beginnings of a buzz take hold, already doing it’s job of making the situation a bit less awkward feeling. “Look, girls, I appreciate the offer, but don’t you think I’m a little old to be playing 'Crusader' with you?”

“Being old is even more reason why you should join us!” Sweetie Belle yelled.

That was apparently strike three in Apple Bloom’s book, as she sighed and pushed the little filly off my porch. Sweetie Belle let loose a slight yelp as she stumbled through the bushes flanking the porch and collapsed into a heap on the lawn.

“What Sweetie Belle is tryin tah say is that we know how hard it is gettin our cutie marks tahgether. We don’t wanna haf’ta see you try and do it alone...”

Another sip of cider helped repress a familiar ache in my chest.

“Thanks but...this is something I need to figure out on my own...”

Apple Bloom slumped over a bit, apparently disappointed in my decision. Sweetie Belle just gave me a curious look, still familiarizing herself with my lawn. They were about to leave me to the rest of my cider when a familiar voice piped up from the edge of my yard.

“Hey! What gives?! You guys were supposed to wait for me to get here before you asked him! It was my idea, after all!”

There she was again. The little orange filly from before, Scootaloo. She hopped off her scooter and tossed her helmet to the ground in one continuous motion, making her way towards her two friends.

With the helmet off I could get a better look at her mane. It was shorter than I expected, but just as unkempt, little tufts of magenta hair sticking up in random places, cut haphazardly to keep it out of her face as opposed to make any kind of fashion statement, slick with sweat from being under her helmet.

She made her way to my patio next to Apple Bloom, panting heavilty. “...sorry...I’m late....what’d I miss?”

“Not much. He said no.”

Scootaloo looked up at me, her lack of oxygen forgotten. If Apple Bloom was disappointed at my decision, the orange filly seemed downright devastated, her eyes large with defeat. “...Oh...”

That one word, so devoid of feeling, felt like a dagger piercing my heart. My first “friend” in Ponyville, my self-proclaimed good omen, and here I am, spitting in the face of her kindness, not even twelve hours later.

“All right well...thanks anyways Mister Rhyme. Sorry tah bother ya. Have a good evenin’.”

The trio turned and began to take off, Sweetie Belle finally collecting herself, and Scootaloo shuffling away with Apple Bloom.

“Sorry about that girls. He seemed really nice when we talked earlier. I thought he might be interested.”

Her words gave the dagger a sharp twist.

“That’s OK, Scootaloo. You had no way of knowin’ what he’d say. It was worth a shot.”

I suddenly found myself feeling like the worst pony in the history of Equestria.

Why do you care so much? She doesn’t change anything.

Scootaloo headed back to retrieve her helmet with significantly less hop in her trot. She picked her scooter up from the side of the road where she had casually discarded it.

Her scooter.

She had made such a big deal out of it earlier. Like it was her prized possession. Yet here she was throwing it in the middle of the street because she was more excited about seeing me again.

She’s just a little kid. They have one track minds. Her especially, if your conversation earlier was any indication.

They paused for a moment to talk amongst themselves as Scootaloo strapped her helmet back on and picked up her scooter, too far away for their conversation to be audible anymore.

You don’t have time to entertain the ego of a group of fillies. You have your own issues to work through. That’s why you came here in the first place, remember?

They started to leave.

“Wait!”

The three turned and looks back at the source of the voice. It took a moment for me to realize that the protest came from me.
“I uhh...maybe...maybe I should...you know...check out this club of yours before I make my decision. Never a good idea to be too hasty, right?”

What in the name of Tartarus are you doing?!

The girls seemed to perk up. Sweetie Belle grinned. Apple Bloom let out a small whoop.

Scootaloo adjusted her helmet a bit, pushing her mane out of the way of her face. She looked right at me, straight in the eyes, and smiled.