(1) And The Train Ain't Even Left The Station
I stepped off the train, looking around at the boardwalk. Behind me, Blinkie lifted her hoof to shade her eyes from the morning sun, obscured only by a few gathering clouds. It was the first real chance we’d had to stretch our legs outdoors for a few days, what with the hectic travel patterns our pursuit had dragged us through.
“Where are we now?” Blinkie wondered blearily, still only partially awake.
“End of the line. This is Ponyville. If our last lead was right, she’ll be here somewhere.”
Blinkie stood up straighter, taking in the train station with more interest now. “Where do we go now? How are we going to find her in the whole town?”
I merely hefted our duffle onto my shoulders. “Lodging first, then we worry about that. If it’s anything like the last half-dozen leads, it’s probably just another dead end.”
Blinkie silently fell into step beside me, pace slightly faster to keep up with me, her oldest sister. We continued down the steps, dismounting the platform and heading down main street, looking for an inn.
“This place really has a quaint feel to it, doesn’t it? No chain restaurants, no big supermarkets,” Blinkie commented, her shy curiosity springing back into place.
“No inns, either. None that I would be able to recognize, anyway,” I replied, critically.
“Perhaps we could look for Pinkie first, and someone along the way might be able to point us towards a bed-and-breakfast?”
I grunted, changing course for the town hall. After being through this every time we visited a city with a lead, a pretty clear pattern had developed. The first thing we did was to check the town’s records for any indication of a “Pinkie Pie.” Even if they couldn’t give out personal information, like an address, it would at least be a starting point.
Unfortunately, Ponyville is less than pristine when it comes to paperwork. The gray-maned pony who greeted us inside the office off of the domed atrium was definitely on the figurehead side of the political fence.
“Welcome to Ponyville, mares! Please take a seat. What can I do for you today?”
I remained standing, only shifting the duffle on my back. Blinkie, however, jumped forward. She was better at talking to other ponies, so I let her.
“We’re here looking for a relative, actually. We’d very much appreciate any records we might be able to access... it would save a great deal of time for us.”
The mayor cringed. “Unfortunately, Ponyville does not hold its own census. The best you could do for a place like this is the national Equestria-wide census results, and I’m afraid I don’t have access to those.”
Even if we did, it would be like searching for a needle in a haystack in all that data. Searching the national archives had been one of our first ideas when we set out, but was very impractical once we discovered most towns could tell you right away who lived there.
“Let’s go. We’ll try the post office next,” I said to Blinkie.
“Yes, I guess that’s next.” She started to follow me, before pausing. “Oh, and Miss Mayor?”
“Hmm?”
“Do you know where we could find a place to stay the night? We may be here awhile trying to track her down.”
“I’m afraid Ponyville doesn’t get much in the way of visitors that don’t already know somebody here to stay with. But even without that, you should be able to find to find some folks with extra room that could rent it out for a short period.”
“Oh, I see. Thanks for the help, ma’am,” Blinkie replied, falling in step behind me.
Yeah, some help that was.
I held the door for Blinkie, before letting it gracelessly bang shut behind me.
“Well, that’s too bad,” Blinkie commented, hopping down the steps from the town hall. “Still, I guess we’ll have to stay here for a bit now, yes?”
“Luckily, this...” I struggled for a moment to find an adequately descriptive term, but failed. “...place has a relatively small populous. Even if the post office doesn’t turn up anything, we should be able to search it and move on relatively quickly. Where do you suppose they put the post office here?”
“Um...” She looked around. “Hey, she probably knows!”
Blinkie was pointing towards a gray pegasus that was floating lazily along between the buildings, narrowly missing signs and the tops of some ponies’ heads. While she didn’t look like the most informed type, she was wearing a saddlebag that was occasionally leaking a letter or two.
“Excuse me! Miss mailmare?” Blinkie called.
Her timing couldn’t have been more unfortunate. As the pegasus looked around for the caller, a stallion awkwardly carrying a large sign backed out of a door directly into the mare’s flight path. I watched the crash play out, unblinking, while Blinkie yelped and cringed. When the dust and letters settled, she rushed over to the scene, myself following at the same pace I always went.
“Are you okay? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to distract you!”
The mailmare dusted herself off as Blinkie helped her up. “I’m fine, thanks. Don’t worry. It’s a pretty regular occurrence.”
A muffled moan came from somewhere under the crumpled sign on the ground, causing the two to jump to the aid of the stallion that was still under it.
“Mr. Davenport! Sorry about that. What were you saying?” the mailmare continued, as the two lifted the sign off him and got him to his feet.
“I was saying, ‘not for me,’ but the way things have been going, that might change.”
Seeing the worried look on Blinkie’s face, he chuckled and added, “No harm, no foul. Forget about it.”
“Um, Mr. Davenport, sir, what did ‘that might change’ mean?” the mailmare asked, crossed eyes adding to her perplexed expression.
“I just got word from regional headquarters. My particular Sofas and Quills is going to become a mail-order distribution point. Hence the sign.”
I peered closer at the large crumpled paper, which read Now Hiring.
“I’ve got to handle all the shipping now, which means I’ll be seeing more of you, Ditzy, later. Unfortunately, this means I need someone else for the front desk.”
As interesting as the dialog may have been, it was not exactly speeding up our purpose for being here. I coughed conspicuously, looking at Blinkie.
“Oh, right!” Blinkie exclaimed. “Ditzy, was it? I don’t suppose you could direct us to Ponyville’s post office?”
“Sure! Right down that street there, then look for the building with white trim on your left.”
“Not from here, eh?” inquired Mr. Davenport.
“Just passing through, maybe,” I grunted, turning on my hooves and heading towards the new destination. Blinkie looked back as we turned the corner.
“They seemed nice enough.”
I didn’t reply. This wasn’t the first town she’d grown to like, only to turn out to be a dead end. I wasn’t going to let that happen again. My little sis is better than me–she can not only talk to ponies, but care about them, even from just their face value. It also means it’s harder for her to ignore them and move on.
My ongoing internal lecture had let me nearly walk past the post office, which Blinkie quickly pointed out. Shaking myself, I opened the door and entered.
Inside, a somewhat aged stallion with extremely thick glasses sat dozing behind a counter. Beyond him, the wall was covered in nothing but boxes, each with it’s own unique lock and number. Blinkie peered around my duffle at the sleeping postal worker.
“Excuse me,” I said in an even voice, though Blinkie knew me well enough to grasp at my annoyed undertones. The postal worker, however, failed to move.
“Excuse me,” I repeated, louder. Again, it failed to produce results. With a sigh, I stepped aside, deciding it would be best to let her take over now, rather than after I got us arrested for disturbing the peace or some such offence.
Blinkie gently tapped the bell on the desk. I would have facehooved, but the weight of the duffle prevented me from doing so. Blinkie smiled innocently at me, before turning to address the old stallion, who was beginning to come around.
“Good morning, sir! We’re looking for a relative of ours and think she might be here in the charming little town. If she was, would you be able to confirm that for us?”
The desk attendant, who seemed to have gained his wits quickly upon my adorable sister asking for his help, sat up and fixed his glasses.
“I can do better ‘an that. If she’s here, I’ll just go ahead and pull her address for you, fine young lass.”
“Thank you, sir!” Blinkie called after him as he went in the back to check.
“I can’t believe I was dim enough to miss the bell,” I started, when he’d left.
“You’re not dim. But... maybe we should think about getting you some glasses.”
“Har har.”
“Naw, I was kidding. It’s probably your mane getting in the way, always covering up half your face like that. You should try bangs like mine!”
“You already know you won’t be getting scissors within ten meters of my mane, so I won’t bother telling you again.”
At that moment, our privacy was intruded on as the door opened behind us, another mare bouncing in, humming a nondescript tune in a butchered sort of way. My ears went flat and I stopped talking.
“Hi there! Good morning!” she greeted. Her voice was as low as her her colors were subtle, which is to say, not at all. She sported the brightest of pink shades for both coat and mane, had a voiced that sounded as though she’d been on an IV of caffeine and sugar for two weeks, and moved in ways that wasted energy with every excitable hop. Overall, she seemed one of those types to never give you a moment’s rest, and consequently never really stop to think about what they’re doing or saying thoroughly.
In other words, she was the most exasperating kind of pony to ever walk the face of Equestria.
“Good morning,” Blinkie replied slowly, though she seemed more surprised than anything else. Not that I didn’t find her surprising, I just also found her aggravating. So, I stared straight ahead, trying not to notice the rapid eye movements, seemingly random twitches of various body limbs, and tangled mane.
“It is, isn’t it? I wasn’t going to get stamps today, but then Mrs. Cake said that she needed some too, so I said I could just run over here and get some for both of us, that way we wouldn’t both have to make the trip, see? Of course, she said she would do it and that she didn’t want to bother me, but with the foals Mr. and Mrs. Cake just have their hands so full on top of running a bakery...”
The long-winded blurb finally ceased when the mare’s whole body suddenly vibrated, for no visible reason. “Hmm...”
The tirade of inexcusable random events was diverted with the return of the desk attendant, who was now carrying a large ledger.
“Oh, didn’t expect to see you running errands on a day like today,” he said.
“Well, I was going to do it later, but then Mrs. Cake said...”
I stopped listening. After a while, the mare bought her stamps and bounced out, spouting something about having to hurry because of the beautiful weather. I hate to think how long she could have talked on a rainy day. I blew my mane out of my face.
“Now then,” the attendant resumed, not in the least bit bothered, “Who was this relative you were lookin’ for again?”
“Our sister,” volunteered Blinkie, while the stallion flipped through his book. “We haven’t seen her since we were fillies. We’ve been traveling for a while looking for her, but there isn’t exactly a whole lot left to track now.
“Oh? What’s ‘er name?”
“Pinkie Pie.”
The attendant froze, before looking up and push his glasses further up his snout. “Could you repeat that?”
“Our sister, Pinkie Pie...” Blinkie’s voice quivered with suspense. “Have you heard that name?”
The attendant leaned back in his chair and laughed, much to the confusion of sis and I.
“That was her, just now.”
My brain threatened to cease functioning for few moments. No. That’s not possible. Sis and I may not be exactly alike but... that thing...
Before I could finish my thought, however, the sound of the post office’s door clattering registered.
“Blinkie!” I exclaimed under my breath, starting after her as quickly as I could, given the weight of the duffle still on my back. I caught up with her quickly at the first intersection, where she stood panting, apparently having lost her target in daily traffic.
“We... we found her... at last,” she stammered in between breaths.
“Yeah, apparently. Still, now that we’ve found the city, we should probably focus on finding lodging.”
Blinkie stared at me like I was crazy. “But... we found her! We actually found her!”
“And? I don’t think she’ll be disappearing overnight, somehow.”
“But... well...” she stammered, casting about for ideas. Her face lit up. “But, maybe she could put us up! For one night, anyways.”
She had a valid point. Our supply of bits wasn’t exactly plentiful, and we would need time to find a permanent residence. Still, it didn’t make the idea of spending time with that exuberant fluffball any more appealing.
“Fine. Let’s head back to the post office and get her address though, rather than running willy-nilly in the street maybe?”
She giggled. “Sorry.”
Later, after we’d acquired the address from the desk attendant (who’d given us the street and told us to look for the ‘large pastry’), we found ourselves wending our way through Ponyville, Blinkie with significantly more spring in her step than me.
“People really do change, huh?” she said, looking over at me. “She’s not what you expected, is she?”
An understatement. “I guess not.”
“You probably remember more about her than I do, though.”
“Not much. She was pretty much like us. I vaguely remember something about a party, and after that, she left. I don’t remember her colors being so bright though, as a general thing.”
Blinkie looked up, shading her eyes with a foreleg. “Maybe it’s the sun.”
“Good luck with that. I think we’re stuck with gray.”
“Hey, is this it?”
I stopped, abandoning the conversation to look around. Only now did I realize that the postal worker had been nearly literal in his description of the bakery, which looked fit to be eaten. It wasn’t hard to see why someone of her disposition would live in a place like this.
“Ready?” Blinkie asked.
I nodded, suddenly not in the mood for talking. I held the door for her, and we entered.
“Hello there, dearies. Welcome to Sugarcube Corner. What can I get for you?” greeted a blue mare behind the counter.
“Well, we hate to disturb you during business hours, Mizz...?”
“Mrs. Cake.”
“...Mrs Cake, but we were wondering if it would be possible for us to speak with Pinkie Pie.”
“She’s doesn’t work today, so there’s no issues there. Unfortunately, you just missed her. She was getting some stamps for me and just dropped them off. Didn’t say where she was going.”
“Oh. But she does live here, right?”
The other mare nodded. “Do you two know her?”
“It’s... kind of a long story. Do you know where she might be, or when she’ll get back?”
The baker chuckled. “Once you get to know her a bit more, you’ll realize what you asked is a bit harder to answer for her than for most ponies.”
Blinkie looked over at me. “Now what?”
“If you’re hungry, we could get food I guess.”
Lunch found us at a small diner near the town’s center. Not that that was any downside–even the densest parts were better than most suburbs of the major cities. Still, it was lunchtime, and so there were a few other occupied tables nearby.
As per usual, nothing sounded good. It had become a standard now for me to order the smallest, cheapest item for this reason, and to help stretch our bits out for a while longer... though of course I told Blinkie none of that.
A fit of giggling behind me caught my attention as we waited for the food. Reaching forward, I carefully repositioned my spoon so as to use it’s reflection like a mirror. On the warped convex surface, I could make out two mares sitting, very wrapped in their own conversation.
Maybe they’re sisters. I couldn’t help but contrast the two–a green unicorn and purple-and-pink maned earth pony–and their interaction with Blinkie’s and mine. They were much more respondent to one another, more physical, more interactive and attentive.
My comparison was suddenly brought to a halt when the two kissed in a way that could not have been interpreted as platonic in any sense. It lasted for several seconds, a bit of tongue exposed when one shifted slightly...
I put my spoon back down quickly.
Well, even if they aren’t sisters, they’re doing a very nice job taking care of each other. I fidgeted, casting about for something else to think about. I’d gotten good at that in the past few months.
“Sis?”
I jerked out of my stupor. “Huh?”
“You’ve been spacing out a lot. Are you okay?”
“Yeah... fine.” I flashed a practiced smile, dropping the unnatural facial expression as soon as she looked away.
“So what are we going to do for an afternoon? I mean, we could look for her I guess, but I wouldn’t want to interrupt her if she has business or something.”
“We should probably be doing other stuff anyway, like finding more permanent lodging and eventually... income.”
“Maybe she could hook us up?” Blinkie suggested, again.
“While I’m sure she’s well intentioned,” I started, obligatorily, “she didn’t seem the most... organized of ponies.”
Blinkie didn’t say anything at first, but tapped her hoof against her chin. “I wonder who else we could ask? Too bad we don’t know more ponies here.”
Without warning, our table was suddenly upset when a magnetta mare fell into it. Luckily, Blinkie had been mostly finished with her meal, and I wasn’t interested in mine anyways.
“Oh gosh! Sorry! I’m sober, I swear.” She pulled herself from the wreckage, giving sheepish looks to the onlookers the accident had garnered.. “...Mostly.”
“It’s alright, we’re fine. Are you okay?”
“Yeah... mostly.”
I raised an eyebrow. Apart from the obvious.
“I did stop getting wasted every night, y’know,” she continued. “It was great for a while. She’d visit, we’d hang out in her coltfriend’s bar, play some cards. Then one day they up and leave for Las Pegasus. I mean, they were nice about it and everything, said goodbye... hay, he even left me the bar. Still kinda sucks.”
“Excuse me, miss?” a waiter said, approaching the mare from behind.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m going,” she shot back, before he could finish. Before getting two meters, however, she gracelessly grazed a lamp post, sending her tumbling into a railing.
Blinkie winced. “Do you need any help getting somewhere...?”
This time, I winced, though my mane hid it. We don’t have time to mess with this.
Luckily, she seemed inclined to turn down Blinkie’s offer, until she ran headfirst into a mailbox in such a way so as to have her head coming out the other side. Blinkie sprang up to help her immediately, with myself following at a slower pace.
“Where do you live?” Blinkie asked, taking one side while I took the other.
“Let’s go this way... probably...”
She had a fairly stable gait, for her level of intoxication. The main issue was preventing her from becoming distracted, and often nearly colliding with something as a result. We wound our way through a few unnecessary detours, but eventually arrived at a modest apartment building. It wasn’t anything compared to the tall ones in the bigger cities, keeping it from breaking Ponyville’s rural-style roofline.
“You live here?” Blinkie asked.
“Nope,” she replied.
“What?” I intoned.
“I work here. Well, down in the basement, actually.” We helped her down a set of stairs that were rather obscure in nature if you weren’t looking for them.
“It isn’t locked,” she remarked as she stumbled through it. “I lost the key, so it’s never locked anymore. Now, where’s the light switch...”
There was a loud crashing sound from the interior of the dark basement as she felt along wall for the switch. With an electric click, the lights illuminated the dim interior with yellow light. Round tables littered the room, cider mugs lined the shelves behind the bar, and a jukebox collected dust against the wall. I felt like I’d just stepped into a place that was still half a century in the past.
“I haven’t changed it much since I got it from Lucky, and he hadn’t changed it much since he got it from Oakback Slack,” she mumbled, climbing onto the bar and laying down, “but that’s not really a good story for telling anyway.”
“Uh, miss?” Blinkie asked, trying to keep the mare from falling asleep, “what’s your name?”
“Berry Punch. You could tell me yours, but I probably won’t remember it when I wake up anyway.”
“So... you live in one of the apartments upstairs?” Blinkie inquired, peering at a flight of stairs that were visible in the back.
“Nope. Lucky used to though, along with his marefriend.” She yawned. “Landlord’s been desperate to get ‘em rented out... losing two incomes at once like that really took her down a notch.”
That grabbed my attention.
“Listen, are you sure you don’t want us to get you home?” Blinkie asked, looking skeptically at the drowsy mare on the counter.
“Nah... my drinks are here, my work is here... and walking hasn’t been such a great idea anyway.”
Blinkie looked to me, but I only shrugged. The duffel was getting heavy.
“Okay then, we’ll be on our way I suppose,” she finished.
“Mmf... come by sometime... er, some... somethin’...”
With that, she fell to snoring. Blinkie and I shut the door behind us as we trudged up the stairs, unsure where to go to next. I looked back at the building, committing Berry Punch’s comments to more permanent memory.
As we walked along aimlessly, Blinkie shivered, drawing my attention away from my usual internal meanderings. She walked closer to me, but not so much as for our coats to touch. Clouds were rolling in, hiding the sun’s rays and dropping the temperature.
“Fall’s coming,” I noted simply.
“The leaves will start changing soon. I read somewhere that in this area, they run races to get them to fall when autumn ends, instead of using magic.”
I hadn’t known that. “That’s...”
“...quaint?”
“I was going to say moronic.” A pause plagued the air for a few seconds, before I added, “Sorry for being like that.”
Blinkie smiled at me. “It’s okay. I know what you meant.”
Behind my lock of hair, I cringed. What if I did say what I meant? Does that mean you don’t know what I meant?
Trying to ignore such thoughts, I looked around to take stock of our surroundings. We’d wound up on the edge of the park, a grassy open space surrounded by trees fairly in the middle of Ponyville. It was riddled with benches and tables at certain vantage points, most of which were populated with Ponyville’s inhabitants... though, with the wind coming up and clouds rolling in, these numbers decreased steadily. The place seemed awfully empty and deserted, in a few minutes.
“There’s no point in standing around out here,” I said suddenly. “Let’s check back at Sugarcube Corner. At least we’ll be inside for a while.”
Blinkie only nodded, trying to suppress another shiver. I led the way, backtracking through the streets to find the odd confectionary. By the time we arrived, the wind had the suspended cupcake sign banging back and forth with the gusts. Blinkie entered hurriedly, with myself tumbling in after her, putting my weight back into the door to close it again.
Mrs. Cake was behind the counter, watching us with alarm. “Gosh dearies, are you alright? Pinkie said it was getting worse out there, and I didn’t know if you had any place to go.”
“She’s back?” I inquired. Blinkie was still too cold to engage as enthusiastically as she usually would have.
Mrs. Cake nodded. “Arrived a few minutes ago.”
I dropped the duffle. “May we see her?”
Might as well get this over with. Besides, Blinkie was standing now, and I knew she wasn’t going to wait longer than she had to.
“Of course. She’s right upstairs.” She cupped a hoof to her mouth. “Pinkie! You’ve got guests!”
Before we were halfway up the staircase, Pinkie’s head appeared over the edge. “Oh hey! I remember you! From the post office, right? I was all ‘good morning’ and you were like ‘good morning...’”
“Yes, that was us,” Blinkie interjected. “Um, look, we kinda have something we need to tell you. Do you mind if talk somewhere besides the stairs?”
Pinkie let out one of her high-pitched giggles, causing me to wince slightly. “Of course, girls. Come on up!”
I followed Blinkie the rest of the way up the stairs and through one of the doors that branched off the hallway. Upon entering, I was surprised to find it had rather high ceilings–a result, no doubt, from the room being located under the tower of Sugarcube Corner. This also explained why it was round, going so far as to support a suspended pink walkway around the edge where normally the next floor would have been.
“So, what’s up?” she asked cheerfully, bounding onto her bed. A few raindrops began to strike the window panes.
“Well, I’m not sure how much you remember from your early foalhood,” Blinkie began, twirling her mane nervously, “but... well... this is kind of hard to say...”
“We’re your sisters,” I summarized.
Except for the environmental sounds outside, silence pervaded the room for the next few moments. Pinkie blinked, looked at Blinkie, blinked again, and looked at me, only to repeat the process.
“Well, that must have been the doozy.”
I ignored that, waiting for something intelligible instead.
“Blinkie, right? Blinkie and Inkie.”
Blinkie gave a small clop with her hooves in joy. “You do remember us!”
“Well, duh! I grew up with you girls. I still remember teaching you to ice skate. The real question is, what are you doing here in Ponyville? Not that I mind, of course! This is gonna be great!” She looked around. “Where’s Mom and Dad?”
“They’re alright; they’re still back on the rock farm.”
“Oh, Well, we’re still going to make this something to remember anyway!”
“Huh?”
“Since I recognized you in the post office, but couldn’t quite place you, I assumed I’d seen you around town. But, since this is your first time in Ponyville, and more importantly, our reunion, we have to celebrate! Big time!”
Pinkie wrapped a hoof around each of our necks, bringing the three of us together into an awkward and uncomfortable hug. I ground my teeth, but kept silent.
“Oh, you don’t need to go to any trouble,” Blinkie offered. “Just seeing you is amazing.”
“Aww!” Pinkie sniffed. “I missed you girls!”
Several skeptical comebacks popped up in my head, but I kept them to myself as Blinkie seemed to be enjoying the vise-grip of a hug. My apathy was waning thin, however, giving way to mild indignation.
“Be that... as it may...” I squeaked, wedging my hooves against Pinkie to extract myself from the embrace, “...you haven’t been easy to track down...”
My head came free with a pop. “...and we’ve only just arrived in Ponyville...”
“...and we could really use a temporary place for tonight, if it’s not too much trouble,” Blinkie blurted out.
I was just going to ask for recommendations on accommodations, but there’s no redacting that now, I suppose.
“Trouble? Are you kidding? You have to stay here tonight! Besides just being a part of the whole I-haven’t-seen-you-in-forever thing, it’s also raining pretty good out there too.”
As if to prove her point, a crack of lightning struck in the distance, shaking the house slightly with thunder.
“You’re hospitality is... appreciated,” I replied slowly. It really was, too. I knew my conflicts with Pinkie’s personality were my problem, not hers. Unfortunately, realising that wasn’t helping to improve my mood either.
“Yay! I’ll go tell the Cakes real quick.”
Just like that, she was out of the room, her steps receding down the stairs.
“She’s nothing like what I’d imagined,” Blinkie murmured, staring after her.
“Definitely not.” Still, she seems to make Blinkie happy. Perhaps I can put up with her for that.
“I’m back!” Pinkie announced, kicking the door open. Her forelimbs were otherwise occupied with a large stack of sleeping bags, blankets, board games, popcorn tins, umbrella hats, and a single book.
“Oh my,” Blinkie commented, springing up to relieve pinkie of her weighty items. “What is all this for?”
“Our party is going to be a slumber party! I even got this from Twilight; normally I wouldn’t bother with books and instructions and whatnot, but she seemed really enthusiastic that I try it.”
I slumped a little lower.
“Thank you... for the blanket,” I said, when Pinkie plopped a portion of her stock in front of me. I tugged it with me over next to the window and curled up.
“Huh?” Pinkie stopped, tilting her head. “Aren’t you gonna stay up with us?”
“No, thanks anyway though. You two go ahead.” No need to spoil it for Blinkie.
“But, but...”
“It’s fine, really.” I leaned my head back against the cool glass and pretended to be happy, closing my eyes and planting a slight smile on my face. After a moment of silence, they went back to talking in hushed tones. Though Pinkie was doing most of the talking, come to think of it.
With the rain pelting the window behind me, I drew my attention from the physical world and allowed my mind to wander.
What a day.
She was certainly hard enough to find. Hopefully nothing will blow up in our faces, for Blinkie’s sake.
I’ve been appending that on a good deal recently. I kind of thought finding Pinkie would make me feel a little bit less useless, but that clearly didn’t work out like that. Blinkie won’t rely on me anymore–not that that’s bad.
Do we hear ourself? We want her to make friends and be happy, right?
Yes, of course. It’s just me being selfish.
My conclusion didn’t really help me feel any better. In fact, knowing that Blinkie could soon rely on others was only making me more apathetic.
I peeked over the blanket. The room was now lit only by the warm lights from a single oil lamp, casting it’s limited light on Blinkie and Pinkie, who were sitting on the bed, drinking something warm and still talking enthusiastically. Blinkie, I noticed, wasn’t comfortable scooting right up touching Pinkie yet, though she was sitting next to her rather than across from her already.
Good for her. At least now she’ll be able to have a decent new start, in a new town, if she wants to.
We could too, you know.
I staved off letting my mood get the best of me for months while we traveled, because I was the only person she had to care about. If she has another sister to fill in, maybe some friends...
What makes us think Pinkie will replace what Blinkie holds in her heart for us, rather than add to it? It would take our absence for that to occur.
That’s not off the table here.
We only just arrived. It’s too soon for that.
Blinkie is a warm pony, and bonds quickly. The time may be closer than you think.
(2) A Glimpse Beyond This Illusion
It was dark. I opened my eyes, but it was still dark.
Slowly, sounds began registering with my ears as my brain began to identify what each belonged to. The earliest songbirds, singing even before the sun tainted the sky with light, twittered outside; cloth rustled as somepony else in the room stirred in their sleep. Somewhere, on the outskirts of town, a rooster crowed.
Whether it was my eyes adjusting to the dark, or the sky beginning to lighten, I noticed I could start making out the vague outlines of the shapes of the room. Blinkie, it seemed, had grown more comfortable with Pinkie after I’d stopped paying attention the previous night. She was now curled up on one side of Pinkie’s bed, hooves around a pillow. The energized catastrophe herself, however, had somehow managed to flip end over end, and now her head lolled over the side by the foot of the bed.
I slipped out of the folds of the blanket and delicately snuck across the room, careful not to disturb Blinkie or Pinkie. They looked like they were sleeping peacefully. Good for them. My dreams were not so restful.
Down the stairs, not even the Cakes were up yet. It must really be early.
Yesterday’s rain had left a chill lingering in the outdoors air, and enough humidity to condense into dew that covered most surfaces. My hooves got soaked as I trotted quickly, but aimlessly, away from the center of town. Minutes later, I discovered that my hooves had carried me into a residential block, filled with simple but adequately sized homes.
“Hey.”
It startled me, but I didn’t jump or start. Instead, I turned my head toward the source, slowly and deliberately.
A mare was sitting oddly on a bench, forelegs angled back over the edges of the bench. She was a unicorn, and though she was almost certainly a local, she seemed familiar somehow.
“Morning.”
I nodded in return, still racking my brain for where I’d seen her before.
“You okay there?”
Then it clicked. “You were at the diner yesterday...”
She smiled and nodded. “Are you new, then?”
“...making out with that other mare.”
The hint of a smile that had been on her face dropped. “Is... that a problem?”
I was conflicted. I’d never been within ten meters of a fillyfooler in the flesh till yesterday–that I knew of, leastways. Before that, I’d just heard what Mom and Dad had said, which pretty much just stood them up as perverted sodomites from hell. Still, I could never figure out why... and it certainly wasn’t the kind of topic that you just brought up out of the gray.
“I don’t know.”
The mare raised an eyebrow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You’re the first one I’ve talked to. That I know of.”
She brightened a bit. “Well, you’re talking to me, and you seem to have some semblance of logic. That’s a better start than some, I guess. Name’s Lyra.”
“Inkie.” I sat down on the opposite end of the bench.
“You must not have gotten out much, if I’m the first you’ve talked to.”
“Been to every major city in Equestria, mostly.”
“I’m sorry, I’m a little confused. How is it that you could be so well traveled and so... so...”
“We were going at top speed the whole time. Didn’t take any extra time anywhere we didn’t have to.”
“Uh, ‘we’ you say?”
“There was two of us.” Didn’t really mean to slip that. I only just met her thirty seconds ago.
“Coltfriend...?”
What? “No,” I returned sharply.
Lyra raised her forehooves. “Woah, easy. Didn’t mean to offend.”
I sighed. “I know. I’m sorry. I don’t usually... talk to ponies if I can help it.”
“It shows, a little bit.”
I nodded, shifting my head so that my mane covered my face. Somewhere behind the veil it created, the sun began to creep up above the roofs of the houses, morphing the sky from black to gray to a brilliant blue. Not that I found it inspiring in the slightest.
Lyra stood to leave. “That’s all the chatting I have time for, for now. I know you’re not really the outgoing type, but maybe we should go get a bite to eat or something. You tell me more about travelling, and who knows, maybe I could bring my fillyfriend too.”
Not likely. “Thanks.”
“Bye.”
I watched her leave, my brain’s gears turning.I wonder why she talked to me.
It’s rather common for ponies to converse with one another, actually.
I mean after I... basicly... insulted her.
What we said was an accurate depiction of what we were thinking.
That doesn’t answer the question. All that means is that I’m a jerk.
True.
I know it’s true, so shut up already.
Deciding that a change of scenery might get my thoughts off my abusive self, I dragged myself to my hooves and trudged off down the street. It must have been about seven o’clock by then, judging by the number of shops that were opening. Some, of course, opened earlier or later, but the majority were typical, seven-to-five markets. None of the ones around me happened to be familiar, and so I wandered on down the road. Turning at random intervals, eventually I struck a known shop; it was none other than the Sofas and Quills that Blinkie and I had bumped into Derpy in front of yesterday.
Mr. Davenport stumbled out the door, looking tired and discombobulated. He went to the window and scratched his head, examining what had been the Now Hiring sign from the other day. Due to the dew, however, it had deteriorated after getting wet; it was blurred, falling into pulpy pieces, and utterly unreadable. All that remained were two pieces of tape stuck to the glass.
Deciding on a solution to the problem, Mr. Davenport returned to the building and came back with a whiteboard and a marker. He propped it up on the window’s ledge, popped off the marker’s cap, and began to write the words of the previous sign on this one. Partway through, he noticed me watching him. It caused him to jump and consequently look around the mostly deserted street to make sure no one had seen him do it. In retrospect, silently standing behind him without so much as blinking might have been a bit creepy.
He set the marker down, temporarily. “Oh howdy, I didn’t see ya there.”
I inclined my head in return. After a second, he cocked his head to one side.
“Seems to me we’ve met before.”
I nodded.
“Ah, it was yesterday, yes? You and your friend came along when Ditzy was making her rounds.”
I nodded again. This is my kind of conversation.
“Early riser, are you? Or perhaps you’re opening a stall, in which case you don’t really have much choice anyway?”
“No. I’m new, remember?”
“Oh yes, that’s right. I remember now. You said you were travelling through? Shame, Ponyville’s too small to have a stable unemployed worker pool. Tough to fill positions without at least a few ponies looking for work.”
“As it turns out, I am staying for the time being.”
“Really? I don’t suppose you’d be interested in-”
“How much?”
“Oh, um, standard union rate. But, you also get Wednesdays off in addition to the weekends. Tuesday gets a double shipment, see, so the main branch can make the weekly modifications to the inventory and get back to shipping by Thursday.”
“Hours?”
“The sooner you get the day’s shipment sorted ready for exporting or shelving, the sooner you get off.”
It’s a small town. There likely won’t be another job opening for a while if this one gets snatched by somepony else. “I’ll take it.”
“Brilliant! Oddly enough, you nailed this on a Wednesday. Still, I can give you a little tour now, if you like.”
“Fine. Also, that marker is permanent.”
“Wha-? Consarn it. Anyway, come on in.”
A bell that was rigged to the door triggered as I followed him into the the storefront. The interior of the original sales room was about what a pony could expect from a shop in Ponyville. Sofas, couches, armchairs, futons, recliners, and most other existing forms of lounge furniture were clustered about the slightly antiqued room, with rugs forming a sort of path through the collection. Lit mainly from the large windows in the front, the showroom was decently bright, accented with electric bulbs in the ceiling near the back, where natural light couldn’t reach. A counter with a built-in glass display case had been placed near the wall so as to be to the right of an entering customer. The case, as well as a wall of shelves behind it, contained the store’s other main item type: quills. They came in every shape, size, color, and flexibility, often featuring interchangeable tips or different line widths.
“Come, come, this way now!”
He led the way to an unassuming door in the rear of the showroom, which exhibited a sign declaring Employees Only.
“I apologize in advance for the mess of this room. It’s been a bit more than I can handle on my own, ever since Ponyville’s Quills and Sofas got upgraded to a hub.”
He wasn’t joking about the mess. The storage room was larger, but even so held more product per square meter–resulting in a sheer assault of boxes of supplies. Most of the smaller ones were cardboard, but they were stacked so thickly that they usually concealed boarded crates.
“The little stuff is quills, as I’m sure you’ve guessed,” Mr. Davenport commented as we trudged through the tenebrous space. “And don’t bother about moving the big sofa crates; just label and file them, and the shipping ponies can take care of loading and unloading. All of that will be done back here, by the double doors.”
Indeed, the back of the storage room was made up, almost entirely, of a set of reinforced wood construction double doors that were hinged securely on load-bearing beams near the corners of the building.
“You’ll do most of the cataloging back here. The filing cabinet is under the register in the showroom quill case counter.”
Is he done yet?
“I guess that wraps up the tour pretty much. Oh, I do have one more thing for you.” Mr. Davenport went to the register and dug around in the drawer a bit, before returning with a key. “This is for the storage room’s double doors. Lock it up after the last of the shippers leave before you head out after work.”
I accepted the key with a severe lack of enthusiasm. “Anything else?”
“Er... I guess not. See you tomorrow then?”
I gave a slight wave as I exited, deciding to see where the storage doors exited into the street. It wasn’t one I’d been on before, so I followed it till it connected up with Main Street.
Once there, I could adeptly navigate through Ponyville.
Argh, that sun is annoying. I shaded my eyes. It’s climbed quite a bit since I entered Quills and Sofas. I should probably go back and check on Blinkie.
Hooking a sharp left, I found my way back to the obnoxious bakery building in a minute or two and entered cautiously, unsure if everyone was up yet. I needn’t have worried.
“Inkie? Inkie!”
Blinkie plowed into me, dragging us both back out the door I had just entered, landing me on the bottom of a one-way hug in the middle of the street.
“You were just gone when we woke up. I was worried!”
She’s right. That was stupid.
Shut up.
“Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.”
“‘Will be?’”
“Am. Am fine.”
Another voice intruded on our conversation as a set of green hooves walked up. “Looks like you weren’t being honest with me, Inkie.”
Lyra.
“Since the resemblance wasn’t enough to clue you in, I’ll have you know we are sisters.”
This only seemed to amuse her more, judging by the smirk on her face. “My my, you are kinky.”
Blinkie looked from me, to Lyra, and back again. Suddenly, grasping at Lyra’s implications, she began scrambling off me, blushing profusely.
“Shut it,” I growled, standing.
“Lighten up! It’s just a bit of fun.”
“You can screw with me all you like. Leave off Blinkie, please,” I replied, an unamused frown plastered across my face.
Blinkie gently put a hoof on my shoulder. “Sis, it’s okay. I don’t really mind that much.”
Cool off. She can take care of herself now.
I’m having trouble letting her.
“...sorry.”
“Forget about it,” Lyra returned, waving it off. “Hey, have you eaten yet?”
“Uh, no.”
“Oh, Oh!” interjected Pinkie. “Come in! We’ll scour the scrumptious crumpets I made earlier!”
“If there’s coffee, I’m game,” replied Lyra.
Pinkie, Lyra, and Blinkie trailed back indoors, with myself in the rear.
Blinkie looked at me from across the table. “Wow, you... talked to her?”
Lyra replied for me. “Sorta... it was like pulling teeth.”
For some reason beyond my comprehension, they both found this amusing, and giggled. Pinkie entered from the kitchen, carrying a tray with a few cups of coffee, a stack of crumpets, and couple other delicacies besides. Lyra, now with a beverage in her hooves, fell back to questioning Blinkie. Blinkie didn’t seem to mind, however, and so I remained silent. Meanwhile, Pinkie decided that she needed to do some talking too, and sidled up next to me.
“Aren’t you going to eat? You said you hadn’t eaten, right?”
“I’m... uh... not hungry.”
“How could you possibly not be hungry? It’s really, really late for breakfast. More like brunch, actually.” She smashed her hoof down on the edge of a plate, causing the three crumpets on it to fly into the air, do four somersaults each, and land on her outstretched tongue, whereupon she swallowed them whole. “See?”
I may be sick. “Just coffee.”
“You sure? I could always whip up some-”
“Just coffee.”
“Okie dokie lokie.”
I stared at my drink, Pinkie bouncing off to contribute to the conversation on the other side of the table.
Coffee. It’s a lot like life.
What makes us say that?
It’s bitter. Once you’ve drunk it for a bit though, you keep coming back to it even if the taste hasn’t changed.
That implies that ponies don’t enjoy life and live it out of obligation.
Yes.
We know that isn’t true. Most enjoy their lives...
Fine. Mylife is like coffee.
...and we should enjoy ours too. We have a sister, two actually, a job lined up, a lot of friendly ponies around who could be our friends if we let them...
Congratulations. You’ve successfully made me feel bad for feeling bad. Only that just makes me feel worse.
“Inkie?” My sister’s voice snapped me out of my internal dialog.
“Hmm? What?”
“Are you coming?”
“Where are we going?”
“Out, of course. Weren’t you listening?”
“Sorry. I might have phased out for a bit.”
“Well, Pinkie didn’t have any ideas, so I figured we’d start setting up our life with Berry Punch.”
“Who?”
“The mare that ran into us during lunch the other day. She works under the apartment building, remember?”
“Oh. Yeah.”
It wasn’t too hard to find the place again. It didn’t look exactly the same, however.
“Berry Punch? What are you doing?” Blinkie asked. The mare had a splattered painter’s suit on, sitting on a scaffold against the building above the entrance to her basement bar. She looked over her shoulder, dropping her brush.
“Uh... you look a little bit familiar...?”
“We got you back to your... establishment yesterday. You don’t remember?”
She scratched the back of her neck with a hoof. “It’s a bit hazy. Thanks though, there’s no telling where I’ll wake up after days like that.”
Climbing down, she stepped out of the messy outfit, trotting up to the two of us. Her eyes examined Blinkie from bottom to top and back again, causing the object of her stare to shrink back slightly.
Blinkie looked down at her own torso. “Is something wrong?”
“Oh, nothing. Um, last night, I didn’t... uh... hit on you or anything, did I?”
I hadn’t been expecting that. Blinkie hadn’t either, if her wide eyes, slack jaw, and generally embarrassed expression was anything to judge by. Her reply was a few seconds longer in coming than usual.
“Well... no... not that I noticed anyway.”
“Is there some particular reason for asking her that?” I added, with a hint of gruffness sprinkled in for good measure.
“What? No! She just... kinda seemed like the type I might have tried it on.”
I raised an eyebrow. “As opposed to me?”
“You? You’re way too...” She stopped and let out a little cough. “...nevermind.”
As my gaze clamped down on Berry, Blinkie began casting about for a distraction from the tension the conversation had begun collecting.
“So, what are you doing up on a scaffold, Berry?”
“Just giving my place a little more visibility. A little cleaning up, kind of a face lift. A lot of the old crowd left when I took over, so I kinda need to get some new blood in there. Inside’s getting a makeover too–and I’ve already hired a couple of musicians for the nights. Hope it pays off, or else the landlord will have my plot out on the street before too long.”
I was not interested in the technicolor depiction of Berry’s life. “Speaking of the landlord, I don’t suppose you’d know where she is at the moment?”
“Sure, she’s in the office. A bit of advice, though: start yourself low. Like, really low. She loves to haggle. This way.”
“Why would you need to be there?”
“I don’t. But I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”
“I hate to interrupt,” Blinkie started as the three of us walked around to the front, “but shouldn’t she be called a landlady if she’s, y’know, a she?”
“I heard a story–apparently she used to be called ‘Captain Ironpants’ back when she was in high school, ages ago. Not sure if that has anything to do with it, but at least you know.”
Berry led us around to the front and up a few steps, whereupon she looked over at a buzzer device mounted to the wall. A name stood by each of a double-row of buttons, though two were noticeably blank.
“Let’s see... ah!” Berry found one labelled ‘office’ and pressed it. An evil grin spread across her face. Next, she began mashing the buzzer’s button before simply holding it down.
That’s sure to improve the landlord’s mood.
A pair of fulvous hooves came into view as a mare stomped down the stairs. “Friggin’ fruitcakes... there’d better be a good reason for this fracas-”
The mare opened the door, only to stop dead in her tracks upon seeing Berry.
“Hi, landlord. Well, gotta go! Bye!” With that, Berry employed a hasty retreat, speeding out of sight around the corner. The remaining mare’s eye twitched.
“Berry Punch! I’ll have you skinned alive for that! Just because you rent my basement doesn’t mean I won’t punch you a third eye socket!”
Both Blinkie and I had our ears folded back from the sheer volume or her wrathful outpourings. I took a step back, which seemed enough for her to notice us. She glared at us for a second, before speaking.
“And just who are you?”
I wasn’t sure if Blinkie could handle taking her role as the communicator like she usually did, but she managed to squeak out a response. “B-Blinkie and Inkie Pie, ma’am.”
“What do you want?”
“We’re here about an apartment.”
“Oh.” Some of the ice in her voice fell away. “Candy Mane. Pleasure to meet you. Shall we go talk in my office?”
As we followed her into the building, I couldn’t help but giver her physique a glance or two–mostly because it was slightly out of the ordinary. Her mane was a rather short flat crop in the back, contrasting with her coiffured bangs, which was finely curled at the end, and sported two variants of the pink found in her tail.
“Come on in,” she said, kicking open a door open and plopping herself down in an office chair, hooves propped up on the desk. The place was stacked high with all sorts of official-looking paperwork and rementants of candy wrappers. Besides the desk Candy was sitting at, there was a few filing cabinets, an oscillating fan, and a wall of mailboxes. She motioned towards a pair of fold up chairs leaning against one of the filing cabinets, and continued.
“So are we looking at two apartments here?”
“Just one, actually,” Blinkie replied, taking a chair. I remained standing.
“Figures. Anyway, I assume you can afford the down payment?”
Blinkie nodded.
“Income?”
“Well, n-not yet, but-”
“Yes,” I interrupted.
Blinkie looked back at me, and Candy raised an eyebrow. “Really? What do you do?”
“Mr. Davenport down at Quills and Sofas hired me to help with the extra inventory.”
Candy Mane tapped her hooves together. “I heard he was expanding. Guess that checks out. Still... my apartments are in pretty high demand. You’re lucky I have any available at all. Unfortunately, I have another couple from Canterlot interested as well. Just a matter of time now, really. For a nice pair like you, though, I suppose I could manage, say, two hundred bits a month.”
“Uh...” Blinkie looked at me. She might be the better one at handling contact with others, but she really wasn’t cut out for conflict.
I’m not really sure knowing that I am is any kind of comfort.
“Really? That’s odd. I heard you were having trouble unloading two of your apartments, actually,” I shot back.
“Berry Punch told you that, didn’t she?” Candy growled.
I ignored her. “It seems to me that you’d be pricing them lower if you actually wanted to rent them out.”
She sighed. “One hundred ninety.”
“One hundred forty.”
“One eighty.”
“One fifty.”
“One seventy.”
“One sixty.”
Candy now had a thoroughly unpleasant expression on her face. “Ugh, fine. One hundred sixty it is.”
She reached into a desk drawer and pulled out two identical keys. “Don’t lose them. Room twenty-three. Do you have much stuff to move in?”
I shook my head.
“Good. It’s got most of the basics already; a stove, refrigerator, bed-”
“Bed, singular?”
“Yeah. Recliner, table...”
“Uh, that’s great. Mind if we take a look now?”
“Knock yourselves out.”
We exited the office and found our way back to the staircase, ascending to the second story. A door with a placard labeling it the twenty third room was easily located a few meters from the top of the stairs. Blinkie looked at the slightly worn key in her hoof before sliding it into the keyhole and turning. A mechanical click echoed off the interior of the room behind the door.
The entryway was tight and narrow, sprinkled with hooks on the wall to make up for the lack of a coat-closet. Past that, a larger central room that made up both the kitchen and the living room, with a windowed door that appeared to lead to some kind of balcony. On the left side of this main room were two doors, one to a bedroom and the other to the bath.
Blinkie coughed in the dusty environment. “A little cleaning and this place could turn out to be pretty cozy.”
I crossed the tiled kitchen floor and the carpeted segment of the same room to inspect the door that led outdoors. It looked as though it hadn’t been used in an age and a half–even compared to the rest of the place, which probably had only been out of use for a few months.
Blinkie’s voice drifted in from the bedroom. “So, should we move our stuff in now, or...?”
“Our huge load of one duffle?”
“Oh, heh, yeah...”
“Soon, I guess. I don’t care when.”
“What time is it?”
I shrugged.
“Let’s grab something to eat on the way back to Sugarcube Corner. It’s got to be close to lunchtime, right?”
As per usual, I didn’t respond, and merely followed her out. Berry, however, had different plans for us. She was waiting outside, looking rather giddy.
“Ha, that was awesome, Inkie! You totally showed her who’s boss!”
I raised the eyebrow that wasn’t hidden behind my mane. “What?”
“The landlord! I was watching–I hope you don’t mind–and you totally had her in your hooves!”
“Um, she does have a name, you know,” Blinkie interjected.
“Really? She never told me. She is desperate if she’s actually being friendly to get those rooms sold.”
I started walking, heading for Pinkie’s. Blinkie matched my pace, keeping in my wake; Berry, apparently not finished, took up position next to her.
“Woah, where you headed now?”
“Oh, we were just headed back to get some stuff, and maybe grab lunch on the way,” Blinkie offered.
“Really? I was just headed for lunch too. What a coincidence. Hey, wanna join me?”
Her tacky attempt at subtlety was not worth the effort to roll my eyes at.
Blinkie blinked. “I guess that’s fi-”
“Great, ‘cause I’ve still got something I wanted to talk to you about anyways.”
“Me?”
“Yeah!”
We found a little round table with an umbrella for shade near one of Ponyville’s various scattered diners. Although the majority of summer was in the past, at midday the sun still had a kind of intensity about it. Not the heat sort of intensity, but the same kind that can hurt when it shines on snow in winter.
I occupied myself with watching Berry wolf down her double order of hay fries and a chocolate shake. For my part, I chose to settle with an iced tea, while Blinkie had a modest–but filling–salad.
“You said you had something to talk about?” Blinkie asked after a minute or two.
“Oh! Right. So, remember I was telling you I was hiring musicians and stuff?”
“Yeah...”
“Well, they’ll be coming tomorrow night, when all of my remodelling should be done. Problem is, if the turnout is as good as I’m hoping it will be, I probably won’t be able to handle the cards, seating, and serving all by myself. It wouldn’t exactly be a high-paying gig, but I could really use the help. And who knows? If the traffic keeps up, maybe I could offer a more permanent position.”
“You want me to help you run your... bar?” Blinkie said hesitantly.
“Don’t worry. If anybody gets too frisky with you, too loud, too tipsy, heck, even if they just bother you for no reason, just cut ‘em off and toss ‘em out.”
“Oh... my. I guess I could try it once, anyway.”
“Don’t be afraid to turn her down,” I intervened, not bothering to spare Berry’s feelings. “Assuming I can handle my job, it should be enough to keep up with expenses, if this makes you uncomfortable.”
Berry didn’t seem particularly perturbed at my blunt manner.
“It’s alright, sis. It could be fun.”
Yeah, a job where a pony has fun. Keep dreaming. I nonchalantly shrugged it off.
“Oh, and you should stop by after work,” Berry resumed, this time talking to me. “You two could get some drinks, listen to the music, meet some folks, unwind a bit...”
Unwind. In a public place full of ponies that we don’t know well.
Come now, we know it’s not as though it’s dangerous. Afraid we might say something?”
Maybe.
Like what?
Ninety percent of what goes on in my head comes to mind.
Would you have us continue this eternally? We’ve got to let down our shields eventually.
I can drop my shields when I’m alone, perhaps.
“We should be moving on,” I said, standing suddenly. “Pinkie will disappear on us if we’re not back at Sugarcube Corner soon.”
“Um, okay. See you tomorrow then, Berry.”
“Yup. See ya.”
We resumed the trip towards Pinkie’s, Blinkie keeping a bit behind me.
“Is... everything okay? Berry seems to put you ill at ease,” she commented.
Idiot. Keep up the facade. “What? No, of course not. It’s just, uh... it’s clouding up.”
Blinkie looked up. “Huh?”
“Over there. See, on the horizon?”
“Oh.”
The silences my sister and I shared were nearly always comfortable ones. Neither of us were exactly talkative, so it became commonplace through our travels before we got to Ponyville. The silence that pervaded the rest of the trot to Sugarcube Corner, however, was not quite so cozy.
Upon returning, Pinkie found it convenient to land in our faces. “Hey kiddos, what’s up?”
I sidestepped her and continued up the stairs to grab the duffle, while Blinkie stayed and talked. I mentally berated myself the entire distance up the stairs. She’s noticing my act is failing. To be content here, she can’t know. What I need is distance.
After a second, it occurred to me. Of course! She’s already got a shot at getting a job, and one in a social environment at that. With a bit of luck, she’ll enjoy it and we’ll grow apart.
Do we really want to grow apart from her? Don’t we care about her?
Not as much as she cares about me. If she knew how messed up I am, what I want to do to myself sometimes, it would only worry her more.
I had located the duffle in Pinkie’s room by now and heaved it over my back, balancing it carefully as I edged back down the stairs so as to not tumble head over hooves. With a creak of the floorboards, I stepped onto the first level again and allowed the weight I was carrying to roll off onto the floor.
“Hey, Inkie!” Pinkie was bouncing over, dragging another pony behind her. “I’ve got somepony for you to meet. This is Applejack!”
The hatted mare stepped forward, offering a hoof. “It’s real great to meet ya! Pinks has told us about you before, of course, and I must say you two really grew int-”
“Um, who are you?”
Applejack blinked at my interruption. “Uh, Pinkie just said-?”
“Yeah, well,’ I started, trying to think of a less abrupt way to say what I meant. “What I meant was, what makes you special?”
I failed.
“Er, I’m a friend of Pinkie’s, if that’s what you meant,” she replied, seeming a bit confused.
“Oh. Huh.” I turned to Blinkie. “I’m taking our bag back to the apartment. Did you want to stay with Pinkie or come along?”
My gut wanted her to come with me, to let me keep my eye on her like I had been for a good while now. I knew, however, that I needed to giver her the chance to grow out. What better opportunity to start than now?
She shuffled her hooves before replying, clearly mulling the choice over. “Um, I guess there’s no reason for me to come...”
“Alright then. Got your key?”
“Yes.”
“See you back at the apartment... sometime.” With that, I hoisted the bag up again and exited out the front. Once outdoors, I allowed myself an audible exhale. I said less than fifty words, and yet I feel like never saying another word ever again. At least I have the trip back as a reprieve.
Ducking behind my mane, I trudged towards the apartment building. My thoughts went uninterrupted as I stared down at the ground before me, hair blurring and darkening everything I looked at; it was an intellectually isolated solace that was all too rare, one that allowed me to revel in my private mental swamp.
As my brain ambled aimlessly, it eventually began conjuring scenarios of a world without me. What surfaced surprised me. Everypony’s lives weren’t better without me, but they weren’t worse either. For a moment I imagined Ponyville if Blinkie alone had stepped off that train. She still would have met Pinkie, she still would have some form of lodging and income–what I had set us up with was nothing especial. From what I could muster up, things would be more or less the same.
It was a bit reassuring, knowing I could screw up without damaging anypony else.
Before I had a chance to consider the options this afforded me, I bumped nose-first into the familiar structure, hastily scurrying up the few outdoor steps, through the front, and immediately up the first flight. Candy Mane peaked out of her office, but I wasn’t about to stop to say hello.
Dropping the duffle on the floor, creating a dusty shockwave, I leaned back against the door, closing my eyes. It’s nice, lowering the shields after so long on the move.
The couch absorbed my weight when I fell onto it, myself staring blankly at the ceiling with my rear hooves dangling off the edge. Without anything else to distract me, my train of thought picked up where it had been on my walk, going darker, getting fuzzier...
My eyelids slid closed.
•••
“Damnit!”
I sat straight up, looking around frantically. Outside the window, the light was already failing. I must have slept for several hours. And, as per usual, it had been anything but restful sleep. I was never very good at remembering dreams, but I think there was something about somepony burning to death in this last round. Maybe it was best I didn’t remember.
I’ve got to get to market and grab some stuff for Blinkie’s supper. I’m behind already.
“Hey, sleepyhead.”
I cursed again, stumbling backwards over the armchair. Blinkie giggled, failing to hide her smile behind a raised hoof. “Okay there?”
“Uh, yeah. Fine. You just startled me is all.”
“You sure? Your brow was furrowed pretty good there, while you were sleeping.”
“Yeah, I’m fine. Anyway, I’d better head out and get din-”
“It’s alright,” Blinkie interrupted, turning tail and heading over to the stove. “I grabbed some veggies and rice on the way home. Stir-fry should be done any second now.”
“You made this?” I confirmed as I looked over the steaming dish in the wok Blinkie had just removed from the stove. She also seemed to have covered the place settings, with paper plates on each side of the island counter. Real dining ware could wait till we got more settled.
“Of course!” she replied, as though it was something she did every night.
“That’s... brilliant.”
Despite my usual lack of appetite, I knew I should stomach some food, for Blinkie’s sake. As such, I accepted my portion and downed it, but digressed from a second helping. After she’d finished as well, and with the dishes in the sink, we sat in silence. In days gone by, these would have been comfortable silences. By then, for me, they were little more than spaces without words, or any particular emotion charging them either.
Just as I was about to find the crack in the ceiling plaster that I had been staring at boring, Blinkie stood up. “We’ve both got jobs tomorrow. Are you excited?”
“Uh, yeah. Can’t wait.” Whether my sarcasm went over her head, or she choose to ignore it, didn’t matter to me.
“Are you going to bed?”
“In a bit.”
“Okay. I’ll take the couch...”
“No. Take the bed. I’ll sleep on the couch.”
“But-”
“No.”
She hesitated, before turning towards the bedroom. “If you get cold out here... there’s probably room for both of us.”
I remained motionless, still looking at the ceiling, until I heard the door shut. I need to get away; I need to think.
I quietly got to my hooves and trotted to the windowed balcony door, tentatively depressing the latch and swing the door in. Beyond the threshold, strong, bold moonlight illuminated not a balcony, but a metal fire escape staircase mounted to the side of the apartment building. An icey tendril leached into my foreleg as I stepped out onto the grating. It was physically uncomfortable, of course, but the mental clarity it brought with it was more than worth it.
Soon I was outdoors, climbing flight after flight with wreckless abandon.
The apartment building was not the tallest structure in Ponyville, not by a long shot. The atrium of the town hall towered well above it, as well as a few other buildings in town. However, despite being unworthy of note in the large picture, the place was the tallest on it’s block, and that made it feel elevated if nothing else. The top was flat, uninterrupted except for the air conditioning units that were out of service for the rest of the year.
Even for a small city, Ponyville was quiet at night. I dangled my legs off the edge, leaning back on my forelegs and looking up at the moon’s glowing, mostly bare surface.
Blinkie seems to have become comfortable here rather quickly. I’ve never seen her go out on her own like that.
We’ve never told her we were done traveling before, either.
Am I saying that she’s always been able to take care of herself like this, shopping, cooking, getting a job, and she just never did before?
She seems to have established this as home.
Well, whatever the reason, looks like I’m not needed anymore.
Say that not. We have more purposes than taking physical care of Blinkie. She likes us as a sister too.
No. Or if she does, she doesn’t know me that well.
May I remind us that we said we were fine when she asked about our sleep.
Exactly. Not only did she have to ask, she couldn’t see through it. Don’t think I’m mad at her for it or anything, though. I’ve been masking for so long in our travels to keep her spirits up, it’s only natural she thinks that’s the real me.
So we did this on purpose. Fine. But we’re done now; we found Pinkie, we’ve got a place and income, just like mother and father told us to. Why can’t we drop the mask now?
I... I can’t explain it. Blinkie and I used to know each other better than we did ourselves. Knew each other from birth. Told each other everything. But I can destroy all that in a few months, without even meaning to?
So?
So if a lifetime’s work can be destroyed that quickly, there’s no point doing it again.
Then we will keep up the mask forever? You’ve been breaking down in the last few days alone!
Well, there’s no one up here to see it crack.
The cold that had been seeping into my back through my ponderings caused an involuntary shudder to wrack my body. One of my legs knocked against the side of the building. Ouch.
The impact sent a sound echoing, almost like a hoofstep. Then it sounded again, and again. I sat up.
Wait, that is a hoofstep.
Coming down the otherwise deserted street, a single mare’s silhouette emerged into view from the low-lying fog, trotting at a leisurely pace. Although the moon bleached out the colors of everything under its influence, the way her mane flowed and bounced in rhythm with her step caused it to reflect the moonlight in shimmering waves. It was long, too; long enough to nearly reach the ground while on all fours.
She paused, and slowly lifted her head, looking straight at me.
I didn’t blink, or move at all for that matter. After a minute or so of stupidly staring at each other, I ducked behind my mane, pulling my legs up and over the edge, out of sight. I leaned back against one of the AC units. Something about her bothered me.
Who goes out for a walk at this time of night?
We’re sitting on a roof.
Well, yeah...
I peaked over the edge, scanning for any sign of the other mare. She was nowhere in sight. I sighed, and began descending the fire escape back to the room. The cold and mysterious stranger was enough to take my mind off of tomorrow and the weight of the mask.
I nudged the balcony door shut after entering, collapsing shortly after on the couch. I’d thought about everything that was and wasn’t worth dwelling on, be it past, present, or future. There wasn’t anything to do but make it all come faster. So I slept.
