Pomme Non-Pareilsby psimonChaptersThe CrossroadsThe TownThe AspirationsThe CrossroadsPomme Non-pareils: A story of Renewal By Psimon “Some seed fell among the thorns, and they grew up and choked it, but other seed fell on good soil and grew...” Chapter 1: The Crossroads “Next town?” “Next town!” They didn't look back. It could have been because they were too busy. It could have been because they had no need to. But, really, it was because it would have hurt a little too much. Sure, you're bound to find a worm in an apple every now and then, but this time... this way, at this place, it was different. It might have been the same in every other town, but Ponyville was special. “It... it would have been grand,” said Flim as their great machine settled into its languid march towards their undecided destination; 'Anywhere but here' was enough of a wish for their magic to grant for now. They would pick the next town – if they picked it at all – soon enough. The machine, like either brother, would not complain about it. His brother nodded in ascent, allowing himself some relaxation from the taxing chore of using magic. The machine, the real magical effort for it, was for cider. It might have been different for other unicorns, but they themselves were different from other unicorns. Lurching along as it did now was but a secondary effect, a means to an end, and as such had all the challenge of the simplest of cantrips for the brothers who built it together. Unicorn magic was a creative magic, after all... what made it hard was how much imagination you needed, not how much power. There was a difference between something being challenging and something being difficult, like the difference between galloping and keeping your balance. That difference was also to be found in what Ponyville had represented to them all along, though neither brother had thought that much about it yet. Flam also relaxed his expression, allowing his true emotion to peek out through the rehearsed, plain expression he and his brother wore as easily as their hats, “That it would have, brother of mine.” His intonation only faltered the slightest of amounts. He drew out the 'r' in brother, rolling the r a little in the back of his throat, leaning into the front of the word then coming back up in pitch ever-so-slightly, like spackling paste over a crack in a wall. Any who would have heard them on the road would not have given it a second thought beyond some trick of his traveler's accent, a mish-mash of foreign and local that didn't fit in anywhere specifically. Flim began musing, as was his habit, “Zap apple cider... just think of the taste...” “A product for the ages,” Flam was again drawing out his 'r' to keep from sounding sad, even if he was disappointed. They had this discussion before even setting out for Ponyville, and now, it had a more somber tone to it. It felt more like a fleeting dream than a great plan born of their collaborative imaginations. “A peerless apple. An apple that would have let the Super Speedy Cider Squeezy 6000 all but sing.” “Art, in liquid form...” Flam finally joined his brother in a more imaginative syntax, deigning to release the sigh he had been imprisoning behind his words. They shared a quiet nod, then, a quiet silence. It was neither hostile nor awkward, but a sort of empty, mournful feeling. This wasn't how they had planned it. For that matter, it hadn't gone according to plan from fairly early on, but only now on the other side of all the potential and excitement could they take stock of their wounds and failures. There were many, and enough to keep either brother occupied with his own depressing calculus. Now, Equestria is, before all other things, a beautiful place. Quite often, thanks in large part to what is owed to Princess Celestia and the designs of her ilk, it is also an orderly place. There were patches, however, little loose threads on the tapestry of it all that tugged at such order and drifted away from such beauty. These were hardly places most ponies ever wanted nor needed to explore, and so amidst the ebb and flow of rumor, mischief, and simple curiosity their natures became inflated, misunderstood, perhaps even misrepresented. As the brothers rounded the path out of town, about the Everfree forest, they were able to gaze upon only the outermost layer of such a place. Neither Flim nor Flam wondered aloud why it was called Everfree. Neither considered that they, too, might perchance to journey inside for the very apples they had descended upon Ponyville with the intent of securing... it wasn't even known to them that they had come from that forest in the first place; as they became one of the stories to be told about Ponyville's day-to-day histories, they were not exactly privy to all the other stories. But then again, Ponyville wasn't privy to theirs, either. Neither brother considered if that was part of the problem. They had a more pressing matter to attend to. A crossroads approached in the distance, announced as much by the meandering paths leading out from it as by the stocky and splintered bottom-half of what was perhaps, once, a sign-post. This close to Everfree forest, there were certainly any number of reasons why it could have damaged and why it could not have been as of yet repaired. Hypothetical situations aside, the brothers faced a definite situation: they did not know which road would, in fact, lead to that “next town.” After the long silence, both of them wanted to look towards the future. But with things as they were, they would spend the next portion of their journey running away from Ponyville instead of towards some unspoiled market. The machine slowed to a halt, sputtering with a readiness to continue at a whim. “Well, Flim?” “Well, Flam...” “It seems we're lost.” “Lost? There's plenty of ways we know we don't want to go,” Flim nodded towards the looming boughs and flora of the forest, then tilted his head back in the direction they came from. “Other than that, what's to make one better than the other? Roads always go somewhere.” “We don't want to just go somewhere,” Flam echoed his brother's intonation with the accuracy of a showman, “we want to go where we can do what we do best.” “And that is...?” Flim asked some concluding question of an earlier, internalized debate. “Why, have you forgotten? Our special talent, this splendid machine, the fruits of such labors as to...” Flam began recounting the list of how many Cider Squeezies had come before successful number 6000. There were, at least, not 5999 of them. Flim was kind enough and patient enough to not interrupt. It felt kind of good to be reminded of their struggle, of all the things they'd been through and overcome before the Ponyville incident. Recalling the scars almost made the fresh wound seem less deep, less significant, and less painful. “... And that, precisely, is why our destination imperatively must be a town, a town that grows apples, apples that we can turn to gold. Liquid gold, that is,” he gave a reassuring grin, in a better mood than his brother... or, perhaps, sensitive enough to know he could use a pep talk. “You're indubitably right, Flam. Our special talent calls!” Flim nodded eagerly, with renewed spirit. “Shall we take the right road? It's our style to be right, after all.” They shared a light laughter which opened their hearts again and closed some distance; humor has a way of cutting through cloudy moments, even when it isn't particularly called for. The machine lurched, springs sprung, cogs ground, and with just a nudge of magic, they were off again towards somewhere, with the confidence that they would be able to make it anywhere with the right know-how and smooth talking. Shuffling out of the Everfree forest was another disenfranchised visitor of Ponyville. Hopelessly lost and hopelessly outclassed by much of what she had encountered, she sighed with guarded exasperation and relief upon finally finding something that wasn't more forest, and a road at that. With a tiny core of fiery pride that never would go out, she dusted her cloak, adjusted her hat, and resumed a slow and dignified gait down the path, her destination unfurling like some suddenly-adopted thing. She was bereft the comforting pep talk of the brothers who went before her, but she had ambition enough to make up for that and more. She was, after all, quite powerful... wasn't she? The TownThere was a sleepy little town somewhere between Ponyville and Applelucia. The rail bypassed it as it speedily bearing passengers on to further places. It wasn't poor, but it wasn't the best kept of places, either. Its buildings of worn wood, comfortable with age having adjusted their own postures at odds with the direction of their foundations, didn't see many visitors beyond those stopping through to figure out how far off their route they had actually went. It could have been anywhere, this peaceful little place. The only thing it was missing was a fruitful apple orchard. Flim and Flam traded knowing expressions; both noticed the lack of prominent apples, the lack of potential opportunities, and the lack of apparent disposable incomes to earn. There wasn't even a crowd enough for their usual, grand entrance... not that a place like this warranted the performance. It had a comfortable feeling to its simplicity, but it was a comfort which bore a palpably unsustainable feeling; it wasn't the kind of place either of them were keen to stay very long, but as the sun followed the course laid down by Princess Celestia, far away and above them, they shared the sentiment that they could at least stay the night. A rather squat building on the corner of the main - and only - thoroughfare through the town bore a sign reading “Inn” whose paint had long since flaked away and edges long since succumbed to the seasons, rounding out and looking almost dignified with the mark of the years upon it. The wind stirred it with a gentle squeak, cool in a refreshing sort of way, in low intermittent breezes that one could almost call sultry. The Flim-Flam brothers' entrance was as simple as the building itself: with neither song nor dance, they brought their machine close enough to spare themselves much of a walk, but they made sure to leave enough room to allow it space to slow to a deliberate halt. Fewer than 50 leisurely paces brought them through the creaky front door to a warm and comparatively bustling little place. Tables, strewn about a great foyer, even a few with guests dining, a bar at the far end, and tucked near the front as if only in an afterthought, a large desk with a larger book laid out upon it: the receptionist, as it were, for the rooms tucked along the walls of the second floor visible as something of a balcony from the entrance. Flim and Flam exchanged nods and headed to the other end of the building to commiserate. A bartender with something of a handlebar mustache nodded towards them, asking, “Cider?” The brothers winced and shook their heads in unison, neither wanting to partake of the troublesome stuff so soon after the morning's incident. Besides, it wouldn't be as good as theirs. The only other option was decided for them. Some bubbly, berry-laden thing, in copious amounts owing more to its surplus than anything else. One sip told why: it was horrid stuff, plain, almost tasting more of vinegar than any appreciable beverage. It was sour and bitter, a flavor that managed to fit the situation well enough as Flim and Flam took stock of the day. “What really tears it,” began Flim, after taking a sip of his acrid flagon. “Is how many times this was our own doing,” finished Flam, making a sour face as he willed himself to at least finish the drink he'd paid for. “Whatever do you mean?” “Think about it. Like that road back there, we put ourselves in this situation... there were plenty of moments we could have avoided all this,” he made a sweeping motion, encompassing the entire present. “But, they worked so fast...” “Only after we agreed they could.” They both were quiet again for a time; the rest of the complications didn't need enumerating. It was painfully obvious they did practically everything all wrong in Ponyville, and all for what? Zap apples? Yet, it was somehow bigger than that. Their special talent, their great art, was supposed to have been the triumph of all their risks, failures, and investments. That zap apple cider would have made it all worth it, and now, there wasn't going to be any. Nor would there be any sales of zap apple cider, nor would there be any profits from sales of zap apple cider in kind. They hadn't really gained anything, but on the flip side, had they lost much? They had been able to get free apples for the little debacle, the wood for the barrels was easily replaced with a little chopping, and their magical strength was as renewable as their physical strength. The only thing they really no longer had was a great deal of hope. It was a depressing night, and they were able to mull the situation over much more than their drinks were mulled. Only after their mugs were empty did they realize their coffers were much the same. The result was as simple as it was degrading: without the means to stay inside, staying outside became the only available option. It wasn't necessarily a bad thing: it promised to be a clear, comfortable night, and their mode of transport was furnished just enough to be up to the task. “Non-pariel indeed,” muttered Flam. Flim mumbled in reply, “Doesn't seem to fit so nicely now, does it?” Lulled by the fatigue of a long, bad day and a longer, badder drink, sleep found them quickly. It was, however, not the only thing to find them that evening. The moon and stars overhead cast a silverly glow on the moons and stars on the somewhat disheveled hat of the wanderer whose gait had become less dignified as she became more tired. It was a long way to go without the benefit of locomotion, but she couldn't think of anything to do besides stumble towards the road in front of her and stumble just so, as like unto falling into her future. Premeditated progress was a luxury for the successful, the great, and the powerful. She could no longer convince herself she was any of these, though whether she would admit as much still depended on her lingering pride. After the town itself had long since been asleep, the doors locked, the ledgers closed, she came upon the Super Speedy Cider Squeezy 6000 and almost didn't notice it amidst her quiet grumbling. Quiet as she thought she was, though, the surprised noise she made as she walked into the side of the thing was enough to stir its occupants from their own fitful sleep. It was Flim who awoke fullest, stammering “St-Stampede?!” Flam half-opened his eyes, did not see a stampede, and half-grunted, “No. Just the wind.” He went back to sleep soon after. “Of all the... well, I never...!” The words came in fragments, much like the thoughts behind them, as a third voice punctuated the otherwise silent midnight surrounds. Flim, who had panicked, remained awake enough to hear it. Hopping down from the perch of the machine half-expecting to find some miscreant, he was a little confused when he saw who had quite literally run into them. In a word, she looked fragile. In more words, she had a tired misery hanging about her like a cloak, and a cloak hanging about her like a frayed doily. Her hat, once rather regular and well-fitted, had a distinct bend in its conical peak and a few leaves and barbed seeds and bits of brush that told the news of her difficulties in getting this far. But it was her eyes that really told the story. They weren't glazed or necessarily tired, but they did look just beyond the world in a beaten sort of lucid fugue. It was a look Flim recognized immediately; they were the eyes of someone who couldn't stop seeing echoes of a past that wouldn't leave one well enough alone. They were the same eyes had was looking at her with. Flim adopted a tone that he all but recycled from Ponyville, save for an added empathetic undertone, “You, my good lady, look like you've earned a drink. Fancy a cider, for your story?” She didn't consider whether to accept as much as she did how to accept; this was, after all, a first impression. But she was tired, deflated, and no longer in a position where such things seemed important. “I suppose it will have to do,” she found herself replying, instantly regretting the tone and the distaste. Was she really that kind of person? Did she really have to sound so bemused? Even if she had found a town, it seemed she was still very much lost. “I'm Flim. He's Flam,” Flim cocked his head to where his brother slumbered, “We're, or rather, oh, who am I kidding,” he sighed, “We're kind of idiots.” It wasn't something he wanted to say, nor something he wanted his brother to hear, but there it was, floating out his mouth and into her ears. This caused the frazzled unicorn to give a small, honest laugh, “I'm Trixie. I'm a bit lost.... I had just left Ponyville, and--” “Ponyville. I've got more than an earful to say about Ponyville.” Flim said the word like a curse. “It's settled, then. You do need a cider,” he began, going for one of the barrels on the back of the Cider Squeezy 6000. His frustration and anger at mention of the place had shaken any drowsiness out of him. It was going to be an interesting conversation. Perhaps even an interesting plan, he thought silently to himself. The Aspirations“So, what did Ponyville put you through?” Flim produced a mug of cider with the same delicacy he did the question. The mare before him had the looks of someone who had survived something much more intense than Ponyville, even if Ponyville was known to him as a place where hope goes to fade away. All in all, she had the appearance of one of their unsellable barrels of cider he and Flam had ditched a ways back. “Where would the... where would I begin...” Trixie pondered, and she decided to start with the cider. After a sip, her eyes widened and her appearance looked a little more awake as she struggled to find the right words. “This cider...” she began, “you made this?” “That I did, that I did... well, that we did, my brother and me … and the cider squee-zy,” he clarified in a sing-song rhythym which came at the cost of pronunciation. “We came to Ponyville trying to make a name for it—for us, that is. Big goals, big plans, big dreams.” “Big problems,” she interupted with empathy. “You, too, huh? It started off well enough, maybe even according to plan, but one thing lead to another, and those ponies...” he trailed off, helping himself to a draught of cider as if to nurse the emotional scars. “Me, too, indeed!” She allowed herself to vent, “I have never in my travels found a more meddlesome, short-sighted, unimaginative, overbearing, close-knit, and caring group of mares.” Flim chuckled on the tail end of a long sip, “If I was reading that instead of hearing it, I might think you started complimenting them.” There was a pregnant silence between them. They each nursed their ciders a little to fill the gaps before Trixie spoke again in a quiet voice that almost covered the nervous smallness lurking beneath it. “Don't get me wrong. Ponydom owes all it has to harmony, and all that, but... I'm not against it, I mean, but I'm not the most pious pony out there, either. The way Ponyville seemed to come together, in spite of anything, least of all me and whatever living I was ekeing out...” There was room enough in her mug of cider for a tear or two, which – if Flim had noticed it at all – he did not draw attention to. “It's not fair,” he said, not sure what to say at all. “It's as if all that harmony business somehow just... left. Or at least, that there wasn't enough of it in Ponyville to go around. My brother and I, we haven't talked much about it yet, but I know he agrees with me; some of it might have been our fault, but we...” She smiled a little. Misery loved company. “Just don't know what went wrong?” “Oh, I can tell you exactly what went wrong,” he grimaced, “We got excited. In over our heads. Maybe even a little dishonest, greedy... evil? No, never, but... I said things I regret. Not as much as I regret how we were put out to pasture for it, though. Run out of town, practically by a mob.” “At least you still have your cider train?” “Cider-train!” Flim laughed an honest laugh; he had never thought of it as a cider “train” of all things, even if his brother did like to call it a form of locomotion. “We may have kept our machine, yes, but we left without the one thing we'd wanted in the first place. All this trouble, all for zap apples, and we haven't got even one.” “Zap apples? Oh … like the jam? Ah, right! That's made in Ponyville, isn't it?” “Ponyville and nowhere else! It's an amazing product made from equally amazing produce. The zap apples, you see, only grow on a handful of days, on a handful of trees, in Ponyville and nowhere else.” “They're not just... magically treated apples?” “We tried that. No... it doesn't work out. Zap apples grow on these ghastly-looking black trees, jagged things that you wouldn't expect to bear anything at all.” “Black trees? Shaped like briars, sort of?” “Yes..... that's a good way to say it.... did you go to that apple farm while you were in Ponyville?” “No, I never got to go far from the center of town, really, except for when I ran.... when I left. I wound up lost.” “Lost? In Ponyville?” “In Everfree Forest.” “Th-The...” Flim stuttered, then set down his drink, then just stared. That explained why she looked so disheveled. It's a wonder she had her wits about her at all. For all her apparent weakness, there was no doubting a certain strength to her if she was telling the truth. She nods, “I wouldn't recommend it. But somewhere there I did find a bunch of trees like that. I thought they were dead,” she shrugged. Flim thought about many things very quickly. This was new information, wasn't solid information, but was a lot more solid than spending time in some dusty no-apple town losing bits faster than they could earn them. “Say, Trixie,” his eyes all but glowed, “I have an idea. Would you be willing to go back to Ponyville with my brother and me, just to check to see if you recognize those trees? If there was a way to get zap apples without Ponyville...” “Go BACK there?!” She blinked, then thought it over. One of the things she thought about was the taste of zap apple jam – a rare and rarified treat, to be sure – and the taste of the cider she had just enjoyed. If zap apple cider could be made, and if it was made by these brothers, it would really be something. Moreover, she had noticed Flim's gift of gab. In her own head, her own gears were turning. If she could go into the Everfree forest with ponies who could witness her exploits, who could talk about them, who could prove them, even if they weren't necessarily entirely without artistic license, then she would have the only thing that she originally lied about having: a reputiation. “Even if we did, and even if those trees were the same, even if we went to the Everfree forest looking for them, even if we did find them... that's a dangerous thing you're talking about!” Flim read the look in Trixie's eyes as best he could and considered her someone who just needed a little nudge. “Dangerous... but it could be the start of something unimaginably lucrative. I don't have much trouble thinking of things I'd do with the success, how about you? What do you say?” There was some reservation, but the fears of loneliness, of failure, and of falling into obscurity were all less than the fear of going back to Everfree Forest. Ponyville, now, that would be a real test, but they were only going to look at some farm. How much could that involve? They could practically do it on the way to Everfree, and with the contraption she was looking at, it might not even take half a day. “I say you have a deal.” Flim smiled and offered up his mug, and Trixie toasted with her own. “I'll fill my brother in on this tomorrow morning. Then it'll be full speed ahead. Are you staying at that rickety old inn they have in town?” “I hadn't gotten that far yet...” “You can stick around here if you want. We could start earlier that way, at least.” Trixie accepted as humbly as she could. She was awash with lots of different emotions, ideas, and hopes, and wasn't sure if she could even get much sleep. She was scared of danger, sure, but anxious for a chance at fame and fortune. Ponyville was the last place she ever wanted to be seen again, but now, there was a reason to go there, and she might even be able to laugh at them all in the end if everything worked out. She couldn't be certain if it was in her dreams or for real, but she resented them for laughing at her. It wasn't hatred or anything like that, but it was enough of a feeling to have weighed her down all the way here. That same weight now provided fuel for the spark of ambition that flickered within her. Flim was equally rejuvenated. Here was a chance to reach out and clutch a dream which had only just seemed to slip through their hooves. If this worked – and how could it not, with three unicorns? – they would be back to their ideal scenarios in no time. He wanted to prove to all of Equestria just what cider was about, and by extension, what he and his brother were all about. Both of them went back to sleep dreaming, as they once did, of all the wonderful things lying in store for them.
The CrossroadsPomme Non-pareils: A story of Renewal By Psimon “Some seed fell among the thorns, and they grew up and choked it, but other seed fell on good soil and grew...” Chapter 1: The Crossroads “Next town?” “Next town!” They didn't look back. It could have been because they were too busy. It could have been because they had no need to. But, really, it was because it would have hurt a little too much. Sure, you're bound to find a worm in an apple every now and then, but this time... this way, at this place, it was different. It might have been the same in every other town, but Ponyville was special. “It... it would have been grand,” said Flim as their great machine settled into its languid march towards their undecided destination; 'Anywhere but here' was enough of a wish for their magic to grant for now. They would pick the next town – if they picked it at all – soon enough. The machine, like either brother, would not complain about it. His brother nodded in ascent, allowing himself some relaxation from the taxing chore of using magic. The machine, the real magical effort for it, was for cider. It might have been different for other unicorns, but they themselves were different from other unicorns. Lurching along as it did now was but a secondary effect, a means to an end, and as such had all the challenge of the simplest of cantrips for the brothers who built it together. Unicorn magic was a creative magic, after all... what made it hard was how much imagination you needed, not how much power. There was a difference between something being challenging and something being difficult, like the difference between galloping and keeping your balance. That difference was also to be found in what Ponyville had represented to them all along, though neither brother had thought that much about it yet. Flam also relaxed his expression, allowing his true emotion to peek out through the rehearsed, plain expression he and his brother wore as easily as their hats, “That it would have, brother of mine.” His intonation only faltered the slightest of amounts. He drew out the 'r' in brother, rolling the r a little in the back of his throat, leaning into the front of the word then coming back up in pitch ever-so-slightly, like spackling paste over a crack in a wall. Any who would have heard them on the road would not have given it a second thought beyond some trick of his traveler's accent, a mish-mash of foreign and local that didn't fit in anywhere specifically. Flim began musing, as was his habit, “Zap apple cider... just think of the taste...” “A product for the ages,” Flam was again drawing out his 'r' to keep from sounding sad, even if he was disappointed. They had this discussion before even setting out for Ponyville, and now, it had a more somber tone to it. It felt more like a fleeting dream than a great plan born of their collaborative imaginations. “A peerless apple. An apple that would have let the Super Speedy Cider Squeezy 6000 all but sing.” “Art, in liquid form...” Flam finally joined his brother in a more imaginative syntax, deigning to release the sigh he had been imprisoning behind his words. They shared a quiet nod, then, a quiet silence. It was neither hostile nor awkward, but a sort of empty, mournful feeling. This wasn't how they had planned it. For that matter, it hadn't gone according to plan from fairly early on, but only now on the other side of all the potential and excitement could they take stock of their wounds and failures. There were many, and enough to keep either brother occupied with his own depressing calculus. Now, Equestria is, before all other things, a beautiful place. Quite often, thanks in large part to what is owed to Princess Celestia and the designs of her ilk, it is also an orderly place. There were patches, however, little loose threads on the tapestry of it all that tugged at such order and drifted away from such beauty. These were hardly places most ponies ever wanted nor needed to explore, and so amidst the ebb and flow of rumor, mischief, and simple curiosity their natures became inflated, misunderstood, perhaps even misrepresented. As the brothers rounded the path out of town, about the Everfree forest, they were able to gaze upon only the outermost layer of such a place. Neither Flim nor Flam wondered aloud why it was called Everfree. Neither considered that they, too, might perchance to journey inside for the very apples they had descended upon Ponyville with the intent of securing... it wasn't even known to them that they had come from that forest in the first place; as they became one of the stories to be told about Ponyville's day-to-day histories, they were not exactly privy to all the other stories. But then again, Ponyville wasn't privy to theirs, either. Neither brother considered if that was part of the problem. They had a more pressing matter to attend to. A crossroads approached in the distance, announced as much by the meandering paths leading out from it as by the stocky and splintered bottom-half of what was perhaps, once, a sign-post. This close to Everfree forest, there were certainly any number of reasons why it could have damaged and why it could not have been as of yet repaired. Hypothetical situations aside, the brothers faced a definite situation: they did not know which road would, in fact, lead to that “next town.” After the long silence, both of them wanted to look towards the future. But with things as they were, they would spend the next portion of their journey running away from Ponyville instead of towards some unspoiled market. The machine slowed to a halt, sputtering with a readiness to continue at a whim. “Well, Flim?” “Well, Flam...” “It seems we're lost.” “Lost? There's plenty of ways we know we don't want to go,” Flim nodded towards the looming boughs and flora of the forest, then tilted his head back in the direction they came from. “Other than that, what's to make one better than the other? Roads always go somewhere.” “We don't want to just go somewhere,” Flam echoed his brother's intonation with the accuracy of a showman, “we want to go where we can do what we do best.” “And that is...?” Flim asked some concluding question of an earlier, internalized debate. “Why, have you forgotten? Our special talent, this splendid machine, the fruits of such labors as to...” Flam began recounting the list of how many Cider Squeezies had come before successful number 6000. There were, at least, not 5999 of them. Flim was kind enough and patient enough to not interrupt. It felt kind of good to be reminded of their struggle, of all the things they'd been through and overcome before the Ponyville incident. Recalling the scars almost made the fresh wound seem less deep, less significant, and less painful. “... And that, precisely, is why our destination imperatively must be a town, a town that grows apples, apples that we can turn to gold. Liquid gold, that is,” he gave a reassuring grin, in a better mood than his brother... or, perhaps, sensitive enough to know he could use a pep talk. “You're indubitably right, Flam. Our special talent calls!” Flim nodded eagerly, with renewed spirit. “Shall we take the right road? It's our style to be right, after all.” They shared a light laughter which opened their hearts again and closed some distance; humor has a way of cutting through cloudy moments, even when it isn't particularly called for. The machine lurched, springs sprung, cogs ground, and with just a nudge of magic, they were off again towards somewhere, with the confidence that they would be able to make it anywhere with the right know-how and smooth talking. Shuffling out of the Everfree forest was another disenfranchised visitor of Ponyville. Hopelessly lost and hopelessly outclassed by much of what she had encountered, she sighed with guarded exasperation and relief upon finally finding something that wasn't more forest, and a road at that. With a tiny core of fiery pride that never would go out, she dusted her cloak, adjusted her hat, and resumed a slow and dignified gait down the path, her destination unfurling like some suddenly-adopted thing. She was bereft the comforting pep talk of the brothers who went before her, but she had ambition enough to make up for that and more. She was, after all, quite powerful... wasn't she?
The TownThere was a sleepy little town somewhere between Ponyville and Applelucia. The rail bypassed it as it speedily bearing passengers on to further places. It wasn't poor, but it wasn't the best kept of places, either. Its buildings of worn wood, comfortable with age having adjusted their own postures at odds with the direction of their foundations, didn't see many visitors beyond those stopping through to figure out how far off their route they had actually went. It could have been anywhere, this peaceful little place. The only thing it was missing was a fruitful apple orchard. Flim and Flam traded knowing expressions; both noticed the lack of prominent apples, the lack of potential opportunities, and the lack of apparent disposable incomes to earn. There wasn't even a crowd enough for their usual, grand entrance... not that a place like this warranted the performance. It had a comfortable feeling to its simplicity, but it was a comfort which bore a palpably unsustainable feeling; it wasn't the kind of place either of them were keen to stay very long, but as the sun followed the course laid down by Princess Celestia, far away and above them, they shared the sentiment that they could at least stay the night. A rather squat building on the corner of the main - and only - thoroughfare through the town bore a sign reading “Inn” whose paint had long since flaked away and edges long since succumbed to the seasons, rounding out and looking almost dignified with the mark of the years upon it. The wind stirred it with a gentle squeak, cool in a refreshing sort of way, in low intermittent breezes that one could almost call sultry. The Flim-Flam brothers' entrance was as simple as the building itself: with neither song nor dance, they brought their machine close enough to spare themselves much of a walk, but they made sure to leave enough room to allow it space to slow to a deliberate halt. Fewer than 50 leisurely paces brought them through the creaky front door to a warm and comparatively bustling little place. Tables, strewn about a great foyer, even a few with guests dining, a bar at the far end, and tucked near the front as if only in an afterthought, a large desk with a larger book laid out upon it: the receptionist, as it were, for the rooms tucked along the walls of the second floor visible as something of a balcony from the entrance. Flim and Flam exchanged nods and headed to the other end of the building to commiserate. A bartender with something of a handlebar mustache nodded towards them, asking, “Cider?” The brothers winced and shook their heads in unison, neither wanting to partake of the troublesome stuff so soon after the morning's incident. Besides, it wouldn't be as good as theirs. The only other option was decided for them. Some bubbly, berry-laden thing, in copious amounts owing more to its surplus than anything else. One sip told why: it was horrid stuff, plain, almost tasting more of vinegar than any appreciable beverage. It was sour and bitter, a flavor that managed to fit the situation well enough as Flim and Flam took stock of the day. “What really tears it,” began Flim, after taking a sip of his acrid flagon. “Is how many times this was our own doing,” finished Flam, making a sour face as he willed himself to at least finish the drink he'd paid for. “Whatever do you mean?” “Think about it. Like that road back there, we put ourselves in this situation... there were plenty of moments we could have avoided all this,” he made a sweeping motion, encompassing the entire present. “But, they worked so fast...” “Only after we agreed they could.” They both were quiet again for a time; the rest of the complications didn't need enumerating. It was painfully obvious they did practically everything all wrong in Ponyville, and all for what? Zap apples? Yet, it was somehow bigger than that. Their special talent, their great art, was supposed to have been the triumph of all their risks, failures, and investments. That zap apple cider would have made it all worth it, and now, there wasn't going to be any. Nor would there be any sales of zap apple cider, nor would there be any profits from sales of zap apple cider in kind. They hadn't really gained anything, but on the flip side, had they lost much? They had been able to get free apples for the little debacle, the wood for the barrels was easily replaced with a little chopping, and their magical strength was as renewable as their physical strength. The only thing they really no longer had was a great deal of hope. It was a depressing night, and they were able to mull the situation over much more than their drinks were mulled. Only after their mugs were empty did they realize their coffers were much the same. The result was as simple as it was degrading: without the means to stay inside, staying outside became the only available option. It wasn't necessarily a bad thing: it promised to be a clear, comfortable night, and their mode of transport was furnished just enough to be up to the task. “Non-pariel indeed,” muttered Flam. Flim mumbled in reply, “Doesn't seem to fit so nicely now, does it?” Lulled by the fatigue of a long, bad day and a longer, badder drink, sleep found them quickly. It was, however, not the only thing to find them that evening. The moon and stars overhead cast a silverly glow on the moons and stars on the somewhat disheveled hat of the wanderer whose gait had become less dignified as she became more tired. It was a long way to go without the benefit of locomotion, but she couldn't think of anything to do besides stumble towards the road in front of her and stumble just so, as like unto falling into her future. Premeditated progress was a luxury for the successful, the great, and the powerful. She could no longer convince herself she was any of these, though whether she would admit as much still depended on her lingering pride. After the town itself had long since been asleep, the doors locked, the ledgers closed, she came upon the Super Speedy Cider Squeezy 6000 and almost didn't notice it amidst her quiet grumbling. Quiet as she thought she was, though, the surprised noise she made as she walked into the side of the thing was enough to stir its occupants from their own fitful sleep. It was Flim who awoke fullest, stammering “St-Stampede?!” Flam half-opened his eyes, did not see a stampede, and half-grunted, “No. Just the wind.” He went back to sleep soon after. “Of all the... well, I never...!” The words came in fragments, much like the thoughts behind them, as a third voice punctuated the otherwise silent midnight surrounds. Flim, who had panicked, remained awake enough to hear it. Hopping down from the perch of the machine half-expecting to find some miscreant, he was a little confused when he saw who had quite literally run into them. In a word, she looked fragile. In more words, she had a tired misery hanging about her like a cloak, and a cloak hanging about her like a frayed doily. Her hat, once rather regular and well-fitted, had a distinct bend in its conical peak and a few leaves and barbed seeds and bits of brush that told the news of her difficulties in getting this far. But it was her eyes that really told the story. They weren't glazed or necessarily tired, but they did look just beyond the world in a beaten sort of lucid fugue. It was a look Flim recognized immediately; they were the eyes of someone who couldn't stop seeing echoes of a past that wouldn't leave one well enough alone. They were the same eyes had was looking at her with. Flim adopted a tone that he all but recycled from Ponyville, save for an added empathetic undertone, “You, my good lady, look like you've earned a drink. Fancy a cider, for your story?” She didn't consider whether to accept as much as she did how to accept; this was, after all, a first impression. But she was tired, deflated, and no longer in a position where such things seemed important. “I suppose it will have to do,” she found herself replying, instantly regretting the tone and the distaste. Was she really that kind of person? Did she really have to sound so bemused? Even if she had found a town, it seemed she was still very much lost. “I'm Flim. He's Flam,” Flim cocked his head to where his brother slumbered, “We're, or rather, oh, who am I kidding,” he sighed, “We're kind of idiots.” It wasn't something he wanted to say, nor something he wanted his brother to hear, but there it was, floating out his mouth and into her ears. This caused the frazzled unicorn to give a small, honest laugh, “I'm Trixie. I'm a bit lost.... I had just left Ponyville, and--” “Ponyville. I've got more than an earful to say about Ponyville.” Flim said the word like a curse. “It's settled, then. You do need a cider,” he began, going for one of the barrels on the back of the Cider Squeezy 6000. His frustration and anger at mention of the place had shaken any drowsiness out of him. It was going to be an interesting conversation. Perhaps even an interesting plan, he thought silently to himself.
The Aspirations“So, what did Ponyville put you through?” Flim produced a mug of cider with the same delicacy he did the question. The mare before him had the looks of someone who had survived something much more intense than Ponyville, even if Ponyville was known to him as a place where hope goes to fade away. All in all, she had the appearance of one of their unsellable barrels of cider he and Flam had ditched a ways back. “Where would the... where would I begin...” Trixie pondered, and she decided to start with the cider. After a sip, her eyes widened and her appearance looked a little more awake as she struggled to find the right words. “This cider...” she began, “you made this?” “That I did, that I did... well, that we did, my brother and me … and the cider squee-zy,” he clarified in a sing-song rhythym which came at the cost of pronunciation. “We came to Ponyville trying to make a name for it—for us, that is. Big goals, big plans, big dreams.” “Big problems,” she interupted with empathy. “You, too, huh? It started off well enough, maybe even according to plan, but one thing lead to another, and those ponies...” he trailed off, helping himself to a draught of cider as if to nurse the emotional scars. “Me, too, indeed!” She allowed herself to vent, “I have never in my travels found a more meddlesome, short-sighted, unimaginative, overbearing, close-knit, and caring group of mares.” Flim chuckled on the tail end of a long sip, “If I was reading that instead of hearing it, I might think you started complimenting them.” There was a pregnant silence between them. They each nursed their ciders a little to fill the gaps before Trixie spoke again in a quiet voice that almost covered the nervous smallness lurking beneath it. “Don't get me wrong. Ponydom owes all it has to harmony, and all that, but... I'm not against it, I mean, but I'm not the most pious pony out there, either. The way Ponyville seemed to come together, in spite of anything, least of all me and whatever living I was ekeing out...” There was room enough in her mug of cider for a tear or two, which – if Flim had noticed it at all – he did not draw attention to. “It's not fair,” he said, not sure what to say at all. “It's as if all that harmony business somehow just... left. Or at least, that there wasn't enough of it in Ponyville to go around. My brother and I, we haven't talked much about it yet, but I know he agrees with me; some of it might have been our fault, but we...” She smiled a little. Misery loved company. “Just don't know what went wrong?” “Oh, I can tell you exactly what went wrong,” he grimaced, “We got excited. In over our heads. Maybe even a little dishonest, greedy... evil? No, never, but... I said things I regret. Not as much as I regret how we were put out to pasture for it, though. Run out of town, practically by a mob.” “At least you still have your cider train?” “Cider-train!” Flim laughed an honest laugh; he had never thought of it as a cider “train” of all things, even if his brother did like to call it a form of locomotion. “We may have kept our machine, yes, but we left without the one thing we'd wanted in the first place. All this trouble, all for zap apples, and we haven't got even one.” “Zap apples? Oh … like the jam? Ah, right! That's made in Ponyville, isn't it?” “Ponyville and nowhere else! It's an amazing product made from equally amazing produce. The zap apples, you see, only grow on a handful of days, on a handful of trees, in Ponyville and nowhere else.” “They're not just... magically treated apples?” “We tried that. No... it doesn't work out. Zap apples grow on these ghastly-looking black trees, jagged things that you wouldn't expect to bear anything at all.” “Black trees? Shaped like briars, sort of?” “Yes..... that's a good way to say it.... did you go to that apple farm while you were in Ponyville?” “No, I never got to go far from the center of town, really, except for when I ran.... when I left. I wound up lost.” “Lost? In Ponyville?” “In Everfree Forest.” “Th-The...” Flim stuttered, then set down his drink, then just stared. That explained why she looked so disheveled. It's a wonder she had her wits about her at all. For all her apparent weakness, there was no doubting a certain strength to her if she was telling the truth. She nods, “I wouldn't recommend it. But somewhere there I did find a bunch of trees like that. I thought they were dead,” she shrugged. Flim thought about many things very quickly. This was new information, wasn't solid information, but was a lot more solid than spending time in some dusty no-apple town losing bits faster than they could earn them. “Say, Trixie,” his eyes all but glowed, “I have an idea. Would you be willing to go back to Ponyville with my brother and me, just to check to see if you recognize those trees? If there was a way to get zap apples without Ponyville...” “Go BACK there?!” She blinked, then thought it over. One of the things she thought about was the taste of zap apple jam – a rare and rarified treat, to be sure – and the taste of the cider she had just enjoyed. If zap apple cider could be made, and if it was made by these brothers, it would really be something. Moreover, she had noticed Flim's gift of gab. In her own head, her own gears were turning. If she could go into the Everfree forest with ponies who could witness her exploits, who could talk about them, who could prove them, even if they weren't necessarily entirely without artistic license, then she would have the only thing that she originally lied about having: a reputiation. “Even if we did, and even if those trees were the same, even if we went to the Everfree forest looking for them, even if we did find them... that's a dangerous thing you're talking about!” Flim read the look in Trixie's eyes as best he could and considered her someone who just needed a little nudge. “Dangerous... but it could be the start of something unimaginably lucrative. I don't have much trouble thinking of things I'd do with the success, how about you? What do you say?” There was some reservation, but the fears of loneliness, of failure, and of falling into obscurity were all less than the fear of going back to Everfree Forest. Ponyville, now, that would be a real test, but they were only going to look at some farm. How much could that involve? They could practically do it on the way to Everfree, and with the contraption she was looking at, it might not even take half a day. “I say you have a deal.” Flim smiled and offered up his mug, and Trixie toasted with her own. “I'll fill my brother in on this tomorrow morning. Then it'll be full speed ahead. Are you staying at that rickety old inn they have in town?” “I hadn't gotten that far yet...” “You can stick around here if you want. We could start earlier that way, at least.” Trixie accepted as humbly as she could. She was awash with lots of different emotions, ideas, and hopes, and wasn't sure if she could even get much sleep. She was scared of danger, sure, but anxious for a chance at fame and fortune. Ponyville was the last place she ever wanted to be seen again, but now, there was a reason to go there, and she might even be able to laugh at them all in the end if everything worked out. She couldn't be certain if it was in her dreams or for real, but she resented them for laughing at her. It wasn't hatred or anything like that, but it was enough of a feeling to have weighed her down all the way here. That same weight now provided fuel for the spark of ambition that flickered within her. Flim was equally rejuvenated. Here was a chance to reach out and clutch a dream which had only just seemed to slip through their hooves. If this worked – and how could it not, with three unicorns? – they would be back to their ideal scenarios in no time. He wanted to prove to all of Equestria just what cider was about, and by extension, what he and his brother were all about. Both of them went back to sleep dreaming, as they once did, of all the wonderful things lying in store for them.
