Purple eyes peered back at Scootaloo, while she contemplated her reflection. I might meet Apple Bloom on the way to school if I hurry. She set her coat-brush down, inspected her teeth in the mirror, then gave herself a quick once-over. Her mane and tail had their customary windblown look instead of the knots and snags acquired during sleep, and her coat was smooth and free of “the fuzzies.” While she didn't spend much time on her appearance, she at least took care of the minimal amount needed to look presentable and avoid being teased.
She hopped up on the countertop, twisted in place, then leaped through the open bathroom doorway with wings spread. She used the precious bit of height gained to glide down the hall. She was tempted to try to flap her wings, but she knew the result would be a loss of lift, and she'd be on the ground again sooner. The clatter of her hooves against the hardwood flooring of the kitchen meant she'd managed to clear the entire carpeted hallway again, but the indignant voice from within the kitchen preempted any celebration.
"What have I told you about buzzing around inside the house, Missy? Just because your father isn't home yet doesn't mean it's safe to be careening through the air. I don't fancy a faceful of filly in the morning."
Scootaloo gave an uneasy smile, tucked her wings to her sides and slid to a stop near her spot at the table then promptly sat down. The smell of oatmeal greeted her in the steam rising from the bowl in front of her, and she tucked in. It was bland, but that was normal. As it was unable to hold her attention beyond the minimum needed to consume it, she shifted her attention from her breakfast to watch her mother prepare herself a mug of coffee.
Misty Meadows' expression, as usual, was like her drink: a relaxed mix of warm and bitter. Scootaloo often wondered how much of the drink she favored every morning was absorbed by her mother. It matched her coat and demeanor well. Her green-gray mane reminded Scootaloo of a foggy field as she often saw on her way to school this season. Her mother's most striking feature were her golden eyes, which stood out like the sunrise on an otherwise gloomy day, set in perpetually drooping eyelids as if she were always just waking up.
She chewed on a warm, lumpy mouthful of oats, while her mother slowly plodded towards the table with the handle of her mug held in her mouth. Scootaloo tended to view the world around her as a variety of places to climb on, launch from, land on, or ramp off of. Her mother had the broad back and shoulders typical of an earth pony, and perching there as a foal had instilled a lot of fond memories. They were a thing of the past, though. Like her mother’s rules about the surfaces within the house, her back had long been off-limits.
The scrape of her spoon against the bottom of her empty bowl as she went for another bite brought Scootaloo’s attention back to more important matters. "Mom, may I have another bowl please?"
"I think one bowl is enough this morning, Scootaloo." Misty Meadows glanced over her newspaper as she spoke.
"Daddy wouldn't say it was enough." Her brief frown vanished, chased away as she thought of her father’s return to Ponyville.
"Of course he wouldn't; you inherited his gluttony. All the same, we need to make it last until next week, and I only cooked enough for one serving. Wash up your bowl." With her piece spoken, Misty Meadows turned her attention to the newspaper in front of her and took a long draught from her mug. The conversation was over.
Scootaloo carried her bowl to the sink in her mouth, dropped it in and splashed a bit of water from the faucet into it. Good enough.
She dropped her lunch, a wild dandelion and grass sandwich wrapped in waxy paper, into its special pocket in her saddlebags. Scootaloo saw everything else she needed was there after a quick glance in the main compartment, so she donned the bags and cinched them comfortably around her middle. Scootaloo headed out the door, hooves a bit shaky as she fastened the chinstrap of her helmet. Though not as full as she would have liked, her tummy was warm with oatmeal, and the early spring weather was cool but no longer cold. Don't think I'll need a scarf or anything. Maybe Apple Bloom will have an extra apple for me at lunch.
“Bye, Mom!” was her daughter's cheery farewell.
As usual, her young filly seemed absorbed in her own little world of school and friends, and she appeared to pay no notice to her annoyances. Scootaloo often had the attention span of a gnat it seemed.
Misty Meadows had never been much of a morning pony. Another missed day of work and nothing in the newspaper was interesting enough to hold her interest until her train. The mare's thoughts were buzzing around in her head gnat-like, while she made futile attempts to distract herself from them by occupying her hooves with cleaning.
It was a slow day at Barnyard Bargains that morning. Her paperwork was all caught up, so she left her office to see how her subordinates were doing. Following her intuition, she checked on Lyra first, and she found her staring off vacantly into space, humming to herself. She startled the mint-green mare and sent her off to mop some floors, to remain busy. The two colts working registers were chatting with each other, but they tried to look busy when they noticed her approaching. She sent one to spot-check the shelves and make sure they were displaying correctly. Misty Meadows shook her head and sighed. A typical slow day, with unmotivated employees.
At the sound of the little bell hanging over the door, she turned to greet whatever customer had entered and was startled to see the serious expression of her boss. He gave her “that look” then walked with purposeful strides to her office. Something wasn't right. It was turning into an atypical day.
A towel and a plate performed a frenetic dance in her hooves. Speaking out loud to herself, Misty Meadows mimicked her boss's drawl, “You can't even manage a single filly properly, how can I trust you to manage my employees?” Some of the details were a little hazy in her memory, but the implications were clear enough. Scootaloo had gotten into a fight with the boss's daughter, Diamond Tiara. Filthy Rich didn't fire her, since she was a valuable and experienced employee, but she had been demoted with a corresponding cut in pay. Of course, the “official” reason was poor performance, but that was clearly a lie. They’d spent most of the meeting covering clearly fabricated faults and frivolous customer and coworker complaints. If it weren't for her, work wouldn’t get done at all.
Secretly, she hated the cheap-looking blue vest but wore it like everyone else around her and made sure she looked proud to be doing so. Her eyes roamed the shelves, while her hooves darted out now and then to adjust a can or turn a small box around, so the label showed clearly. Making the presentation on the shelves just so helped with impulse sales; she knew many of these little errors were on purpose though. She could hear Lyra and Roseluck laughing near the front of the store and had no doubt it was at her expense.
She slammed a cabinet door closed, rattling the dishes inside. Even when in this foul of a mood, she was always restrained enough to not break anything. She could hardly afford to replace dishes every time she had a bad day.
She met her new boss today. Silver Filigree had only been working with them for five months but was already promoted to manager. She didn’t know this pegasus from the jewelry department. Probably a cousin, friend of the Rich family, or something. At least it wasn't lazy Lyra or gossipy Roseluck taking her old job.
Misty Meadows put on a friendly grin each day and volunteered for anything. She knew her job security was far from guaranteed; getting back into Mr. Rich's good graces and getting along with her new manager were smart goals. Even if Mrs. Filigree spent a great deal of time in the office on paperwork and never seemed to put the other employees to task. Maybe she'd grow into competence after a few months.
“Brown-noser? Ha! Of course my nose is brown! My whole coat is brown!” she laughed and snorted. A bowl she was about to dry off still had oatmeal residue inside; she threw it back into the sink hard enough to make it bounce around in the basin.
Her first payslip after her demotion had brought with it a dull shock. She knew she'd be paid less but seeing the details on the little scrap of paper destroyed what remained of her defensive denial. She spent the walk home that day brooding over her place in the economy. While diminished, it was still more than she could dare to expect elsewhere. Restaurants and cafes would pay minimum wages for a lot of dreadful drudgery. She didn't have the bits to start her own business in the market, nor did she or her husband have the gardening skills to produce anything to sell like Roseluck did on the side. As she passed by the hospital she mused that, considering how expensive every little pill or treatment was, the nurses and doctors must be paid well. Probably the only place in town that paid better than Barnyard Bargains, if you had the education for it. An education like that would cost a lot of bits.
After cleaning a bowl, Misty Meadows stared at a fresh chip in its rim. Still usable though. She placed the bowl on the drying rack with exaggerated care. I should stop before I do break something. This isn't calming me down.
She sat back at the table and stared at her reflection in the remaining dark liquid in her mug. Indulging in a whim, she spoke to her “twin.” “My job may suck, but at least I still have it. I'm sure I deserve some sort of frequent-customer discount at the hospital by now. Food needs to be on the table for my family and poor Morning Dew can't keep any kind of job with his chronic illnesses. I need the bits. Miserable or not, I need that job and every hour I can get my hooves on.” She then downed her cooling audience and witness to her monologue.
“Hey, Misty, could you cover for me this weekend? The new schedule interferes with my plans, and Bonsy and I are going to…” Lyra looked at her with wide, pleading eyes while rattling off the details of some inane romantic date. Part of her wanted to say no to the conniving unicorn. Perhaps she could point out some of the things Lyra had done to earn a refusal, but accepting would mean more hours and overtime to. She grunted something sounding like “yes” while turning to the schedule to memorize when she'd have to come in. The tone of gratitude in Lyra's babbling told her the unicorn had understood her reply as they went back to work.
So why was she missing a whole day of work? To pick her husband up from the hospital in Canterlot. He'd had a particularly bad bout of whatever. It was not that she didn't care about her husband or ignored his illness; his condition seemed to make him more vulnerable to colds and things other ponies shrugged off in the winter. It was spring, and he'd caught something late in the season this year, rather than mid-winter as usual. It was just difficult to keep track of what was wrong with him this time. The local hospital didn't have the specialists for his condition, and they couldn't afford to live in Canterlot. She hated paying for train rides so often, but it was necessary. She was already out of sick days for the year, but her boss knew of her situation and let her have unpaid time off for this sort of thing when it was needed.
Midday, she chewed through a plain meal of raw hay, as she decided staying in the kitchen to cook might not be the best idea. A glance out the window toward the sun let her know her train would arrive soon, so she closed up and cinched her saddlebags in preparation for the trudge to the train station. Nothing else had been damaged, but setting out for the walk early would help to avoid taking the chance.
A gray messenger pegasus with blonde disheveled mane and a lazy eye accosted her at her doorstep to deliver a folded note. Do pegasi even bother grooming their manes? Yet another interruption to her destination. It was helpful in dispelling her introspection though, and the note would be something to read on the trip to Canterlot. Without even meeting the postal worker's weird eyes, she continued on her way, offering only a grunt of acknowledgment over her shoulder. She wasn't in the mood to be polite today; she wanted to go see her husband.
Then again, she was probably expected to tip the mare for the special delivery. Internally, she complained about the expense, but she turned back and flipped a bit with her lips from her saddlebag up to the cheerful pegasus courier, who caught it clumsily between her fore-hooves. Misty Meadows thanked her for the speedy delivery then resumed her journey.
Scootaloo had been admiring the new leaves in the trees that had been so bare when she zipped around a curve in the road and saw a pair of fillies off in the distance. They were waiting on the shoulder, in the shadow of a tree. The silhouette on the left had a pointy looking head. Sweetie Belle isn’t supposed to be back until tomorrow, did she come home early? She grinned at the prospect of meeting up with the only two who would be waiting for her, and began to slow her scooter down. She adjusted her approach, intending to pull up beside them.
Her mistake became plain with a few words spoken in that unforgettable, superior tone. “Good morning, Blank Flank!” Diamond Tiara called out to her, the words slithered through the air, seeking to bite.
The pair stepped into the better-lit center of the road and shared snickers as Scootaloo drew nearer. Gray and pink coats, instead of the yellow and white she'd been expecting to see. Diamond Tiara wore a downright predatory looking smirk and her trademark pointy tiara, while Silver Spoon had a more curious, aloof expression. Both were pretty and well-groomed, a striking contrast to their personalities.
Scootaloo shifted her body forward and revved her wings to full speed to regain her lost momentum and plotted a few course corrections to take her around the bullies. Since they were in the center of the narrow dirt road this forced her through the rougher, less well packed edges. Wet mud with a dry-looking crust and a concealed large rock within the puddle conspired against her efforts to swerve and she found herself airborne for a couple of seconds.
Scootaloo's pride was in competition with her frail little body for the “most hurt awards” after the less than graceful landing; pride claimed victory for now, but the sight of a mud-spattered Diamond Tiara stomping towards her created the fear of an imminent overturn. She scrambled to her hooves, righted her scooter and started her wings abuzz—only to find herself back in the dirt, accompanied by round of laughter from her tormentors.
She had spilled over the handlebars of her scooter. From her vantage point now in front of the scooter, laying on her back, she could see the cause. The front-left wheel was at an odd angle. Adding injury to insult, Scootaloo discovered as she rolled over and onto her hooves that her left wing hadn't escaped the impromptu meeting with the ground unscathed. It hurt to fold it back to her side, her resistance gave out, and she gave Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon what they wanted: tracks of cleaner cheek fur appeared below her eyes, striping her muddied cheeks.
Through her blurred vision she saw the pink blob of Diamond Tiara draw near and swing one hoof toward her. Scootaloo shied away and tried to wipe her tears away so she could see to ward off incoming blows.
“Hey, Diamond,” Silver Spoon’s voice seemed to cause the pink blob to stop moving, while Scootaloo cleared the tears from her vision. “If you head home to get cleaned up, I’ll cover for you with Miss Cheerilee, OK?” With her vision restored, Scootaloo caught the tail-end of a glare from Diamond Tiara who then turned away and stomped off.
That could have turned out worse. Righting her scooter and steadying herself against it, she tried to work her wing around a bit, winced at the pain and settled on folding it to her side. It ached a little, but as long as she didn’t move her wing, it didn’t seem to hurt as much. That she could move it meant it wasn’t broken, and she didn’t seem to be bleeding anywhere.
“You should learn to control that thing better if you're going to be riding it everywhere.”
Scootaloo wiped her snout with a clean fetlock then looked warily over at Silver Spoon. “I'm pretty good already.”
“So that was, like, on purpose then?” Silver Spoon’s raised eyebrow indicated her reluctance to accept the claim of skill. “Why do you keep antagonizing Diamond Tiara and me? Just like everypony says, you’re a troublemaker.”
Her mouth opened, but at first no words came out. Me, antagonize them? Scootaloo closed her mouth and shook her head at the sheer gall of the other girl. She inspected her scooter but found no other damage. Deciding it would be impossible to ride and beyond annoying to drag, she folded the handlebar column against the running board then eased the whole thing onto her back with her good wing.
Silver Spoon seemed to be waiting for some sort of answer. Rather than argue about the nature of their less than amicable relationship, Scootaloo chose short and truthful to end the conversation. “It was an accident.”
Silver Spoon rolled her eyes, turned in the direction of the school and began walking. “I'm so sure.”
Scootaloo held her tongue and started walking as well. Daddy will be home tonight. We'll have a nice dinner. Lost in more pleasant thoughts, she didn’t pay attention to the fact she matched pace with Silver Spoon the rest of the way to school.
The feel of a stick of chalk held in her lips was a special sort of joy for Cheerilee. The taste of the dust left in her mouth after wasn’t pleasant, but the act was tied to the wholly fulfilling task of nurturing young minds. The lines and shapes she drew would reveal to her students the secrets of working with numbers: the basic building blocks of every exciting thing they would all be doing with their lives.
After a brief pause to look over her work, she dropped the chalk on the ledge beneath the board, dropped back down onto all-fours then turned to regard her students with one of her trademark cheery smiles. That smile was less bright this morning as she looked at the few still-empty seats. It was a Monday, and it wasn’t unusual for little foals to be reluctant to come back to class after a weekend of fun and adventures. If the seats filled while she was setting up for her lecture, even if after the morning bell, she wouldn’t have minded. She was finished preparing and this was more than a quarter of an hour past that bell though…
Two fillies entering the classroom drew her attention, though the unusual pair prompted a slight double-take from Cheerilee. Scootaloo and Silver Spoon split up, the former heading to her seat without a word, while the latter made a beeline straight for her, drawing most of her attention. “Glad to see you could make it to class you two. Do you know where Diamond Tiara is, Silver Spoon?”
Flashing a bright smile, Silver Spoon nodded politely before answering. “I do, Miss Cheerilee. She had to head back home to get cleaned up after a little bit of an incident on our way to class. Scootaloo decided to drive her scooter through a mud puddle near us, and Diamond Tiara didn’t escape the splash.”
What little enthusiasm she had managed to muster up felt like it was draining through her hooves into the floorboards. She would never think of calling any of her students bad, but Scootaloo was one of the more rambunctious. Still, she had been improving since making some friends. “So what did you and Diamond Tiara say or do to antagonize her?”
As expected, Silver Spoon’s expression morphed into an endearing look of innocent shock. Although not the best example she’d seen the filly pull off, there was a certain feel of genuineness to it this time. “We didn’t do anything, honest. Scootaloo did claim it was an accident though…” The uncertain tone hinted at what Silver Spoon thought of that.
Cheerilee glanced over at Scootaloo, who seemed to be doing her best to become one with her desk and not be noticed by anypony. After getting a better look at her, Cheerilee noticed her usual rough and tumble style was sporting a bit more obvious dried mud than usual, though it didn’t stand out much against her orange coat. “Is this true, Scootaloo?”
While it counted as a response of some kind, the muffled grunt Scootaloo made did not indicate affirmative or otherwise. Cheerilee could feel various muscles in her muzzle tighten. While she would never go so far as to scowl or even frown in front of her class, her face felt odd to not be smiling. A quick glance around the room revealed a growing uneasiness and restlessness among her students. Maybe a five-minute recess would get those who were on time back in the mood to learn.
Canterlot was big, bustling, and beautiful. Misty Meadows hated it. The tall buildings and crowds of ponies reminded her she was just one little earth pony, and her accomplishments were a drop in the bucket compared to what the average resident here had achieved. Given the choice she would avoid ever coming here, but life didn't cooperate. The capitol was a grand sight she was familiar with and unimpressed by.
It was already a bad day. She was already missing a day of work. The little scrap of paper she'd read on the train sabotaged all the steam-letting she'd done this morning. She was thankful she was not at home, or she'd be breaking things.
The note had been from Cheerilee. It was never good news from the school teacher:
“To Misty Meadows and Morning Dew,
On the way to school, Scootaloo was involved in some sort of incident which caused her and two other students to be late to class by almost a half an hour. One of the other two students needed to go home to clean mud off of herself before returning to class, making her miss much more valuable learning time.
Those two other students claim Scootaloo was at fault for the incident, and when I tried to get Scootaloo's side of the story, she refused to speak to me. While her behavior has been generally improving since she made friends, I'd like to avoid a relapse into her old self. Perhaps we should meet up this week at a convenient time for you to discuss this in more detail?
~Cheerilee”
The hospital in front of her brought her out of her brooding. She entered the familiar lobby, and a brief and forcibly polite conversation with the receptionist set things in motion. A short wait later rewarded her with the sight of her goal. All her anger drained, forgotten for the moment with a quiet sigh. He's so pretty. Even at times like this.
An orderly wheeled her husband, Morning Dew, into the lobby. His deep blue mane was clean and tidy, but hung, limp without its usual volume, down his neck. The lines of weariness under his blue eyes contrasted that lively sparkle he always had when he saw her. His golden coat shimmered as he moved out of the wheelchair with her help. He was thin and had a sure, almost feminine grace about him. Even after all these years, he could still make her heart flutter.
The two shared a careful kiss. A calm, affectionate greeting between lovers who have long since grown comfortable with the idea they have no need to rush anything. “Lets get you home, hon. A hospital is no place to get rest, and you've been here over a week this time.”
He gave her a weak chuckle. “You're right. A stallion my age can handle only so many wild nights of dancing and parties. Canterlot is for the young.”
She casually swatted him with her tail as they walked together to the train station, making frequent stops every block or two to let him rest. An errant smell of salted hay fries from a little corner shop along the way drew her attention. She had a fleeting, wistful desire to detour inside and dine with her dear husband. Those fries smelled much better than her own brunch had been.
They couldn't afford it though. She hated Canterlot. This unicorn city was no place for a pair of poor earth ponies.
Scootaloo entertained the idea of ditching her scooter somewhere. After school she had examined it, and sure enough, the front axle was bent. She could ask Big Macintosh to hammer it straight again, but he'd told her last time an axle can be bent only so many times before it’s too weak to trust. “Won't survive another accident,” he'd warned her. With how easily it’d bent this morning, she believed him. She'd need a new one, and she doubted her mother would consent to that expense. Who knew when she'd be able to ride her scooter again?
The sandwich she'd had for lunch hardly put a dent in her hunger, and she felt weak. The weight of her scooter was an added burden. Miss Cheerilee had put her on cleanup duty after school. The sun stayed out longer these days, but was still low by the time she made it to her front door. Thoughts that her daddy would be home waiting for her, as well as the dinner they'd have celebrating his coming back, buoyed her through the trek.
She parked her crippled scooter at the side of the house in its normal spot with her helmet hanging from the handlebars. She cantered inside, greeted by the smells of rice, tomatoes, onions, and cooking wildflowers; mom was making daddy's favorite pilaf. Scootaloo sighted her father in the living room, smiled and darted in towards him without hesitation.
Her smile faded and she hesitated when she saw his expression.
The hospital stay had been normal: the nurses had woken Morning Dew up every few hours to prod at him or ask him to turn this way or that for whatever reason. Lots of needles and pills. While he was used to it, he doubted anypony enjoyed the experience. Perhaps the nurses did. Deep down, he suspected them of sadism, but he knew they were trying to help him get better. Probably. He always kept a smile for them, no matter how irritable he felt. Maybe the cute hats they wore helped him put up with their abuse.
Now Morning Dew was home again with his wife, his quiet bed, his flowers, and his daughter; he no longer had to force a smile.
His daughter, Scootaloo. He read the note again and scratched idly at his foreleg where his coat was stubbly: the healing, recently shaved site of his IV. He had been told pegasi used to be a proud warrior race of ponies, and to expect her to be temperamental when he and his startled wife discovered their newborn daughter had wings. Morning Dew always hoped after one of their talks she would mellow down. After the last time had almost cost Misty Meadows her job, he thought it had finally gotten into Scootaloo's head.
Morning Dew rested on the couch and enjoyed the smells from the kitchen. It was peaceful until the front door opened, and an orange and purple ball of fur clattered inside. Scootaloo smiled at him but lost her smile when he frowned back at her. She looked dirty; she wasn’t covered in mud, but the results of whatever efforts to brush out her coat had been proved they were minimal at best. She looked the part of the ruffian. His heart sank a little. What would it take to get her to behave?
“I'm … disappointed, Scootaloo.”
“Wh-what? Why, Daddy?”
“You were fighting again. You promised me you wouldn't.” The dull ache behind his eyes had him battling the siren-call of his bed.
“I wasn't—”
“Just because I'm not here at home doesn't mean you can go back on your promises!” Morning Dew could fake a smile for over a week for the near-strangers but could not do so for his own daughter at that moment. If those nurses saw him grinding his hoof into his arm they would be sure to chastise him.
He might have continued to berate the filly, but the sight of his crying daughter brought an unpleasant tightness in his stomach.
“Just … go clean up, then go to your room. Now. You're grounded for a week.”
She hung her head low as she left his sight. He almost didn’t hear the quiet sound of her door closing. Morning Dew and his wife ate dinner devoid of conversation, though he barely tasted his favorite dish. He retired to bed early, still wishing he could afford the ointment the doctor had prescribed.
Her eyes burned from being cried out, and her wing ached still from her fall this morning. She tried to focus on these details, the pains of her body, rather than think of her daddy and the worse pains of her heart. He yelled. I disappointed Daddy that much, though I dunno how. Mom yells at me, never Daddy.
Stop. Just sleep.
If her injury couldn’t distract her, at least she could try to reduce one of her aches. Stretching her wing out hurt, but once extended the pain faded. She shifted about until she found a position that lessened the ache at her side a little further then turned her pillow over to expose a dry surface. Finally, she succumbed to the weariness.
Her stomach rumbled before she could drift off. Ugh. So much for getting to sleep. She opened her eyes to stare at the ceiling and noticed the brightness in her room. Sunshine was streaming in through her window. She had slept, though she didn't feel like she had.
Her wing complained as she shifted her body around to get out of bed. Gritting her teeth, she folded her wing, extended it and rotated it around a few different directions to test her range of motion. It felt a little better than yesterday but still achy. The motion brought protest from her wing but at least once folded, the ache almost went away. She was used to dealing with this sort of thing. Asking to see the doctor was reserved for: bleeding, burns, fever, and broken bones, according to her mom. Her wing would stop hurting if she took it easy. Not that she could ride her scooter at the moment anyway.
She let out a quiet hiss, folded her wing back to her side then dragged herself to the kitchen for breakfast. Maybe they'd let her have a little extra, since she missed dinner.
Daddy was still asleep, recovering from his stay at the hospital, so she stayed quiet. Mom surprised her by letting her have seconds of oatmeal this morning. That helped a little bit. Taking a break from crusading for the week would let her rest and heal up.
It would be hard to crash with her scooter broken, so there was little risk of adding more trauma to her wing. Just have to leave for school a little earlier and go on hoof…
Author's Note
Ponies wishing to send mail raise a bright orange flag on the edge/corner of their roof. The postal ponies can see these flags while flying about town and can pick up/send mail mid-day. A relatively small town like Ponyville wouldn't even need a central sorting/distribution center for local mail. An advantage of having couriers that can fly.
Another pair of purple eyes, another mirror, but the similarities ended there. Silver Spoon had been at her vanity for awhile. The ritual was routine, and the contemplative filly before her would soon be ready for another day. As she deftly maneuvered her brush in her hooves, her thoughts wandered to the significant events of her recent past.
She was back in Los Pegasus, at her old school, where she had fit in well and had been deemed acceptable by her peers. She had been pretty and well groomed even then. On her first day of school, she was approached by one filly after another throughout the day, either directly or with little notes. She'd been happy that so many ponies wanted to be her friend.
She set the manebrush down and began to braid.
She had been found acceptable by the daughters of rich and noble families, not a threat to the little circles of power that shifted and clashed around her mysteriously; though she was just a commoner, her grooming and bearing were pleasing enough to them.
Her new friend, Crystal Flakes, would chastise her for hanging out with other friends like Gold Dust or Mithril Chord as the weeks went on. She'd been forced to choose one friend over another, only to find Gold Dust at the side of Crystal Flakes the next week, apparently now acceptable as a friend. Even now, a bit older, she couldn't quite fathom the motives that drove those daughters of various nobles. Instead she quickly learned to simply be neutral and observant and go along with the near-daily shifts. Pay attention to who is in charge, follow their lead, make a show of supporting whatever attack or defense they made and not hold grudges. Ignore the ponies not playing the game.
Her mane was styled just as she liked: a long braided ponytail bound with a tiny silk ribbon. Her gray coat was brushed and cleaned to shine like polished pewter in the right light, her tail flowing freely with the white streak separated with another little bow, her silver-rimmed glasses polished to a high gloss and perched low on her muzzle. She was, as always, elegant and professional-looking, like her mother. She was ready to face the day. Down the stairs and through the short hallway brought her to the foyer where her saddlebags awaited. They were hoof-made and quite comfortable.
Mithril Chord was admiring her new saddlebags. Soon a small crowd surrounded Silver Spoon, making her just a little uncomfortable, though the comments about the cut and quality of the stitching were all chattered about in envious tones. While she was pleased by the positive attention, she knew it was bad to show up her friend Crystal Flakes who was watching from the edge of the crowd with an unreadable expression.
Sure enough, she was exiled from the usual hangout spots at recess, and found herself with the outcast group led by Mithril Chord. The next day, Crystal Flakes had her own gem-studded set of bags, and was once again the center of attention. Silver Spoon remained in exile for a few weeks, until Sunshine Drops overthrew Crystal Flakes, and took Silver Spoon into her circle.
Yet nearly everyone here in Ponyville had their own hoof-made bags, and didn't bat an eye at hers.
She had her own vanity, all to herself. Silver Spoon had never had such a convenient luxury in her own room before moving to Ponyville. There had been more than one bathroom in their old home, but she could now stay in the privacy of her own little haven until she was fully ready to be seen. No more trotting through the hall with bedmane in the mornings, rushing to the bathroom to avoid being seen unkempt. No more quiet laughter from the help after Silver Spoon closed the bathroom door. Her first day in her new home was a fond memory indeed.
The house she was departing was certainly larger and finer. The scent of dust raised by stepping onto the dirt road in front of her home reminded her of another difference.
It was a dreary, gray day in Los Pegasus along Rodeo Drive, and the cobblestones glistened in the subdued sunlight that filtered through the ceiling of clouds overhead. The occasional passersby were accompanied by distorted reflections in the wet street below them while they drifted from shop to shop. Like everypony around her, Silver Spoon clip-clopped along the wet stone with sure steps, playing her part in the cacophony of hooves in the bustling city.
Her first spring in Ponyville, while still learning the route to school. There were no clip-clops from the ponies around, instead squish-squishings created an odd, squelchy background to the drizzle. Silver Spoon had spatters of mud up her legs, underbelly, and sides. Carrying an umbrella was awkward, and only stopped the water from above. Even wearing boots and walking slowly could not keep her coat clean from the splashing rain and mud puddles. The only solution on a day like this was to bring brushes, and arrive at a destination early.
Today at least was dry. As Silver Spoon approached the large shade tree at the bend in the road, she met up with Diamond Tiara, as usual, and performed their greeting ritual automatically.
“Bump, bump, sugar lump, rump!” They sang in chorus.
When they first met, Silver Spoon had been found acceptable and non-threatening yet again, and immediately deferred to this more dominant filly. While Diamond Tiara was a commoner too, she acted the part of a young noble filly, so Silver Spoon adopted her role instinctively.
Their greeting complete, the pair turned toward the school, but before they could even take a single step, they heard a faint buzzing noise behind them, growing louder.
Afternoon history class was boring. To his credit, Professor Fact Checker III was trying hard to hide that he was repeating the same material from last week. He was doing voices and using archaic Olde Equestrian to retell the story. His efforts surely worked on most of the other students and they likely thought this was a new subject, but Silver Spoon quickly recognized the names and dates. A quick look at her notebook confirmed her suspicion; apparently today would be another pointless repetition intended for the slow ones in class. Ones like the gangly orange unicorn colt with the green mane, or the pudgy earth pony filly with the pale yellow coat, curly red-mane, and a lisp.
She glanced over at Diamond Tiara, a couple of seats away on the other side of Apple Bloom, and recognized the zoned-out look in her unfocused eyes. Passing notes was out of the question. Not that Apple Bloom would cooperate. Silver Spoon's attention then went to the clock: still a lengthy block of time until recess. Professor Checker was “in the zone” and most of the students around her were in rapt attention to his lecture, so there was little risk of being noticed if her eyes roamed a bit. Unfortunately it didn't take long before her favorite activity of observing the ponies around her was quickly depleted of entertainment value. Nopony was doing anything remotely interesting. She inspected her left hoof for any specks of dirt she may have missed during her routine brushing upon her arrival at class. Spotless. The right one as well.
Diamond Tiara was spotless too. No trace of the morning’s mudbath was evident on her pink coat. There was a trace of a frown on her muzzle though. Not like her usual scowl shown in school, but a subtle hint Silver Spoon could recognize when Diamond Tiara was thinking of something unpleasant.
Memories were a ready fallback, so she zoned out like her patron, adopting her own paying-attention mask with an almost silent sigh. The pony to her left formed a ready prompt for her memories. Silver Spoon observed her without drawing undue attention to herself, using the edge of her vision. Diamond Tiara seemed to take pride in tormenting that one in particular, along with her two friends from another class.
“You got a problem with blank-flanks? I said, 'you got a problem with blank-flanks?'” An orange pegasus filly with a purple mane crawled out from under the table where she had been hiding with that pale unicorn friend of hers. Clearly, she intended to recruit Apple Bloom to their circle, and step into “the game.” What kind of entrance was that, though? So lame.
“The problem is, I mean she is like totally not special,” Silver Spoon countered with the obvious. Diamond Tiara had been especially condescending over that topic lately, after recently acquiring her cutie mark.
“No, it means she's full of potential,” Scootaloo's unicorn lackey, Sweetie Belle, squeaked out. Silver Spoon had seen this sort of gambit before. The weaker fillies would band together for the safety in numbers to try and fend off the likes of Diamond Tiara.
“It means she could be great at anything. The possibilities are, like, endless.” Scootaloo must have rehearsed this with her friend to coordinate their attacks so smoothly. The jab at her Los Pegasus accent was really silly though. She couldn't tell if it was done so poorly on purpose, or if Scootaloo simply couldn't speak any faster.
Diamond Tiara tried to throw some of her own barbs in, but was shot down. She hadn't been used to real opposition, and was clearly flustered. The two blank-flanks even somehow recruited Twilight Sparkle, the town librarian, into this battle. Though their argument was clearly just some appeal to emotion, they had won the crowd. Silver Spoon wasn't even sure how or why her patron was even losing this fight.
“Whatever. We still think you're losers. Right, Diamond Tiara? Bump, bump, sugar... lump…” Silver Spoon tried to rally her friend with their greeting ritual, only to draw out a frustrated dismissal from Diamond Tiara as she retreated to the stairwell to fume. Apparently, they had already lost?
“Not now, Silver Spoon.” They watched the rest of the party through the bannister of the stairs with pouted lips and narrowed eyes.
Scootaloo and her friend Sweetie Belle had been passive nobodies until that day, but with that confrontation, they they stepped into the game with Diamond Tiara. She couldn't recall exactly when she'd met the two, but that day stood out to her as a more important beginning: With the addition of Apple Bloom making the pair into a trio, they had formed their circle, and even named it.
Silver Spoon had learned much later that Apple Bloom was nobility, a fact not obvious from her appearance or demeanor. On Family Appreciation Day, it was revealed that Celestia herself had granted land to the Apple family. Her worthiness as a rival in the game had increased in Silver Spoon's eyes.
Playing “dirty” was occasionally necessary to offset the advantage of status, connections, and simple numbers the Cutie Mark Crusaders had. While she and Diamond Tiara held obvious sway over the school body, the Crusaders seemed to be adept at building ties with celebrities, including royalty.
Inviting Apple Bloom's cousin into her and Diamond Tiara's circle had worked too well for awhile, with Babs Seed taking over before betraying them. Their attempt to spread their own influence to beyond Ponyville during the Equestria Games had been thwarted by obvious favoritism. The hooves of the Cutie Mark Crusaders were far from clean. Apple Bloom had been willing to use dubious potion magic on several occasions, resulting in poisoning herself, her brother and their teacher, Miss Cheerilee.
“No, it means she's full of potential,” echoed again in her mind in Sweetie Belle’s voice. Potential indeed. Apple Bloom had dangerous potential, if anypony were to ask Silver Spoon.
Idly she wondered how different things would be with her circle in Los Pegasus. Apple Bloom and her fellow crusaders, except perhaps Sweetie Belle, had little use for the usual sorts of baubles and finery that were so often the subject of “battle.” Their rejection of social protocol would be entertaining to watch for sure.
Movement in the ponies around her drew Silver Spoon back to the present. Her eyes darted around her to take in the restless shift in energy. Diamond Tiara was looking a little more lively as well. Prof. Checker was silent and didn't seem to be looking at her. She looked up at the clock and noted it was seconds before the recess bell rang. Like her classmates, she watched the last few ticks until the bell sounded.
While the other foals rushed outside as quickly as possible, Silver Spoon strolled out beside Diamond Tiara calmly and sedately. The two of them were the undisputed rulers of the playground, and had their choice of entertainment. They had no need to rush to get “first dibs” on anything. Today, Diamond Tiara was in the mood to swing, so they commandeered the swing set from a pair of colts, and even drafted the simpletons to push Diamond Tiara and herself. This was the sort of perk Silver Spoon was used to enjoying whenever she was on the winning side.
Around them in the sandbox, numerous other foals made an unrestrained cacophony as they chased each other, played with jump ropes and balls, or climbed over, under, and through various ramps and barrels designed for that purpose. All of these ponies submitted to Diamond Tiara, therefore could enjoy their recess playing with whatever she didn't use. The outcasts stayed outside the sandbox. From her vantage on the swing, Silver Spoon could see the two fillies poking around in the grass and budding flowers, clearly bored, as they talked quietly among themselves. This is what happened to those who opposed and lost. Silver Spoon was familiar with loss, too, though it hadn't happened to her in Ponyville yet.
“Hey, Loony Spoon, that looks pretty good. Trade it with me, will ya?” Crystal Flakes came into view, flanked silently by Mithril Chord, as Silver Spoon was about to take the first bite of her lunch: a mixed fruit and cream crepe, dusted with powdered sugar. She sat alone on a bench outside in the chill, rather than inside the warm cafeteria, and was a little surprised to even see her former friends. The insulting nickname made it clear that this was no attempt at a peace offering.
Crystal Flakes held out a bowl of dried pineapple chunks, probably something from the cafeteria, rather than brought from home like her own crepe. After shaking it “enticingly” in the air in front of Silver Spoon, she gave a mock-friendly grin. The dried fruit didn't look very appetizing, but Silver Spoon held her napkin-wrapped lunch out with a sigh. “Sure thing, Crystal, I haven't had pineapple this week.” The food items passed from hoof to magic and magic to hoof. “Want to sit with me while we eat?”
They used to sit together at lunch often, before the incident with the bags. Crystal Flakes' eyes darted to the space at Silver Spoon's side for a moment, before her expression turned from a mask of fake friendliness, to a more honest sneer. She turned her nose up into the air with a “hmph!” and trotted back into the cafeteria with Mithril Chord silently in tow, and her crepe floating beside her in an icy white glow. Silver Spoon wasn't particularly good at the game. She had just wanted to sit with her friends and enjoy lunch, but in hindsight, realized her faux pas. Being seen eating with an outcast would be a clear sign of weakness in Crystal Flakes. A chill breeze stung in Silver Spoon’s damp eyes, as she nibbled at her lunch. It was sweet, but she didn't really taste it.
The bell called all the foals back into class, so Silver Spoon leaped from her swing, arced through the air with her legs folded like a pegasus, only to extend them at the last moment to land in the sand gracefully. Not to be outdone, Diamond Tiara attempted the same, but stumbled when her hooves met the sand, followed shortly by her barrel. Silver Spoon quickly looked away to “not notice.” Behind her she could hear Diamond Tiara berating the colts for their insolent snickering, while the four of them trotted back to class.
What Silver Spoon didn't see was an orange pegasus close her hanging jaw, then rush to catch up to her yellow friend and head off to the other class.
Diamond Tiara was pacing around her room again, with narrowed eyes and a slight frown. A casual observer might make the mistake of identifying the look of the young filly as “upset,” but Silver Spoon was far from casual, and could recognize by the tight-lipped frown and focused set of her patron's eyes that Diamond Tiara was thinking exclusively about something. “Plotting” might be a more accurate word. Despite her classic beauty, Diamond Tiara's features simply formed a natural scowl when she was concentrating. Silver Spoon turned her gaze back to the book and papers in front of her, working on their homework. Her ears flicked toward any sound other than the rustle of paper or the light thudding of Diamond Tiara's hooves on the plush carpet. She was tuned for the voice of her patron when she indulged in a brief bit of reverie.
Silver Spoon looked over the sheet before her: an essay on fruit bats. It was close to sunset on a Thursday evening, but she was finished. She had been surprised when Crystal Flakes had arranged to meet her outside of school. Her hopes of a friendly get together sunk once the nature of the meeting, solely to ask a favor of Silver Spoon, had been revealed. Of course, she was still just a tool; this instance had been to write a paper so her former friend would have time to go to some party. Not like she could say no, but maybe this would be a step toward becoming friends again? So Silver Spoon accepted the task with a smile.
Friday, before school, they met in an alley fitting for shady exchanges such as this. It was a little-used shortcut Silver Spoon found that came in handy when she was running late. Crystal Flakes looked over her work with a greedy smile on her face, then she drew Silver Spoon in for a brief hug in thanks. She didn't invite Silver Spoon to the party, though.
The following Monday had been chaotic. Crystal Flakes had been called to the teacher's desk right after attendance, and was obviously being reprimanded over something. She heard the words “alcohol,” “suspension,” and “academic record,” whenever their teacher's voice rose above a whisper to emphasize some point forcefully.
Later, during recess, Silver Spoon found herself herded with telekinetic bursts behind the classrooms and trapped in a corner by Gold Dust and Mithril Chord. She was stronger than either of them, but she was no fighter, and the pair's magic tripped her up, literally. She tried her best to protect her vulnerable belly and face with all four legs while trying to figure out the context of their shouts of “Sabotage!” and “How do you like revenge now?” scattered in among the tribalist slurs and jabs about her social status as an earth pony commoner. Even while being subjected to violence, Silver Spoon's adrenaline-soaked mind drew in details rapidly like the unicorns' enraged toothy grins, the way they pointed their horns at her aggressively, the narrow pupils of their wide-open eyes, and their ears flattening against their heads.
Silver Spoon’s efforts to fend off physical blows mostly worked, though she’d likely have a few bruises on her limbs and flanks to show for the ordeal. She could do little about the telekinetic mane and tail pulling though, and tried not to cry out too much from those pains.
During a moment where Silver Spoon closed her eyes in anticipation of another kick, the darkness behind her eyelids turned red-pink, like someone was shining a light directly at her. She clenched her eyes more tightly closed to block it out, while her ears tried to decipher her situation. There were cries from her assailants, but no longer aggressive and jeering but… shocked?
Silver Spoon risked opening one eye behind a foreleg. There was a bright light that created a strange aura around her limb, although that brightness was already fading. There was a dazzling-white unicorn with a blazing orange and red mane standing over the cowering forms of Gold Dust, Mithril Chord, and Silver Spoon with the most brilliant horn-glow she'd ever seen before. Her yellow aura was visible on Gold Dust’s and Mithril Chord's horns too, which confused Silver Spoon for a moment before she realized the two were being held down by the newcomer's magic.
The stunning unicorn reminded her of Princess Celestia, and Silver Spoon might have fallen in love with her dashing savior right then and there, if it were not for the filly's less than heroic speech. “Leave that drab dust mule alone. It is beneath nobility to dirty your hooves on the flesh of a commoner!”
Silver Spoon didn't have much room at the time among her panicked thoughts to be really offended. She knew her place, and Sunshine Drops had made her entrance to the game. Grandly so. She offered her gratitude and allegiance to this new patron immediately by awkwardly righting herself into a low bow.
“Ugh. Is it done yet? You've been totally staring at that page forever.” Silver Spoon looked up into the uncomfortably close eyes of Diamond Tiara. There was that look again. The commanding eyes of a noble. First Crystal Flakes', then Sunshine Drops' faces briefly transposed over Diamond Tiara's. The eyes matched perfectly.
“Sure, Di. I was just, like, proofreading it.” Silver Spoon sorted the pages of the short report while reclaiming a bit of personal space, then hoofed them over to her patron for inspection. She had been recalling one of the most violent and frightening memories she had, and not a single trace of what was going on behind her glasses leaked out. Not even the faintest hint of a reaction from Diamond Tiara to indicate that any troubling emotion had shown through Silver Spoon's mask.
The pages drew only a moment's glance before being stuffed into Diamond Tiara's subtly glittering bag. Diamond Tiara may not appreciate the effort, but Silver Spoon had learned long ago to put a little extra effort into these things. Not to do a better job, but to do worse.
Silver Spoon felt a slight but distinct tap of magic on her shoulder, and turned to see—a deflated-looking?—Crystal Flakes. Her normally exquisitely-styled mane and tail hung limply at the mercy of gravity. She almost didn't recognize her old frie—patron. Sunshine Drops had educated her more formally on these sorts of things upon accepting her into the new circle. Silver Spoon was supposed to shun this exile until instructed otherwise by her lady. Therefore a few nervous glances around were necessary to assure her that she was in no danger of being caught and reprimanded; it would be prudent to keep this short as possible.
“To what do I owe the … pleasure, Lady Flakes?” Keep it formal, polite, and nod. She was nobility, they were in public. There could be more trouble for failing to observe protocol, even if she had been ordered to shun the filly. Protocol was useful.
“I wanted to apologize, Silver. I shouldn't have asked you to write that paper for me, I hope you didn't get in trouble as well.” Crystal Flakes wouldn't meet her eyes and gazed at the ground. This transformation was getting to be unnerving for the commoner. What kind of gambit was this?
“I … Milady, I was not reprimanded. I do not think the school staff even suspected it was me. Though … Ladies Gold Dust and Mithril Chord chose to personally defend your honor, they were reminded of their station by Lady Sunshine Drops.” Crystal Flakes looked up at that point, finally meeting Silver Spoon's eyes for the first time that encounter, and displayed an odd mix of confusion and horror as Silver Spoon described the assault she’d endured in such a formal and detached manner. The look quickly disappeared as Crystal Flakes apparently realized there would be no friendly reconciliation.
“The paper was well-written. You got an A on it, if you were curious. I'm not typically an 'A-student' though, which raised suspicions.” The accusation was subtle. Accusation and compliment wed with the blessing of the game. “Regardless, the report was the least of my worries. I did plenty of damage to my own reputation already that weekend.”
Silver Spoon simply stared at her, externally waiting to be given permission to speak or be dismissed, while internally digesting the words, and looking for the attack hidden within. Failing to find one, she just raised an eyebrow while perfectly maintaining the polite mask.
“Even knowing of your hoof in the matter, I can trace no blame back to you that would not harm me further for revealing it.” Silver Spoon was wary of the cracks in Crystal Flakes' guard. Honesty? Showing your hoof? What feint is this? Thoughts raced behind her impassive spectacles.
“Well played, Spoony.” The defeated filly turned, then cantered off and disappeared into a crowded cross-street, and from Silver Spoon's life.
“Whatever. Lets go to Sugarcube Corner and get smoothies.” Diamond Tiara turned, then built to a brisk trot to disappear out the door.
Diamond Tiara would not appreciate or even understand why Silver Spoon would dumb down the work she did for her, and would likely be offended if she discovered it. Silver Spoon had no interest in being part of the fall of another patron. There were no others to seek protection under, and even a fallen Diamond Tiara could make her miserable. She left the remains of her homework for their return, and quickly left to catch up. Pinkie Pie was on shift at the moment, and her smoothies were the best.
The mid-afternoon rush of foals fresh out of school for the day had ended, and the dinner crowd was still several hours away from Sugarcube Corner. Despite the saccharine name and exterior décor, Silver Spoon had been surprised to discover the place was essentially just like the cafes she was used to back in Los Pegasus. Sure, they did their own baking and catered events, but Mr. and Mrs. Cake also brewed teas and coffees—popular with the adults, and made milkshakes and fruit smoothies—popular with everypony. Many of their classmates were starting to lose interest in things like cupcakes, though Silver Spoon had always been rather fond of smoothies and shakes. She and Diamond Tiara had been getting them for years now while the rest of the Ponyville youths were just starting to catch onto them.
The pair stepped in from the brisk spring breezes and warmed up in the quiet and cozy seating area of the shoppe. Silver Spoon drifted off in thought while choosing a seat opposite of Diamond Tiara, who seemed more interested in watching the view out the window than in conversation.
She fitfully brushed her coat near the entry to the gaudy little shoppe. They'd been in “Ponyville” for a week, and her mother had decided to drag her out into public, into this dirty little town that was apparently her new home. “Ugh. Mother, don't these ponies, like, know how to make real streets? There is dirt everywhere! How does anyone manage to stay clean?” She was distressed enough to actually whine.
“Now, now, Little Spoon, you look fine. Come along, so we can have our brunch.” Silver Filigree, her mother, turned heads wherever she went. Even as young as she was, Silver Spoon noticed the admiring looks her mother drew from others, and idolized her mother’s beauty. She dreamed of the day she would draw that kind of attention herself. By imitating her mother, she’d done quite well back in Los Pegasus, even among all the nobles' daughters.
Without hesitation, she stowed her coat brush, tapped all four hooves on the welcome mat, then entered as instructed, prancing a bit toward the table Mother had chosen. A cool, inviting, brown carafe of thick creamy goodness already awaited her; Mother knew her favorite was a chocolate hay smoothie. There was even a cherry carefully split on the rim. Maybe this town wasn't so bad after all.
The two had the cafe to themselves, until another pair of ponies came in. Her mother had some sort of business meeting with this stallion. He would be a rather nondescript brown earth pony except that his mane and tail were styled back in a professional manner, and he wore an odd little collar and tie combination that seemed a bit ridiculous, but actually worked for him anyway. His cutie mark, a trio of moneybags, identified him as Filthy Rich, owner of Barnyard Bargains.
The petite pink filly at his heels must be Diamond Tiara, his daughter. This family had a thing for ridiculous accessories; she wore a little crown-thing on her head. Oh, of course. A tiara. Still, the stallion would soon be Mother's boss, so it would be best to make friends with his daughter. As the adults talked, Silver Spoon and Diamond Tiara regarded each other silently for several awkward moments.
“Hmmph. Most of the foals around here should be embarrassed to be seen in public.” Silver Spoon wasn't sure if that was supposed to be an insult or not. It was certainly aggressive though.
“Well, from what I've seen around here they must be, like, immune to embarrassment. I think you're the first pony I've met who knows what a brush is.” Silver Spoon offered a friendly, but cautious smile.
“I know what you mean. They should totally be teaching personal grooming in school, not boring math and stuff.” Aggressive, and her father was rich and locally influential. Not nobility, but close enough to it for this small town. Diamond Tiara would be a patron; Silver Spoon knew how to act in this relationship. She grew comfortable as she listened to Diamond Tiara's gossip, filing away anything that would be useful.
“Chocolate again? Why don't you ever get anything else, like a vanilla ice cream shake?” Silver Spoon's eyes flicked, unnoticed, to Diamond Tiara's barrel, which still showed the slight chubbiness of foalhood. A chubbiness Silver Spoon was already beginning to lose. She intended to be lean, like her mother, after she had her growth spurt. Diamond Tiara would probably have a figure like Pinkie Pie.
“I like vanilla. Chocolate is, like, pretty good too. I dunno.” She shrugged, while Diamond Tiara shook her head and slurped her shake.
“I like vanilla too. And chocolate is sooo yummy. Especially on cherries, or strawberries, or snozberries, or bananas! Rolled in nuts…” Silver Spoon stared blankly at the adult sitting at the table with them. She'd apparently been tuning Pinkie Pie out this whole time and had slipped. She contemplated speaking to her when the unpredictable mare went from seated to full-speed dash toward the door, and crashed into … Rainbow Dash. Silver Spoon could hear the sound of the plump pink pony as she thudded into the shorter, but solid pegasus. “Oh, Dashie, hello! Do you like chocolate covered bananas with nuts?”
The town's celebrity glanced over to Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon for a moment, then back to the energetic pink fluffball attached to her. A brief eye-roll was her only response before she sauntered in as if she totally didn't have the weight of a heavier pony attached awkwardly to her side throwing her balance off, displaying a mastery of “Pinkie denial” that few could achieve. She seriously didn't even stumble, or stagger, or anything. “Hey girls, what's up?”
Silver Spoon was used to dealing with aristocracy and nobility. Ponies with wealth, power, and connections she was comfortable with. Her carefully crafted mask hid her weaknesses and kept her safe from their usual attacks. She was used to drawing compliments from fashionable and well-styled ponies. Yet something about this mare drew heat to her cheeks, disrupting her mask to let reactions show through. Rainbow Dash wasn't part of the game. She made her own rules and dared anypony else to come to her terms. Silver Spoon, like others in the game, hid behind parents, money, looks, clothing, and baubles. The pegasus before her smashed holes in the sky and destroyed mad goddesses. She also apparently enjoyed a chocolate hay smoothie now and then. Silver Spoon quietly slurped at her own.
Diamond Tiara was the more composed of the two for a change, apparently having known Rainbow Dash longer. “Oh, just relaxing, Ms. Dash. Oh, I had a que—”
“Rainbow Dash.”
“H-huh?” Diamond Tiara had apparently been derailed.
“No missus, miss, or mizz. Just call me Rainbow Dash. All those other things make me sound old.”
“Oh. R-right. Rainbow Dash, I had a question.” While Diamond Tiara spoke, Silver Spoon noticed that Pinkie Pie had fallen off of Rainbow Dash at some point and was quietly bouncing nearby, happy to simply be in proximity to her friend. Rainbow Dash sat at the table with the two fillies, and took a chug from her smoothie straight from the glass after a disdainful glance at the straw laying beside it. Pinkie Pie must have brought Rainbow Dash her drink too at some point. Oh well, the bouncing pink motion helped pull Silver Spoon's eyes off of the athlete seated with them before things got awkward.
Rainbow Dash smacked her lips a little, and practically grunted, “Shoot.”
“Your totally ‘awesome’ stories about flight camp, that was during the summer right?” Silver Spoon noted the slightly awkward tone to the word “awesome” Diamond Tiara used. Was she plotting something by playing up to Rainbow Dash's ego?
“Well, duh. That's why they call it Summer Flight Camp.”
“Of course. So it happens when regular school is out, right? Like in a few months? How old do foals have to be usually to attend though?”
Silver Spoon was getting curious now. Normally Diamond Tiara's “plots” were pretty straightforward. Demoralize the opposition, go for the goal. Make herself look good, make the competition look bad. Not knowing what her patron was up to was slightly unsettling, but also … entertaining? Her interest was sparked, that much was certain.
“Hmm … y'know, I'm not really too sure. I guess once your parents think you're ready to learn to fly, they enroll you.” Rainbow Dash adopted a cocky grin. “I was pretty young myself when I graduated. Only took me one year, when normally it's two.” If anypony else bragged like that, Silver Spoon would be almost honor-bound to come up with some barb to deflate that ego. With Rainbow Dash though, it simply worked. Like Diamond Tiara's silly little tiara and Mr. Rich's silly little tie, Rainbow Dash's casual boasts just worked for her.
“Rumble was telling me about his time at flight camp. He seemed to enjoy himself. That's why I was curious, because he didn't really explain things very well.” Rumble? Oh, the pegasus colt that had been pushing Diamond Tiara on the swing today. What did he have to do with anything? He was a nopony. Silver Spoon’s thoughts almost slipped out her mouth and likely would have had she not had something convenient to busy her lips with.
Rainbow Dash's eyes sparked a bit of interest. “Oh, Thunderlane's little brother. I see him hanging out after school at the weather office waiting for Thunderlane sometimes. He's kind of shy, isn't he? I guess I was wrong; he's taking after his older brother if he's talking to pretty little fillies already.” She let out a few guffaws. Silver Spoon felt her cheeks grow just a tad warmer.
“I don't know about all that, Ms—er Rainbow Dash.” Was Diamond Tiara blushing a little? Her pink coat made it hard to tell. “He was pretty excited about it though. I guess it's a really big deal to graduate from flight camp, huh?”
“Well, of course it is! It's like…” Rainbow Dash trailed off, dumbfounded for a moment. “I guess earth ponies really don't have anything like it, huh? Well, it's important. Any pegasus would be excited to graduate and to be able to fly.” Both her front hooves slammed into the tabletop to further emphasize the last word, causing the glassware to bounce a little, though nothing spilled.
Diamond Tiara shrank back a little from the outburst of passion. Even Silver Spoon widened her eyes a bit. “I totally get it, Rainbow Dash. You're right. Totally right. If shy little Rumble would be excited, then an outgoing pegasus like, say, Scootaloo would be… I dunno. She'd be talking about it a lot, and be totally happy, right?”
Rainbow Dash looked confused. Silver Spoon looked confused. Even Pinkie Pie looked confused, though Silver Spoon suspected it was merely a show of solidarity. Diamond Tiara had just broken all three of them for a moment. Silver Spoon remained in shock, staring at Pinkie Pie the Silent. Pinkie Pie stared back at Silver Spoon, apparently defending her honor in an impromptu staring contest. Rainbow Dash recovered first. “But you hate—err, you and…” OK, so recovery was a bit generous a word. “What does Scootaloo have to do with anything?” Rainbow Dash foundered, as the athletic pegasus tended to be a mare of action, rather than contemplation, and clearly still hadn’t begun to follow the sudden change of topic.
“I haven't seen Scootaloo all happy and talkative since we got back to school, and she certainly hasn't been flying.” Diamond Tiara paused to slurp from her shake. “Aside from her, Rumble was the last pegasus in town our age who couldn't fly. I was just wondering if that was weird or not.”
Silver Spoon made the mistake of blinking, as she tried to process … concern? Diamond Tiara sounded … concerned.
Pinkie Pie’s celebrating proved to be distracting. In their defense, their guards were a bit down from the two-pronged uncharacteristic attack of calm and quiet Pinkie Pie and concerned Diamond Tiara. While the dancing pink blur went from tabletop to tabletop, she sang an impromptu “Stare Master Victory” song. Silver Spoon managed to promptly forget any of the lyrics to it that made it into her head, and resumed tuning her out mid-chant.
Rainbow Dash proved to be an excellent distraction from the distraction.
“Look, Diamond Tiara. I know you don't like Scootaloo, and she doesn't like you. I'd rather everyone get along and be friends, but I'm not naive. I know some ponies simply don't get along. Plenty of ponies can't handle my awesomeness, and it's obvious you can't handle hers. It would be totally uncool of me to threaten a little filly, but don't think for a moment I'm afraid of your father. Everyone else might kiss his flank, but believe you me, I will tell Mr. Filthy what his daughter has been up to if I find you've laid one hoof on Scootaloo. She's been leaving you alone lately, so do us all a favor and leave her alone too.”
She thumped her hooves on the table and spread her wings wide like she was about to fly over the table, and bring thunder down.
For that moment Silver Spoon took in every strand of mane, every feather, every taut muscle ready to spring into action. She took in every detail of Rainbow Dash's face, from the narrow eyes to the motions of her jaw and lips as she spoke. Outwardly, she simply stared slack-jawed at the display. There were strange signals going through her body that she'd think about and try to figure out later, but for now she simply wanted to watch this powerful being, strangely unafraid.
Diamond Tiara looked properly cowed. “Y-yes, Rainbow Dash. I promise not to lay a hoof on Scootaloo. I still remember our talk after the Equestria Games. I w-was just curious, that's all. That's OK, isn't it?”
Rainbow Dash narrowed her eyes a little more, to just slits, then leaned back and folded her wings. She regarded Diamond Tiara for a moment, then rose from her seat with a powerful downstroke of her wings. A rapid flutter let her drift belly-up across the room and out the door, with all four legs folded comfortably over her barrel. Silver Spoon simply tracked the pegasus until she was out of sight.
“Wasn't that hot?” Silver Spoon turned back to find Pinkie Pie standing on their table, face pressed into hers forehead to forehead. Silver Spoon blinked, innocently uncomprehending. Pinkie Pie gave a strangely hungry grin. “Have you ever tasted a rainbow? Spicy!” the last word was spoken with a high-pitched panicky voice, while Pinkie Pie dashed off with the dishes and disappeared behind the counter and through a door presumably leading to the kitchen.
“Wha…?” Silver Spoon discovered that apparently her brain was still broken. Thoughts of tasting Rainbow Dash danced just outside of the edges her innocence, threatening to shatter it. Thankfully Pinkie Pie had departed from her personal space. There was an odd squeak from the kitchen. More to file away for … not later. Never.
“Come on, Silver Spoon. Lets go back to my place.” Gone was the meekness from Diamond Tiara's posture, and voice. Not even a hint of fear from the dramatic escalation from moments before laced her words.
Silver Spoon's thoughts snapped back into focus.
Diamond Tiara was plotting something. She had just used The Rainbow Dash for whatever she was planning.
Silver Spoon kept to Diamond Tiara's side, slightly behind her, in deference to her patron. She was allowed to see several sides of this filly, and she'd grown accustomed to the stumbling, attention-seeking, snobby wannabe-princess, and had nearly forgotten this side. This was the side she feared. The side that would ruthlessly go for whatever she wanted. This was what she'd left behind in Los Pegasus. She reacted with deference instinctively, and her mask was up and intact. She wore her own grin, ready to support whatever attack was coming.
The game was ahoof.
Author's Note
One point of confusion I'd like to avoid: Los Pegasus is not a misspelling of Las Pegasus that you might see on some maps of Equestria. It is supposed to be modeled after Los Angeles rather than Las Vegas.
