Paradise

Ah, yes, Baltimare. You ever been to Baltimare? Gorgeous city. Part of The Triplets: those, of course, being itself, Fillydelphia and Manehattan. Nicknamed 'The Triplets' for a vast variety of colorful reasons, but, historically—because this is a history class—it was so named because the Lady Chimesail, who was the Third Lady of Daydark, emancipated all three of them from isolation practically at the same time. But when was this? Hooves, hooves, I want to see hooves.

—the overheard teachings of a historian to a group of rowdy noble foals in Celestia’s School of Gifted Unicorns

5132 ER, Age of Illumination, mature summer, full moon

They were fated. Applejack believed this fact, after analyzing it very thoroughly during the five years that she traveled. And, because she simply knew in her heart that they were.

She believed it because, on that summer day when it all started, fate had left Pinkie and her the only ones without summer plans.

The rest of their friends had things to do—plans that took them away from Ponyville. Subsequently, she was left as Pinkie’s only entertainment.

“What do you wanna do?” Pinkie asked, staring up at Applejack’s ceiling. The two of them lay on Applejack’s bed. The windows were open, letting in still heat. Flies buzzed lazy circles, tiny black dots against the white backdrop of Applejack’s ceiling.

It was even too hot, even too miserable, for the flies.

“I dunno. What do you wanna do?” Applejack asked, because clichéd sayings had to be completed.

Normally she would be out bucking. It was summer, after all, and apples were summer fruit. However, Applebloom had lost a bet with Big Mac, and was therefore helping him out in the fields the whole summer.

It was… a pretty big bet. Probably. Applejack had no idea, she wasn’t there.

Usually she would be displeased at the fact that she couldn’t work, but that summer had been particularly hot and humid, breaking temperature records across the board, and she didn’t mind the break quite so much since it kept her brain from being cooked in her skull.

“Well, I dunno. What do you wanna do?” Pinkie replied.

Pinkie had been coming over every day to… basically do what they were doing now. The two would lay beside each other, half delirious in the stuffy heat, and say everything and anything that came to their minds.

“Why is it so hot outside?” Applejack asked, thrashing about on the bed for absolutely no reason, like a toddler throwing a tantrum about not wanting to go to bed.

“Because its summer outside, AJ,” Pinkie answered.

“We should send a letter to Celestia, asking her to turn down the heat of summer,” Applejack suggested.

Pinkie giggled. “You think we should?”

“Sure,” Applejack mumbled. “It’ll eat up five minutes.”

In that summer, things that could possibly eat up time were good things.

Neither of them moved. Five minutes ticked by and they laid in silence.

“What do you wanna do?”

“I dunno. What do you wanna do?”

Pinkie rolled over. “I’ll tell you what I wanna do.”

“Mm?”

“I wanna see the sunrise.”

“Get up at four every morning and climb up on the roof of the bakery,” Applejack resolved.

Pinkie giggled. “No, AJ, I wanna see the sunrise over the water.”

Applejack furrowed her brow. “Like, the ocean?”

“Yeah!”

“Well, get on a train to Vanhoover, or Baltimare. Manehattan, even. Manehattan’s on the water.”

“But I want you with me,” Pinkie said simply. Their eyes met.

It was a small thing, really, but Applejack was an observant mare when it mattered to her. And since Pinkie mattered to her, Applejack saw it. There were more of these… utterings, lately. These… instances. So many, in fact, that they were almost a daily occurrence, now.

It wasn’t the heat, or the lazy mood it put both of them in so that they may say such things. No, no, Applejack was done blaming the heat for this. This was something bigger than meaningless half-thoughts that were brought about by heat delirium.

Applejack wasn’t stupid. She knew where this was coming from—could identify the source.

They’d kissed in spring. They were playing spin-the-bottle, because Twilight had gotten her hoofs on Slumber 102: Even More Things You Wanted To Know About Slumber Parties, But Were Afraid To Ask and had proceeded to subject all of them to torture in slumber party form. A veteran, Applejack had come prepared with cases of hard cider, and, well, clichés went as clichés went.

That was also the night that she’d kissed Twilight two times, Rarity once, and Fluttershy once. By the nature of fate, clearly, she belonged with Twilight. It wasn’t a big deal. Simple experimentation between friends. It wasn’t a spectacle, and it didn’t progress to some sort of orgy on Twilight’s living room floor.

And yet...

And yet:

Pinkie was being unnaturally quiet, waiting for Applejack to answer. Applejack shook her head, biting her lip. It wasn’t a problem. It wasn’t like Pinkie was being blatant about it, and it didn’t cause awkwardness between them. Frankly, it was nice to be wanted. She wasn’t against the idea, she was just… ambivalent about it, for reasons that escaped her. Or perhaps, for reasons that she ignored, because they were not entirely pleasant.

“I’ve got an aunt that lives up in Baltimare. We could stay with her,” Pinkie prompted hopefully.

“Would she have us?” Applejack asked, because, why not? Spending the summer on the beach with a good friend sounded rather wonderful right now, unwarranted crushes or not.

It wasn’t a problem.

“Sure! They have a big house, and it’s only her and her wife.”

Applejack stilled, arching a brow. “I didn’t know you had a gay aunt.”

“Yeah, she’s happy,” Pinkie chirped.

“And married to a mare,” Applejack pointed out; missing the fact that Pinkie was teasing.

“That too! So, let’s go.”

Pinkie rolled off the side of the bed, too lazy to jump off like she would usually. Applejack laughed.

“We haven’t planned anything yet, Pinks.”

“Sure we have!” Pinkie argued brightly. “I have an aunt, they have a house, and the two of us have enough money to buy train tickets there. Pack your stuff, c’mon!”

Applejack shook her head, giggling because Pinkie’s enthusiasm was as infectious, and impossible to resist as the legends said. If there were legends about Pinkie, that is, and there very well should have been. She was sure, at this point, that there must have been at least one mention of Pinkie in a book somewhere. After all, the mare was quite the character.

“No, we haven’t,” Applejack said. “I need to clear it with granny, and then see if Mac’s gonna need any help on the farm. You’ve got to do the same with the Cakes.”

“It’s summer. Half the town is gone, and the other half is dying in their houses. Nopony’s gonna want to walk across town and buy desert.”

“Don’t you guys sell ice cream in the summer?”

“Machine’s broken… as well as the A/C. Why do you think I’m bumming at your house?”

“Because you like my company?”

“That depends. What does it sell?”

Confused, Applejack opened her mouth to correct Pinkie, but saw the humor in her blue eyes and closed it again. “I don’t understand why you feel the need to do that.”

“Just teasing you, AJ, now c’mon!” She bounced away, and Applejack groaned, knowing what she was going to do. Grudgingly, she rolled off the bed and followed her one and only friend for the summer.

Downstairs, the Apple family laid strewn out in the living room, groaning and panting and fanning themselves.

“Heeeey guys,” Pinkie sung, skipping down the stairs while Applejack plodded after her. A chorus of groans greeted Pinkie back, in perfect unison. “So, I’m gonna steal Applejack from you guys for the summer, I hope that’s okay.”

“Where’re you two going?” Applebloom asked, rolling her head to the side to look at them.

“We’ll be in Baltimare. I have an aunt,” Pinkie announced, as if the fact that she had an aunt was something to be prideful over. Or maybe it was because she didn’t feel like finishing her sentence, which was something the Apple family could relate to, in the wake of the horrible, omnipresent heat.

“Any objections?” Pinkie asked, receiving groans which she took as negative answers.

“Have fun,” Granny Smith wheezed.

Clearly, Applejack got no say in anything ever, anymore. As Pinkie dragged her out of the house and into the murderous heat at speeds that one should not travel by in murderous heat, all Applejack wanted to do was curl up in bed and wait for this fever dream to be over.

It certainly didn’t register when Applejack found herself standing next to an excitedly bouncing Pinkie roughly two days later at the Ponyville train station. The both of them had on saddlebags, the white ones with their cutie marks on them, the ones Rarity had made for the six of them at the very beginning of their friendships.

That was so long ago, and yet it felt like yesterday.

“How did I let myself get talked into this?” she wondered idly in a low voice as Pinkie bounced rapid, tight circles around her, chattering faster than one should chatter in murderous heat. Applejack blocked Pinkie’s buzzing out with a startling amount of ease and practice, and then felt a little guilty.

The train pulled up then, and Applejack put her guilt aside as Pinkie scampered inside, dragging Applejack along.

When they were seated in their compartment Applejack leveled Pinkie with a look, determined to take at least a bit of control back.

“I just want to make one thing clear.”

“Yeah?”

“We’re only staying there for a few days, no more. I don’t wanna intrude.”

Pinkie smiled charmingly. “Okay, AJ, whatever you say,” she said in a way that one does when they already know something to be subject to change, and yet are playing along anyway.

Applejack sighed, leaning back in her seat and wondering what it was that possessed her to sit in a train for some eight hours to travel to Baltimare where Pinkie’s gay aunt resided. Pinkie occupied her time by vibrating in her seat and singing some of her songs, many of which Applejack had heard before, and some of which she either made up on the spot, or had never shared from her repertoire.

Some part of her, admittedly, couldn’t resist spending time with Pinkie. Pinkie was a blast to hang out with, somepony who could subtly shift her interests to fit better with the interests of the one she was spending time with, but yet not lose herself in the process. She was always Pinkie Pie; infectious in her childlike joy for life, but she was also like a lake; fluid, with hidden depths and treasures.

In short, the reason that everypony was instant best friends with her, was because she herself was a skilled friend. Pinkie understood friendship almost like it was her calling in life.

The two of them were good friends, though most didn't see it. Their friendship was one of understanding; Applejack subtly making an effort to relax and be a little silly around Pinkie, and Pinkie subtly making an effort to be just a tad less loud and rambunctious around Applejack. It worked, and it was nice. They laughed together, and baked together, and generally had fun.

In less than an hour, Applejack had caved and started singing songs right along with Pinkie. There were certainly worse ways to pass the time.

Four rest stops and ten hours later they arrived in Baltimare. It was late afternoon, and the sun was descending towards the coastline.

Humid air, perfect in temperature and tasting like salt, greeted them like a welcoming salutation when they stepped off the train and onto the platform. The platform was busy with milling ponies and luggage carts, very much unlike Ponyville’s train stop.

“So, where does your aunt live? Do you know the way?” Applejack asked

“I have a map,” said Pinkie, extracting the folded piece of parchment from her saddlebag. She looked it over, flipping it around and humming thoughtfully for several minutes.

“...You don’t know how to read a map, do you?”

“Nope!”

“Well, what’s her address?” Applejack snatched the map from Pinkie’s grip and looked it over with a frown. The address was written in one corner in red crayon. Applejack looked over the identical blocks, trying to puzzle out where the house was, or even where they were.

Finally, she put it down with a sigh, beaten. “Let’s just wander around until we see the street we’re supposed to be on,” she suggested, embarrassed, for some reason, that she couldn’t read a map.

“Okay,” Pinkie chirped. “Let’s go see the ocean.”

“Sure, why not?” Applejack agreed. “Maybe somepony will point us in the right direction.”

They wandered leisurely towards the bay area, neither paying attention to each other but instead looking at the spectacle that was Baltimare. Paved roads and marble architecture, massive carved statues of important figures of ages past on nearly every street corner, like something out of a popup history book. Here were the giants of buildings, offices and apartments, rising up taller than the trees, taller than you could see without hurting your neck. From the ground it looked as though they actually scraped the sky, their windows reflecting the glory of the sunset.

There were crowds of ponies, too, but not just ponies; donkeys and zebras, allocamelus and hippalectryon, boggarts and smithereens of gryphons, all dressed to a tittle, with funny accents that resembled Rarity’s, but were different than Rarity’s, at the same time.

In time they reached the Horseshoe Bay area, pushing through the city crowd to brush against dockworkers and sailors. Applejack looked over at a low wall and glanced at Pinkie. “This way,” she directed.

Once they peaked over the wall it was a particular pleasure to watch the changes that came over Pinkie’s face. First, the eager anticipation faded to surprise, and then snowballed into amazement. And then, slowly, astonished delight supplanted that, until Pinkie’s visage glowed with it. “Oh,” she whispered. “Oh, wow.”

Applejack glanced at the ocean with disinterest, and then replaced her gaze onto Pinkie. “Yeah.”

The wall, although it only came up to their chests from the street level, was actually a sheer drop-off on the other side. About thirty feet below them lay the actual merchants' docks. There was a gap in the city walls of about half a mile, here, affording a wide view of the open ocean that lay beyond the ships anchored in the harbor. From their position they could see the green of the shallow water that was warm with summer. This faded into a deep, cool blue further out, until it met the sunset of the horizon. And that sunset… well, that sunset was too beautiful to describe, really, and Applejack didn’t know if she had the lingual tools, if she knew enough fancy adjectives, to paint the scene properly, so she simply let it be with the word breathtaking. That sunset, over the ocean, was breathtaking.

“You’ve never seen the ocean, Pinks?” Applejack asked, amused and charmed.

“Never. I only lived between the mountains, before, with my family. Then I came to Ponyville.” Pinkie didn’t tear her eyes away from the view. “Have you?”

“Mhm, I lived in Manehattan for a spell, with my aunt and uncle. Manehattan is suspended on the water.”

Pinkie finally teared her eyes away, but it was only to meet Applejack’s. “So you woke up to this, every morning?”

“Well, kinda,” Applejack explained. “I was mostly looking towards Ponyville, back then, not really out to the ocean.”

Pinkie looked back to the scene, oohing and ahhing over the spectacle as if she was watching the fireworks. Applejack watched her face, eyes trailing over every curve.

It wasn’t a problem, it really wasn’t, and, well, Pinkie was pretty easy on the eyes.

It was two hours, several faulty directions, and lots of stumbling around later that the pair of them came to the correct address.

Pinkie’s aunt’s place was a handsome beach house situated just two miles from the actual shore. When they approached the house, two Yorkshire Terriers dashed to meet them from inside as a mare stepped out of the house. She resembled Pinkie, startlingly so, only she was older. Perhaps she looked like what Pinkie would look in twenty years.

“Aunt Scoria!” Pinkie scrambled to the mare and jumped into a prepared embrace. She was spun around as she was held, and then nuzzled.

“Oh, Pinkie, look at you, my sweet,” Aunt Scoria crooned. “You’ve grown so much. How is your father? And your sisters?”

Yes, certainly what Pinkie would be like in twenty years.

As they chatted a mile a minute, Applejack crept up to them, if only to hear their conversation and observe them. It was a rather amusing scene, a heartwarming scene; Applejack had never even thought to wonder about Pinkie’s family. She knew that Pinkie had some sisters, and a mother and father, and of course the eminent Granny Pie, but she’d never seen their faces or knew their names. She certainly didn’t know Pinkie had an aunt.

Said aunt noticed her, and smiled heartily. “You must be the elusive Applejack,” she said, and shook Applejack’s foreleg.

“I am,” Applejack agreed.

“Pinkie has told me much about you. It’s always ‘Applejack and I did this’ and the sort.”

Applejack grinned teasingly at a blushing Pinkie. “Yeah, we’re great friends.”

Pinkie reached behind her and pulled her saddlebags away with her teeth. “AJ? Can you put these inside?” she said around the strap in her mouth.

Applejack nodded, getting the hint, and took them from Pinkie, dropping them on top of her own on her back. “Where do you want these?” she asked Scoria.

“Just drop them on the living room floor, hun. We’ve got a spare bedroom you two can use; I’ll show it to you after dinner. I’m sure you two are famished.”

Applejack nodded to both things and made her way up the three stairs, onto the porch, and into the house.

Scoria turned to Pinkie, biting her lip with a twinkle in her eyes. “She’s pretty.”

Pinkie broke into a grin, staring at the doorway Applejack had just disappeared through. “Yeah,” she sighed happily.

“I can see why you’re enamored. Polite, easy-going, pretty. Not bad at all, dear. You’ve inherited your aunt’s wonderful taste.”

“Really? I thought I inherited mom’s,” Pinkie teased, and Scoria sniffed. “C’mon, you gotta admit that dad was handsome when he was younger.”

“Indeed, your mother would have done well, if it wasn’t for the fact that your mother didn’t. Your father did all the work.”

Together they laughed over the old family legend, and when they calmed Pinkie bit her lip, blushing a bit. “I really, really like her, Aunt Scoria.”

“I remember the first time you wrote me about her,” her aunt reminisced. “You said ‘Aunt Scoria, how did you know you liked Aunt Willow?’. You were so cute.”

“I really like her,” Pinkie repeated.

“Do you love her?” Scoria asked.

“Maybe…” Pinkie chewed her lip, then nodded. “Yes.”

“Does she love you?”

Pinkie cast a longing glance across the horizon. “I dunno. As a friend, sure, but anything more… probably not.”

“Keep at it, girl. You’re a Pie, and a Pinkie at that. It’s impossible not to love you.”

The two of them turned towards the house, startled, when they heard a loud crash followed by a string of curses.

“AJ!” Pinkie called, alarmed, and headed up the stairs.

“Pinkie!” Scoria shouted after her, and Pinkie turned around, glancing nervously inside the house because there was another thud. “You’re in Baltimare; make things happen!”

Pinkie flashed her a quick smile and then ran inside to assist Applejack in whatever she was doing. Her aunt stood outside with the dogs excitedly racing circles around her legs. She chuckled a little when she saw the silhouette of two mares, one leaning against the other as they headed to the kitchen in search of first aid.

She called out to the dogs, racing them up the stairs and into the house.

It was the beginning of a long, eventful stay in Baltimare for them.