Listen

by Taialin

Rating: everyone
Tags: My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Rarity, Fluttershy, Slice of Life
Length: 4044

After a particularly trying episode of dealing with her cat, Rarity decides to go to Fluttershy for some much-needed relaxation. There, she's introduced to a secret of Fluttershy's that nopony yet has understood.

After a particularly trying episode of dealing with her cat, Rarity decides to go to Fluttershy for some much-needed relaxation. There, she's introduced to a secret of Fluttershy's that nopony yet has understood.

First in the Flarity "L" Series.
Listen > Language > Lust (NSFW)

Edited by Eloquence.

Published 2015-02-21 03:00:01 UTC
Last updated 2015-02-21 03:00:01 UTC

Can You Hear the Dancing Breeze?

I am just about at the end of my rope. "Opal, will you just please calm down?" I say, hopelessly trying to soothe my crazy cat. She is running about the Boutique, scratching up the expensive hardwood floors and clawing at the even more expensive drapes.

I groan in frustration. Ever since a few days ago, Opal has been incredibly difficult to handle. She is sensitive at the best of times, but now she is nigh insufferable. And I thought she would like the new premium cat food I bought for her. Twenty bits a meal! Such an ungrateful scoundrel.

Scoundrel? No, she is my cat. Dearest Opalescence is my darling pet, and I love her dearly—

"Opal, get off the couch! My grandmother gave that to me, and you may not—Oh Celestia, come here before you break anything else!"

—when she isn't acting like a scoundrel. I chase Opal around the Boutique, trying to catch her and shove her into her travel cage. I know that she hates the thing, but at least in there, the only things she can scratch are the steel bars.

"Aha!" I exclaim as I scoop Opal up out of a corner. She is growling at me and clawing at my hooves, but at least she's not scratching at my face. I would probably throw her out the window, then. "You've been a bad cat, Opal, and you're going into your cage until I can figure out what to do with you." With that, I toss Opal into her cage and latch the door shut.

Opal growls at me again and tries to claw her way out. I pointedly ignore her and head upstairs to my bedroom, where her noises and whining are less irritating.

I shut the door and sit down on the ground. A very unladylike moan escapes my throat as I massage my temples. Whatever came over my cat to act so ridiculously? The day has just begun, and I'm almost ready to rend my newest order to pieces. And I know that's a bad sign for my sanity.

I really need to get out of the house, away from Opal, at least for a little while. I don't think it's healthy to live in the same household as a near-homicidal cat, emotionally or physically. But where to go?

Rainbow Dash is out of the question, and I don't think time with Pinkie would do any good for my sanity. Twilight is busy with her princess-ly duties, and Applejack is on the wrong side of Ponyville. That only leaves Fluttershy.

Oh, of course! I curse inwardly at my foolishness. Fluttershy has always been my first choice when I need to calm down, gossip, work out a problem . . . anything, really. She's always willing to listen when I need to vent, and by Celestia, do I need to vent right now. Soft voice, graceful demeanor, charming mannerisms; she screams of serenity. She also happens to have a delicious soul-soothing chamomile tea that I love to drink. Fluttershy is such a good friend.

Mind made up, I exit my bedroom and descend the stairs of my home. I again ignore Opal's noises and exit my Boutique, heading off to Fluttershy's cottage.

As I walk along the dirt road to her domicile, I realize that it may not have been the brightest idea to go outside at this time. The sky has not been completely obscured yet, but the clouds are gathering, and it looks like rain is incoming. I walk a little faster.

The further I walk, the sparser that houses become. Fluttershy lives on the edge of Ponyville, away from others. She is quite a shy pony, so I suppose that's a good thing. Even so, I ask myself why the mayor can't find the means to pave this road. The dirt on the ground finds its way to the most bothersome places on my immaculate coat, and it always takes ages to clean it.

It isn't long before I make it to her home. It is a charming place, covered with moss and leaves. In front of the cottage is a narrow stream, over which a wooden bridge stretches. While walking over the bridge, I see the odd fish leap out of the water, loosing a spray of dirty water into the air. Thank goodness none of it lands on my coat.

All of these are the usual sights I see near Fluttershy's house, but what is unusual is that I see Fluttershy herself sitting outside. Normally she's inside tending to her animals. Right now, though, she's facing the stream, eyes closed. Why would she be outside now, especially with the rain threatening to fall? I open my mouth to ask.

"Fluttershy, darling, what are—"

"Shh," she says, not opening her eyes.

. . . Did Fluttershy just hush me? Fluttershy, the shy, considerate mare who never interrupts anyone? I try again.

"Er, Flutter—"

"Shhhh."

. . .Well then. Fluttershy did hush me. She's not normally so brusque. Perhaps she is irritable right now. Like me. I walk closer to her to investigate. She's sitting quietly, breathing lightly. Her chest rises and falls with the rhythm of her lungs. If she hadn't interrupted me earlier, I would have thought she was napping. She certainly doesn't look irritable.

Fluttershy opens an eye slowly to look at me, but still she says nothing. After a moment, she puts on a small smile and pats the ground with her hoof, inviting me to sit next to her.

I oblige, first brushing off the ground below me of dust before folding my hind legs and sitting down. I turn to her, wondering what to do next.

After a few minutes, I start to fidget my front hooves a bit. Nothing is happening, and that is starting to bore me a bit. And yet, Fluttershy still has her eyes closed and remains silent. I open my mouth to ask why she's sitting doing nothing, but again, I'm interrupted, this time with a light hoof on my shoulder.

Fluttershy opens an eye again and has that small, peaceful, demure smile on her face. She shakes her head ever-so-slightly. Bringing her eye up to her ears, she twitches them a few times before closing her eyes again and turning back forward.

Confused, I sit dumbfounded for a moment. Does Fluttershy just want me to sit still, be silent, and listen? What good would that do? In any case, I decide to appease her. With a mental shrug, I close my eyes and open my ears.

With my eyes closed, I see no flowing river, no overcast sky, no graceful pegasus. As my mind empties of sights, it fills with sounds I have never heard.

The river in front of me is a torrent of noise, bustling and bubbling around rocks. The sound is punctuated with the odd splash or two as fish interrupt the regular flow of water. The sounds are more chaotic and unpredictable on my left; that must be where the river's mouth is, where the water is fastest.

I can't see the sky above me, but even still, I know that a rain is incoming. The air around me feels moist and heavy, like it can't wait to rid itself of its moisture. A very faint rumble of thunder echoes far behind me. The storm must already have started in the deep Everfree.

There's a quick and light thumping on the ground as some animal approaches us. I resist the urge to open my eyes and figure out what it is, opting to keep my eyes closed and glean the animal's identity with my ears. It stops in front of me, chitters a little, and scampers away again, the strands of my mane waving in its wake. Given its quickness and chittering, I think it was some small animal, like a squirrel . . . or a chipmunk? Rabbit, maybe? I frown. It appears I'm not attuned enough to these sounds to know exactly what that thing was. Fluttershy would know, I'm sure.

The next sound I hear is a gentle but very quick drumming in front of my nose. My frown is replaced with small smile. There's only one animal I know of that can make that sound: the hummingbird! My supposition is confirmed when I feel a sharp prick on my shoulder as the bird lands on me. A few moments later, I hear more drumming and more pricks as birds of all sizes land on my shoulders, head, and hooves. The slower the drumming, the harder the prick, and—I assume—the larger the bird.

I continue to smile as I imagine what some pony would see if they came up to us now. Two ponies sitting side by side so motionlessly that they become equine bird perches. They wouldn't expect that one of them was, just moments before, about to tear her mane out in frustration. Right now, my mind is clear, and my own worries feel like nothing more than thoughts on the breeze. I feel the pricks move as some of them totter from one shoulder to the other. Their tails drag behind them, a soft tickle compared to the prick of their sharp claws.

My smile disappears as I feel the tickle of a tail turn to a brush, then a slight pressure. If the bird is pressing its tail harder into me, that can only mean that it's lowering its bottom and preparing to . . . well, dirty my coat, so to speak.

I snap an eye open and direct it at the offending bird. Sure enough, I see a blue jay on my left shoulder in the avian version of a squat. The bird is looking back at me. I frown and try to glare at the bird pointedly. I don't know how to Stare like Fluttershy does, but apparently, I get my message across. The blue jay flies to the ground for just a moment, does its . . . business, then flutters back up to its perch on my shoulder. I smile and nod in thanks before closing my eyes again.

For a long while, I simply sit still and enjoy the sensations that could be had. Birds tottering about on my person, chirping in their own language. Small animals scampering in front of and behind me, some jumping on me and scaring off the birds for a moment. The sound of the wind blowing the leaves of trees and whistling through narrow passes. It's a world I've been living in all my life, yet I have never experienced it before.

I wince as I feel a tap on my neck, then the seeping of moisture. It seems that the rain has finally come. I feel a few more drops hit my shoulder, head, and forelock before I feel the soft brush of a hoof against my side. I open my eyes and turn to see Fluttershy wearing that small, charming smile of hers again. She stands up and gestures to her cottage. Obliging, I get up and follow her inside, out of the rain.

Fluttershy walks into her house, her hooves making no sound as they touch the wooden floor. She closes the door behind me and silently makes her way to the kitchen. Moments later, I hear clinking china as she retrieves her kettle and some cups. It seems that dear Fluttershy is making tea for me. From the kitchen, she gestures at a low table with two cushions beside it. Nodding, I take my place on one side.

With nothing to do but wait for Fluttershy to finish steeping the tea, I decide to close my eyes again and listen to the noises of the cottage.

The sounds are different, but they tell a story just as complex. While inside, every sound seems a little louder. It seems like I can hear everything going on. The shuffle of wings as birds get comfortable on the perches above. The scratching and drumming of paws on the ground, some of them scampering across my soundscape.

There are dozens of conversations going on at once, none of which I can understand. Every animal is speaking in its own incomprehensible language. At the moment, it is just noise, but I can imagine that Fluttershy somehow understands all of it. How she does it is a mystery to me.

I hear the sharp clink of porcelain china hitting the wooden table. I open my eyes to Fluttershy smiling warmly at me. On the table between us is a teapot with two teacups on saucers filled with my favorite chamomile tea. I smile to myself. Even without words, Fluttershy seems to know exactly what I like.

"Fluttershy, thank—"

I stop myself and put a hoof over my mouth. Compared to the sounds I had been hearing for so long, the sound of my own voice is positively deafening. I thought that I was speaking at my usual volume, but even so, my voice seemed to overpower every other beautiful sound of the house.

I bring down my own voice to a quiet murmur. "Fluttershy, thank you very much for the tea. You know that I love chamomile."

"You're welcome," Fluttershy replies with her own naturally quiet voice. Perhaps at one point I was annoyed at how quietly she normally speaks, but now I understand why she does. She certainly can't drown out all the sounds she's trying to hear with her own voice.

I take a sip of the delicious tea, and Fluttershy does the same, blowing gently on her cup before doing so. The sounds of animals skittering and china clinking is left undisturbed until the last drop of tea in both our teacups is drained. Only then does Fluttershy speak again.

"Rarity, I'm sorry that I was so rude to you when you came." Fluttershy rubs one hoof nervously on the other. "I just like my meditation and don't like being interrupted. I don't do that all the time, honest!"

"I know that, darling," I say quietly. "You are kind, but even Kindness can be busy at times. And besides," I say, smiling gently, "I quite enjoyed meditating with you."

"Oh, that's wonderful!" Fluttershy says, now wearing a grin wider than any one she had shown me thus far. The grin fades, though, as she says, "I tried to convince Rainbow Dash to meditate with me once, but she was too impatient to sit still for long. I've asked other ponies, even Twilight, but it rarely ends well. They just don't understand," she concedes. She shakes her head a little, then perks back up. The smile is back on her face, where it should be. "I'm so glad that I found a friend who could entertain me, even just this once."

"Believe you me, darling, I'm glad that I did," I say, grinning.

I refill our teacups from the pot, and we both take a moment to take a few more sips of tea. After a second cup is finished, I raise (quietly!) my voice to ask a question of my dear friend.

"Fluttershy, why do you meditate?"

A long pause. Fluttershy takes several minutes and sips of tea to think of a response. I wait patiently for her answer.

"A couple of reasons, really," she finally says. "It helps me relieve my frustrations and stresses and come back to the real world with a calmer mind." She turns to me and asks, "Do you remember that the day after Iron Will left, I didn't show up for our spa appointment?"

"Yes, I do," I say, nodding. "I thought you were sick that day. You're normally so punctual with our appointments, after all."

"Well, no, I wasn't sick, but I was busy doing something."

"Meditating?" I ask.

Fluttershy nods. "Meditating. I think I spent the entire day in the yard just listening to the sounds." She cringes slightly as she appears to recall unpleasant memories. I sneak around the table to get a little closer to her. "Iron Will put so much hate into me; I needed a long, long time to calm down." She frowns, and says, "I'm sorry, Rarity."

I shake my head and put my hoof on Fluttershy's back, stroking it a few times, then enveloping her in a light hug. "You have no reason to be sorry, darling. You needed that time." I smile at her. "In any case, it worked, didn't it?"

It takes a moment, but Fluttershy smiles as well. I love to see that smile. "It did," she said.

"It does seem to be a very effective technique," I say, retreating back to my cushion. "It certainly worked for me. I'll be honest with you, I came to you today because I was feeling frustrated dealing with Opal, and I needed a break. She's been incredibly moody lately, and I have no idea why." I close my eyes, take a deep breath, and release all my air in a relaxing sigh. "But now, those problems seem a thousand miles away."

A squirrel scampers up to our table, chittering in its strange language. I obviously have no idea what it's saying, but nevertheless, Fluttershy gestures to it and says, "There is one more reason why I meditate." Again, she flicks her eyes up and twitches her ears before looking back at me, smiling.

Taking the advice of the master, I close my eyes and listen again. Instead of panning off the chitters as meaningless noise, I focus and try to make sense of it. The chitters I hear are fast, almost frantic. Along with its frequent vocalizations, I hear a good deal of teeth gnashing as well. It sounds like the squirrel is chewing on something but has nothing in its mouth. It's almost as if the squirrel is . . . hungry?

I open my eyes, intending to ask Fluttershy if my suspicions are correct. She's not in her seat; I see that she has gotten up silently and is in the kitchen. It's incredible that I didn't hear her so much as shift. She comes back from the kitchen, a few slices of an apple in hoof. The squirrel jumps up and down excitedly at the sight of food. After letting the squirrel gorge itself on the apple for a few moments, I turn to Fluttershy.

"The squirrel was hungry, correct?" I ask.

She smiles, and nods. "I'm glad that you caught that. He was hungry for fruit, specifically. Squirrels make different sounds depending on what they're hungry for." Fluttershy walks up to the squirrel and strokes its back gently. "Animals can't talk to us, so to communicate with them, you have to listen."

"Amazing . . ." I murmur. I look around Fluttershy's cottage. Her entire life is built on a foundation I was never aware of until now. Her mysterious ability to communicate to animals is no Celestia-given gift, but an acquired skill refined and perfected over years and years of practice.

Fluttershy walks to the window and looks at the weather outside. The rain has stopped, and the sky is visible through the clouds. It glows with the dark lavender of twilight. "I think you should be getting home, Rarity," she says. "It's late, and the rain has cleared."

Have I really wasted the entire day? . . . No, a day with Fluttershy is never wasted. Have I really meditated the entire day away with Fluttershy? I guess I have. Time passes far too quickly when meditating, it seems.

"Yes, I should be going," I say. "Thank you again for the . . . well, lesson, I suppose. I never imagined it would be so relaxing; I feel like a new mare! In fact . . ." I pause. As much I would like to will it to the contrary, my newfound peace will not last forever. The stresses of life are incessant and demanding.

I continue. "Would you mind if I came back on occasion to meditate with you? It is quite the relaxing experience, and I could use them to—oh!" I'm interrupted as Fluttershy dives at me and forcibly expels the air from my lungs. She hugs me tightly, and nuzzles her face against mine. Though confused by Fluttershy's sudden enthusiasm, I reciprocate the affection and nuzzle her back.

"Oh, thank you, Rarity!" Fluttershy says. "I've tried so many times to get other ponies to meditate with me. It can get lonely sometimes. It seems like nopony out there understands meditation." She clutches me a little tighter. "I'm so glad I found somepony who does."

"You know," I say, gently rocking her back and forth, "maybe if other ponies took the time to slow down and listen like you do, they would understand." I release the embrace and put my hooves on her beautiful face. I gaze into her eyes and smile.

"But until then, this will just be our little corner of Equestria."

The sky outside is dark, and the moon is the only source of light. After our time together, I headed home with the promise of more sessions in the future. Though it was in my mind the whole time, it was still unexpected when the first thing that greeted me home was a grumpy cat.

"Oh, Opal, what am I going to do with you?" I say, some of my previous ire finding its way back into my mind.

Opal only snarls and scratches the bars of her cage in response. I sigh and unlatch the cage, letting her out. As much as I don't want Opal scratching up the floor or the drapes, it's not fair to her to keep her in her kennel all day long.

Opal creeps out of her cage, growling all the while. She walks to the food and water I set out for her this morning. She takes a few long draughts from the water bowl. However, she only takes two bites of the food before snarling, shaking her head, and retreating from the bowl. She starts charging around the room, putting a few new gouges into the hardwood floor.

I sigh again. "Opal, why are you behaving so? If only you could just talk to me and tell me what's wrong."

Animals can't talk with us, so to communicate, you have to listen, a familiar voice chimes in my head. Perhaps Opal is telling me what's wrong in her own way. I close my eyes.

The most obvious sound I hear is the sound of wood being dug up from the flooring and being flung in various directions. I frown at the repairs I'll have to arrange, but I try to ignore that sound. I strain my ears to hear what other sounds my cat is making. She's growling, of course. Her legs are moving quickly, some of them dragging along the floor and digging up wood splints, Others, however, are thumping rhythmically on the ground. As Opal gets closer to me, I can pinpoint that her hind legs are doing the thumping. Left, right, left, right, left, right . . .

Strange. I've only heard that rhythm a few times before. Once was with myself, when, at a party, I ate a rhododendron by accident. Rhododendrons and Rarity don't really agree with each other. I was left marching my hind hooves all night to try and ease the discomfort in my belly.

I snap my eyes open, and whip out my hooves to capture Opal. While cuddling her, I say, "I'm sorry, Opalescence. Are you allergic to the new cat food I bought you?" Naturally, she does not respond, but continues to growl and flex her hind legs rhythmically. I'm certain I have it right. "Oh, Opal, I promise I'll go back out to the store first thing tomorrow and find the old food, okay?"

As Opal writhes in my grip, I think back to the skill Fluttershy taught me. She was right: an entire layer of the world comes into focus if one just takes the time to stop and listen.

Author's Note

Special thanks to Eloquence for editing this story.