A Study in Mint

After a short discussion, Miss Heartstrings and I agreed to part ways for the time being. We would rejoice the next day at noon, our meeting point being the apartment she had considered. From what I could gather, she felt already certain about us easily coming to an agreement, as soon as we took a closer look at our potentially new home.

While my first impression of the mare I would come to share an apartment with was a rather odd one, I still considered her somepony worthy of getting to know better. I admit, her uncommon nature did moderately repel me at first. Then again, I found no reason to argue with her suggestion, on a purely rational level. Also, we hadn't settled on any further conditions so far. If anything about her or the apartment would turn out a little too odd, I could still remove myself from the deal without causing too much trouble.

As soon as we finished our talk, Miss Heartstrings excused herself. Apparently, an aspiring, young cellist from Canterlot was to perform at a local concert venue that afternoon. A great admirer of stringed musical instruments, Miss Heartstrings wouldn't want to miss out on it. Judging from the enthusiasm swinging in her voice, I could tell as much.

While on the subject, she also told me about herself playing the lyre as sort of a casual hobby. On the question, whether that would bother me, I answered her no. I didn't mind a bit of musicality in my surroundings every now and then, even if I wasn't as passionate about the subject, myself.

I politely declined the offer to come along, when asked about it. I was low enough on finances already, and couldn't afford anything of the likes at the moment. My plans for the afternoon consisted of little more than to go back out, while getting a closer look at the town. Some fresh air couldn't possibly hurt me after hours spent inside crowded trains and cafes. And my wallet certainly agreed on the matter.

Without any further notion, Miss Heartstrings got up in a hurry, and - after casually dropping the apartment's location with me - wished me a good day. She rushed out the door in a haste, leaving me by myself after only a few minutes of our conversation. When I asked Pinkie about the address in question later that day, she told me the street was located fairly close to the town center.

I would then actually spent some more time at Sugarcube Corner, trying to make up my mind about this strange unicorn mare. She was, without a doubt, somepony whom I could barely interpret, let alone see through. The next time Pinkie passed by my table, I told her about our mutual agreement, as well as my thoughts on Miss Heartstrings. As I did, she seemed positively surprised we came to terms with each other. Since I wouldn't visit the apartment for another day, Pinkie generously offered me to spend the night at hers. I had nowhere else to go, and thus happily accepted.

The next day before noon, I found myself at sitting at the same table once more, still at Sugarcube Corner. As it turned out, Pinkie didn't just work here. She also lived in this extremely odd building. There was small upstairs room located right under the roof, which she rented for years now. Though not exactly an affluent kind of housing, it apparently suited all her needs. Pinkie didn't keep very high standards considering her home, since she spent most of her day either outdoors, or at work. Come to think of it, she hardly used her room for anything but sleeping there at night. At times, I wondered whether she'd already been like this back at home, always rambling about.

As I said earlier, Pinkie spent all of her working shifts at the cafe, and headed into town whenever her schedule would allow it. She'd pass over the doorstep dozens of times within a day. Time elsewhere was always spent in order to catch up with her friends, who apparently included every single resident this town had. Hypothetically, Pinkie could also spent her free time at Sugarcube Corner, assuming she couldn't find anything fun to do, anywhere. Those times hardly ever occurred, though.

The downstairs kitchen also represented the only one of its kind at the cafe. Since Pinkie could hardly prepare any meals in her own room, she consumed most of her meals down here, in the public dining area. That also accounted for our mutual breakfast that morning. Pinkie got the two of us a bowl of cereal each. While this might sound rather feeble for some observers, it was more than a mare of my financial situation could ask for. Along with it came a glass of milk for me, and a sample of a certain Special Pinkie Mixture for herself. Whatever the drink contained, it looked rather appalling, and extremely caffeinated.

In all honesty, I already started to feel bad about abusing her hospitality the way I did. It was for the same reason, that I prepared myself to leave as soon as I was done eating, though not without expressing my sincerest gratitude. When I also offered a small amount of coins in return for her help, Pinkie refused, seeming almost offended. She told me that a smiling friend was all she could ever ask for in return.

With my first impressions of Ponyville remaining thoroughly positive that way, I already felt I could easily make myself at home around here.

Soon after leaving Sugarcube Corner, I started to follow the path Pinkie had laid out for me earlier. Her directions would lead to the lengthy, main road they call Bucker Street. Its southern end was situated right inside the town center, bordering a minor cobblestone square. It didn't turn out a very rough task finding said location, and neither would it take me longer than ten minutes or so.

In the square's center there stood a large, circular building. Judging from the plaque next to its entrance door, it bore the name Carousel Boutique. The extremely colorful, and somewhat pompous construction consisted of something between two and five stories. I couldn't tell their exact number from the outside, since large portions of the boutique looked like the roof of a huge, strangely patterned tent. These parts looked sufficient in height to support their own floors, but they could also contain the highest portion of the rooms below. Combined with every other unusual piece of decor, including a certain number of fake mannequins on its outside, the building made an incredibly tacky first impression on me.

Shaking my head in disbelief, I walked past, heading into the lengths of Bucker Street. From here, I proceeded further north, following the road in straight direction for about a mile and a half. I had to cross all this distance, since the house I was looking for unfortunately lay at the road's opposite end. From what Miss Heartstrings told me, I could easily recognize it by the blue entrance door displaying the brass letters 221B.

As opposed to what I expected from my directions, the exact destination lay all but in the center of Ponyville. It was in fact located very much on the edge of town. Only a few hundred yards beyond, the settled areas would quickly give way to the wilderness of Regent's Wood, and extended part of the infamous Everfree Forest. Its beginnings marked the city's northern border.

I proceeded to walk down Bucker Street in its entirety, finding myself at a steadily approaching loss of patience. The road just seemed to wind on and on. What was worse, almost every building to either side looked exactly identical to the ones right and left from it. Two story housings made from either bricks, cobbles, or wood, covered by the same haystacked roofs as almost every building around town. Sugarcube Corner, as well as the strange boutique, each seemed to make a rare exception of the rule.

Inside the lower floors of most Bucker Street buildings, smaller stores and cafes were commonly located, while the upstairs areas appeared to be used as ponies' living spaces. Impressions like these made my idea of running a business of my own in this environment start to blossom again.

I could welcome something lighting up my mind at that time. Despite all signs of positivity around myself, frustration had gotten the better of me early on. After all, from the constantly identical looks of the street, it seemed I wouldn't make any progress at all. If I could think of anything giving me at least some consolation, that would be a good night's rest, and a healthy breakfast. My saddlebags didn't seem to weigh as heavily as they did yesterday, either.

After another half hour or so trotting along my spirits lightened up a little, as the house I've kept looking for finally came into view. I recognized it standing to my left, flanked by another small cafe, and a store selling cheap memorabilia concerning some local musical artist. The two-story, wooden building in between them mostly did look similar to every other on the street, but its blue door definitely set it apart. Like Miss Heartstrings described it earlier, the brass number attached to it's upper portion clearly stood out, catching my eyes within an instant. A small front garden accompanied the house, giving it a most sympathetic touch. Its neatly cut lawn was split in half only by the pebbled path leading up to the front door, which I have already described.

While the two of us had agreed on meeting right in front of the house's entrance, Miss Heartstrings was nowhere to be seen. Looking up and down the street with a certain sense of anxiety, I decided to give her some more time. I walked into the front garden, passing over the small path at an eased pace, until I was about halfway to the door. There, I sat back on my haunches, thus giving my back some rest after two days of constantly carrying those heavy bags around on it. Though I still preserved a lot of energy from last night's sleep, I felt a sore aching in every part of my limbs and torso, all of which appreciated a short break.

Despite my physical weariness, I soon started scanning the road in both directions, uneasily looking for any sign of a mint green unicorn. I expected seeing Miss Heartstrings walk up to me any moment now. From what I'd seen of her so far, I couldn't possibly determine how dependable a pony my potential flatmate was. But with this definitely being an important appointment, I expected anyone to be on time for once. And yet, I couldn't make out a trace of her, whatsoever.

Time went and passed, but no sign Lyra Heartstrings was anywhere to be seen. Remembering her odd behavior from the day before, I soon expected her delay to be part of some spectacular entrance, but that didn't seem to be the case, either. At around twenty minutes past noon - I had waited for about half an hour, as it was - an extremely visual frown worked its way onto my face. My frustration grew with every moment, especially since I had completely trusted Pinkie with her suggestion of moving in with Lyra.

Eventually turning to leave, I assumed myself the victim of some cruel hoax. The best plan appeared most likely consisted of returning to the cafe for Pinkie's afternoon shift, and have a serious talk with her about what had happened. I almost made it back to the main street, when suddenly hearing a faint creaking noise from behind. From the corner of my eyes, I noticed the blue door behind me quietly sliding open.

"Oh! Excuse me, miss," a raspy voice in a strong Trottingham accent called out, originating from the same direction. "Can I help you?"

I turned back around to find myself face to face with an elderly mare, standing in the doorway. The combination of her golden fur, and a multi-shaded, gray mane reminded me of somepony else at first. However, I couldn't quite put my hoof on who that would be at the time. Her kind, purple eyes looked at me in a much more welcoming manner than I would have expected from a complete stranger, and quickly got me out of my thoughts. In the harsh atmosphere of Appleloosa, a gesture of that kind wasn't a very common sight.

"Why, hello dear," the mare said, as I approached her. "You must be Lyra's new flatmate, aren't you?"

I'm afraid I displayed much more of my own confusion than I had planned in that moment. Once inflicted, the damage could hardly be undone, though. I wanted to facehoof first, but ultimately remained still in an effort to not embarrass myself any further. The other mare didn't seem to mind all that much, luckily. Upon a quaint nod coming from my perplexed face, she smiled and waved a hoof to invite me inside.

"Come in then, don't you worry. Lyra is upstairs, already waiting for you. Oh, and where are my manners," she stumbled, as I stepped closer. "My name is Yearling. I am the landlady of this house." With slightly narrowed eyes, she lowered her voice, and added: "Be careful not to test Lyra's patience. She can become very upset if you leave her waiting."

A disbelieving look on my face, I initially wanted to protest. After all, I wasn't the one having left anypony waiting out in the cold. Keeping in mind the mare's initial kindness however, I simply returned her smile and trotted inside. Once I passed the doorstep, I found myself standing in a long, dark corridor. It didn't contain any windows, and the wallpaper was colored mostly in shades of brown and dark beige. It was a narrow hall; the entrance door took up more than half of its entire width. In front of me, the room split in half. A white door frame on the left lead to an apartment on this floor, while to its right, a wooden staircase proceeded upwards.

Simultaneously to taking in my new surroundings, the gears in my head finally connected. "Wait, did you say Yearling?" I asked her. "You're not the famous author, A.K. Yearling, by any chance?"

I admit, I hadn't read any of the Daring Do novels at the time. But like most ponies, I certainly did hear about her popularity, and that of her books, before. Like Sapphire Shores or John Lee Hoofer, Yearling was one of those names likely to ring a bell inside anypony's head. Though I never expected the creator of a famous adventure book series to run a two-story house in northern Ponyville.

The mare closed the entrance door behind me, then rushed past, until she found herself standing in the opposite door. She cast a quick, anxious glance behind herself, before turning back to face me. "I'm not that author, dear. Only a relative of hers. Amy is my daughter, to be precise," she explained with a smile, before motioning to the staircase. "Go on ahead, I'll be along in a minute, just have to..."

"Mrs. Yearling!" a familiar voice sternly yelled from upstairs. "How's the tea coming?"

"Oh my, just as I expected," the mare quietly replied, rolling her eyes in slight annoyance. "Don't worry, dear. She does that sometimes."

I nodded and thanked her, before proceeding upstairs. All the while, I kept turning the though of me and A.K. Yearling's mother living under one roof around in my head. I wasn't sure how to feel about that, but it certainly did sound like an interesting arrangement. Also, how did Miss Heartstrings get to know her landlady so well? From what I presumed earlier, this day marked her first visit to the house, just as it did for myself. Yet, she behaved like this had been her home for years.

Once at the top of the stairs, I entered another corridor, which looked very much like the one below. There was a heavy oak door situated to my right, and two smaller, framed windows at the opposite end, facing the street below. Proceeding towards the door, I hoped to get some answers on my unfortunate situation. As I turned the knob, it easily swung open, despite its massive nature. The sight that presented itself on the other side was anything but what I had expected. A large, luxuriously furnished room opened up in front of my eyes, spanning well over the entire building's length.

Right in front of me, only three of four feet into the room stood a small, ornamented dining table. It appeared to be carved from a single piece of wood. Two chairs, opposing each other had been drawn towards it. Beyond these, situated well in the room's center, stood two expensive armchairs, and a couch. They created a narrow pathway in between, which lead towards a fireplace constructed into the opposite wall. Though there weren't any flames in it at that moment, I could easily imagine the warmth and comfort it would give once ignited.

To my right, a few cupboards of all shapes and sizes were crammed into the room's corner. Placed on top stood several objects of decor, such as a globe, and a small bronze statue. The latter displayed a pegasus mare unknown to me. Several portraits of ponies I didn't recognize either were hung up on the walls above. One of these walls, the one facing out front, was largely interrupted by a wide glass panel. This large bay window occupied the whole height of the room, reaching right from floor to ceiling. An overwhelming view on the street could easily be enjoyed from there.

In the opposite direction, to my immediate left, a wardrobe was attached to the wall, from which coats and hats of all kinds were hung. In the corner beyond stood a full assembly of all kinds of desks, including a small kitchen counter. Glasses, clamps, and other laboratory equipment were piled up on top of them. Even a low gas flame was lit below one of the oddly shaped glass containers, a light blue liquid peacefully boiling away on its inside.

The fireplace was flanked by two more, wooden doors, which interrupted the opposite wall. I assumed that these led to our respective bedrooms. In the far right corner, another staircase lead further upward, probably connecting this room with the attic.

In the midst of it all, seated in the one armchair facing away from the street window, sat Lyra Heartstrings. Though maybe the word sitting came somewhat short of describing her current position. While her head, neck, and chest were casually pointed upward, her lower torso lay flat on the cushions, causing her entire body to bend at an almost right angle. Both hind legs dangled towards the ground, the exact opposite direction to where they were supposed to go, while her forehoofs both rested on the chair's arms, respectively. Whatever she was trying to either imitate or accomplish this way looked all but healthy, let alone natural.

It took her a few moments to realize she had company. When she did however, Miss Heartstrings jumped out of her chair immediately, giving me a sly, mysterious grin. Whatever I was to make of that, it didn't exactly matter to me at the time. The way I saw it, she did owe me an explanation or two.

"There you are," she said, nonchalantly. "I was starting to think you wouldn't make it."

"Well, you didn't exactly stick to our original meeting place, either," I returned with a frown. "For the past fifteen minutes or so, I was thinking you were the one leaving me waiting."

"Nonsense," Miss Heartstrings told me, in a casual tone. "I asked Mrs Yearling to show you in as soon as you got here. If she didn't comply on the matter, that can hardly be my fault. Where is she, by the way? I've asked for that earl grey a good twenty minutes ago. Ugh, that poor mare always forgets the world around herself whenever she's in the kitchen."

I raised an eyebrow at her last notion, not sure whether to take her sarcasm seriously or not. And neither did I know for certain how to reply to her right then. I simply hoped it wouldn't get me into any overly awkward situation. Which it didn't, since Lyra quickly raised a hoof, pointing at the opposite wall's door to my right.

"Your bedroom will be in there," she explained. "I suggest you get yourself settled in, tea and refreshments should be along shortly. And with them, Mrs Yearling, with whom we'll straighten out the contract. Sorry for her delay, but I don't run the schedule in here."

"What makes you so sure I'm staying?" I asked, as she turned, starting to aimlessly wander around the room. In all honesty, I hadn't ultimately decided on the matter myself, though I did my best trying to remain polite in my tone.

"Where else would you go," Ms. Heartstrings replied. "You don't really have a choice."

"You couldn't say - "

"This is the first apartment you're looking at today, right? Had you been worn out visiting any others this morning, you would hardly sit down outside, and patiently wait half an hour for somepony to arrive. Which, again, I am honestly sorry about. Now, had there been any preferable deal, you wouldn't have come this far out of town for considering to accept mine. Thus, the only conclusion remains that this apartment is your only option."

I felt the hair on my neck slowly rise up, as an tense uneasiness came over me. "You still haven't told me how you could possibly know all this about myself," I observed. It did cause Miss Heartstrings to a brief chuckle.

"There is a time and place for everything, my dear Bon Bon," she replied. "Get yourself settled in, we'll have a contract to discuss at any moment."

For reasons I didn't understand myself, I left her standing in the living room, and turned towards the door leading to my potential bedroom. If anything would make me stay here, it was merely my curiosity for my flatmate's uncommon reasoning and personality in general. And admittedly, I really didn't have anywhere else to go to.

My bedroom, laying on the north-eastern corner of the house, was decorated comparably modest. By any means though, I was positively surprised finding it furnished at all, however scarce that was. Another, smaller window was placed inside the eastern wall. It provided me with a limited view of Bucker Street even from my bed, which was placed directly below. Apart from those two items, a small shelf, two stools, and a bedside table supporting a candle were placed inside.

I threw both of my saddlebags onto the bed, then quickly started unpacking. It only took a short five minutes, which I wouldn't find all that surprising, considering my scarce amount of possessions. What confused me all the more was how I'd seemingly started to treat this house like my new home, already. And for some reason, I suddenly felt like I had in fact made up my mind. In a way, I really wanted to stay. And whether the strange presence of Lyra Heartstrings had triggered that sudden decision, I could not yet tell.