Last chants for the slow dance

The sun is just peeking out and morning dew coats the ground. The ponies of Sweet Apple Acres are busy preparing for cider season.

Applejack hauls a crate from one side of the barn to the other. She is always hauling crates. It doesn’t seem much like real work but for some reason it needs to be done. She stacks one crate on top of another, then those two on a third.

Applejack remembers what she is meant to be doing after that. She stacks a few more crates just to be safe.

Carrying the tools she had originally come in to get, Applejack steps outside back to the fields. She wants to hang her head a bit as she sees the west. Apples from those trees are shriveled black. The grass is a sickly yellow and has been dying, the soil unusually clumping, and odd weeds she’s never before seen are claiming the space.

Which is why she has her pest control equipment. Two white cylinders with various warnings she has never read compose the tank. Applejack loads the chamber with her best poisons and straps it to her back. Slinging the hose over her shoulder, she checks that the nozzle is fit snugly, grinning the grin of a problem about to be fixed. Her gentler treatments were not working and she will be damned if some out of place city weeds squat on her land.

So she’s going to kill it all. It may take the sacrifice of some of her sweet surviving apples, but by the time it has had a taste of her extra-industrial strength herbicide, this whole section of the field will be devoid of life for the next few years at least.

She paces up to the rows of trees and begins spraying. Applejack is no stranger to tough love.

Twilight jolts up and a stack of books falls on her. Swearing things like “Fuck why” and “Damn hell I’m a princess you dickhead”, she clutches her head in pain. Sometime during the night she had fallen asleep and she can’t remember when nor what she was doing.

Once it fades away, she opens her eyes. They’ve become so attuned to the poor light of the basement it takes near no time to adjust. and Twilight looks at the stacks of books around her. That’s right, she thinks, she’d stopped drilling for the night and went to her book corner to reference quantum physics materials again. Magic itself does not conform to standard notions of mass or interface with pony senses, let alone follow popular quantum theories. She just has to find the crux between magic and matter, the right resonance.

It must be some time in the morning. She thinks she is supposed to do something today. Twilight trots over to her work desk and checks her calendar and is not pleased by what she sees.

“Awful social schedules. Today is lunch with Rarity,” she spits out the name. She considers not going but that would likely mean the pushy unicorn will just come here. That would not be favorable.

It doesn’t seem likely she’ll get much done until after that and the drill isn’t going anywhere from the center of the room, so she heads upstairs to eat eggs. The light shining in the windows today seems especially bright and Twilight has to squint. Her eyes are getting increasingly sensitive since she spends all her time in the basement.

She eats her eggs and wonders where Spike is. She doesn’t really care since he can’t get very far having to robotmarch and the door’s still locked anyway. Little to fear from him. She spends time lightly reviewing her physics texts until lunch.

Twilight puts on her crown because she knows it agitates Rarity, and she heads toward their usual cafe. She doesn’t like the feel of it on her scalp, symbols of power are pretty itchy, but the tiara is useful for reaping the benefits of being princess. She has to act her station.

So she strides proudly through the streets and is pleased to observe the ponies out are careful not to find themselves in her way. The residents of Ponyville have become well versed with the consequences of impeding Royal Princess Business. Mostly it’s just her bitching at them since Princess Celestia said she couldn’t imprison anyone, but that’s fine enough because nopony wants to be in the street getting bitched at for twenty minutes.

The sky is moderately bright and she makes note to comment on that. Conversation eased by the idle and the trite; Those sort of things fit Rarity.

Too soon Twilight reaches the cafe. She doesn’t know what it’s called, to her it’s just ‘the cafe.’ She never bothers to observe the name on the exterior, but instead looks at the sign in the window ‘Home To Equestria’s Best Spinach Hoagie’. She has never gotten to actually try it for herself and thinks maybe today will be the day.

A stallion is holding the door for her and Twilight gives him her approval as a proper princess would. Inside, Rarity is seated at a table for two in the back by a window. She files her hooves while gazing blankly at the menu.

Twilight approaches the table and grabs the available chair. The unicorn glances at her and goes back to her hooves.

Wordlessly, she scans her own menu even though she has it almost memorized and knows she will be ordering the spinach hoagie besides. She adjusts her chair and winces at the squeak of metal against tile. Rarity ignores it and for a while they do not look at each other.

The waitress comes and takes their orders. Twilight goes to tell the mare she will have the spinach hoagie but Rarity says they both will have the fish fingers. Twilight sinks into her chair and harumphs, but doesn’t say anything to the contrary. She thinks to herself that when she has reality at her disposable, she’ll turn Rarity into a fish finger.

They are patiently waiting for their food when Pinkie Pie appears. Humming something synthpop she hops to their table, pulls up a chair and seats herself. “Look who it is, two of my best friends out having lunch without me!”

“Go away Pinkie, you were not invited,” Rarity scowls.

Pinkie Pie stares at her with a grin. “No, I’m going to order raisin chocolate muffins.”

“Fine, but we’re going to ignore you.”

Pinkie keeps humming and Twilight tries to sulk again. But the precursory silence has been broken. Now they are going to have to actually address each other.

Twilight opens her mouth and as there is nothing she actually wants to say, immediately resorts to the weather. “So, the weather has been not as bad as usual lately.”

“I wouldn’t say that. It has been raining like hell. But then I doubt you’ve seen much of it, always in that basement. Banal habits for banal looks.”

“It’s not raining today. Maybe it is just the sun in my eyes, but days like these make me dream of a bright future.”

“It does not interest me what you dream of.”

Twilight ignores her. “Of course I’ve been keeping busy as ever. So much to learn when your intelligence reaches the stars.”

The waitress arrives with the fish fingers. Sensing the vibes, she quickly sets their plates and takes Pinkie’s muffin order.

After she leaves, Rarity retorts, “You are not very good at what you do.”

Twilight immediately crinkles. “...Explain what you mean by that.”

The white one explains, “You don’t govern anything or perform any kind of royal duties; you’ve become a library hermit. It’s really embarrassing for a princess. And you spend so much time with your nose in musty pages you’d think you were princess of books instead of magic. You are no princess, and there’s nothing magical about you. I could have been princess.”

She’d walked into it. And Twilight can’t brag about her drill. She tries to quickly think a cutting remark. “Nuh-uh.”

“I would have been the prettiest in all the land.”

Inspiration strikes and she replies, “Then what does it say about you that Celestia chose me?”

“I was clearly next in line and would wager that if Luna had not returned, I would be a princess by now,” Rarity says, chomping her food as though it were Luna’s head.

“You carry yourself prouder than the count of blemishes on your face justifies.”

“Don’t you think I know that?” Rarity does not seem affected, clearly having the upper hoof.

Twilight violently jams a fish finger in her sauce.

She does not enjoy these outings and Rarity seems to get little out of them either. Yet the ritual persisted out of some lingering sense of obligation, and because Twilight does not want Rarity to come to her house.

“I think you know very little.”

Pinkie Pie chews on her muffin as she listens to the mares argue. Being quiet isn’t usually easy for her, but she doesn’t feel so great today. Her knees ache and one of her eyes is irritated. Lately she’s had a weird taste in her mouth and the muffin is doing little for it. Yesterday she threw a birthday party for Ditzy Doo and could barely taste the cake.

She thinks about the coming birthdays of her friends and the passing years and what their lives have been leading towards, and something ill and murky forms in her head. She occupies herself with another muffin.

Fluttershy peeks her eyes open a little. Judging from the height of the sun in her window it must be around noon. She quickly shuts her eyes again.

Sometimes Fluttershy pretends to be asleep like this so she will not have to get up and feed her animals. She hopes that if she stays in bed long enough she will fall back asleep.

The worst part of not doing things is it’s difficult not to think about things. When her mind does inevitably wander, she imagines what it would be like to be an otter. She has an elaborate fantasy life with a cute otter husband and three little cubs that she pictures herself cooking dinners for and helping with schoolwork.

It’s a nice daydream but she doesn’t think about it often. Usually she just wonders how much longer she can get away with staying in bed, and what it says about her that she intensely imagines intercourse with an otter.

Fluttershy composes a poem in her head:
I dreamt of butterflies
And certain things should have
not been so less
They were on my ass
It all comes from the same place

Having no criteria to evaluate with, she deems it good enough for her usual standards. But she won’t write it down and doesn’t want to get up anyway. So a bit more time is passed and a bit more of her effort is wasted.

Then Angel Bunny has enough of her act and climbs on the bed to stomp on her head. His fuzzy feet pound on her temple just enough to be unignorable. Fluttershy would give him a lecture on proper behavior for little bunnies, but thinks it’s cute so she lets it slide. He gets away with a lot that way.

Leaving her shield of sheets, the first thing Fluttershy does is go to her mirror and brush her hair enough to be presentable. She worries about looking so obviously unkempt, and Rarity has informed her that her mane is her best quality.

Then she proceeds through her routine of feeding and caring for her critters and tending to the sick. Spending her hours.

After her food is gone and she’s spent what is considered a socially acceptable amount of time conversing, Twilight leaves Rarity with the bill and rushes home. She is supposed to be a princess but Rarity doesn’t leave her feeling like one at all. All she can think of is her incredible drill, burrowing through the rejections of all her enemies.

It is all she can do not to break down the front door in her dash for the basement. Then she notices she has indigestion and it is all she can do not to break down the bathroom door. Twilight hates fish fingers.

She bursts open the bathroom door. Spike is standing at the toilet peeing already but Twilight doesn’t mind and teleports him to somewhere else, probably the Everfree forest. She feels close enough now that he and all he represents is irrelevant.

Her intestines are rumbling to beware, so she quickly claims her seat.

Twilight sits on her throne in quiet contemplation, with occasional grunts.

She reflects on the incident with Rainbow Dash yesterday. Twilight wonders how she can use those mind control bolts to her advantage. She recalls that the Wonderbolt is leaving Sunday morning for her Monday show for the Canterlot royalty, with Celestia the star guest.

Maybe while Dash is in Canterlot she can use her to her advantage, able to seamlessly place suggestions in Dash’s mind. Or she can just use it for cheap entertainment, since none of this will matter soon anyway.

She thinks she will do that tomorrow before Dash leaves. Just to see if it works. Of course Twilight herself can’t be seen in the vicinity when it occurs, so she will have to get her results second hoof. She will just have to make Dash do something ridiculous in public and hear all about it from the gossipy locals. And she knows they are gossipy, as she had learned last time she’d ordered the fish fingers.

Spike was peeing. Now he is in the middle of a forest.

Actually, he’s still peeing but that’s because his body is trying to catch up to this turn of events. He flexes his urethral muscles but is wary of helping it along too much because he knows how it feels when you try to stop peeing too quick and isn’t strong enough to take that. So he pisses on an odd plant and quickly scopes out his new environment.

The trees are so tall they nearly block out the sky and he already doesn’t like it here. Everything here is green, not a healthy shade like in the rest of Equestria, but dark and gnarled. There are thorned vines hanging from branches and the lack of wildlife is unsettling. He gets the distinct impression he is lost in the Everfree.

He hears a distant howl to the right and quickly looks in that direction. Robotmarching is slow going but Spike figures as long as he keeps his beeping quiet and doesn’t draw attention to himself, he should find his way out eventually. He really hopes nothing finds and eats him.

If his mouth wasn’t zipped shut, he would say something right now like, “Aww nuts,” or, “Fuck you, Twilight.”

Fluttershy saves feeding the fish for last. Lately the fish spawning in her river have been having troubles and she has enough of those, so is reluctant to face them. But she can’t just leave them be, so Fluttershy fetches her jar of fish food and heads slowly to the river, nervous of what she will see.

She sees defective baby minnow, guppies, and trout splashing toward her, eager for food. Usually Fluttershy would wade in to be nearer to them, but now she doesn’t want to be near. Most have sickly coloring or deformed fins, but a few have extra eyes and mouths, and there is even one that is conjoined. It makes both her heart and her stomach hurt - more than typical - so she quickly empties her jar and takes off.

By now it's almost dinner time. With a bit more weighing her down, Fluttershy sinks back into bed. She is grateful all her organs are in their place and are the right shapes. For a while she just thinks about her organs pumping and processing and tries to visualize what she looks like on the inside. Probably something sad and shriveled.

She is almost drifting off to sleep when Fluttershy is dredged out of bed this time by a knocking at her door. She thinks she knows who it is likely to be, hopes it isn’t, then hopes more it isn’t someone different. Then she decides to hope that it’s just the shifting of lint in her ears.

When Fluttershy becomes exceedingly anxious, she gets the urge to push lint deep into her ear canals until she can’t reach it. Lately she’s been developing ear infections but ignores it because she is afraid what the doctor will say.

But the knocking won’t stop and it obviously doesn’t sound like lint. Fluttershy opens the door slowly to show her disapproval.

As feared, there stands Rainbow Dash, rolling on her hooves and cautiously grinning with just enough shame as necessary. For some reason she’s wearing a red ascot. The visiting pegasus raises a hoof in greeting.

“And just where were you yesterday?” Fluttershy says and tries not to, but appends, “If you feel like telling,” and Fluttershy hates herself a little more.

“Went to Twilight’s and blacked a few hours far out. Guess again I’ve been working too at it.”

“Oh... Well are you okay?”

“Yeah, great as better than ever.”

She watches Dash and isn’t too sure of what she sees. The face seems haggard, her head more lumpy and scarred, damage no doubt from her rough lifestyle but that Fluttershy isn’t sure she’s noticed before.

Then Dash notices Fluttershy staring at her and Fluttershy has to look down, self consciously. “It’s just I think you look a little different. But I guess a pony can’t be sure in this illusionary existence.”

She wonders if that’s true or if there’s just something wrong with her that she can’t remember things properly. If her perceptions have changed from what she once saw as true and she can’t even remember or notice. Perhaps she had seen these scars on Dash before and was now no longer aware of it. And that scares Fluttershy, that she doesn’t even know the things she once was.

Rainbow Dash only looks at her and squints, the skin above her left brow straining at the action. “Look, don’t bring your books into it. Know what I’m saying?” she asks.

But Fluttershy is too busy thinking that perhaps she had never been Fluttershy, but something else, up till this very moment and was stocked with false memories to convince she had been so all along.

Rainbow Dash grows impatient so lets herself in and inspects the house, scanning the bare walls and dusty shelves and dirt in corners. Mice and other critters run rampant. “So not much out of the usual here, huh? Still doing the same, up to the old sins, that sort of thing?”

“Yes.”

“That the way you go about it?”

“Well, I suppose you could say…” She can’t really say and is struck with the desire to tell Dash, even though she still feels her friend ditched her again. In a flare of resolve, she starts, “Actually, not really the same, well most of it is and that part’s the problem. All my life I feel like I’ve been sinking and for a while there were you girls and that was great. But lately, I just don’t know what’s happened and what I used to have isn’t doing it anymore and I don’t think I have much longer left.” Fluttershy isn’t sure if it’s just the fuzz in her ears but her voice seems strained and squeakier than usual.

And the other mare regrets coming here, that much is apparent in her expression, a mix of discomfort and annoyance at being made aware of things she would rather not.

“I’m not… It shouldn’t... I came here to apologize and now you’re making me feel bad and I didn’t come here to feel bad. I ran to be all the way here and was hoping we could forgive and have a glass of water.” Rainbow Dash takes Fluttershy by the shoulder and waves a hoof to the air in front of them as if to explain away all she doesn’t care for. “See... You’ve got your good things, and I got mine.”

Fluttershy isn’t too sure what she expected.

“Do you understand that?”

She nods.

Applejack is reclining in her chair in the living room. The nice one with the cushion and red arm rests. It used to be Big Mac’s but she’d made him give it up as was her right as head of the house.

Her siblings get the couch with the broken springs. They are all gathered around the little color television on the shelf unit, watching the evening shows. A pony hits another pony on the head with different objects as funny sound effects play.

The fitting reward to a hard day’s labor on the farm.

But tonight Applejack isn’t truly focused on it. Her thoughts can’t get away from earlier today and the decimated field. It bothers her on an unusual level. Sure she’d done what needed doing and it had been damn fun, but what had turned that patch sour? That’s an open problem. What if whatever it was happened to the other fields? That would cripple their cider output and they really can’t afford that. They sorely need the money. They depend too much on the proceeds from cider season. She doesn’t think she’ll have to worry about a virus spreading, but what if it's something with the elements?

Big Macintosh is trying to watch the show but Applejack asks him. “Hey, Macintosh, what do you think about that bad field? The one I had to poison?”

“Eeyup.”

“Yeah, but, what do you suppose happened to it?”

Big Macintosh looks like he does not really want to be talking and would rather be watching TV, but he answers, “Don’t know. Must be something with the elements.”

I’m an element of harmony, she thinks. Applejack is pleased and says, “Yeah. Yeah, you know, I thought that myself.”

She thinks about the recent weather. That land is on the western side of the farm and the closest to the river, which has been scheduled for an awful lot of rain, lately.

But maybe it is probably nothing, just a fluke. Just in case, she should heighten her effort. Just put her head down and work harder and her nightly tv won’t be jeopardized.