Fallout: Equestria - Blood and Flowers

CHAPTER THREE

Bloodshot had never gave much information of his adventures to Violet.

He didn’t even talk about his travels if he could avoid it. While his answers to her questions were in fairly good detail, he had cut most of it out. It’s true, he would sometimes save lives. He would sometimes steal from Raider and Slavers in order to give those items to the poor. He did what little he could for justice, if justice even existed in this hell.

Before he had saved the lilac-eyed mare, Bloodshot was the stereotypical teenage colt who had lived in a bad household. Back at Stable 2, Bloodshot grew up with a kind-hearted mother but an abusive father. While he did care for his mother, little could be done about the situation, and he ended up using a combination of alcohol, drugs and such to get his mind off of the problems.

The Stable was a boring place, and although everyone had to partake in a job to contribute to the lifestyle of others, there was no excitement. How Bloodshot wished for a dramatic change, and later on, how he wished that change never happened.

Although he himself had changed for the better when he escaped the Stable in a drunken and adrenaline daze, the literal safety and promise of another tomorrow diminished. Nobody could say that their life wouldn’t end tomorrow. Even if places such as New Appleloosa were considered safe havens, there was still the constant possibility of death. Complete safety did not exist.

And, as proven, complete safety did not exist even within the Stables.

When Bloodshot left Stable 2, he was greeted with the lonely ruins of what was once Sweet Apple Acres and the humid air of the Raider-infested town of Ponyville. Not only that, but on his own personal travels, Bloodshot had encountered feral ghouls, artificial alicorns and mutated creatures beyond recognition. The Equestrian Wasteland, nearly devoid of life, was no sight nor place for those of weak will and frail health. Horrors beyond anyone’s imagination dwelt within the corners of this apocalyptic scenery. No pen on paper, no artist’s rendition, could ever translate this desolate world into understanding.

The once bountiful empire of Equestria, a land of nature and beauty that thrived because of its strong friendship, had become a war-torn wasteland of near-nothingness.

So when Bloodshot came across a helpless mare, how could he not help?

Now, that very same pony lay next to him, her dark purple mane sprawled out over the mattress and her eyes still closed. It was barely sunrise, and the warm rays of the golden orb peaked over the horizon. Bloodshot left Violet’s side, carefully standing up and managing to not wake her. He had something in mind for this special morning, especially after what had happened the previous night.

Packing food and water for what was meant to be a three hour trip, Bloodshot prepared for another day on the wastes. By the time he had his equipment and armour ready, the empty land was flooded in blinding sunlight. A few rays peaked through the window, highlighting floating dust particles as if they were glitter in mid air. Bloodshot gently kissed Violet’s cheek before leaving for the Equestrian Wasteland.

** *** * *** *

Beige.

Violet stared upwards at the slightly rusted beige of the room's ceiling. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and sat up in bed, half hoping to spot her lover either fiddling with his guitar or tinkering with his rifle. Sadly, Bloodshot was nowhere to be found, having already left and would most likely be back only in the afternoon.

A yawn escaped the mares’ lips as she hopped off the bed, only to realize how sore she had been from the previous evening. Remember what had taken place, a deep crimson blush spread across her cheeks before she shook her head wildly, trying to throw the awkward memory from her brain. “Maybe I'll go visit Lilac today,” Violet mumbled to herself. “After all, there's nothing to do.”

As the last sentence exited her mouth, Violets’ ears dropped considerably. There wasn't anything to do, just like everyday. Her life in New Appaloosa had come to the point where Violet realized that there was no progress, no adventure and only the continuous, never-ending cycle of ‘wake up, eat, do chores and sleep.’ For Celestia’s sake, she didn't even know how to defend herself yet.

“Note to self: Ask Bloodshot to teach you defense.”

Violet didn't do much at home, and although staying in New Appleloosa was for (what Bloodshot called) her own safety, the place was starting to feel more like a prison. Same plain walls. Same plain building.

Same. Everything.

Sure, the life she led here was a million times better than her past, but in the end, the feeling of captivity never left. Violet just wanted a spark of excitement. For once.

She didn't even have her cutie mark.

With her beauty and musical talent, Violet had become New Appleloosa’s darling. Everyone in town knew the young mare. After all, those skilled in the arts were considered treasures, and yet, according to Lady Destiny, piano was not her special talent.

As she made her way to Lilac’s cottage, which was really a large, old shed at the edge of the town, Violet was greeted by a tip o’ the hat from a few and a smile or wave by others. The shed, which had once been painted a barn red, came into view, its maroon coating chipping off. Despite the level of decay and the years that had passed by, Lilac’s cottage was considered the most memorable place in New Appleloosa. Although the shed’s exterior was plain and monochrome, it was not only a home but a museum and memorial of better days. When she was a filly, Lilac had gathered as many pre-war photographs as possible, later hanging the dilapidated pictures up in her home. Even others contributed to the collection of memories -- the photos ranging from the time periods of Princess Luna’s fall to the disastrous end of the Great War and the eventual demise of Equestria.

Among the memorial of time were pictures of the ministry mares themselves (long before the war and in their young adulthood -- they would have been hundreds of years old by now), each of them with a smile on their faces, oblivious to the horristic future. Another picture presented three fillies -- one, an orange pegasus, on what Bloodshot had called a scooter -- two, a curly maned unicorn, with a microphone in hoof -- and three, a redhead earth pony, who was biting into a red fruit. The caption read, ‘CMC3BFF.’ Compared to other characters, these nine ponies appeared the most.

And last, but not least, was a picture of the princesses-turned-goddesses.

Violet had examined these photos time and time again. Not only were the ponies within the pictures smiling brightly, but from the start, they were healthy, with eyes of hope and not the slightest hint of despair. But as the photographs passed by in the best chronological order Lilac could muster, the smiles began to become forced ones, up until the point where they didn’t even exist. Their clean, shining coats became dirty and covered in scars. The backgrounds went from grand buildings to military propaganda. The mood of lightheartedness faded into one of darkness.

Pride.

Envy.

Greed.

Wrath.

… War.

So that was how this lifestyle came to be.

Of what Violet had learned about the Great War from Bloodshot and Lilac, the armed conflict between Zebras and Equestria lasted decades. Thousands upon millions died in the struggle. And for what? Gemstones? Coal? How silly. How foolish.

But she wouldn’t understand. It was too late to understand.

A pony couldn’t be everywhere at once. A pony couldn’t save everyone. But if one pony could do that much, why couldn’t Violet? Violet wanted to be able to do something. Something more.

And be someone more.

One day. Just one day. Maybe just one day, that time would come to pass.

Moving on from the such a past, but still intrigued by it, was Lilac Blossom, New Appleloosa’s local historian and home doctor. Even smaller than Violet, Lilac, known as Lil’ to most, was a pastel yellow, freckled unicorn mare with a heart of good will (which, more often than not, included motherly nagging). Lilac was the one to teach Violet the basics of unicorn magic, as she was skilled magical healing, not just teleport and levitate, which only Violet could do. And yet, despite her soft, velvety voice, Lilac claimed she couldn’t sing for her true. Which, according to her friends, was true.

Lilac hurried around her small home, clearing the only wooden table of ‘historical documents,’ which were really mainly antique party invitations, card game rules or mail. “Ahm sorry! Ah kinda should have expected ya to come over, after all,” she exclaimed in her alien, but sweet, accent. The smaller unicorn stuffed the papers away into a large trunk. “Musta lost track o’ time, aha.”

Violet watched her dear friend as she sat at the table and laughed softly. “It’s fine, Lilac…”

“Still callin’ me Lilac after all this time? Might as well call me Lil’ like everyone else.”

“It just seems strange to call you Lil’. I’m quite small too, you know,” Violet replied.

Lilac trotted over and sat across from Violet. “But ahm smaller,” she said, exaggerating the last part of the word. “Still as small as ah was when I was sixteen, nevah to grow any taller. I have the physique of a child, but at least ya look a bit like an adult... Happy birthday by the way.”

“Thank you, Lilac.”

“Lil,’ Violet. Lil,’” she corrected.

Violet rolled her eyes. “Fine. Fine. Lil.’”

Lilac shook her head softly. “You say that everyday, butcha still call me Lilac. It’s a habit of yours.”

Violet snorted slightly in an unladylike way. “Then why nag me about it?” she replied jokingly.

“Then, ah surrender,” Lilac sighed, and yet, a smirk crept onto her face. “Moving on. Whadya do with Bloodshot last night?”

“Eh?!” Violet’s face flushed brightly. “What do you mean?!”

“Ah saw it in the way ya walked here. Your backside’s sore, huh? Aww… Mah lil’ filly’s all grown up,” Lilac said in mock pride.

The fur on Violet’s neck seemed to fluff upwards. “H-hey! You’re younger than me!”

“By less than a year, ah ahm!” This was also Lilac Blossom. Despite her motherly personality, she had an addiction to gossip and drama. “So it’s true, then? Ya look like you’ve got a fever with that blush.” The statement was true -- Violet’s face was burning bright red, despite the part of her coat which covered her face. The poor, embarrassed mare covered her face with her hooves. “It was gonna happen someday, Violet. That much was obvious.” Lilac giggled and ran a hoof through her mint green and platinum blond mane.

A knock was heard at the door. “Hey, Lilac! It’s me, Bloodshot,” a familiar deep voice announced. “Is Violet with you? She’s not at home.”

“Speak o’ the devil,” Lilac announced and opened the door to the redhead. Violet just wanted to crawl under the table. “Aye, she’s here.”

Bloodshot entered the cabin to find Violet, her muzzle scrunched up. “What’s wrong…?”

“N-nothing! Er -- I didn’t expect you to be home so soon!” Violet stuttered in reply, glancing at Lilac who was standing behind Bloodshot, a smile plastered on her face.

Bloodshot gave the purple mare a questioningly glance before shrugging and placing his worn saddle bag on the wooden floor. He searched through its contents before taking out what looked like a sturdy leg cuff -- similar to the one on his left front leg. “I’m back early because I already knew what I was looking for and where to go. This is called a PipBuck,” he explained. “When I lived back in Stable 2, I stole one and kept it with me throughout the years. When I arrived outside, I buried it in Ponyville so Slavers couldn’t find it and use it track me. It’s the product of both magic and science, keeps track of your health, detects if the ones around you are hostile, records the radiation levels around you, allows me to know where you are, works as a flashlight and radio… et cetera.”

The blush faded from Violet’s face as she was distracted by the new object. “Amazing,” she mumbled to no one in particular.

“What a convenience!” Lilac remarked.

Bloodshot shook his head. “Eh, not really. It’s considered quite ‘pedestrian’ by the residents of Stable 2. They never even thought it would actually be needed. Now, c’mere. I’ll help you put it on.” He motioned for Violet to walk over, and she did as told. Both Violet and Lilac gathered around the strange terminal-like device. Bloodshot gently took hold of Violet’s left front leg and slipped the PipBuck just above her hoof, the device immediately fixing itself to fit the mare comfortably.

“Thanks!” Violet chirped.

“Oh, and one more thing. It was my mother’s. She gave it to me when we left Stable 2... Happy birthday,” he smiled, placing something around Violet’s neck. It was a simple necklace made of black string, but it's pendant was definitely much more special.

A silver ring.

“Will you marry me?”

Violet gasped before encasing Bloodshot in a gigantic hug. “Yes, yes I will!”

“Ah thought that you guys already gave each other a present by sleeping together last night,” Lilac commented plainly.

Oh. My. Celestia.

Violet squeaked before letting go and bolting through the door, leaving Bloodshot behind, who was practically a statue.

Lilac shrugged in mock innocence. “What?”