Delicate Petals in a Breeze Gone By

by gb2matty

Rating: everyone
Tags: Sad, Lyra, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Fluttershy, Slice of Life
Length: 2665

Somethimes, when you see a delicate flower, it's best to observe and preserve the moment.

Sometimes, when you see a delicate flower, its petals blowing in a breeze, it's best to preserve the moment instead of taking it with you. Sometimes, if you touch the flower in a wrong way, it may be too brittle to hold, and will crumble to ashes at your hooves. As we all know, there is no worse a crime than killing a flower, with no wronging against its name.

Lyra, while reading the newspaper, in her usual spot in the park, fails not to notice a beautiful yellow mare across the path.

Published 2012-07-26 21:14:04 UTC
Last updated 2012-07-26 21:14:04 UTC

Delicate Pedals in a Breeze Gone By

Delicate Pedals in a Breeze Gone By

Very far away from all of civilized Equestria, far past the reaches of the Everfree Forest, and the griffin territory beyond that; beyond the land of the dragons, the elders, the tribal ponies at the peaks of the Vast Beyond, there lay a meadow in a valley. And in this meadow in a land far, far beyond, there lay a flower. This such flower was beautiful. It had perfect roundness to its pedals. It shined brightly in the sunlight, even where Princess Celestia herself didn't know the sun shone. It had the fragrance of a thousand perfumes, all more beautifully described than the one before. However, this flower, this beautiful flower, had lived its life untouched by ponykind. Its wonders that would be a delight to even the most royal of ponies remained unseen, untouched, uninterrupted by anything.

But this was for the good for the flower.

For, if this flower were to be touched by more than the sunlight or a slight breeze, this flower, the most delicate and beautiful of its species, would be no more. It would falter, fall apart, disintegrate at contact, and this specimen from the most beautiful and articulate parts of nature, would cease to exist.

This is why the flower is forced to spend its days in solitude. It has seen plenty around it, but has never been aloud to truly feel.

Beauty is a sad thing. True beauty can only truly be seen, and never touched.

The routine started at eight in the morning for "Lonely Lyra", or so she calls herself. Eight a.m. is when the minty mare walks to her doorstep, hooves perfectly in unison with her fest from yesterday, yesterweek, yestermonth, and yesteryear. She opened the door, to the surprise of a derpy grey mare at her doorstep, for whom, even after the same routine of every day, eight a.m., was about to knock on Lyra's door. Following the sudden loss of an entity called "door" in front of the mare, Derpy faltered a bit trying to figure out why the door seemed a bit more fleshy and skull-like. Hearing the groan that proceeded, she quickly came to the conclusion that the door had turned into a mint colored pony standing before her. The bubbly mare just gave off one of her "patented Derpy smiles" and handed over that days issue of Equestrian Times, free of charge. Lyra just grunted in thanks and shooed Derpy with a hoof.

Eight o' five a.m: get an ice pack from the freezer. Lyra let another groan escape her lips. Same routine, every day.

Eight forty-five carried with it the "chore", for at this point it was so much routine, even though a completely optional step in her day, it had become boring and somewhat a chore, of: reading the newspaper in the park. When she had started up this task, all those years ago, it had been as a way to enjoy herself, and possibly learn something, before she had to trudge her way through the rest of her day. Now it was just as much of a chore as everything else.

Lyra made her way through the wonderful town of Ponyville. People were bustling, buying things from shops, chatting on the streets, walking their pets, even the children were out having fun before school started. Everyone besides Lyra. Of course the minty mare didn't want to ruin anypony else's day, so when somepony asked her how she was, or why she seemed so down that morning, she put on her best fake smile and said, begrudgingly, but with full enthusiasm, something along the lines of "good" or "just at bit tired, is all" and made sure others went on their way with a genuine smile on their faces. Knowing someone was happy, or was happy thinking she was happy, kept Lyra going at that point. After the pony in question had escaped Lyra's peripheral vision, however, she grumbled to herself, lowered her head slightly, and let the smile falter, resulting in a half frown on a visibly down pony. Not many took heed in comforting her, though; ponies she passed nowadays were the same ponies she passed a long time ago, and they had gotten used to Lyra's... sadness.

As much as she'd hate to admit it, Lyra was a sad pony. A very sad pony indeed.

After a short walk and fewer "admirers" asking questions from the day before, Lyra neared the bench she sat on to read. She had gotten to calling it "The Bench of Sadness", and, to her dismay, so did many of the inhabitants of Ponyville. She was likely the only pony to sit on her bench, as most folks know that the "sad mare of Ponyville", as she every once-in-a-blue-moon heard somepony whisper to another, sat. Anypony else, including the entire filly and colt population, just thought it made them sit weird like Lyra. Lonely Ol' Lyra: the mare who sits weird. Now she had something to add to her gravestone. Either way it was her bench to sit in loneliness, by herself, and read the newspaper. As she did every time she sat on her rump to read the oddly up-beat news in a town full of happy individuals, she looked up, just to make sure no one was staring like they used to, and, as a beat of her heart made it to the top of her chest, maybe, possibly, have someone looking at her as a pony, and not as a lonely shell.

What she got was much better than either of the two.

What she got was a glimpse at the most beautiful mare in all of Ponyville. She saw this mare, a butter-yellow pegasus with a flowing pink mane and beautiful blue eyes, eyes she would be content with just staring into for ages upon ages more. Those eyes would drain her of her sorrow, and fill her with love. Compassion. At least somepony to hold on to.

Now, it wasn't because Lyra loved this mare at first sight. Far from it, in fact. Lyra, being the sad pony she was, had given up on love a long time ago. Love was a thought that had shriveled up and died after her first love, and only love, said no to her when she was just a filly. Lyra was a pony of no second chances, and therefore gave up on the subject of love entirely with that one sudden break-of-heart.

Now, what Lyra felt was not love, but a longing for happiness. This pony, laying on the grass mere feet from her, just across the path from where Lyra sat, radiated kindness. She could tell, even without being able to hear the words, nor the tone of voice that she portrayed, that the pony cared for the... bunny? The bunny that she talked to so intently. She knew that, even without hearing a word from her mouth float to Lyra's ears through a trick of the breeze, that she - the very pony of sadness - could just walk up to the mare in question, and do nothing more than ask for a hug, and the she would comply. She would comply in a way that would make it feel as though she were hugging a lifetime best-friend or.. even her mother. Yes, she had a motherly vibe that vibrated Lyra's heartstings and made her long to hug this butter pony in question. Just a sight was enough.

She could imagine the situation unfold before her very eyes...

Lyra got up from where she sat, leaving the newspaper behind, and walked slowly and delicately over the the pretty little yellow mare. An eternity passed, crossing over the small gap of a path, and through that eternity she managed to muster up the strength to talk to another pony for conversation. Something Lyra hadn't done in far too long.

"Um, excuse me? Are you new to town?" Lyra nudged the pegasus a bit, to get her attention, resulting in nothing less than a squeel and the same pony from before, seemingly confident talking to a bunny, hiding behind her hooves towards one of her own species. She glanced at Lyra, behind cowardice hooves, but offered no reply.

"Are you... feeling quite alright, ma'am?" Lyra tried again, only resulting in a tiny *eep* and the mare hiding behind her hooves even further, if such a feat were possible. Had news of Lyra already spread to a newcomer of Ponyville?

"I'm sorry if I scared you, but... I mean no harm... Can- can you, in the least, tell me your name? Please?" Lyra saw her only chance at happiness in this single pony, and she was not going to let it escape her hooves this easily.

"F-fluttershy..." she mumbled, very quietly, much too quiet to hear on any pony levels.

"I'm sorry, didn't catch that, mind repeating yourself?" Lyra implored. At the least she deserved the mares name. Lonely Lyra plastered a semi-genuine smile, to help the poor timid mare... stray away from her comfort zone.

"Fluttersh-shy...." She murmured, a bit louder than last. The smile seemed to have been helping.

"Flutter-what? You need to speak up a bit," Lyra put on her best smile, trying not to be creepy, but instead inviting, letting Flutter-whatsherface know she's at the very least welcomed in Ponyville.

"Flutter... shy," Fluttershy inevitably said, not very loudly, but audible. She blushed, made another *eep* and hid a bit more in her... body.

"Fluttershy... that's a very nice name you've got there. I'd have to say it matches your personality quite well," Lyra smiled, a real genuine smile at her own remark, and Fluttershy did the same, escaping slightly from her own hoof-prison. "So, you new to Ponyville? I haven't seen you before."

"Y-yeah, I guess I am. Came from Cloudsdale a few days ago." Fluttershy shrugged a bit, and smiled, looking Lyra right in the eyes. Her sense of kindness had returned, and Lyra was taking it in gulps. It felt good to have unquestionable happiness be given to her.

"Why would you move here from Cloudsdale? I hear it's a beautiful city, something only pegasi can only truly take in."

"Don't get me wrong, it's beautiful, but..." the butterfly pegasus meagerly and suddenly sucked in all her exposure, pulling it into a tight ball, not letting a single drop go. It was as if she left, all together, leaving Lyra alone yet again. "You'd probably think it was boring or something. Everypony thinks I'm meager and boring and too shy for my own good," she hung her head just to add a measure to the sad meter building in Lyra's heart. She had to hear now.

"Trust me. I want to know. It's not boring in the least. You're not meager and you're just as shy as you need to be to fill your name. Now, please tell me why," Lyra stated. She stated what her heart said, and for once the sadness had no part. Lyra smiled again, enjoying every second her grin lasted.

"Oh... well, if you say so..." Fluttershy began.

She would tell Lyra of her experiences in Flight School, about how she was bullied for not being a good flier, and about how a brave young filly, at the time, named Rainbow Dash helped her not only keep the bully problem at bay, but also find her special talent, which was animal care-taking, indicated by the three butterflies on her flank. Lyra would be surprised that a pegasus' special talent could be something not flying related, and they'd laugh. Lyra would ask if they'd like to hang out the next day, and Fluttershy would comply, and they'd talk, and they'd hang out and have picnics under the sun, and Lyra would help with the care-taking while Fluttershy would attend Lyra's performances.

Eventually the other bearers of the elements would come to Ponyville, one by one. First Pinkie would meed the duo, and as in Pinkie fashion she'd introduce the pair to Applejack and her family, and the four would talk and hang out and watch the stars and have sleepovers. Applejack would tell a ghost story, and Lyra would listen intently, and Fluttershy would hide behind the minty mare and Pinkie would laugh at the scene, and they'd all laugh. Dash would come looking for 'Shy, and they'd watch her practice stunts, one upon another, and none would be boring. Rarity would come and bring the idea of romance, which Lyra and 'Shy would toy with for a bit, with no avail, as well as no broken hearts. Eventually Twilight would come, and Lyra would spend less time with the gang, but enough to keep her happy. They'd argue, and sometimes they'd make empty promises of never talking again and whatnot, and always the promises would be broken and everything would be better again.

Lyra would have friends. Lyra would be happy, and no longer would the title of "Lonely Ol' Lyra: the mare who sits weird". She would be just Lyra, the mare who sits differently. She would not have to trudge through her schedule, for who can have a schedule when you have Pinkie Pie: Party Pony as a friend? She no longer woke to meet Derpy at the door, for she cancelled her newspaper delivery. The news was what she wold have lived, and what's a better was of getting your news than being it. She no longer cared about going to work. She had friends that would help her, and love her, and give her happiness, and that's all that was needed.

And, eventually, the time came to write her gravestone, and it said:

Lyra: A pony with friends that made her heart ache no longer.

And she rested happy and easy with joy in her cool heart and old veins and she was cast in her hollow hole. No matter how hollow the hole, her heart was full.

...or, at least, that's what she imagined. She glanced again at the pony and sighed. He fantasies of happiness would come true another day. The mare in front of her was a delicate flower, one meant to be touched by only the most specific of things; the wind, the sunlight, the droplets of rain of a cool spring day. Maybe some friends will come along, one day, and be delicate flowers like her, and they will blow in the wind in a meadow far, far away together, happy to be touched by nothing but the sunlight, the breeze that blows by on a cold autumn day, or other, happy, delicate flowers like themselves.

Not a cold, hard, heavy rock like Lyra.

This pony was a beautiful flower, meant to be seen, and not touched. She's meant to touch Lyra, in a way. Seeing such a happy delicate flower blowing in the breeze before her gave the sad, cold, lonely rock of a mint green mare something she could only have imagined: hope. Hope that another cold, hard, heavy rock will come rolling into Ponyville, and maybe, just maybe, bump into Lyra.

And maybe, together, the two cold, hard, heavy rocks will be a tad less cold, hard, and heavy.

The End

A/N
This is a fic that came to me this morning (6/26) while reading some fiction at four in the morning. At that point it was just an idea, but after sitting here it has flourished into something I didn't imagine it would. Also, after this is published, I'd like some opinion: should I see if I can post this on EQD? I personally think it's good, certainly outpacing my standards of how I expected to write this. Even if you hated this fic, and want to strangle me with the wire of a fishing net for writing this, I appreciate the read. I hope you enjoyed. Feedback is much appreciated!

~Matty