Threshold

Rainbow Dash and I left the shopping center in relative silence. I, now propelled forward only by the need to save this innocent mare from her untimely death, was doing my very best to block out other… unpleasantness. And yet, the pain would flare in my cheek. The hum of the universe would fill my ears. I could feel the heat of the blow travel down my spine, snake around my neck like--

“Rarity!”

“Hm!” I straightened up.

Rainbow was looking at me carefully, with an element of concern, but not surprise.

“Sorry, dear, did you say something?”

Rainbow swallowed. “I mean, did you wanna go in or what?”

Ah, yes.

The diner.

Rainbow brushed my flank with an outstretched wing, a literal feather touch. I could feel a shiver building just under my skin. It never quite came.

I wrinkled my snout at the sight of the diner. “Of course, darling, it’s just--”

Rainbow looked at me expectantly. Little strands of her forelock brushed her forehead.

“Well, it isn’t the nicest place, is it? To eat, I mean.”

Rainbow snorted. “Where else were you planning on grabbing a bite? Your place?”

My stomach sank into my hooves.

Rainbow’s face fell with mine. “Sorry.”

I shook my head. “It’s alright.”

Her wing reached out again, this time a little more sure. Her touch sparked its way through my fur and spread a tingling sensation through me. “Don’t you wanna look for Moss?”

There was an unfamiliar tone in her voice. Something like pity, but it simply couldn’t be. It must have been exhaustion. Either way--any way--it hit with a pang of guilt. I’m sure she didn’t mean it, but Rainbow was making it very difficult to forget that I was keeping her from something more important. Some other, unnamed mission which loomed in her periphery, just behind that sheen I sometimes spotted over her eyes.

Maybe she did mean it.

“C’mon, Rares. You got this.”

I drew in a deep breath, shot it out from my lips with nearly enough force to whistle. “Mm-hm.”

We approached the diner as one might approach shelter in a storm; we walked with plodding, yet deliberate steps, leaning into one another, trudging forward with ardent desperation against winds which did not exist outside of my imagination.

But when I blinked, they did. Fierce, sand-filled gusts which threatened to knock me clean off my hooves.

I let out a cry of fear and winced against the power of the winds.

The moment my eyes closed, the wind halted.

“Rarity!” Rainbow’s hoof flew to my chest to steady me. Her wing tightened protectively around my barrel. “Holy shit, Rares, what now?”

My eyes flicked from point to meaningless point across the landscape, looking for any remaining sign of the desert storm which had nearly torn the flesh from my bones a moment ago. Nothing was the least bit out of place, of course.

“Oh, damn…” Rainbow murmured.

Her muttering brought me back from my panic. I looked down at her, expecting to see a hardened grimace of frustration, or a sagging gaze of exasperation. Not so-- she instead was looking at me, chewing on her lower lip, already reaching up to tenderly poke at… at something.

“What is it?” I asked, instinctively trying to dodge her prodding hoof.

She was determined, however, and managed to ruffle my mane for a moment.

I could feel the sand pour down onto my shoulders. Sand from a storm which hadn’t happened, not really. The storm was in my mind, just like the other visions. It wasn’t really happening, it wasn’t real, it couldn’t hurt me. Dreams can’t hurt you, Rarity. Don’t be silly.

Silly, silly me.

“What the fuck…” Rainbow’s hoof reached deeper into my mane. More sand poured down, bouncing across my snout and gathering on my lashes.

“It’s fine,” I lied. A quick once-over with my magic worked my mane back into a more familiar shape. I shook the rest off my body like a mutt. The sand settled into the landscape. “I’m alright. Must have been the wind.”

“But you--”

“Just the wind. Let’s get on with it.”

Distractions. All distractions meant to throw me off. I couldn’t let myself get swept down the river and into the ruinous rapids of anxieties and paranoia. I had to focus. Staying focused would keep me here, would ground me.

Save Moss.

MISSING

GODDESS

DUSK

“No!” The shout left my lips before I could stop it.

Rainbow chuckled nervously. “Uh, Rares? You’re starting to freak me out a little. Are you sure--”

“I’m sure!” I spat back with unwarranted venom.

Rainbow cringed into herself, away from me. Her wing snapped back to attention at her side. I hadn’t noticed she had been touching me all this time.

I marched forward, holding onto the flicker in my chest. A flicker of what, I still wasn’t quite sure. But it was tangible. Could be stoked. Could be followed, should it be allowed to glow bright enough.

The bell above the door tinkled brightly as I pushed into the Open Doors Diner. Hot sand crunched under my hooves and against the cool linoleum, leaving a sure trail between the door and the long counter, where I now stood. In my mind, it was powerful. In reality, it probably looked as if a sigh might tip me over. As if a fall from here to the ground might shatter me into a million little shards of milky glass.

Rainbow pushed in behind me.

The diner was, as usual, completely empty.

Was it usually completely empty?

I couldn’t remember.

Blue Moon was wiping down the counter with a faded red rag. Her motion slowed to a stop as she took in my appearance: a raw glare worn across a broken face, a mane battered by the elements, a breath quicker and heavier than should be reasonably expected of a diner patron in the early morning.

“Well, looky-loo, it’s our local PI,” Blue Moon said. She flipped the rag over her shoulder.

“I don’t care for your tone, Ms. Moon.”

She held up a hoof in sarcastic defense. “Well, pardon me, ma’am.”

“How is Moss?”

“Still missin’.” She scowled at me. “How’s Nightwhisper?”

I ground my teeth and prepared to spit back, but Rainbow spread her wing in front of me like some sort of shield.

She chuckled nervously in a poor attempt to diffuse the tension. “Could we get a booth?”

Blue shrugged and gestured to the open expanse of restaurant before her. “Take your pick.”

Using her wing to heard me along beside her, Rainbow shuffled towards a corner booth. She ushered me into my seat with the practiced care of a mother guiding her foal.

“What can I get y’all?” Blue shouted from behind the bar.

“Two coffees.” Rainbow replied, almost on instinct, barely loud enough to be heard. She looked down at the tabletop and seemed to be doing her best to not be seen by either of the two ponies currently in the room.

Blue nodded and disappeared into the kitchen through a shimmering metal door.

At first, Rainbow made something of an effort to communicate with me. Not so straightforward as actually asking me a question or prompting a conversation, of course; Rainbow was awkward, and opted for throat-clearing and nervous whistling. I'm not sure how exactly she expected me to respond to this, and so I simply didn't.

The longer things went on, the more agitated Rainbow became. As I wondered idly how long it could take to make two cups of black coffee (especially when there was not one other living soul in the building to serve), Rainbow’s hooves tapped out an unfamiliar rhythm on the table. Her back hooves danced, as well, making soft thuds on the plush seat. Too short to reach the floor, it seemed.

Then, with no warning, she sat up ramrod-straight. “I gotta hit the bathroom.”

She shot up and out of the booth before I could get a word in.

An odd feeling surrounded me when she departed-- one of disobeying a strict rule. The diner wasn’t a place I should be when I was alone. By some unwritten law, there should always be some other patrons or some member of waitstaff in sight. Yet here I was, breaking the rule. Alone in a place that must always, always be outrageously overpopulated.

In an effort to stave off the unease, I let my gaze wander to the window.

Rainbow was right. There simply wasn’t another place to really eat in town.

The convenience store came to mind. Not technically in town, though. The road into town. It was hard to figure out what even made this a town, what counted. It seemed to be at the will of any random inhabitant.

Did this town even have a name?

It had a mayor.

Has a mayor?

No. Would have a mayor. Misty Shores, elected in six years.

No. Six years ago.

A mayor of only three buildings? How--

“Haven’t you gotten your coffee yet?” a sweet little voice interrupted my thoughts.

I looked up.

A short green mane, shorter near her mouth where she chewed it. Frizzier, too. A dark, rich, brown coat, brushed well but not too well. Her dress and apron looked untouched. And her nametag--

“Moss?”

She smiled a little. “Sounds like you remember me.”

My mouth hung open. I found myself completely unable to form a sentence, just staring at the filly as if I were seeing a ghost. Although, by technical terms and definitions,by time’s usual rigorous forward march, I suppose I was.

What do you do in a situation like this? Do you tell a ghost that they’re dead? Do you ask for help, for clues, in solving their murder? Is it a chance for anger and resentment, a chance to tell them exactly who to curse and haunt? Or is it a time to mourn?

How could I say anything at all to her face? Her sweet, innocent, living face? How could I tell her that she was about to die, by her own hoof or anypony else’s?

Did she deserve to live without that knowledge? Or was it only right to tell her?

Which was the greater sin?

Her smile faded the longer I stared. “Would you like your coffee?” She asked this so softly, so hesitantly, so sweetly.

I don’t even think I could blink.

“I-I’ll get you some.”

She grabbed a mug off the table which I could have sworn was not there before. She tried to stutter out something else, but didn’t quite manage a word. She turned away, took two steps, and tripped.

Moss fell all the way to the floor, clearly flustered and embarrassed. The mug hit the tile and shattered into a few large chunks.

“Oh, fiddlesticks…” she whispered.

In her struggle to stand, her right back hoof caught on the inside of her skirt and hiked it up.

And I understood why Blue had told me--told Moss--that she absolutely had to keep it pulled down at all times. It had very little to do with decency, it seemed. She was hiding something.

“Here we are.” Like clockwork, Blue brushed past the image of Moss sweeping up bits of broken mug. “Two coffees. You fillies want menus?”

“Erm…” I did my best to drag out my decision-making while I craned around Blue. “I think we’ll…”

The further I leaned, the further Blue leaned with me.

“What in the hay are you lookin’ at?!” Blue exclaimed. She took another sharp breath, preparing to fire away with her most recent thoughts and feelings about me, but quickly gave up. “I’m not sure why you’ve been terrorizing me over this missing pony business, but if you could drop the crazy-pony act while I’m trying to serve you it would be much obliged.”

I looked up at Blue shamefully. “Menus?”

“Right away.”

She bustled off. Moss was gone, not a trace of her or the mug remaining. I could almost sense her shadow, almost hear her timid little voice. Wishful thinking, of course.

It didn’t matter. I knew, now. I knew something important.

I hoped it was important.

The information swirled in my head, trying to form into words, but mostly just sitting as a massive block on my chest. It was so hard to make it tangible, even as I actively combed my mind for words, pictures, anything at all to explain this revelation.

The restroom door clattered shut and Rainbow Dash emerged. She looked a little woozy for a moment. I wondered idly if she had bolted up so quickly because she felt she would be sick.

That wasn’t quite it, though. She didn’t look ill. She looked… disconnected.

As she got closer, I could see more clearly the sheen over her eyes. That little barrier between myself and the easy readability I so completely associated with Rainbow. One which seemed to be something of a common occurrence these days.

“Rainbow,” I whispered as she grew closer.

She looked through me.

“Rainbow, you won’t believe it. I just saw her.”

“Saw who?” Rainbow asked. She cocked her head, but mechanically. Like a not-pony impersonating a pony, or an undercover spy pretending to be my friend.

What other ‘her’ could I be talking about? “Moss!”

Rainbow reached up to scratch at the back of her head. “You… you saw Moss?”

“Yes! She was right here. And I--”

Rainbow sniffed hard, and the disgusting, phlegm-y sound echoed through the diner. “Uh, no offence, Rares, but that sounds impossible.”

“Rainbow, listen.” I looked back over my shoulder for a moment to see if Blue was around. She wasn’t. “Moss was a blankflank.”

Ah, there were the words. They tumbled forward so easily, how could I not have thought of them earlier?

The moment they left my mouth, though, I wished I had bitten them back. Plenty of ponies were blankflanks, Rarity. That didn’t mean a thing. So silly of you to suggest.

Rainbow nodded slowly. “And that has something to do with her being missing because…?”

The sheen in her eyes was melting back, now. Not disappearing, exactly, just letting a little bit more Rainbow through.

“Well, she--” My brain froze up completely. Why was that so important? “She…”

Rainbow looked at me with concern. “How do you know that for sure, anyway?”

“I saw it. Everything else I’ve seen has been true.”

“Except her death, right?”

“That will be true, Rainbow.” I nodded definitively, knocked my hoof on the tabletop. “It will be.”

“Alright, alright.” Rainbow waved away my seriousness with a blase hoof. “So you’re sure. I still don’t get what her being a blankflank has to do with anything else.”

“Who’s a blankflank?” asked a familiar voice, an accusing tone sneaking into the question.

Our heads whipped up to look at Blue, who stood over us holding two menus.

“Just a-a friend of ours. From back home,” I stuttered.

“Mm-hm.” Blue dropped the menus on the table rather carelessly. “I’m sure.”

She didn’t move.

“I--”

“Y’all should be more careful who you talk about.” Only Blue’s mouth move as she spoke. The rest of her body was like a statue. No, like a wound spring, ready to explode. “Whole town’s got ears. If you think you can get away with that kinda gossip in here, I can’t imagine what you’re saying in when you think you’re alone.

“I’ll be back in a few to take your order.”

Blue turned and trotted off, her tail swishing with every step.

I shuddered. “I hate lying to that mare.”

“Why’d you do it, then?” Rainbow asked.

“Blue doesn’t want anypony to know that…” I watched the nosey waitress push back into the kitchen. “Well, you know. She’s trying to keep it a secret.”

Rainbow snorted. “I think that cow’s outta the barn, Rare.”

My ears flattened against my head. “And to think I pride myself on keeping with social norms. Manners and respect, pillars of my pride. I don’t seem to have either, anymore, do I? I’ve become a bit of a ruffian out here.”

Rainbow shrugged. “It’s not your fault. Being a blankflank is never great, but I know loads of ponies who didn’t get cutie marks ‘til late. That’s what I always told Scoots and them. It’s not like it’s super rare or anything.”

“That doesn’t mean it isn’t taboo. It just means there are more ponies with things to hide,” I explained. “Unlike Ponyville, something being common here doesn’t make it acceptable. The further South of Canterlot you go, the more traditional things get. It's about keeping up appearances, fitting in. The settlers of this area were one group of many to view getting one’s cutie mark as a pivotal experience, and that ponies without them were no better than foals.”

Rainbow opened her menu. “That’s fucked up.”

“More than that,” I said, opening my own menu with a flourish. “It’s a motive. A small town trying to get its name on the map, housing a pony who embodies non-traditional values, who signifies poverty in the area? It could be enough to warrant societal hatred.”

“In Ponish?” Rainbow asked.

I sighed lightly. “Moss’s lack of a cutie mark proves that this area isn’t worth expanding into, since it is clearly devoid of the enriching experiences she would have required to earn one. It might be enough to blight the local economy, since it is so reliant on through traffic. Nopony wants to stop in a backwards little town like this on their way to Las Pegasus.”

Rainbow blinked one long, slow blink. “That was barely better, but thanks for trying.”

That pried a tiny smile out of me. “Let’s just say that we have a few pretty solid suspects in the murder of Mossy Bridge.”

Rainbow closed her menu very softly. “I dunno, Rares. All that cutie mark stuff mighta made her unpopular, but I don’t think anypony would have… you know…”

“Killed her over it?” I finished for her.

“I mean…” Rainbow gulped, looked at the ceiling. “Yeah.”

She was right. I had gotten all spun up in my history and my facts. These were things I knew to be true about this strange little pocket of barely-civilized ponies. But clues to this case might not play in my mind as facts. In truth, very few of them probably would. As far as I could tell, Moss’s death was ruled a suicide. There had been no further investigation, and therefore I probably wouldn’t find the answer in my little mental encyclopedia.

“I suppose you’re right.”

Rainbow let out a sigh of relief.

“Although it would be an excellent cover, wouldn’t it?”

She sucked in the breath again.

“It was made to look like a suicide, wasn’t it?” I murmured, more to myself than to Rainbow. “The suicide of a young mare without a cutie mark, one who would surely face ridicule and discrimination based on that fact.”

Rainbow blinked.

“If somepony wanted to kill Moss for some other reason, and they knew she was a blankflank, then setting it all up as a suicide might be enough to halt investigation,” I proposed. “Nopony would bother looking into a murder so perfectly staged as a suicide.”

“Are you sure?” Rainbow asked.

“Very nearly.” I closed my own menu definitively. “This town doesn’t have its own police. It would be the Appaloosa department being called in… I doubt they’d do any more than the bare minimum on a case like this.”

Rainbow digested this for a moment, then began to nod along slowly. “Yeah, I guess so.”

I allowed myself to show the hint of a triumphant smile. “It’s not motive, but it’s something.”

“Sure is!” Rainbow tried to say this cheerfully, but the sentiment was largely lost.

My smile faded.

Rainbow’s face fell back into grim neutrality, as well.

It was difficult to celebrate as one unraveled the finer details of a murder. As much as I believed that I had been given the opportunity to halt this tragic crime before it happened, I couldn’t help but feel a stone of doubt dragging my stomach down into my hooves. The stone whispered my own insecurities back up to me, echoes of fear that I couldn’t save her. That I had been gifted this chance, given all the tools I needed to put the pieces together, and I still wouldn’t save her.

“So…” Rainbow broke me out of my anxious loop, but the stone remained. “I guess that only leaves one question.”

“One?” I asked. “We still have a very long way to go before we solve this mystery, Rainbow.”

“I mean, I think that depends on how many ponies know that Moss is a blankflank.” Rainbow’s eyebrows twitched up almost imperceptibly. “Right?”

Of course. The suspect list was only as long as those who knew Moss’s secret, wasn’t it?

“You fillies ready to order?”

The shiver which had been building at the base of my spine released at last. My back stiffened, my shoulder blades shifted towards one another. I could see the color drain from Rainbow’s face, certain that any anxious blush to my cheeks had washed clean away, as well.

Our prime suspect loomed over us, holding a little pad of paper and a disposable pen so innocently over our head. It was probably my imagination, but I could have sworn that her name tag glinted menacingly at me in the low morning sun.

Blue Moon.