Spines are NOT the Same Thing as Thorns
She hummed to herself as she dusted the shelves. She had only made it halfway down one of them before she had to stop to get a tissue. Oh, Roseluck understood why plants needed pollen, and whatever it took to keep them blooming year after year she could accept. But honestly, did they really need so much? By the end of this her nose was going to be drier than the desert from blowing it.
Ah, but speaking of deserts, her distraction was perfectly timed, for when she returned to her cleaning, it was to her favorite: a big, beautiful cactus. The perfect excuse to give it the extra attention it deserved.
She always laughed to herself when she thought about it. It was a private joke that never got old, that her favorite plant should be a cactus. How much farther could you get from what her name and cutie-mark suggested? Well, that was why she was the expert working in the flower shop and not other ponies.
A delicate job it was; dealing with cacti is a dangerous business for a Earth Pony. Those unicorns had all the luck. But it didn't matter, as the feathers of her brush darted among the spines: she cared for the plant and would have taken as much time without any danger.
It's spines that kept it forever shelved.
Around the buds of blooms unseen, brush by brush she got it clean.
She stepped back to survey her hoofiwork, satisfied. Then, another tissue, fetched used and disposed of, she set upon the next in line with merciless glee. And the next, and the next, she freed their colors from the dull, yellow pall of pollen.
She cared for all the flowers and rejoiced in their beauty, but she only really cared about her cactus.
They were not popular plants in Ponyville. She knew she was in no position to criticize, but it was because ponies were scared of them. Those spines menaced to the untrained eye. But—ah, but—how many knew what a cactus could be? How many even knew that they flowered? Beautiful white blossoms.
Didn't ponies care about that? Was that not a readymade metaphor? Where then the poets? Every flower that was named, Roseluck had seen held to be a symbol of some kind, except the cactus. The possibilities were painfully obvious. And obviously painful, she chuckled to herself.
At last her dusting was done. She stood back and watched the dust settle, the bars of sunlight slanting in through the windows becoming clearer and clearer. Finally she could breathe again.
Now, what next? She then set about arranging bouquets. She liked this; it was relaxing, not to mention satisfying, picking the combinations of flowers and watching them come together to make something more beautiful than any of the parts alone.
There was so much meaning you could put in them too, Far too few were familiar with the rich history and symbolism of flowers. Though it did amuse her to take advantage of that fact to put cheeky messages in her bouquets. She had nearly burst trying not to laugh one time when she had seen a customer cooing about how pretty a certain combination was that expressed a wish to die. It had been well worth the grief her sisters had given her.
She was in the middle of composing a centerpiece that hinted at dark secrets, when the bell above the door tinkled softly. She looked up to see BonBon step in.
"Hey there, Bonnie," she said, getting up from her table, "what are you looking for today? The usual?"
"Oh I didn't have anything in mind. I'm just looking," BonBon said.
"Alright, but if there's anything you need, just let me know." Roseluck returned to her bouquet making. She glanced at BonBon intermittently. These days could be slow , and she welcomed any chance to actually do something (also out of habit; BonBon was a nice enough pony, Lyra was so often attached to her, and she had been known to try at the occasional snack when she thought nopony was watching).
BonBon browsed for a while. She seemed to be spending a lot of time at the wall Roseluck had just finished dusting. After some long moments she spoke up. "Rose, I think I found what I'm looking for. Can you help get this down?"
Roseluck hopped up and trotted over. "What'll it be?"
"The cactus, please," BonBon said.
BonBon was buying the cactus? But that was her cactus. She was saving it. How could somepony just come in and take her cactus away? Oh but she couldn't just say no, what would her sisters say?
She let out a sigh. Make it seem annoyed. "You sure?" she said, "those things are a pain to deal with."
BonBon stared hard at the cactus. "I can imagine. But I think this is the thing I need."
Reluctantly, "If you say so. Well, I’m going to need your help to get it down. Hold on." One by one she fetched three stools and pushed them over to the shelf. They scraped loudly over the wood floor.
"Here, you get on one side, I'll be on the other, and we'll put it down on the one in the middle." She was really doing this.
They climbed up, each grasping one of the handles on the side of the pot in her teeth. At Rose's signal the lifted, and carefully, delicately, cautiously, brought it down as she had described.
Once they were both on solid ground without a mass of spikes between them, BonBon spoke again, "Thank you so much, I really didn't mean to put you to such trouble. I would have brought Lyra to help move it, but I want it to be a surprise."
Neither of them mentioned the other reasons Lyra had not been invited; neither of them needed to. The list of ponies banned from the shop was very short.
BonBon was unfortunately more level-headed than her marefriend, and Roseluck had no excuse to add her to the list, and in fact should have felt pretty bad for considering it (even though she only thought it for a second and not seriously).
Again with BonBon's help she brought the cactus over to the counter. Quickly they got it safely contained in a paper bag. BonBon paid and walked out with that beautiful plant.
The shelf looked so bare, though less only one plant, and that not the biggest or leafiest. That was the thing, as she bouqueted once more, the beauty—the full potential—of a flower was in composition, in combination with others. It only took one wrong flower to ruin a bouquet, and one right one to perfect it. And what was a flower shop but a building of a bouquet?
The doorbell rang once more admitting Rarity. Wouldn't you know it, just the pony who understood that sort of thing. Without anxiety, Roseluck watched her browse the shop.
She returned the next day to a shop less bright, though the afternoon sun shone as clearly. Yes, she knew she was imagining it, and, yes, she knew why, but however much she needed to "just get over it," she knew what she saw, and that was a dimmer world. She wasn't about to start arguing with her eyes. That was for crazy ponies.
She liked her afternoon shifts. They were slow, granted. But summer afternoons in Ponyville had a quality to them, warm and lazy, that she could not imagine anywhere else in Equestria matching. After all, Princess Twilight liked it here, and she was from Canterlot!
It gave her time to think. And on this occasion, time to mourn, And you know what, yes she really did need to mourn her lost cactus, and if you worked with plants as much as she did, you would understand that, but you don't, do you? So maybe you need to back off and just give her some space, okay? Okay.
Lily wanted her to freshen up the window display so she guessed she would do that. "And while you're at it, could you wash the windows too?" She imitated, mocking, as she pulled everything away.
She fetched a bucket of soapy water, and at least she'd be able to watch the ponies outside as she worked. So there was that.
The town was really growing, wasn't it? There was a real bustle outside. Why, just a few years ago the streets would have been silent at this hour. Only a shadow of what it was now.
Which suited her just fine; she liked pony-watching. And Ponyville might have been growing, but it was a small town yet, so it was familiar faces passing by.
There went Derpy, who liked sunflowers (surprising: Rose could quite easily think of a few jokes about why she would like sunflowers with her eyes: hard to believe nopony had ever teased her about it); and there—hmmm—was BonBon again, though not heading for the shop and her usual buttercups; and speaking of BonBon, Lyra was soon by, and from a different direction.
And still not allowed in. It wasn't that she was a bad pony, by any means. Roseluck had never known her to mean anything but well. It was just that she was, well, Lyra.
She worried for a moment that she and her sisters had been a bit too harsh, because she seemed to be avoiding even looking at the shop. She wouldn't ever think of forbidding her from doing that, let alone begrudging it, and—
Okay, now that was interesting, as Lyra turned leaving one of the other shops, Roseluck noticed a big bandage covering one side of her muzzle. Ouch, the poor mare, whatever happened it had to have stung.
And what had happened, she wondered. Ah, but things like this were part of the reason BonBon had not enlisted her help with the cactus. Somepony as excitable as she was definitely should not be anywhere near plants like that. Why, if BonBon had brought the thing home, there was a good chance that was exactly what had given her that injury. Ouch indeed, Roseluck had pricked herself on her beloved cactus and it was not pleasant at all. Lyra was just the type to end up with a faceful of it. In fact, Roseluck was just about sure that was what had happened.
Really, BonBon should have known better. She knew Lyra well enough, and Lyra was predictable enough, that she was easily at the point where she bore some responsibility for it. Seriously, she had to have known something like this would happen.
She had to known something like this would happen. Yes, now there was an interesting thought. Well hold on a daisy-picking minute, where was she going with that? Roseluck allowed that BonBon could, at times, be one of the gruffer ponies in town, but that was no reason to suspect her of outright cruelty. She was plenty sweet to make up for a grumpy morning every now and again.
No, BonBon must simply have forgot. She could hardly blame somepony for a moment of carelessness caused by the charm of a pretty flower—half their sales were got that way. No, a mistake was all it had been. She didn't even know for certain that the cactus had been involved at all.
But hadn't BonBon been curt, talking to her the day before? Yes, it seemed to her that she had, remembering.
She didn't participate much in the town rumor mill, unlike most of the mares around, but she couldn't help but overhear things. What was she supposed to do, ignore half the things her own sisters said? And it was good to keep an ear open to make sure nopony was saying things about her.
But hadn't there been some whispering about BonBon lately? It was nothing really, Cranky and Matilda finally getting married had the unfortunate side effect of putting down a lot of good gossip. All sorts of crazy stuff had come up trying to fill the gaps. Anyway, hadn't there been something about BonBon not really being who she seemed?
Yes, something to that effect, though she couldn't remember what exactly. It wasn't that she was a changeling. Those rumors had run their course a long time ago. It was something else. She would have to ask her sisters. Was she in the witness protection program? No, that didn't sound quite right, but she thought she was on the right track. She definitely remembered now that it had something to do with the government.
Yes, yes, yes, she remembered now. It had been that BonBon was a spy... for the Griffons? and she was undercover in Ponyville now.
Oh no.
Roseluck glued her eyes to the window, watching Lyra. She seemed nervous, didn't she? Yes, she was looking over her shoulder.
There were not many in Ponyville who really believed the rumors that flew about, or most of them anyway. But, if there was, by chance, any truth to this one, then there was only one pony it could have come from.
She wondered that the window did not frost over in front of her, with the chill of fear that gripped her; her knees trembled, and she did not know whether she was about to bolt or collapse.
"BonBon" was a nice pony, but what about her true identity? Oh Celestia, what would she do when she found out Lyra had spilled the secret? Lyra could not help being Lyra but just once she should have—
Oh Celestia! That was it. That was what BonBon had bought the cactus for. Roseluck felt sick. What had happened last night? What had BonBon done with the cactus? How—she sat—had she tortured Lyra with it?
She murmured to herself, trying to stave off the paleness creeping into her face. She didn't know that that was what was happening, she said, she didn't know that the rumor was true. But the pit in her stomach would not let her believe it.
And what would happen tonight? And no wonder Lyra feared to look at her. Just as there was only one source for the rumor, there was only one source for the cactus.
Roseluck burnt and froze. She froze in fear, for she had been sent a message too, by that bandaged face. Now that she had worked it out, if she spoke out what would happen to her? It was the threat of an evil genius.
But as afraid as she was, she was also angry. Rage burned in her, and indignation. How dare she! How dare she come to this town and pretend to be somepony she wasn't, and hurt a mare she called her friend. And to do it with Rose's cactus!
She knew she never should have sold it. Never let it out of her sight. She had to do something; she had to make this right. And she had a plan.
She returned to her work. The windows had never been so clean as she got them, full of determination. And all her other tasks fared the same way. Nothing could withstand her.
Lyra and BonBon were chattering to each other as they left their house. Oh it sounded friendly only the surface, but what duress was behind it? But they were both good actresses—Roseluck was glad for Lyra's sake—and even she who knew their secret could not detect any insincerity in their voices.
Once they were out of hearing and sight and off to dinner, Roseluck moved. She slunk out of the bush she was crouching in, and, casually as you like, walked in their front door, as if she was just visiting. She wasn't a bad actress herself.
She carefully she their door behind her; it wouldn't do to disturb more that she absolutely had to. Then she turned and slowly scanned the room. They had redecorated since the last time she had been there. So much wasn't where she was used to it being. Could they, could BonBon have figured out she would try this?—impossible! Well, even if it was meant to thwart her, it would take more than that. And even if it did detract from the seriousness of her mission, she had to admit that she liked where they had moved the couch. It really let the room open up more than in had in its old position.
She could not see her prize anywhere in the living room, so she pressed on. The house was strange with its sweet, unfloral smells; and everything looked so drab without the bursts of color all around that she was used to. How did they stand it?
She checked the kitchen. It was in a mess, but none of that mess looked like it might be obscuring a cactus. The bathroom was similarly spineless.
She went back into the hallway, and was considering the doors, when she heard a noise. the front door opening. She suppressed a whinny, and bolted as quietly as she could down to the end of the hall.
Quick she replaced the door behind her and looked for a hiding place in the new room, her ears swiveling back to listen for hoofsteps.
She was lucky: it was a bedroom, and that meant there should be—a closet! She darted inside, for she heard the steps coming behind her.
The door creaked open, and she nestled down into a pile of linens at the sound. She tried to get as much cover as she could. She hardly breathed; she was not entirely sure her heart was still beating—good! it would give her away. And then, as she settled, she heard horror, the crinkle of paper at her side.
There was no way to know how the pony outside reacted to her sound, or if she had heard it at all. There was a sickening silence, until it was broken by her—BonBon!—grumbling "Can't believe I forgot it..." A drawer opened, was rifled in, and shut. Hoofsteps walked away.
When it had been silent for a good while, she let herself breathe again. When she moved from her spot, she heard another crinkle. Pulling the sheets that had been her cover aside, she found a paper bag. She peered inside.
And there it was. Her cactus. She should have known it would be hidden. And so irresponsibly too! These were desert plants, they needed lots of sunlight. Keeping it buried in a closet would have soon killed it. But here she was to rescue it and Lyra. She grasped the bag in triumph.
But how was she going to get it out of here? Ponies would already have seen Lyra and BonBon leaving together, and then BonBon's trip back. They clearly weren't taking visitors. Oh but that was easy to solve.
She climbed out the window. After that, she snuck through the streets until she was a couple of blocks away. Then she picked up into a lively trot.
Soon she was back home, where she did not return the cactus to the shop, but took it upstairs, like she should have long ago, to her room, where it joined the other plants she had rescued from the indignity of being sold.
