Truth-telling Lies

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Written by: Oneimare

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Fun

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The pegasus had sat still, the drink clutched in her hoof like the world would end if she let it go—or dared to weaken her grip. In one abrupt motion, the mare threw back her head and poured the mug’s contents down her throat. Unbothered by the beer trickling down her chin, she chugged it with abandon, gulping loudly.

The tankard thundered against the wood.

“It was this bad, huh?”

That somewhat gruff voice belonged to a unicorn mare who materialised by Rainbow’s shoulder as soon as she emptied the mug; even earlier—she sat by the oblivious pegasus’ side, leaning on the counter, patiently watching her.

“Just like the beer—the usual,” came Rainbow’s terse reply; as the unicorn’s stare continued to scorch her face, she felt her ears pressing back against her will. She added, reluctant, “I’m just getting too tired of it.”

The concern didn’t recede from the other mare’s face, but she averted her eyes—only to find the bartender and wave her hoof; whilst Highball poured her a drink, she commented, “Well, I can’t remember the last time you hang with at AJ’s instead of coming here.”

Although the blush crept on Rainbow’s cheeks and the darkness began to fade from her eyes, she still grimaced sourly. Mostly, because she had to lie about why the Apples—Applejack in particular—no longer welcomed her there, “I can’t stand the looks her folks give me—like I’m gonna set their place on fire or something.”

The mare, waiting for her drink to arrive, elbowed her neighbour and nickered. “Like throw up everywhere.”

Almost as soon as she said that, Highball sent a glass sliding across the polished wood; with no time wasted, the unicorn’s magic brought the shot to her mouth.

Rainbow watched the mare from the tail of her eye; then the corners of her lips finally went up.

“Isn’t that your job?”

The unicorn spluttered and coughed as the liquor burst from her nostrils, burning them; she quickly recovered, however, and rubbing her snout, glared daggers at Rainbow—but said nothing, other than, “Anyway, Berry’s here—tonight’s going to be fun.”

They both glanced over their shoulders, but the wine-stained pony had successfully dissolved amidst the patrons that huddled in groups, clinging to the shadow-veiled tables of the modest pub. Though, her voice, followed by a series of neighs, raised over the contentedly muttering crowd, confirming the unicorn’s words.

“Uh-huh,” Rainbow mumbled and slid her tankard back to Highball, gesturing ‘two’ with her pinions. Turning back to her drinking buddy, she smirked. “Fun—until you vomit on me.”

“That was one time!” the mare exploded with indignation.

The pegasus took an exaggerated sniff. “But I can still smell it,” she complained, just as overdramatically.

“Will you stop rubbing it in my face if I buy you a drink?”

Like you rubbed it all over me? But Rainbow swallowed the joke and considered the offer. A heartbeat later she, leaning on the counter, extended her hoof for the unicorn to shake.

“Make it two and we got a deal.”

A strong smell of alcohol heralded Berry Punch’s arrival before she emerged from the shadows, saying, with her eyes lit, “Do I hear somebody taking one for the team?”

Just as she said that, two mugs bumped against Rainbow’s elbow, spilling foam on her hoof. Hesitating not for a heartbeat, she grabbed both and offered one to the purple earth pony, much to her delight.

“Bottoms up, Berry!”

The two mares didn’t tear themselves away from their drinks till there was nothing left but moustaches under their noses.

Berry recovered first, and widely beaming at Rainbow, chuckled, “Rarity, where did you hide your horn?”

The pegasus’ eyes glistened with mischief.

“Why, under my tail, darling!”

The three of them roared with laughter so boisterous, that every head in the pub turned to stare at those tittering mares; none seemed to mind, though—a few whinnies even echoed their amusement.

It was Rainbow, whose peals of merriment died first—something cast a shadow on her face and once more her ears couldn’t hold upright. She bitterly muttered, “But seriously, that mare should pull her head out of her ass sometimes—and watch what comes out of that foul mouth of hers…”

In an instant, her companions were at her sides, their hooves on her shoulders.

“Come on, Dash, you came here to forget that stuff, didn’t you?” Berry tried to sound not too sympathetic as the pegasus forlornly stared at the bottom of her tankard.

“If it was that easy,” she admitted with a sigh.

A hint of disgust contorted her features and her hoof clenched the mug so hard, that the wood groaned. Before it could implode in Rainbow’s grasp, the unicorn took it away and slid it back to the bartender.

“Hey, Highball, put another one on me and make it extra strong!”

“Aw, thanks—” Rainbow began, then abruptly stopped as her eyes widened; blood rushed to her cheeks, but the beer had nothing to do with it

“Willowmane!” the chorus of two throats yelled in her ears—belonging to Berry and the unicorn mare.

Rainbow rubbed the back of her head, chuckling nervously. “Uh… sorry.”

“Nah,” Willowmane dismissed her apology with a wave of her hoof—then hooked it around Rainbow’s neck so their foreheads touched and flashed her a cunning smile. “Now, let’s make sure you won’t remember my name this time either.”

A twelve-legged beast had stumbled down Ponyville’s streets, every step threatening to sprawl the trio of mares on the trampled dirt; heavily leaning on each other’s shoulders, they swayed and careened, more focused on keeping themselves upright than reaching any destination.

It wasn’t helping that one of the hooves barely touched the road—belonging to Berry, it somewhat rhythmically swung a bottle of wine back and forth, whilst its owner hummed a song, oblivious to anything but the discordant melody. Rainbow could also be blamed for compromising the team effort—fully relying on Berry’s side to keep walking, she used the last of her concentration to hoarsely whisper to Willowmane. The poor unicorn, propped against Berry’s other shoulder had no choice but to listen as stopping for even a heartbeat would result in a spectacular crash of all three mares.

“Above how awesome they’re, Willowmane, they’re military,” the pegasus spoke over Berry’s head—or under, depending on the part of the song. “That’s awesome, too, don’t get me wrong.”

“Is there anything that’s not awesome?” the unicorn grumbled; due to Rainbow’s excessive enthusiasm, the weight on her shoulder led to taking an unplanned turn.

“You!”

Rainbow all but choked, snorting on her own joke, rendering Willomane’s task of directing them away from bumping into walls even harder; however, seriousness quickly took back its place on the pegasus’ muzzle (as much as her inebriation allowed) and she went on:

“And it’s all thanks to Nightwing.” She flicked her ears, confused. “Wait, no—Nightwing doesn’t have that much to do with it.”

With a grunt, Willowmane pushed, shouldering the weight of Berry and Rainbow combined; with them having gotten off a collision course, she nickered, “Let me, guess, the first Wonderbolt?”

“The opposite.”

“I thought you were the opposite of Wonderbolts, Dash.”

The pegasus shot her a dark look. “You’re still not awesome.”

“Goodness gracious.”

Ignoring the smug expression on the unicorn’s muzzle, Rainbow continued, slightly raising her voice, “Nightwing was the Captain of the Shadowbolts. She led them even after Nightmare Moon’s banishment, resulting in the decade-long siege of Stalliongrad.”

Willowmane’s eyes glazed for a few moments and she wistfully whinnied, “At Vanhoover, I used to often hang out with a donkey from Stalliongrad. Desert Rose brewed the meanest moonshine I’ve ever tasted—really knew how to distil her stuff.”

Berry’s song abruptly ceased as she got a recollection of her own to tell, her tone just as dreamy, “Have I ever told you how I tried to make my own distillery? Mayor Mare didn’t let me, though. She said I would flood the town with boo—”

“Shut, both of you!” barked the pegasus. “I am telling a story!”

“Dash,” Willomane gasped in a mock shock. “Have you… have you been reading again? And history books, no less!”

“What if I did?” Rainbow bristled in response, but then sagged and her gaze frantically flittered betwixt the night’s shadows. “Listen—don’t tell the girls, okay? I won’t ever hear the end of it; I already had to secure Derpy’s silence with more muffins than I’ve ever seen in my life.”

The earth pony sandwiched betwixt two mares thought for a moment; as her eyes lit up and her lips dissolved into a goofy smile, she practically purred, “What was Derpy doing at your place, hm?”

“Delivering the books, smartass,” the pegasus snapped, slapping the back of Berry’s head with her wing. She then glared at both her companions. “Are you going to listen to me or not?”

“Sure.” Willowmane turned her eyes upward. “What did they do?”

Rainbow frowned. “Who?”

“The Shadowbolts! You were telling a story, remember?”

“Of course, I remember! How could I forget that?”

“You can’t even remember my name,” the unicorn noted with another roll of her eyes, though with no hint of malice in her words.

“Willowmane.” Rainbow glared at her and before any of her companions could disrupt her once more, all but proclaimed, “The Wonderbolts were created in response and they were just as valiant, fast and strong warriors.”

Berry’s eyes sparked with genuine interest; taking a swig from her bottle, she wondered aloud, “How did they beat the Shadowbolts then?”

Finally graced by attention, Rainbow fluffed up her feathers and her answer came out pompously, “Shadowbolts followed their Queen blindly, even after she was no more, fighting in her honour. But the Wonderbolts were loyal to the cause of peace and prosperity of Equestria.”

Willomane squinted at her. “Why did you tell us all that?”

Confusion overtook Rainbow’s features and she hesitated; then, despite the best efforts of her companions, darkness tainted her rosy eyes.

“Just felt it was sort of relevant,” the pegasus uttered, her voice hollow.

Stars twinkled in the sky, giving their last winks to the trio of ponies—the pink milkiness tinged the horizon line. Submerged into the sea of grass, their hooves sprawled as they lay on their backs with their heads nearly touching, the three mares watched the Moon slowly glide across the sky as it was about to finish its journey.

Suddenly, Willomane asked, “Why do you hate them, Dash?”

“I don’t,” Rainbow brusquely replied; then she added more amiably, “They’re funny—to watch. But, you know, it’s not smart to have bugs at your home just because they’re cool.”

The unicorn glanced up to see her glaring at the passing clouds.

“You haven’t convinced me,” she whickered. “Achieved the opposite only.”

Rainbow’s grimace eased, but a frown nevertheless knitted her brows together and her ears became flattened; she quickly spoke, “That’s…that’s not what I meant.” The pegasus then fell silent for some time; finally, the mare continued, her words coming out slowly and unsure, “They’re like us but they’re also different—they live differently and think differently. Nothing’s wrong with that. Twilight just wants them to be the same as us—except they don’t want to and I won’t treat them the same, too.”

“Still sounds like you don’t like them,” Willowmane dryly noted.

“Just because the line’s fine, doesn’t mean it’s not there, alright?” Rainbow snapped at her and bitterly ranted, “I’m cool with them and I don’t think ill of them. But even a foal gets that square stuff doesn’t go into round holes—things get rough when Twilight forces them to do something they can’t inhre…init…inrent—”

“Inherently,” the unicorn corrected her. “By Celestia’s teats, Dash, stop trying to be smart and just admit it—you’re a tribalist.”

“No, I am not!” The pegasus hotly retorted, rising on her elbow to glare at Willowmane. “And there are guys who not only just try to fit but are also good at that, like Tet…Tal…”

“Teleta,” Willowmane deadpanned, cooly meeting Rainbow’s glower. “If you can’t remember names and long words—write them down.”

“Shut up, Willowmane. I was saying those who try to be like us are cool, too.”

Willowmane snorted. “Like us. Every word that leaves that mouth of yours, Dash—every.”

Rainbow fell back on dewy grass, groaning, “Everyone is different and nobody should—can be—forced to like those differences. I told you I wish no harm upon them and I mean it.”

The unicorn waved her hoof in the chilly morning air. “Whatever you say. It’s not like I’m ecstatic to have them hanging around—”

“Hypocrite,” barked Rainbow.

“Colour me impressed—that’s a long word!”

“I hate you so much, Willowmane.”

“I hate myself, too, don’t worry,” the mare mirthlessly neighed and continued with a deep sigh, “I could have become anyone, but ended up being stuck at some countryside shithole, drinking my wasted life away with other sorry losers...”

“Hey!” Berry suddenly woke up from her semi-dozing off state. “I have no regrets about the life I’m living!”

“Not you, Berry, not you.”

Unbeknownst to them, Rainbow lay with her brow furrowed and her eyes bored into the firmament, searching it for answers to her thoughts; the sky showed nothing but the stars fading and flocks of clouds lazily grazing the celestial pastures.

So, she shared her question with Willowmane and Berry, “Maybe that’s where it is? Maybe if we were happier, we would see them not as different?”

Both mares stared at her, their expressions unreadable—Berry’s just confused, though; they exchanged a look. As they came to a silent agreement, a wine-coloured hoof held out the bottle to the unicorn.

“You know what, Dash? That’s actually genius,” Willowmane joyously proclaimed. “Maybe you aren’t so hopeless, after all—let’s drink to that!”