Cloudbound

Brandished Plumes and Feather Felt were both in the midst of varying degrees of culture shock. While they both had not experienced life outside of Cloudsdale for very long, Brandish hadn’t expected Canterlot to be too terribly different from his home, and Feather had thought the same way.

But they had been wrong. Incredibly wrong, in fact.

Every which way there was a new sight to see, and Brandish found himself overwhelmed. Felt took much of the sights in easily, but she was easily distracted at every turn. There was an assortment of venues no matter what street they marched on, and there was very little room for flight with the litany of signs and lamp-posts that hung down and over the cramped cobblestone streets. The ponies around were just as serious as their business, and it was hard to spot a single pony taking the time to interact with another in the motley of hooves and disarray.

Brandish felt wrong about having to stow his wings away, and he briefly considered Felt’s own urges, but a quick glance told him that the filly had much more significant thoughts on her mind than those of the winged variety.

“What’s the difference between Prench ice cream and Equestrian ice cream?”

“Price,” Brandish replied after taking a peek at the eye-catching storefront. “Definitely.”

If there was one thing that stuck out most in Canterlot, it was the price of all manner of goods; Brandish was decidedly appalled at the price of produce at the market stalls, and made a point of telling Feather Felt to not get too interested in anything as they passed through the ‘luxury’ district. There were still a great deal of shops to pass by, and the castle district was quite a ways ahead. Moving on from the ice cream shop, Brandish felt his stomach rumble; he grit his teeth in reply.

“Brandish? Are you okay?”

He winced. “Ah, just a little hungry. I’m fine, Feltie.”

“We should take a break, then! It feels like we’ve been walking for forever.”

The frown that Felt fixed upon Brandish was a difficult one to ignore. While they had been walking for the better part of an hour, Brandish didn’t want to stop now amid the crowd because of the unspoken fear that the traffic might worsen. As they continued, the bubbling flock of businessponies, families, and clustered friends, threatened to overwhelm the two. Brandish drew a squeak from Felt as he pulled her back with a wing.

“Yeah, but stick close, Felt. Just gotta find a good place to pull in… How about the Seabiscuit Cafe? That sounds pretty good.”

Brandish was extremely thankful that the enterprise had reasonable prices on the menu board at the front of the pavilion; there were a few more expensive wine options, but that was what he had expected from Canterlot by that point. A greater stroke of luck was the fact that the place wasn’t filled to the brim with ponies like many others, and after securing a table and a few cheap orders for themselves, the two ponies relished in the comfort of civilization.

Brandish pulled out his bit pouch and reached for his glass of water. “What do you think about Canterlot so far, Felt?”

“It’s big. Really big.”

“Makes you feel pretty small, huh?”

Felt nodded rapidly. “And it makes Cloudsdale feel tiny!”

“Just wait till we get closer to the castle. I’ve only seen pictures of it myself, so one pony can only imagine how much bigger it is when you’re standing right in front of it.”

Seabiscuit Cafe was a quiet alcove. It wasn’t entirely shielded from the street, but the wrought-iron fencing that wrapped around the dining area was an all too welcome barrier against the rambunctious crowd. The dozen or so tables had been mostly filled by the time they had ordered, but the ponies there were a withheld and solemn bunch; their voices were low and their conversations drowned out by the droning ambience of city life. The inside of the cafe was a compact spot, as the entire business operated out of a few select rooms while dining remained outside, but the viewing window into the kitchen gave a perfectly unhindered view into the fine craft and skill of the employees inside; they maneuvered with great speed and grace, and soon enough a waitress wielding one large dish in her magic came forth.

“One order of Alfalfa and Rye with maple butter spread for the lord and lady!” The beaming smile and energy of the mare was infectious.

Brandish thanked the mare by the name attached to her uniform. He turned back to Felt and picked up a knife. “There are few things that can compare to a good dose of maple butter.” With a few clean swipes, the rye bread had been converted into the prime ‘honeyed’ state. Brandish offered the slice to Feather Felt. “Grass and bread; classic combo.”

Giggling, Felt accepted the offering and began to work on her own portion of the plate. “Thank you.”

“Of course, Feltie.”

It was a strange state to be in, Brandish decided, to be trapped at the top of the mountain with a new squanderous spending-habit and an anxious filly in desperate need of compassion. He had never considered himself to be much of a traveler, but he did love to explore. Is this too far? His eyes swayed to the sky, filled to the brim with cloud-carts and airships, but lacking any true fliers; all pegasi were attached to one thing or another, forced to work their wings for others over themselves.

Brandish returned his gaze to Felt. There was something more to the filly, but he couldn’t place his hoof on it. She was a remarkably soft-spoken pony when left alone, but they had shared a plethora of tender moments despite it all. Something unspoken laid between him and her.

Felt swallowed a bite. “Are you going to eat any of this? It’s really good!”

“Yes, I just want to make sure you eat before I do. You’re a growing filly, after all.” Brandish’s jovial tone failed to do what he had intended it for.

“Are you okay, Brandish?”

It’s time for some honesty, he told himself. “I… I want to know, Feltie. You really do want to find your mother, right?”

Her ears flopped down across her head. “Of course I do!”

“Well… I think we need to talk about your father first.”

Felt’s mood suddenly shifted. Brandish couldn’t tell what direction the shift had been in, save for the fact that the new mood was a strange hybrid; a deep frown took hold, supported by a crease in Felt’s brows that promoted a visage of suspicion but also conflicting confusion.

“Your father had to resort to… less-than-kind means to support you and him, Feltie. But I don’t think that him getting arrested and taken away means that you should completely give up on him. You’ve been giving me the idea that that’s what you want, but—”

“That is what I want,” Felt said hotly. Brandish was taken aback, and the filly’s face quickly morphed into one of worry.

“It’s okay, Felt; you’re not in any trouble. I just want to understand how you’re feeling right now.” After a dead moment of quiet, he gave a soft laugh.

“What are you laughing at?” Felt asked.

“Ah, well… I have this silly idea in my head that no pony is irredeemable, and that we can all get along. Your father… I think he had good intentions. Maybe what he needs right now is a little friendship of his own. We can still go visit him. I know you said you don’t want to, but maybe, just maybe, you and him are experiencing a little misunderstanding.”

Yet again, the strange hybrid of conflict occupied Felt’s face. “I don’t know… He’s definitely not going to be happy about us doing this.”

“Hey, listen,” Brandish began as he locked Felt with a fierce yet stern gaze. “If your father doesn’t support our quest to go find your mom, then that’s fine. Obviously, there’s a bit of history between them, but between you and her, there’s fresh fallow to carve your path in. I say if we’re going to go kicking and screaming our way across Equestria to find your mother, we’re going to go kicking and screaming at the right things, for the right reasons; we can go talk to your dad, ask him about your mom, and tell him about us flying off for her. If he can’t accept that a filly wants to know who her mom is, then that’s just on him; what’s he going to do about it? The guards’ll have him under lock and key. All I’m asking is that we go talk to him, because if anything, he’s still technically your father, and as an honest pony I really can’t let the idea of taking you around Equestria without your parent’s permission sit in my mind without at least seeing your dad once.”

“... We’ll just be there for a little bit, right?”

“Of course, just a few minutes.”

“Then okay. I’ll do it. For mom.” Felt’s prerogative was set forward in a blistering tone.

“I’m sorry sweetie, I really am.”

Felt fluffed her feathers slowly. “S’okay,” she mumbled.

Brandish resisted the urge to reach across the table and hug the mopey filly. “Alright that’s enough talk to last the afternoon! Let’s see about finishing up this great meal and getting back to our little climb up Canterlot hill...”

And it was a great meal, summed up with a sweet conclusion; the mare who had served them politely pushed Brandish’s tip back to him when the time came to pay for their lunch.

“I can see that you two need it more than I.” She gave another proud smile. “Have a wonderful day!”

Trudging up to the administrative buildings not too far from the Seabiscuit Cafe threatened to bring the prospect of a wonderful day crashing down. Brandish prayed that they would find the answers they needed from the bureaucracy within, and if not, then hopefully from the pony festering in the jail just beyond the castle district’s walls.

Taking a breath, Brandish and Felt stepped through the whitewash double doors.