Ah, Ponyville. Carefree, colourful lives led by colourful, carefree ponies in a community of caring friends. It was certainly a sight to see Ponyville in the rain though, the grey stallion thought as he sat, half-wincing as rain sliced and flew through the air, driving in great sheets to the ground, seemingly casting a blanket of damp dull over the village. Ponies do need to water their crops, but ponies need to enjoy the sunlight too, he thought, shifting his weight around in his seat. Looking over the horizon, there was little but haze, houses and the shining road, wet with rain, dappled slightly down to its composition. It was a well trodden road indeed, yet no hooves cared to grace it this soggy evening. The stallion tapped the brim of his wide hat with his hoof to keep it over his eyes, then leaned forward and gestured toward his friend across the table. His lean came to an end and both hooves met the table with two simultaneous clacks.
"Say, friend, isn't it ever so peculiar, that while we're here... other ponies are still living their lives? Quite the odd concept for me to grasp, despite just how obvious it is." The other stallion, several shades darker than his comrade and sitting a little to his side, continued to stare blankly into the distance. His friend flicked an ear and a handful of raindrops flew off the tip, arcing upward then streaking to the floor, as if attempting to escape gravity's iron grip. The pair did not make eye contact. After more shuffling, the darker pony grunted, loud enough to hear over the rain; his partner took it as means to continue. Some posters stuck to a wall in the distance, flapping and flittering frantically in the wind, like the phlegm of modern comfort's final sneeze before he curled up and died.
"Just think, every pony you've ever met - all over Equestria and beyond - is doing something, somewhere, come rain or shine. Y'remember that bouncy little pink filly?" His voice carried a rasping and a wheezing with it, through age or perhaps tobacco, or maybe something else. A cough came from his partner that shook the moisture off his shivering, frail form into spray, racking his entire frame, quickly ascending into a fit of hacking and throat-clearing. Grimacing while waiting for his partner to finish his coughing ordeal, the grey stallion lowered his head further and continued. "She seemed so full of life, that gleaming optimism admist a, a sea of problems. Say, I wonder where she is now..." The grimace did not leave his broad face. "Still, I s'pose we all have our troubles." His partner took in a deep breath and parted his thin lips.
~~~
The rain beat hard against the roof, almost as though a beast of Tartarus wass close to bursting through. The noise leapt around the shop in its intensity, while maintaining an atmosphere-numbing dreariness. A shrill little bell rung somewhere in the distance, and the sound of babies crying slipped through the low drone of the thundering storm from time to time.
"Awh, I just hate rain. It's so... rainy! Nopony likes rain, I mean where's the fun in not going outside? I mean, sure, there's plenty of fun to be had inside, like-like in making cupcakes, oh, and in playing hide and seek, and in--"
"Pinkie! You have work to do, a room to pay for and I have a family to feed. Would you please quit staring out of the window and man the counter?"
"Oh, yes! Right away, Mrs. Cake!" Pinkie Pie dashed and zipped through Sugarcube Corner's kitchen at speed and with the usual spring in her step. Mrs. Cake frowned. How a pony can live so oblivious to everything bad in the world and still stumble along..., it's a wonder she manages to remember to feed herself, she thought, trotting out of the kitchen at a brisk pace. Sighing, the middle-aged mare skirted around the counter behind Pinkie and set to clambering up the stairs to deal with the children.
"Hello, Sugarcube Corner, how may I help you?
"Hello, Sugarcube Corner, how may I help you?"
"Hello, Sugarcube Corner, how may I help you?"
Doing anything enjoyable for a long period of time can deaden the novelty. Helping ponies was her forté, and yet, through these sodden hours that Pinkie hated the most, those pastel coloured bodies with problems and orders seemed to be her worst enemy - a seemingly unending queue of well-soaked customers with pre-tempered tempers and high expectations. The long line shifted forward, the door swinging to and fro as another pony left to embrace the rain once again. It continued to swing, battered by the weather. Somepony in the queue slipped. Pinkie rested her head in her hooves and rolled her eyes.
"Like eating ice cream! That'd be terrible after a long, long, looooong time of eating."
"Hello? Who said anything about ice cream? You're not adding ice cream to my order, are you? Am I still getting my refund and complimentary bonus? You're not cancelling that are you, because my husband would be so angry..." The customer wore a continually disinterested expression and drawled for what seemed like decades. Her surroundings, numbed and slowly slipping and fading away became irrelevant to Pinkie; a furry blur of needless nonsense. She found herself staring toward the window again.
~~~
"You really think so, friend?" the grey stallion laughed a hoarse and choking chuckle, which quickly became a cough. Clouds of vapour billowed from his mouth, lost to the rainy day within seconds. He quickly straightened up, snorted, and continued. "Some ponies really have got it great, huh. Free shelter, free meals, and all's that is asked of them is help around the house, and still it can be too much to ask. Say, what about that timid yellow mare who greeted us on our way out of the forest? Sweetest voice she had; quiet and real dainty-like. Wouldn't hurt a fly, eh buddy?" Silence, punctuated by a looming orchestra of pitter-pattering and whooshing wind. They shivered collectively, one after the other. "Yeah... I sure wonder what she's doing now. Maybe sitting down for a cup of tea with her mouse pals, hah. Oh, you disagree?"
~~~
Time. It slows down when we're waiting, and speeds up when we're not. In suspense and anxiety, time is that lengethening of your misery, but through the good times, time is your hunter and you are the prey: cutting into you the closer it gets, lunging and snapping at your ankles, hitting the hardest just when you're paying the least attention. Fluttershy could not have been paying any more attention to the gleaming white clock hung on the wall in the vet's waiting room, its jet black hands seemingly hovering just that millisecond too long over every second and every minute, as if to torture the shy, pink-maned mare. Time is not finite, rather the reminder of our finite nature, and for some, their time runs out quicker than expected. If only the clock could spin the other way, Fluttershy thought, if only I could have got there quicker... A weak half-sigh, half squeak escaped her lips, and she cast a sorrowful gaze across the hall. Clinical rows of polished yet yellowing white tiles and flooring lined the way up to exit, the walls indented with doors to consultancy and operating rooms. How she wished she could stride confidently away, far away, forget all her mistakes, and go home, but no. It was Fluttershy who failed to keep an eye on her birds, and the potential loss of one such bird was down to her failure and something she'd have to face.
BANG!
A door down the hall swung open at surprising speed, and the mare jumped, whimpering. The vet's white coat dragged limply across the floor.
Clack. Clack. Clack.
Fluttershy peered down the hall to make out the veterinarian's face - eyes cast down, whole body drooping visibly, and the usual smile a stranger to his face. Not a good sign. He approached Fluttershy.
"The impact broke the poor critter's ribs. The shock and pain quickly stopped her heart." A slight pause. The rain did not show any sign of relenting, and roared with rage on the roof. He took another step forward. "I'm sorry. There was nothing you could have done."
~~~
"All depends on how we take what life throws at us, I s'pose. We decide how we respond to what happens to us, ain't that something. Plenty ponies out there'd buck a thousand apple trees to live that happy life down in a quaint treehouse by the forest, but the clock ticks down for everypony. Now I don't know about you, but I'm freezing. C'mon, let's head inside." He dismounted from his seat, falling somewhat clumsily to all fours again. His friend dismounted similarly, if not a little slower, and they proceeded to walk painfully slow, side-by-side, into the store. The darker stallion stumbled and wobbled at times, as his friend rambled on. "Y'know, it gets me thinking sometimes, that maybe it's just pony nature. The whole "grass is greener on the other side" shenanigins. And ain't it so funny, that if'n when we get there, it's just as bad as where we were before!" He continued to chuckle, and nudged the saloon-style swing doors open with a front hoof, propping it open to allow the darker horse through first. As they swung to again, a few faded green chips of paint peeled off and floated to the ground like fallen leaves. The few ponies dotted around the café paid them little mind, busy eating and drinking or otherwise waiting out the pegasi storm. The pair's hooves squeaked and clopped across the solid wood floor. A warm light was cast around the interior courtesy of a single contained lantern, enhanced by the mahogany hues of wood that the tables, chairs and walls were crafted from. Giving his mane a slight shake to free some of the rainwater from it, the darker stallion made for a table to rest his already aching legs.
"Sc'use me lady, do you mind overmuch if my partner and I take a seat at your table? It's just that he isn't as... sprightly, let's say, as he once was, and I wouldn't want my good friend to have to suffer any more than he is right now," the grey stallion muttered out of the side of his mouth, leaning in toward the occupier of the closest table, so as to not embarrass his friend. The mare inclined her head and nodded vigorously.
"Oh no, not at all sir! Come, come, take a seat." She gave him a strained smile, and flicked away a wayward coil of purple mane obscuring her face. After a short awkward interval of the two stallions scuffling and guiding each other onto the bench by the table, the mare went to speak again.
"I'm Rarity, by the way. Have we met already? I run the Carousel Boutique just up the street." She laughed nervously and her gaze darted to the floor for a split second.
"No, we stopped by earlier but you weren't in, a little while before it started raining. I'm just taking my friend here for a little fresh air, he doesn't get out much, see," he croaked, gesturing toward the blacker stallion, of which's ribs rose and fell visibly, eyelids drooping somewhat further with every passing second. He quickly changed the subject. " So, err, how's sales for you then, missy?"
"Oh, err, just fine thanks." Rarity's neck snapped toward the frailer of the two, who began to roar with laughter, his throat rasping loudly with every inhale. The grey stallion's face broke into a great big grin, and he allowed himself a light nudge into the white pony's sides.
"My friend here reckons something's up. I'm willin' to bet something's up quite a lot of the time, here in quiet, happy Ponyville. Maybe you gained a bad reputation quite recently, and now you're selling less of those fancy dresses you whip up?" His proud, know-it-all grin made Rarity scowl.
"That's none of your business, thank you sir! One does not simply "whip up" works of art - but yes, unfortunately, the bits just aren't coming in as much as they have done before." Propping a leg up onto his lap with some effort, the grey pony shrugged.
"Me'n my companion saw a strong lookin' country pony on our way in. Boy, she looks tireless. You know her?" Rarity muttered some demeaning form of aknowledgement, and let him go on. "Well, my friend and I were just saying, about how tough life must be down on a farm like that, as a local business an' all. In fact, you tell 'er, old boy."
Rarity strained her ears to hear the old stallion over the general murmur of low voices. He drew a long breath, like gravel being rolled over by a heavy cart...
~~~
"C'mon Big Mac, y'can't be serious!" Two orange hooves slammed upon the table. Applejack's brother sighed a deep sigh.
"Eeyup."
"If these rich uppity ponies keep importing these cheaper apples, they'll run us outta town! We could starve!" Applejack shouted in defiance. Big Mac simply looked forlorn, continuing to watch the wind and rain cause the rows and rows of apple trees to dance and thrash violently. Sweet Apple Acres was not producing apples quick enough for the ponies of Ponyville, and a majority of the trees were dying. Adding the consideration that the Apple family operated traditionally without modern equipment, it would be fast concluded that in order for a decent profit to be turned, the fruit would need to be sold at non-competitive prices. The driving rain was turning the apple orchards into marshy messes, with bigger and richer companies bribing the local weather teams to pound competition into the ground, or out of the ground as it where. The powerful orange pony slumped down, her face lying on the side of the table. "We'll just have ta' drive our prices lower then, big brother. Tough times ahead I guess." They both sighed.
"Eeyup..."
~~~
Rarity gasped dramatically. The greyer pony simply inclined his head and smiled his impish smile, broad hat still covering both his eyes and his mane.
"My, that's just awful... I completely understand how cruel the market is to us small-time ponies. Not that I'm, err, small time," she hastened to add. "Applejack and I have had many disagreements, some financial recently, and they have put quite the rift between us, not that I would wish such a fate upon her, of course. Are you waiting for anypony, or are you just passing through?" she then said, and was quick to receive a reply.
"We're waiting for some friends actually, come to think of it. Think of it as a reunion of sorts, the first in many years. We're going to have a blast, that's for sure, and every pony in the whole of Equestria's going to know about it! Rarity laughed politely with the old, frail ponies. "Say, Miss Rarity, aren't you waiting for somepony too? One such "Twilight Sparkle?"" Surprise lit up Rarity's face, quickly culled and replaced with a sad smile.
"Yes, sadly she's taken rather ill. I'm beginning to wonder if she's even mustered the strength to turn up here and meet me. There are times when everything wants to go wrong, hmm." Both her impromptu friends nodded empathetically. The dark stallion shuffled around again. "Me 'n him go way back. Been waiting for this day f'r a long, long, time."
"Well, I think we've had enough of a rest now, don't you think?" The grey pony did not wait for a response from his friend. "A pleasure to meet you, Miss Rarity." Making to stand, he made sure to tip his hat. The darker pony rattled audibly, and found his feet after some time.
~~~
"What've we learnt then, friend?" The grey pony said, removing his hat once they were outside. His mane flowed and flickered with a life of its own, in a blazing firey red colour. Two glaring eyes sat in his skull like glowing rubies, and he sneered slightly. "Ponies can have almost everything they could possibly want in the world, and just won't know it 'till it's gone. More so, ponies always want more, too. Hey, there's our friends now!" The skeletal, black horse reared up and snickered with sudden newfound energy at that, as two ponies appeared on the horizon.
One was easier to see than the other - coat shining an odd shade of pallid green, much like dry bone, with a limp mane of similar shade. Patches of his coat and even his flesh lay completely bare, displaying entire ribs and yellowing teeth. A slight toxic haze preceeded their next old friend who brought up the rear of the bone-coloured pony. At a glance, anypony would think he was in urgent need of medical attention. At second glance, anypony would have concluded they want to be as far from him - it - as possible.
"Life, no matter how good it is to somepony else, is always goin' ta be seen in worse light by the alive." He rolled his thick-set, muscular neck, gemstone-like eyes gleaming with newfound fury. "Famine, my friend. There's a certain cyan pegasis we need to remind how good she has it, isn't there?"
The group chuckled up a low murmur. It was lost to the storm.
