The Manehattaner

by Gentian

Rating: teen
Tags: Slice of Life, Alternate Universe, Human, Narcotics, Original Character, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic
Length: 3105

An article from Everypony's favorite snob-zine, about one of the Royalty's most scandalous decisions!

Manehattan is the toast of Equestria! The creme de la creme! Just ask them, they'll tell you. In exacting detail, and with a lot of 5-dollar words laid out on solid gold platters, too. You wouldn't really expect a place like that to stay mum if some weird, alien biped married into the Royal Family, now would you?

Image by, and used with permission of the amazingly skillful GaelleDragons
https://www.deviantart.com/gaelledragons

Published 2020-09-17 03:50:00 UTC
Last updated 2020-09-17 03:50:00 UTC

The Manehattaner

Introducing HRH Princess Twilight Sparkle's Girlfriend
Written by Moon Pearl, BSC, SSC;
excerpted from The Manehattaner,
Second-Spring, 1236nc

“These are so good!” intones my guest's soft drawling voice, mellifluously flowing around the bites of fried-to-a-crisp oysters in her mouth every bit as fluidly as the water in the river beyond the hardwood doors of our chosen gastropub flows between its banks. Her teeth are white and pointed, just as I'd heard, and they catch the dim light – ocher and rust - of the lamps hanging over the establishment's tables. The lamps, filled with actual fireflies, are couched in wreathes of multicolored stained glass fractals welded together with soft lead. Splotches of color and shadow dance in time to the fireflies within; a flash of red flits across my guest's face and for a moment, I could swear her fangs are covered in blood.

Thankfully, fireflies stop for nopony, and before I can consciously register the thought, their endless pirouettes within change the angles of the light, and the frightful image is lost. She swallows, and smiles at me, seemingly unaware of the momentary shudder run down my spine, and again remarks on the quality of fare even the most spendthrift Manehattaner has at her disposal. Unsurprisingly, Canterlot's fare must, for all the city's splendor, and the glory lent it by being the seat of Royalty, seem rather provincial in comparison to our own. I smile back at her and nod, feeling for the second time that day, relieved by her response.

The trepidation I'd felt when asked to accept this assignment was real, but I'm very pleased to say she's so far managed to buck the expectations of even this jaded Manehattanite in the best of ways.

The rumors spoke of her being a ferocious carnivore, scarcely prevented from devouring the hapless denizens of our beautiful world by the stranglehold of the Princess' magic around her appetite; upon first setting eyes on her, it was not at all reassuring to see no comforting magenta aura clamped to her body, binding her lockstep with the Princess' will. Vivid images of this imposingly tall human mare – a woman, as they call themselves – running amok and swinging from the branches like the primates in some remote corners of Equestria, intruded themselves into my mind.

Sitting as I am, now in the comfort of my own home penning these words, I can say without doubt that the insipid pablum circulating about HRH Princess Twilights' girlfriend is entirely off base, but at that time, I, like most of you were not privy to any source of information more reliable than base gossip and unfiltered marketplace tabloids. Well, allow us here at the Manhattaner to once again rise above the dross, and set the record straight.

As every citizen of Manehattan knows, ours is a center of culture and refinement. With wealth initially born from our deep, sheltered ports and navigable rivers stretching into the canals, and waterways of eastern Equestria, then pampered and fattened on the fruits of trade, and a drive to elegance, and perfection non pariel, the breadth, and depth of our art, couture, and cuisine nearly boggles the imagination.

Where else, but Manehattan – with all due respect paid to Canterlot, of course with its scientific, academic and ahem, societal highlights – can lay claim to being the birthplace of so much of Equestria's greatest artistic, and literary accomplishments? Who else, but Manehattaners can truthfully boast of being the exporters of culture for the rest of the civilized world? How many times have we heard tell of the latest fashions out of somewhere-or-other, only to recognize them as already being old hat on our own lofty streets?

Too many to accurately count.

But now, astra inclinant, the shoe is on the other hoof, so to speak, and we find ourselves importing not only a very important visitor, but one utterly alien to our world, lending sad, new life to the same tired, tawdry tabloid fare:

What is a human?

What language does it speak?

Can it even speak?

What do you mean it wears clothes all the time?

It eats meat, doesn't it?

Are we safe?

Are our foals safe?

Ad nauseam.

Everypony who's anypony, and quite a considerable many who are not have heard the rumors. Ever since it was first made known that HRH Princess Twilight Sparkle brought her human lover over from her own world to ours, she's been the talk of practically every town in the land. Imagination, sadly filled in the holes, or in this case chasms, left in knowledge's absence, and we've all heard the results, from terrifying, to comedic to jejune. It's important to remember, though just who is bringing her here, and who vouches for her. How many ponies can claim to have had three of the four Princesses speak on their behalves? In all honesty, how many can claim even one?

Their royal endorsements are the gold-standard bellwether of sterling reputation, and so were, of course, all the assurance we needed to set our minds at ease, but how does one even entertain a visitor so far outside the main? How does a pony get this person to really open up, and let us get to know her?

Meat, we thought, would be a good start. Everypony likes food, and none do it better than we Manehattanites, and so the logic goes, why not put our best hoof forward? Thusly, invitation extended, and graciously accepted, I sat down to wait at the appointed time, and place, in one of the hippest pegasi establishments along the shore of the East River. They specialize in seafood, but have earned some degree of notoriety for not only serving red meat, but raw red meat, thinly sliced, expertly flavored with the highbrow tastes of ponzu, and shiso. Harvested from only the freshest cuts of the healthiest livestock, of course.

We are sitting in a large, comfortable booth by the window. Our table is hard, dark brown, and scuffed with age. The wooden scaffolding outside, normally framing the East River in a picturesque rectangle dripping with verdure, appears a sodden gray in the wan light filtering through the clouds. The famous waterway is all but lost in the sheets of rain. Tendrils of ivy wave in the storm, and the heavy beating of legion fat drops on stone and glass fills the air. The downpour wasn't scheduled, but as it rolled ashore, the city decided we needed the rain, so told their weather teams to let it land, and as our interview progresses, I find myself unexpectedly delighted that my guest chose to come anyway.

Her name is Rin, as you may not have heard. She does indeed stand on two legs, at an impressive 160cm tall – incredulously, she explains that's on the short side of average for members of her gender, and species. Her blonde mane - “hair” - is pulled back in a loose bun, but bangs serve to highlight her large blue eyes. A small lavender feather is pinned to her locks, and tucked behind her left ear. Doubtless a gift from her royal paramour. She has no coat, but her exposed skin is fair, and flawless, and yes, almost completely covered in clothing. Between bites, she tells me she's wearing rather less than she would normally be back home. There, a taboo against nudity is enforced, and one may find oneself ridiculed, fined, or even imprisoned for exposing the wrong part at the wrong time. The thought makes my head spin, and I tell her so.

She laughs, and says that in Equestria she has almost the same problem for the opposite reason; as we all know, clothing is often associated with fancy occasions, and the well-to-do. Someponies, not realizing human custom, or with whom this particular human is herding, can gain the erroneous impression that she is putting on airs.

“At least they don't arrest me here,” she laughs again, and looks out the window. “That's one of the things I like about it here, everypony is kind, and makes an effort to get along, and understand. Ponies are so much nicer than humans.”

Her forelimbs, “arms,” and “hands,” as she calls them, grasp her glass and raise it smoothly to her lips. A moment later it's returned to the table, the level of its pale amber contents slightly lower than before. She says she likes that, too. “...Full, bitter, and bready.” It reminds her of a “Yebisu,” a kind of beer popular “back home.”

Suddenly, she unwinds her scarf, and pulls the sweater dress she had been wearing over her head, folding them both neatly beside her. It's a rather impressive display of dexterity, and the range of motion in her forelimbs is really something that has to be seen to be believed. She smiles again, and shrugs, her now nude teats – women gain them on reaching sexual maturity, and keep them throughout their lives, whether pregnant or not - shaking slightly with the movement. “I've been trying to learn to fit in better...when in Roam*, and all that,” she says. A light blush betrays her embarrassment, yet she perseveres, and I find myself impressed with her willingness to adopt our culture.

Almost unconsciously, I realize I'm smiling, and setting down my pen to reach across our table and pat her forepaw, called a hand. “It's ok, Rin. However you choose, we want you to be happy in your new home.” She returns my smile, and rubs the wall of my hoof with her fingertips – the last and smallest appendages on her arms - of her other hand. We touched each other...and I'm not only alive to tell the tale, but deep within, the familiar warmth one pony feels when connecting with another was beginning to wax.

“Well,” her honeyed voice begins with an obvious note of trepidation. “I'm not saying I'll stay this way. It is a little cool outside, but the fire in here is warm, and I should be making an effort.” I can't argue with that.

“Besides, Twilight suggested I pose in Playpony,” - I pause mid drink - “and if I'm going to do that, I really should get over it.”

“You're going to be in Playpony?”

“Yes. Maybe, I don't know. Twilight suggested it as a way to get over my human social-conditioning. She said there was probably nothing to worry about, but adhering to societal norms when no longer applicable could have unforeseen negative consequences. She used the term 'unnecessary potential point of failure' quite a bit.”

“I see.”

“Yeah, anyway, they asked me to go in for an interview, so it might happen.. We'll just have to wait, and see.”

A gentle clopping of hooves to my left, barely audible over the rain announced the arrival of our waitress. She brought with her 2 bowls of ice cream covered brownies, and an unsubtle interest in our conversation. Her eyes flowed over the human mare, and even when she turned to leave, her ears pivoted to retain their focus on our table. Looking around the restaurant, I notice that while the hour and the weather leave it relatively bereft of customers, we are the center of attention for the present habitue. Were I a betting mare, I'd wager that without the steady drumming of the rain, a mere pin dropping to the floor would sound off like a thunderclap. I wonder if she's noticed. I wonder if this is how she feels walking down our streets everyday, the center of attention wherever she goes, whether she likes it, or not.

“Did you know this is my favorite desert, or was it just lucky you brought me to a place that had this?”

“Luck,” I answer truthfully, happy to be distracted from the eavesdroppers hedging us in. “But now that Equestria knows your favorite desert, is there anything else you'd like them to know?”

“How much I love Twilight,” she answers without missing a beat. “How grateful I am to be here. That despite the rumors, they have nothing to fear from me. Other than that, you're asking the questions, here.” She looks at me over the top of her glass, once again raised to her lips.

“Tell us about your home.”

“Earth? Earth isn't a nice place...” she begins, and the things she says in continuing leave little doubt of the veracity of her claim. Violence, suffering, and deprivation are omnipresent. War, that is, organized conflict on a massive scale, is a common occurrence. Her claims that hundreds of thousands of humans die in these wars must surely be exaggerated, but that she could even conceive of such terrible things on such incomprehensible scales hints at a terrifying reality behind the tale. Many of the things she says are not fit to print; suffice to say that the more I hear of her home, the more I understand why Princess Twilight, in her wisdom, was so eager to bring her lover to safety here, and simultaneously so adamant that no further intercourse between our worlds should take place.

But surely that can't be all? Surely there must be good things about whence she came?

“Nothing that would make me want to go back.”

Again my forehoof finds its way into her hand. Again I squeeze it in what I hope she understands to be a gesture of compassion. She squeezes back, and I know she does. I'm no foal. I know when something is being held back, but even a foal could tell that this cicatrix is not one ready to be excised.

Lady Rin, I said nothing in the restaurant, but I am not blind; if you are reading this, and I suspect you are, you have in me a friend, and you may confide in me anytime you wish, with my absolute assurance that what you say to me, stops with me.

Of course, redundantly, I uttered nothing of the sort during our interview. I watched her, as she watched the rain, and the patterns of rainbow light flickering across our table. I watched the emotions on her face – so different from a pony's, but readable, and relatable despite this. I sat with her, and I felt empathy with this woman, this mare, because that is exactly what she is, in every way but her appearance.

Her pain was my pain. No, dear reader, that was not a metaphor. You've been piecing together the crumbs I've dropped along the way, haven't you? Taken together the meaning should be obvious: Harmony. Actual Harmony, of the nigh-supernatural kind which ties all of us citizens of Equestria together, through the grace of HRH Princess Celestia, into an extended family.

No, she is not a pony.

No, I do not care.

I experienced actual Harmony with her, and so, agere sequitur credere, I wanted desperately to help her. To cheer her up, as anypony would for any other, but how?

“So, Rin,” begins my deliberately obtuse, and sub-par segue, complete with conspiratorial wink. “Rumor has it, that you, and Princess Twilight will be taking a trip soon.”

“It does?” she asks, with a sudden coyness as equally, obviously placating as is my desire to lift her spirits. “Well in this case the scuttlebutt is correct,” she finishes from behind the rim of her glass.

“I'm sorry, the what?”

“The rumors.”

“'Scuttlebutt' are rumors?”

“Yeah. It's slang. I guess y'all don't use it 'round here.”

“Who knows; we may start.” I take another bite of my desert, and she raises an eyebrow at me, complete with an amused smirk.

“I'll believe that when I hear it.”

Calmly, I swallow the frozen delicacy, and sip my tea. Our fireflies turn. The rain drones on.

“Well, Lady Rin, would you care to fill in the scuttlebutt?”

“Sweet Celestia, you didn't let the opportunity slip,” she laughs. “All right. Soon Twilight, and I will be taking one of the Royal airships on a trip across Equestria. Twilight, the Royal Sisters, and Princess Sunset are all eager to show me how wonderful Equestria, and Equestrians can be, now that I'm finally here. They're trying very hard to make me feel at home, and I'm so grateful.”

“And it's working?” I ask, intending the tinge of hope in my voice to serve as an adjuvant to her Equestrian experience.

“I'd feel at home living under a bridge as long as Twilight loved me.”

“Celestia forbid it come to that!”

“Not in this world it wouldn't.

“It's sometimes hard for humans to be appreciative when we're ignorant of just how good we have it. I don't know if that's also true for ponies, but I hope y'all think of the Princesses everyday, all 4 of them, and thank them for what they provide for you. I certainly do. Believe me when I say, the alternatives are dark indeed.”

“So dark you eschewed your home.”

“I did that for Twilight. It's better a million times over I come here, than she go there.”

“Then it was light, not darkness which drove you.”

“It was,” she said, then with a mischievous expression: “It was my Twi-Light.” She retreated behind the comforting rim of her glass, again, and smiled at me while I parsed her humor. I laughed. Yes, it certainly is the sort of joke which would fit in well, in Ponyville. I plead Harmony.

“Anyway, we'll be going almost everywhere on our trip, and since we have no itinerary, we don't know how long we'll be, or when we'll be going where. All we do know now is that we'll be together, and it will take a long time.”

“It sounds like it'll be wonderful.”

“I'm sure it will be. There's so much to see, and do. So many ponies to meet, and new friends to make. I can't wait."

“You can do all that right here in Manehattan,“ I reply, happy to see my attempts at satsficing a solution seem to be working.

“Oh, I know. We'll definitely be coming back, but Twilight wants me to see everything. 'Disce quasi semper victurus; vive quasi cras moriturus,' as she always says.” Thoughtfully, she draws again from her glass while looking out the window. “She says that a lot, actually. I've come to think of it as her personal motto, I think it has been, since her unicorn days.”

Learn as if you were going to live forever; live as if you were going to die tomorrow.

Perfect.

Author's Note

Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed it.