Determination
━━☆ ミ★°⋆*ﾟ.
Trixie knows what it is to be determined.
She knows it better than anypony. She’s always felt it, her whole life. It’s a familiar companion, this sense of an inevitability to one’s actions, driven from a fire within.
But just because her actions are inevitable doesn’t always mean they’re something she wants to do. The inevitable doesn’t necessarily happen without a struggle, and although she will lose, struggle and rail against it she does all the same. It’s all part of the process. So she paces restlessly inside her wagon—all three steps of room there is to pace—and grumbles to herself, murmuring and growling low wordless noises of complaint.
All her protests do her no good.
When a pony is determined to get what they’re after, and willing to do anything to get it, there’s only one thing to do: whatever it takes.
And so Trixie is well aware, like it or not, that she has no real choice. At a certain point, she’s just wasting time, and she knows it.
“Oh, alright, FINE!” she bursts forth with a final exclamation and throws her hooves up in an exasperated acquiescence to fate. Then she exits her wagon and hitches herself up to its towing harness, cinching the strap around her barrel just so, tight enough to pull without slipping but loose enough to let her breathe.
What else can she do? She’s determined. Her mind is made up. It’s time to go.
━━☆ ミ★°⋆*ﾟ.
Travel is tiring, but it has its upsides.
Time for reflection is one of them. Trixie spends a lot of time thinking to herself while she pulls her wagon along the road. It’s a very contemplative place to be, with the long hours of solitude and the big stretches of scenic land slowly rolling by like a never-ending painting. Her mind always seems to wander while she walks, and the only noise, a soft steady rhythm of hoofsteps, is nowhere near enough of a leash to keep her thoughts bound and focused, so she makes no effort to restrain them.
Those thoughts drift, darting and skittering with the flight of a butterfly over the long road of time as they skim through a retracing of what it is about herself that brought her here, until at last they settle on a destination, all the way back to the first thing she was ever determined to achieve. Her dream was to become the greatest of stage magicians. She began as a filly obsessed, rushing home from school every day to practice card tricks, sleight-of-hoof, illusions of any type so long as they would bedazzle and befuddle an audience.
In that pursuit, she was relentless. It was the thing that first taught her to be relentless, because relentlessness brought results. She’d practice anywhere and everywhere she could: in front of a mirror, in front of her classmates, in front of her parents. For hours and hours and hours, Trixie honed her craft. It was determination measured in time.
And it paid off, to an extent. She remembers the day she realized she could hold an audience, and it steadily grew bigger and bigger as the show went on. The thunder of applause at the end, when she wowed them with her grand finale trick – what satisfaction it gave her!
Trixie keeps walking, pulling her wagon along behind her. Her thoughts flap their gossamer wings and flutter around her head, light and flowy as air, while she marches her hooves on the hard-packed dirt road. They distract her, making her hardly even aware of how she deftly steps around the rocks and expertly steers her wagon to avoid hitting them with the wheels. It’s all second-nature to her, after so long, and those skills are enough to carry her down the road well enough.
But mere ho-hum competence isn’t enough to satisfy, not enough to pass the test. To be shown up by someone better, somepony with more of a real magic flare? That still stings, the humbling realization of how hard that is to compete with at her level.
What Trixie’s thoughts flutter around now is how the second thing she was ever determined to achieve was revenge. She’d almost had it, too, and to get it, she’d traded in everything, every single coin she’d scrimped and scraped and somehow saved during those hard times.
Yes, Trixie paid dearly for the amulet, using money as a shortcut that would give her the power without the long hours of work… it was determination measured in bits.
She misses these bits, too, every time she catches the wafting, enticing aroma of a carrot dog stand and has to think carefully about whether or not she can afford a decent hot meal today. Sometimes, after a good show, the answer is yes. Too often, it’s no. When she looks in a mirror and catches sight of the raised outlines of her ribs along her barrel, Trixie is often forced to admit that she’s a little on a scrawny side after so many times of having to say ‘no,’ and it’s not the best of looks.
Not that she’s in any real danger, of course – grass is still free, after all, the perennial breakfast, lunch, and dinner of last resort. It just tastes like, well… like grass, and makes her a little disappointed in herself to ruminate on it with every dull, boring, fibrous mouthful.
Revenge, she knows now, was a foolish thing to put her determination into. Revenge doesn’t pay much return on the investment, certainly not enough to live on. That’s one little detail Trixie overlooked at the time. Alas, sometimes determination can make a pony blind to the practicalities.
But hard as this lesson was, it’s water under the bridge, dust under her wagon-wheels. It’s over and done, just like she realizes her journey nearly is now.
How quickly it passed. Where does the time go? Now there’s a disappearing act.
━━☆ ミ★°⋆*ﾟ.
Trixie has arrived at her destination, so she undoes the strap around her barrel and unhitches her wagon from her back, leaving it parked unobtrusively alongside some bushes in the lush green lawn surrounding a huge tree made of shimmering, faceted crystal.
With a final sigh, Trixie steels herself and prepares to face the destiny her determination has brought her to. She walks over to the large, arched main doors, and knocks.
After a long moment, Twilight Sparkle, the Princess of Friendship herself, answers.
“Oh! Trixie?” she asks, with a little half-smile of greeting. “Hang on, I’ll get Starlight for you.”
“Err, no...” Trixie shakes her head hesitantly. “It’s you I came to see, actually.”
Twilight’s smile fades and she stands there in silence, not sure what to say, and just looks sidelong at Trixie with one eye half-closed, somewhere between confused and a little mistrusting. “Hmmm? What about?”
Trixie feels awkward and wants to run away.
But she won’t because she knows why she’s here. Trixie knows what it is to be determined.
She would have liked to just let Twilight go get Starlight, and in a way, Starlight actually is why Trixie is here: having a friend like Starlight Glimmer is an important thing—the most important thing—and Trixie is determined not to screw it up.
Friendship isn’t easy. It’s never something that came naturally to Trixie, never something she found much time to practice or work on, consumed as she always was with determination that kept her fixed on other things.
So now, to make up for her lacking, she’ll have to do what it takes, go to who she needs to for help to get this right, and if that means the pony who knows more about friendship than anypony else—even if she’s also the one who sank Trixie’s determination twice before—well, then so be it.
Trixie stares at the ground while she swallows down the lump in her throat, the physical manifestation of her pride trying to choke her to protest against being subjected to a perceived indignity. It’s not easy to be here. It’s not easy to say what she needs to say.
But it’s alright. She didn’t expect it to be easy, because achieving the object of a true determination is never easy, and now, Trixie finally understands the kind of determination she really needs. She finally understands the reason the other kinds failed her before: they were incomplete because they lacked this.
This will be determination measured in humility.
“Twilight,” I begin, finally looking up and meeting her purple eyes with careful hope, “I was wondering: can… can you teach me how to be a better friend?”
I’m so incredibly relieved when her face softens, and her nod and her kind smile say yes.
☆⠀🪄⠀☆
THE⠀END
Author's Note
This is the original 750 word version of the story entered into the writeoff.me "TBD" event.
Posted here for historical context, and to let readers see how space constraints change (or don't) a story. 750 words isn't a lot to work with!
BONUS: Original version
Determination
(Original 750 word Writeoff version)
Trixie knows what it is to be determined.
She knows it better than anypony. She’s always felt it, her whole life. It’s a familiar companion, this sense of inevitability.
But just because something is inevitable doesn’t mean it’s something she wants. So she paces restlessly inside her wagon—all three steps there’s room to pace—and grumbles to herself, wordless noises of complaint.
They do her no good.
When a pony is determined to get what they’re after, and willing to do anything to get it, there’s only one thing to do: whatever it takes.
And so Trixie is well aware, like it or not, that she has no other choice. She exits her wagon, and hitches herself to it. It’s time to go.
What else can she do? Her mind is made up. She’s determined.
Travel is tiring, but also pleasant in some ways.
Trixie thinks to herself while she pulls her wagon along. She spends a lot of time thinking on the road. It’s a very contemplative place to be, with the long hours of solitude. Her mind always wanders while she walks. The only noise, a soft steady rhythm of hoofsteps, is nowhere near enough of a leash to keep her thoughts bound and focused, and she makes no effort to restrain them.
They drift until she’s thinking back to the first thing she was ever determined to achieve: becoming the greatest of stage magicians. She began as a filly, rushing home from school every day to practice card tricks, sleight-of-hoof, illusions of any type so long as they would bedazzle an audience.
She practiced in front of a mirror, in front of her classmates, in front of her parents. For hours and hours and hours, Trixie had honed her craft. It was determination measured in time.
It paid off, to an extent.
Trixie keeps walking, pulling her wagon along behind her. Her thoughts progress forward alongside her hooves on the hard-packed dirt road.
Trixie thinks about how the second thing she was ever determined to achieve was revenge. She’d almost had it, too, and to get it, she traded everything, every single coin she’d scrimped and scraped and somehow saved during those hard times.
Yes, Trixie paid dearly for the amulet that would give her the power; determination measured in bits.
She misses these bits, too, every time she catches the wafting, enticing aroma of a carrot dog vendor’s stand and has to think carefully about whether or not she can afford a decent hot meal today.
Revenge, she knows now, was a foolish thing to be determined about.
But that’s water under the bridge, dust under her wagon-wheels. It’s over and done, just like her journey is now. She unhitches her wagon, leaving it parked unobtrusively alongside some bushes in the green lawn surrounding a huge tree made of shimmering, faceted crystal.
Trixie walks over to the large, arched main doors, and knocks.
After a long moment, Twilight Sparkle, the Princess of Friendship herself, answers.
“Trixie?” she asks, with a little half-smile. “Hang on, I’ll get Starlight.”
“No...” Trixie shakes her head hesitantly. “It’s you I came to see, actually.”
Twilight’s smile fades and she stands in silence, not sure what to say, just looking sidelong at Trixie with one eye half-closed.
Trixie feels awkward and wants to run away, but she won’t because she knows why she’s here.
Trixie knows what it is to be determined.
She would have liked to just let Twilight go get Starlight, and in a way, Starlight actually is why Trixie’s here: Starlight is something too important to screw up, and Trixie is determined not to.
She’ll do what it takes, go to who she needs to for help, and that means the pony who knows more about this than anypony else – even if she’s also the one who sank Trixie’s determination twice before.
Trixie stares at the ground while she swallows down the lump in her throat, the physical manifestation of her pride. It’s not easy to be here.
But it’s alright, because Trixie finally understands the kind of determination she really needs. She finally understands the reason the other kinds failed her before – they were incomplete because they lacked this.
This will be determination measured in humility.
“Twilight,” I begin, looking up and meeting her purple eyes with careful hope, “I was wondering: can... can you teach me how to be a better friend?”
I’m so incredibly relieved when her nod and kind smile say yes.
