Dance

by Martian

Rating: everyone
Tags: Slice of Life, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Apple Bloom
Length: 1513

Just because you can't, doesn't mean you shouldn't.

Just because you can't, doesn't mean you shouldn't.

Published 2012-11-03 19:30:01 UTC
Last updated 2012-11-03 19:30:01 UTC

Move

Sun-kissed grass swished against hooves, green blades soft and tickling against yellow legs only a few inches longer than their tips. Apple Bloom trotted merrily through, red-maned head held high and proud as she hummed a bouncy little tune.

Spring had just turned to Summer; the cool weather chased well away by the glowing brass disc of the sun above. The air was delightfully warm, the grass cool, and all around the birds and bugs and trees worked a cacophony of twittering and buzzing and rustling. Shadow and light turned the world to dappled motley beneath the orchard trees of Sweet Apple Acres; the pattern shifting and flowing with the wind in the boughs and leaves.

This time of year was probably Apple Bloom's favourite: everything was just so alive and vibrant. A pony could feel the energy and excitement in the air, couldn't help but have a bit rub off and make one feel restless and wanting to just do something. Of course, living on a farm meant there was almost always chores and work to be done, but sometimes everything just fell into place and you were done hours before you usually were. This meant free time to do whatever you pleased, and in Apple Bloom's case, she was pleased to venture out into the quiet privacy of the orchards for no other reason but 'because'.

The little filly liked being out among the trees, especially now when the last of the apple blossoms were just falling away. Delicate white petals drifted down in ones and twos around her as she strolled, their dance in the air somehow cheerful in itself. Apple Bloom neatly stepped around what fallen blossoms she could, feeling them much too pretty to just trod over.

The tune she was humming had her head bobbing from side to side, curly tail flicking in time. She wasn't sure just where she had heard it, but it didn't matter all that much. The song did have a mind of its own though, and before long Apple Bloom wasn't merely trotting through the orchard. She was doing a kind of quick-paced, high-stepping walk that didn't actually move her forward any faster than normal. Trotting hooves kept pace with the playful tune in her head though, and it wasn't long for rest of her body to start getting ideas in the same vein.

It wasn't all that unusual for her to wander out here; the orchard was a comfortable and private place to do all kinds of silly things that Apple Bloom didn't want other to catch sight of.

Dancing happened to be one of those things.

She wasn't any good at it. This had been made painfully obvious awhile ago: Apple Bloom dancing was either a national disaster in the making or the funniest event of the year. Neither was really something she was proud of, so she didn't even try it where others could see… but, here in the orchard? There was no one to see, no one to point and laugh and make fun of her later. Bad at dancing she might be, but Apple Bloom loved the feeling and the movement; she loved to just let herself go.

She was bouncing along happily now with a bright grin, eyes closed, her curly tail following in her wake. She spun and whirled, up onto her rear hooves to drift across the open grass, whirling as she went: all light as a feather. Well, she thought of herself as moving light as a feather. She fell down twice and hit a tree once, but those were outside problems. After a few moments there were fresh green stains on her legs and flank, and a few errant blades of grass stuck in her mane. Her pink bow had a twig stuck through it.

It was stupid and silly and awkward, but out here with no one watching, all that mattered was how fun it was.

And, maybe, just maybe, Apple Bloom might have been starting to get better. It was a secret hope in her heart of hearts; a wish that she would actually turn out to be an amazing dancer after all, if she just practiced hard enough. The filly could see herself in her mind's eye, gliding across dance floors and putting every pony around into slack-jawed awe with her grace and style.

Everyone in town was watching her again, but now their eyes with wide with shock as the little filly shimmied (wobbled drunkenly,) pirouetted (bounced off a tree and tumbled,) and executed an absolutely perfect en-pointe landing (on her face.) The real world might have had problems with the idea of Apple Bloom dancing, but that's what imagination was for. In her own private world, every step and twirl was perfection.

She was giggling and breathless in a few short minutes, and so brought her imaginary dance recital to a close with a (wobbly) bow, the sound of applause and whistles sharp in her mind's ear. She opened her eyes.

Applejack was standing not half a dozen steps away, leaning against a tree and staring right at Apple Bloom. Smirking at Apple Bloom.

Every good feeling the filly had up to that point bled away in a rush. Suddenly she could feel eyes all around, could hear the intake of air into a hundred mouths that would storm out in gales of laughter directed right at her. Apple Bloom suddenly felt heavy as lead, awkward, funny looking. She was painfully aware of the grass and twigs stuck in her mane and tail, the green stains on her legs… Her back knees gave up the ghost and her bum thumped to the ground. The filly cringed, waiting for Applejack to start laughing at the uncoordinated flailing she had witnessed: it was what everyone did.

Apple Bloom wanted to run away: to just up and dash off and hope maybe somehow Applejack would forget seeing her and her stupid dancing. She wondered why she kept trying, wondered why she ever bothered hoping she'd ever be good at anything. She wanted to cry.

A hat settled lightly on her head. Apple Bloom sniffled and blinked back the threatening tears. She could see a set of hooves in front of her, the rest of Applejack hidden by the brim of the hat. Cautiously, she lifted her head a bit until she found big sister's kind face, green eyes soft. She was still smirking… no, that wasn't a smirk; it was a smile: gentle and warmed with a sister's love.

The hateful feelings in her heart recoiled in the heat of her sudden shame for having ever thought Applejack would laugh at her. The filly wanted to cry all over again, but the first sob was brought up short by the hug big sister gave her. They stayed that way for a moment, chasing off the hurt and shame, then Applejack helped Apple Bloom back up to her hooves. Instead of leading her back to the farmhouse though, the blonde mare sidled up next to the red-maned filly, and did something with her front hoof.

Ta-tap.

It was a curious movement: a neat little side-to-side with the ankle that touched either edge of the hoof to the turf, smartly. Applejack did it a second time, then gave little sister a playful bump with her flank. Apple Bloom tried to mimic the motion, frowning mightily in concentration and was suddenly wide-eyed with wonder when she repeated it near-perfectly.

Okay, so it wasn't a pirouette-en-pointe, but she was still upright and hadn't gained any new grass stains. This was an improvement.

Applejack showed her a few more simple steps, joining them together with the easy grace she had, and Apple Bloom followed as best she could the patient advice. It wasn't all that hard, but it took a kind of coordination the filly just never seemed to gain. When Applejack tried to have her turning in place with the steps, it only resulted in Apple Bloom somehow ending up on her back with her legs flailing. There was laughter in the air now, but it wasn't the hateful, hurtful sound it used to be; it was Apple Bloom laughing at herself.

The two sisters kept trying the little step-dance, kept mucking it up and laughing themselves silly with the effort. By the end, Apple Bloom was giving Applejack the dancing lessons, which meant the two were whirling and tumbling about the orchard like mad things. Grass and leaves and petals and twigs were stuck in their manes, hides stained green in spots from particularly energetic tumbles into the turf.

It was stupid, and silly, and awkward, and it was the most fun Apple Bloom had ever had in her life.

As the sun set over Sweet Apple Acres, Applejack trotted home with Apple Bloom laying on her back. Her cheek was nestled in big sister's long blonde mane, and she was snoring softly through a smile that just wouldn't go away.

Author's Note

Inspired by and written to: