Fallout: Snowdrop - A Land Without Stars
Is this worth it? Is this really worth it? This was all Primrose could think. She thought she knew what pain was, but the day her child was born the word took on a whole new meaning. In those long moments she was having trouble thinking about motherhood. All she wanted was for the thing to be out of her, for the pain to stop. She wanted out. She wanted to leave this place and never come back. The delivery room was cold and colorless, like everything else in Vault 01. Primrose squinted up at the hard light shining on her from the fluorescent fixture above. The ponies tending to her formed dark splotches against the light. It was too bright. The pain was too much. Sweat and tears blurred her vision, and she couldn't make out any of the faces.
Primrose rolled her head to the side and blinked the moisture from her eyes. She peered at the shadow standing too far away to be a doctor. It was him. Of course he was there. Watching. Like he watched everything, and doing nothing.
"Why are you doing this to me?" She yelled. He didn't even blink. Primrose started to yell at him again when she was overtaken by another wave of agony. Someone called out, but Primrose couldn't understand what was said. She just wanted to be done. She wanted out.
A tiny voice rose in the air. It was crying. The pain was but a dull throb. Where had it gone? Primrose's ear twitched at the sound of cries. She lifted her head. The doctor was cleaning something. No, someone. Some baby. Her baby.
"My child," she whispered. She instinctively tried to reach towards the little wailing bundle on the table beyond the foot of the bed, but she found her body was without strength. She could barely move. Even her head was too heavy to hold, and she let it fall back to the pillow. "My child," she said again.
"Congratulations, Primrose," said a kindhearted nurse at her side. "We're cleaning your baby right now. We'll have it over here for you to hold in a moment."
"I want to hold him..." Primrose said weakly. "Is it...is it a boy or a girl?"
The doctor answered from the table, "Primrose it's..." he trailed off.
"What?" Primrose asked. Excitement drove a smile across her face despite her tiredness. But the doctor didn't say anything. "What?" She insisted.
"It's blind."
The shadow that stood too far away stepped into the circle of fluorescent light, and Primrose's smile faded. The Overseer was a strongly built pony with dark, shaded eyes. In that moment, a particularly dark shadow fell across his face. Primrose's excitement decayed into panic and fear. She knew him for far shorter a time than anyone else in the vault, but she knew his heart better than anyone could ever hope to. Primrose knew in that moment, in those two words he had decided the fate of the baby, of her child. "Wait!" she cried, but the sound of the metal door slamming shut drowned her out.
Primrose stared after him, but the door was hidden in shadow. A loud bundle was placed on her chest and her forelegs instinctively wrapped around it. "It's a girl, Primrose," said a voice. Primrose looked down at the bundle she was given. It was so tiny and delicate looking. It had a little mouth that cried out against the big world it found itself in. "A pegasus," the voice said again.
"A little girl," Primrose whispered. "My beautiful baby girl." She touched her muzzle to the child's pale blue face, and her crying subsided a little. She was the most beautiful thing Primrose had ever seen. Her coat was pale, delicate blue with paler mane. Her eyes, when she squinted up at Primrose, were like shards of ice, clouded and useless.
"Snowdrop. Your name is Snowdrop," Primrose looked up and smiled at the nurses around her. No one smiled back. In fact, the entire room was somber, almost sad. From their expressions it looked more like a funeral, not a birth. Primrose silently cursed the Overseer and her embrace tightened protectively around the child. The joy of the moment faded and was replaced by a fierce and unrelenting protectiveness that Primrose had never known she possessed. She'd have to deal with him soon.
-
A Few Years Later
-
The room was no doubt carpeted in decorations. Some balloons that were hanging near the vents rubbed together loudly, creating a rubbery creaking noise. The radio was playing one of Snowdrop's favorite songs, and she could smell cake frosting.
"Happy birthday, sweetheart!" Primrose chimed. Snowdrop beamed up at her. "I hope you don't mind," Primrose continued. "It's just you and me today."
"Thanks, Mom," Snowdrop said, her little voice cracking slightly. "I don't mind. I like it this way. No one else would be interested in coming anyways..." Snowdrop felt her mother's hoof poke at her chin.
"Hey, now," Primrose said. "Today is no day for frowning. It's your birthday! And a big one, too!" She pushed a bag towards Snowdrop. "Open your gift! It's from me."
Snowdrop smirked and said, "Of course it's from you, Mom." Her hooves were already so skilled in feeling that when she plucked the gift from the bottom of the paper bag it hardly crinkled at all. Her expression dampened as she turned the object over in her hooves. "This is..."
"I made it myself!" Primrose said. "Just for you!" Snowdrop tapped the gift, producing a solid metallic tink. Snowdrop's eyebrows knit together and she said, "A Pipboy? But Mom-"
"Ah ah!" Primrose tapped her daughter on the shoulder. "No complaining!"
"Mother," Snowdrop rested a hoof on Primrose's outstretched foreleg. "I'm blind. I can't use-"
"If you could see," Primrose interrupted with a tap on Snowdrop's muzzle. "You wouldn't be half as special a pony you are now." Snowdrop didn't feel convinced, but Primrose continued, "I've modified it. It's nothing like the ones I normally make. I've removed any components needed for the screen, and there's no flashlight."
"But how do I use it? And what for?" Snowdrop ran her hoof gently across the surface of the Pipboy. She perceived knobs and buttons that had no meaning to her at all. Without sight, she couldn't see a use for the thing. Primrose sat down next to Snowdrop and draped a wing over her. Snowdrop took a deep breath, savoring the scent of her mother. She found that everypony had a subtle scent to them, and while many were similar to each other, Snowdrop could find no equal to Primrose's. It was a gentle scent and filled Snowdrop with memories of love and kindness; gentle, loving care she seldom found anywhere else in the Vault.
"I'll teach you," Primrose said, pulling Snowdrop from her reverie. "It's a special Pipboy. I call it the Snowdrop Edition." This earned a giggle from Snowdrop. "It uses sound to display information rather than visuals. I'll start teaching you how to use it tomorrow."
Snowdrop tilted her head and asked, "Why not now?"
Primrose laughed and said, "We're in the middle of your birthday party, sweetheart! You still have to eat your cake, not to mention the surprise." Primrose leaned into Snowdrop for emphasis, and Snowdrop's ears perked up with curiosity.
"Surprise?" she asked. "I thought the Pipboy was the surprise."
Primrose shook her head excitedly. "Nope! There's something else."
Snowdrops eyes, though useless for sight, still contributed to the painting of emotions on her face. They lit up with excitement at Primrose's tease, and she asked, "What is it?" Primrose stood and Snowdrop followed. The filly barely came up to Primrose's shoulder. Snowdrop followed her mother closely as she led them out of their small apartment. They traveled through many hallways, up and down stairs, until Snowdrop was fairly certain they were approaching the lowest, and forbidden, areas of the Vault. "Mother, what are we doing down here?" She asked. Primrose wouldn't give an answer, merely whispering, "Shh. We're almost there." Her voice was subdued to avoid attracting attention, but Snowdrop could hear her excited smile in the words.
Snowdrop pressed into her mother as they crept through a large metal door and down a flight of stairs to a floor Snowdrop was not familiar with. She knew it was dark before she heard Primrose switch on the light on her Pipboy. Darkness had a cold feeling to it; a distinct stillness Snowdrop could feel in the air. This was not a hallway commonly used by the dwellers of Vault 01, if used at all. Snowdrop was starting to worry about the legality of this surprise her mother was talking about when they suddenly stopped.
"This is it," Primrose whispered. The door was so neglected the creak is made on its hinges pierced through her ears all the way to Snowdrop's spine. When she stepped into the room, dust-filled air gently flowed into her lungs. The smell was old and musty, as if it had not been disturbed in many years. The room felt cramped to Snowdrop's senses, and when she extended her hoof she felt boxes and crates stacked around her. Primrose unfolded her wing and nudged Snowdrop along. "This way," she said. Primrose led her daughter through the maze of boxes, careful not to let her stray away. "Mother," Snowdrop said quietly. "Where are we?"
They rounded around a large metal crate and continued. Primrose checked to make sure Snowdrop was still following before she answered, "We're in the lowest level of the Vault. It's restricted access. This room is used for storage. It was filled up when the Vault first opened. These boxes have been here for almost two-hundred years." Snowdrop's ice-colored eyes danced around, as if scanning the air in front of her. "Won't we get in trouble?" she asked, nervousness rising in her. Primrose flicked her playfully with her wing and said, "Only if we get caught." She frowned and continued, "That said though, I don't want you coming down here without me."
"Mother, why are we here?" Snowdrop's nervousness was spreading, creeping across her wings and down her legs. Her mother had never afforded the rules as much respect, or fear, rather, than Snowdrop. She took them far less seriously, while Snowdrop trembled at the thought of doing something punishable, no matter how small the infraction might be. Her mother's mischievousness worried Snowdrop so much it tired her. In this case, Snowdrop was a ball of nerves, worried they would be whisked away to be incarcerated at any moment. Primrose knew her daughter well. She draped a wing over her small shoulders and pulled her in for an affectionate nuzzle.
"Oh, don't worry," she said with a smile. "We're almost there. It's just around this- yes! Here it is." They stopped suddenly and Snowdrop extended a hoof. She caught the side of a wooden crate next to her, but it was nothing special. Primrose walked forward, and Snowdrop heard her hooves tapping against metal. The clicks of a dial, the creak of an old lever, punching of some buttons. "Mom, what are you doing?" Snowdrop asked. She didn't want to move forward for fear of tripping over something or pushing a button and accidentally causing an explosion.
"Come here, sweetie," Primrose said gently. Snowdrop obeyed. She lifted a hoof to touch whatever it was Primrose was working with, but stopped. "It's alright," Primrose said. "There are no buttons there." She guided Snowdrop's hoof, and it made contact with a hard metal surface. A few taps produced a metallic twang and some subtle creaking noises. They reverberated through the machine like an echo, as if there was empty space inside of it. This machine was very old. Snowdrop could hear the buzzing of a console next to her right ear, and moved towards it. She gently brushed her muzzle over the controls, careful not to activate any of them. There were knobs, dials, levers, switches, sliders, and some glass orbs that could only be indication lights. "What is this thing?" She asked.
"It's a weather machine." Primrose's voice sounded happy, but there was something off about it that Snowdrop couldn't place. "Before the Cataclysm, Pegasi used machines like these to control the weather. You learned about weather in school, right?"
"Yeah," Snowdrop replied. "Ms. Daisy said that they helped control the seasons, and that they all lived in a big city made of clouds." Primrose giggled and replied, "Not all of them, but it was a magnificent city, so I'm told. They had huge factories there, with machines thirty times larger than this one." She rested a hoof against the side of the device. "This little beauty is a miniature version made specially for the Vault."
"For the Vault?" Snowdrop said, ears standing up in question. "To have weather inside?" Primrose smiled and shook her head, even knowing Snowdrop couldn't see the action. "No," she said. "For preservation." Snowdrop furrowed her brows and tilted her head. Primrose chuckled at her reaction to curiosity. She continued, "Not much was going to survive the Cataclysm, Snowdrop. Everypony knew that. So we brought things with us that would help us rebuild the world when it came time to leave the Vaults."
Snowdrop's ears drooped slightly. "But... we can't ever leave the Vault," she said. "The world outside is too ruined." Primrose rested a hoof gently on Snowdrop's head. She said quietly, "That's right, dear. That's what the Overseer says." Snowdrop thought she heard a hint of sarcasm, but said nothing. Primrose continued, "It's true, we gave up our future plans for leaving the Vault. So we also gave up on all this stuff down here. This machine was supposed to act as a blueprint for newer, bigger machines when we returned to the surface. But the poor thing has fallen out of the memory of everypony in the Vault."
"Mother..." Snowdrop paused, sensing a shadow falling over the conversation. "Why are you showing me this?" Primrose sighed and said, "I wanted to teach you about your name: Snowdrop. Do you know what it means?"
"It's a plant. A flower. You took me to the nursery where they grow them using artificial sunlight." Snowdrop smiled. "I really like flowers. They smell nice." Primrose touched her daughter's chin and said, "They don't have snowdrops in the nursery. They used to grow all over the Wasteland before the Cataclysm. I've never seen one in person, but I've seen pictures. They're my favorite flower..." She trailed off and was silent for a moment. Snowdrop waited patiently until she continued, "Snowdrops flower in winter. You know what that is?"
"That's the... cold season," Snowdrop recalled her lessons on weather in school. "After it is the planting season, spring. Then it's summer, then fall, then winter again." She was rewarded with a pat on the head. "Very good," Primrose said proudly. "Do you know why we needed winter?" Snowdrop shook her head. "Well, after autumn, the earth would be tired from all the seeds growing and maturing in it. Winter gave the earth time to rest so ponies could plant new seeds in the spring. All plants would slow or stop their growth, animals would go to sleep for months, and rivers would freeze solid. Winter was like a reset for the earth." Snowdrop tilted her head and said, "So, winter was like a time when the earth fell asleep?"
"That's right. Winter was very, very, harsh, and a lot of ponies complained about it, but it was important. Without it, nothing would grow in the spring. But..." Primrose sighed. "Then the Cataclysm came. Life was destroyed, and whatever survived was warped into something monstrous. Oh Snowdrop..." her voice dropped into melancholy. "I so wish we could have seen it. That you could have felt the sun, and the sky, and smelt how sweet it was. I would give up every minute of my life here just to give you a moment of that. But, I'm afraid this is the best I can do." She flipped a switch, and the machine hissed softly to life. A soft noise, like a whisper, emanated from the top of the machine. After a moment, the machine fell silent, it's operations done.
Snowdrop waited, hearing only silence. She was about to ask what happened when she suddenly felt tiny specks of cold gently wafting down to her head, melting on contact but barely producing a drop of moisture on her coat. "It's snow," Primrose said. "And it's just a tiny piece of the world that was."
Snowdrop's eyelids slid closed. Tiny shards of ice rained down on her, but not heavily like ice should. It was soft, and gentle, and when it landed on her coat it was a kiss of soothing coolness that lasted less than a second. She smiled. "It feels nice." Primrose's forelegs wrapped around her gently and lifted her up. "Here," her mother said. "I haven't showed you the best part." Primrose lowered Snowdrop to the ground. Except it wasn't ground. It was soft. Softer than soft. It was air, solid yet gaseous and cool to the touch. It was cloud.
"Pegasi were the only ones that could walk on clouds," Primrose said. "after hundreds of years, nothing has changed." Snowdrop dropped into a sitting position and tested the surface. It was softer than anything she'd ever felt. How could she have never felt this before? She rested her head against it, snuggling into it as much as she could. She heard her mother chuckle, then settle down beside her. A wing draped over her shoulders, and Snowdrop lifted her head and met her mother's muzzle. "This is your legacy, Snowdrop," she said softly. "Even if we never leave the Vault, even if the world will never go back to the way it was, I wanted you to know this."
"Thank you, mom," Snowdrop snuggled against her neck, not quite understanding why there was so much weight in her mother's words.
