Cutie Mark Crusade

by Klabautermann

Chapters

• The beginning of a Journey
• Never enough Knowledge
• Way of the Apples
• Food for Thought
• Exposed Logic and an Open Heart

The beginning of a Journey

“Strangers are friends you have yet to meet.”

Anypony who had been in Canterlot at least once knew how fancy and elegant both the city and its citizens were. The ponies who visited it once, wished they could visit the whole world, and beyond.

Anypony who had been born in Canterlot was blessed with countless opportunities to explore the world, but most of the Canterlot citizens seemed to not care for the outside much. Canterlot was a rather closed and self indulged city; once one studied it slightly more, it was kind of obvious.

Canterlot, however, had its share of ponies that never quite belonged into the elegant clique whose daily activities mostly included tea parties, evening parties, fashion parties, fashion shows, fashion news, gossips and criticism, no matter how elite-relaxing that sounded, and probably was. One of those ponies was a unicorn Blank Rembrandt.

Blank Rembrandt was born, like most of the Canterlot citizens, into a prestigious family, with a well-known name of Quill, and a certain, flattering level of respect among the Canterlot families. His mother an economist, and his father a doctor, Rembrandt's parents were prestigious ponies, who, while they did enjoy the Canterlot's general interest in fashionable and elite, never were quite there, and preferred to indulge themselves into conversations of more philosophic or scientific nature. It all gave Rembrandt a wide array of experiences ever since he was a colt. Never being pushed into anything but learning, he read of everything, saw and knew everyone, practiced different kinds of magic, visited places and met ponies one could only dream of meeting, and grew up full of various bits of knowledge, yet with a huge lack of it – Rembrandt knew of everything but of himself.

Rembrandt's birth name never included “Blank”. Being born a Quill, an inclusion of the nickname such as “Blank” wasn't exactly flattering. Alas, Rembrandt never got his Cutie Mark.

As a colt, it was normal, his parents told him. It will come soon, before the teen years – definitely.

Then the teens followed. Rembrandt was a rare one, along with only three more ponies of his age in the whole city, who was still occasionally earning the mocking title of “Blank Flank” from more immature of his classmates. It happens, his family and his blank-flanked friends told him. By the time we finish with education, we'll already know our mission in life.

Rembrandt finished a prestigious university with a blank flank. His once blank flanked friends were the only ones he still could consider his friends, even to this day. Even to this day, years after, even though he had his own place to live, a job, friends, and a certain small but existing society in Canterlot he was still welcomed in – even after trying out everything and knowing everything, expanding his knowledge day by day, trying new things on hourly basis, he remained known as Blank Rembrandt. But, he got used to it – ponies got used to him. He even welcomed his nickname now, probably from hearing it too much. He lived a nice, if somewhat lonely, but fulfilled life.

It was the day Rembrandt overheard his friends talking about him though, when he finally decided to do something about that "flaw" of his.

As he was trying to get to the other side of the street to a fancy café he sometimes visited, he heard familiar voices of friends right in front of him. He was about to greet them, when he heard exactly what his friends spoke of him:

“I know, I know, but I really feel sorry for him... I mean, Rembrandt is a nice pony, he seems to be alright and all, but... I don’t' think he's truly happy at all. I don't think anyone like “him” would be. I mean, if I found out I was good for absolutely nothing, I would be pretty depressed.”

Shock and disbelief took place in his heart as he watched his friends leave. It was time to do something.

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Rembrandt observed as Canterlot slowly became smaller and smaller, big enough to fit into his hoof. The train whistled loudly as it finally turned and Canterlot got lost behind the mountain. He sighed, somewhat regretful, but allowed himself to smile confidently. Leaving Canterlot felt like an amazing burden being taken off his back and brought on many feelings; a certain level of happiness, anxiety, worry, fears and expectations. In short, he was more excited than the day he... was he actually ever this excited?

A week passed since he overheard his friends. He recalled the letter of resignation he sent to his boss a few days later, and the one he left to his parents barely an hour ago, wondering if he got everything down right.

Dear father, mother, sister,

I am leaving on a trip for a bit of self-discovery. I still haven't achieved my purpose in life, and time flies. You know well that, while job in the library wasn't bad, and was in fact quite enjoyable, it was never what I truly wanted. I do not wish to be nothing more than an useless asset to the community anymore.

Don't fret – I already found work and place to stay. I'll contact you regularly. I just want you to know I hold no grudge against or blame any of you or my friends, but myself for the way I am. That has to change.

Please, say bye to my friends and the rest of the family. I will not be back for a while. In fact I might not be back at all – at least not for good; I will visit as soon a I make progress with any of the self discoveries I might make. Expect my new address soon.

With love, your son B. Rembrandt Quill.

Rembrandt wasn't going too far though. Ironically, although he visited many placed and traveled around a lot during his life, he never visited Ponyville. In fact, he might have had, once, but when he was very young. He barely remembered anything. He figured he might as well settle there for now. It appeared to be a nice and peaceful place with many friendly faces.

He finally leaned back into his seat, relaxing. Not many ponies were on the train, so it was quite a peaceful afternoon, interrupted with nothing but the sound of train tracks and an occasional whistle. Rembrandt pondered over the slightly big number of job offers he got when he in advance gave an application available to public of Ponyville. Apparently they were looking for several workers on Sweet Apple Acres, but it seemed they could always use the extra help there; it probably depended on weather conditions and such. It sounded nice like an experience, but Rembrandt doubted he would enjoy it every day.

The owner of the store called Quills and Sofas sent him a rather thorough reply saying he needed an assistant, almost as if it was about some tough or complicated job. Rembrandt had plenty of experience working in a store when he was a young colt though, mostly helping out the friendly neighbors, or trying to earn a small allowance, but he wasn't eager on doing it again.

Several more offers included simplistic jobs such as taking care of gardens, serving guests of a cafe, and selling things door to door. A few more important job offers included an assistant to the mayor and observation and evaluation of town events for a report of some student that lived in the town.

It was when he reached for the final offer when he finally found something of interest. The local newspapers searched for someone to write a weekly column on various things from an ordinary life – he was a pretty good choice because of the interesting CV and rich experience – basically, they searched for someone to write anecdotes, observations or events, and pass it on to the public in form of a short story with a moral or a punchline. Rembrandt never tried a single job that had too much to do with wider public. Who knows, maybe he will find his place in journalism?

After a few hours the train's pace finally slowed; soon a gentle jerk of it was the signal for Rembrandt. It was the time to meet Ponyville.

Rembrandt couldn't contain his surprise though, when he got off the train. This city – no, town... almost a village, was so tiny, yet so lively. Ponies were everywhere, going places, carrying things, running errands or chatting away. In the moment, he got an unexplained fear of being noticed. Probably because he never was in such a small town. And he knew what they say about small communities – the rumors spread fast, and secrets are never secrets.

With a heavy gulp, he summoned his bags to gently follow him, and with a slight feeling of insecurity, entered the town of Ponyville. The place that was going to change his life.

Never enough Knowledge

Two can still be a party; for party gets as fun as the one next to you is dear to you.

Rembrandt noticed a few curious looks on his way to his new home close to the city square, but otherwise, thankfully, nothing – probably because he wore a decorative piece on his back that covered just enough of his flank. He decided to deal with the agenda of his missing Cutie Mark some other time, because it was bound to pop up sooner or later.

The house was small and comfy, with an extra staircase to the small upper floor with a bed that led to a balcony and had a fantastic view of the city, the sky and the distances. But fancy views didn't concern Rembrandt at that point. After quickly putting his luggage away, he pondered over the things he had to do today – visit the agency of Ponyville Daily newspapers to secure his working place, getting the house ready and clean for potential visitors, sending a letter with address to his parents and visiting a certain pony. He spent a great deal of morning getting the house clean, and when he was about done, a first visitor knocked onto his door.

Wondering if it was someone living nearby, Rembrandt opened the door with a greeting smile on his face – his smile immediately turned into an expression of slightly scared surprise when a pink pony with a very beautiful curl to her mane almost smacked him with a party horn – it let out a loud, high pitched noise that startled him and covered him in numerous confetti.

“Hi there! I just couldn't help but notice that you just moved in here, so I thought I just MUST come and welcome you to Ponyville; so welcome to Ponyville!"

"Oh, why yes, I-"

“You see I know that you're new here, because I know every single pony in Ponyville and I never saw you before”, she continued randomly, finishing her ramble with a giggle. Just as Rembrandt was about to speak, she opened her mouth again:

“My name is Pinkie Pie! Who are you?”

She seemed almost as the knowledge of his identity was the only thing she needed in her life at that moment. Her stunningly blue eyes practically stared into his soul.

“Uh”, he needed a moment o compose himself, and quickly started before she continued talking – she seemed like quite a chit-chatter:

“Rembrandt Quill, but my friends call me Blank Rembrandt”, he said automatically. He had that recognizable accent of Canterlot ponies in his voice.

“Rembrandt? Such a fancy name! I knew a pony once by that name! Or at least I think I did, I mean, I'm pretty sure I heard of that name before! Are you sure we never met?”

She spoke very fast, but clear enough to be understood.

“Pretty much, miss Pie.”

“Oh just call me Pinkie, Blank Rem!” she gave him a childish smile. She pinned him a nickname quite fast, he noticed.

“Well, Blank Rem, I'll see you some other time! I just realized I have big plans for tonight!”

“You did?” Rembrandt asked in surprise; she must have had a ton of things to do if she suddenly realized she has obligations.

“Sure did! See ya!” she left him with a very unique bounce that Rembrandt never saw; not even as a colt surrounded by many of his age. It made him smile for some reason.

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Later that day, Rembrandt visited the agency of Ponyville Daily - it was a very busy little building, slightly disorganized too, but otherwise seemed like an interesting place with many interesting ponies.

He practically got the job right away; the pony who was the head of office was apparently more than eager to have someone working for her. What was with this town and its need for employees, Rembrandt wondered. Maybe it was the matter of economy balance.

Already having work to do, Rembrandt was trying to think about what could he possibly write in his first article ever - he could write well, but searching for the content? That was something else.

His flow of thoughts was soon broken though, when a couple of young colts ran past him very fast, one of them accidentally bumping slightly into him – the young colt didn't even notice it properly, running out of Rembrandt's sight before he could even react.

Trying not to get himself too bothered by child's play, Rembrandt continued on his way; or at least he tried to, as he heard a sweet, childish voice nearby.

“Excuse me”, he turned around to see a young filly with fiery red hair decorated with a bow and light yellow coat. She was accompanied by two more fillies who were staring both at him and his lack of Cutie Mark with great deal of curiosity. They must've participated in the game of tag with the colt who just ran by, because they were slightly out of breath.

“Excuse me Sir, but how come you still don't have your Cutie Mark?” she asked, her voice giving away her awe.

Rembrandt shortly looked at her flank, noticing the lack of her Cutie Mark, as well as the other two girls. He pondered over what he should say. Then he answered:

“I never tried hard enough to find it, I guess”, he tried. “That is why I came to Ponyville. I heard that there is no pony in this little town who was ever denied a Cutie Mark", he continued, eyeing their own flanks they yet lacked Cutie Marks.

Seemingly, he choose his answer well, because the fillies' eyes shined with joy that wasn't there before.

“Really?! Do you really think so?” the filly asked, both her friends and her visible excited about such amazing revelation about Ponyville.

"I wonder", Rembrandt replied somewhat undefined, but with a smile.

The trio's new found excitement was obvious. They left in a hurry yelling out something about crusaders. It brought a smile to Rembrandt's face as he continued on his way, ignoring the surprised looks of anypony who passed him by.

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The Sun was already setting slowly when he reached the house of a certain somepony he was looking forward to visit ever since he started to think about moving out of Canterlot - Twilight Sparkle.

The name was pretty well known among the ponies of Equestria by now, though Rembrandt never quite remembered it. But after he decided to move to Ponyville, he questioned and looked a bit more into her. An honorary student of Princess Celestia, the most powerful Element of Harmony, the pony who brought back Princess Luna, and saved Equestria from chaotic paws – a paw and a claw, to be specific – of Discord, restored the long lost Crystal Kingdom, even; along with other five elements of Harmony, other five praise-worthy ponies.

Soon, after asking a few ponies for directions, he found himself in front of the oddest home he ever saw - it was in fact a big oak tree. A mighty well decorated one, too. Rembrandt couldn't help but be amazed at the house, staring at the balconies and the windows, until a soft voice interrupted his wandering thoughts.

"Oh, hello there!" he turned his head to see a purple mare with a batch of books in her bag - he immediately recognized her as Twilight Sparkle.

"Sorry I wasn't here, I had to fetch some of the books very fast - but , the library is still open, feel free to come in!"

"Thank you, but the library is not the actual reason I am here; I was in fact looking for you. If you recall, we were in contact through the mail. I am Rembrandt Quil. The one with the 'problem'", he pointed to his flank.

"Oh!" Twilight let the surprise take over her face for a second. "Oh, please, do come in!"

Rembrandt followed her into the library, which, to be honest, looked more like a warm home... only with way too many books. Then again, one can never have enough knowledge, Rembrandt concluded.

"Oh, hi Twilight!" Rembrandt blinked when a small purple dragon entered the room. Seeing a dragon was indeed a rare occurrence - especially a baby dragon. And a well behaved one too.

"I just put on some tea for yo-- oh, hello", the dragon added when he noticed the visitor.

"Thank you Spike. Oh, can we offer you some tea?"

"Thank you", Rembrandt politely accepted. The two soon sat themselves in the library and Rembrandt told her more thoroughly about his problem, and the ways he tried to deal with it.

"That really is very strange." Twilight frowned in confusion. "Have you ever been to the doctor's by any chance?"

"I had appointed examinations annually", Rembrandt sighed. "The doctors never found a thing wrong with me. In fact, they told me I'm in excellent shape. I stopped visiting them a couple of years ago, since there was simply no point."

For the first time since she was born, Twilight didn't have a book she found appropriate for this situation. Well, not yet, anyway.

"Alright... Well, Sir, for now I can't really tell you anything, as this is the first time I've really heard of such a case. What do you say you visit me again tomorrow night; by then I might have some answers."

"That would be splendid", Rembrandt got up and paused.

"Thank you for your time Miss Sparkle. While I do hope you might be able to help me, my expectations will not exceed your abilities, I assure you."

Twilight gave him a compassionate smile.

"I'm sure we'll get to the bottom of this problem, Mr Rembrandt. You know, everypony here will be glad to give you some help, if you need it; we're always happy to help."

"That is very kind. I guess I'll be on my way then. Have a pleasant evening, Miss Sparkle."

"You too."

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Rembrandt finally reached the door to his new home. He sighed, feeling a bit tired and worn out. A relaxing bath and warm bed was all that was on his mind.

So you can probably imagine his surprise when he opened the door, the lights went on and a loud "SURPRISE" was emitted from about at least twenty ponies in his home.

"What in the name of...", Rembrandt started, not being able to finish. His first thought was they got the wrong house - perhaps even he did. Then the now familiar bouncing pony approached him and, to his slight terror, started singing while performing a very improvisational dance:

"This~ is a surprise party and you're invited too,

well of course you are, you silly, it's a party just for you!

All I want is your friendship, how hard can that be?

Enjoy, have fun, you're welcome here, it's not so hard to see!

We welcome you warmly to the town of Ponyville,

I'm sure you'll make a lot of friends, Mister Rembrandt Quill!" Pinkie finished the song with a pose worthy of a medal, while the ponies applauded.

Rembrandt just stared at her with probably the silliest face he ever made; his jaw dropped and eyes looking at her suspiciously. He was about to lecture this young lady about privacy and peace of one pony's own home, but she patted him on the back so cheerfully he couldn't say anything; she was obviously enjoying this way more than he was.

"What are you looking at me silly, it's your party; mingle!" and she pushed the shocked pony into the crowd. He stood in the middle of the room nervously and was slightly delighted to realize everypony were pretty much occupied with somepony, or something else. Sure, a couple of them did notice his lack of cutie mark, but, figured Rembrandt, the sooner the better. Maybe this party wasn't such a bad idea. Still, he would prefer if he were told anything about it. He never liked being the center of attention, obviously.

"I see you're not very used to surprises!" an earth stallion of yellow coat and brown mane approached Rembrandt. He had a playful twinkle in his eyes and a friendly smile; his voice slightly pulled towards Southern accent, but not too much.

"I can't say I had too many surprises in my life; and when I did, they weren't half as musical." Rembrandt agreed, and the stallion snickered.

"My name's Caramel. I work on th' Apple Acres and am part of th' Apple family."

"Right, I heard of it; I was offered a job there."

"Oh, really? So what do you do instead?"

The two enjoyed the chit chat as they got to know each other better. Rembrandt found himself immensely enjoying the talk with the stallion, but he seemed to be quite forgetful; he would sometimes mention things he already brought up in a such a fashion as he was talking about them for the first time. But he was quite clever otherwise and had a few interesting stories to share.

"You were right Daisy, he has no cutie mark! How come I didn't notice that?"

"Does that mean he's good for nothing?"

"Oh, hush Rose! Don't be so cruel! It can be a gazillion reasons!"

"Maybe he painted over it?"

Rembrandt couldn't help but smile a bit apologetic as a particularly loud, and probably punch-overdosed group of three mares commented on Rembrandt's 'flaw'.

"I do apologize if I'm the cause of any err, shocks."

"Ya don't have to feel sorry; I'm sure that for whatever reason ya don't have a Cutie Mark, it's a good reason."

"Huh, you think so?"

"Naturally. After all, each pony got one just at the right time and age. There must be a reason you still haven't got one, don't ya think?"

Rembrandt paused, apparently not sure what to say, but Caramel continued:

"Maybe you didn' get your Cutie Mark 'cause your talent still ain't ready for ya."

As interesting as that theory sounded, Rembrandt wasn't sure if he totally understood it. Still, Caramel gave him something to think about.

"You know, I never thought about it that way. Thank you. You've been a great help."

Caramel laughed a bit shyly.

"Aw, shucks, would you look at the time! And everypony almost left too."

Rembrandt was surprised to realized his house was practiclly empty; aside from him and Caramel, the only ponies remaining were the three mares who were recovering from punch overdose, Pinkie Pie who was trying to talk them into going home, and a few stallions who were eyeing the mares with interested smiles.

"My word, I haven not even noticed the room got so empty", he murmured.

"And it is quite an early hour as well; good night then, my friend."

"See ya soon, Rem! 'twas very nice talking to you!" Caramel sincerely said and trotted over to the exit; Rembrandt soon greeted everybody out, glad to have succeeded on closing the doors on time; Pinkie looked like she was about to sing again.

The room was slightly messy, but Rembrandt decided to worry about that afterwards; he got an inspiration to write something for his job; first article was supposed to be an introduction of a new writer. Climbing on the second floor, he quickly summoned himself a quill and a parchment, made himself comfortable in the bed and started writing.

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Misjudgment can be quite a deceiver.

I wouldn't be lying when I say Ponyville definitely seemed like a regular, if maybe a bit too small town; or if I said I expected a lot of not so pleasant conversations, rude glares and occasional taunting. All I could, all I did expect in fact, from this town, was to offer me some peaceful time alone, as it is so conveniently settled in a very natural surrounding.

But Celestia help me, I was wrong.

One should definitely not judge the book by its covers, but in Canterlot, many books were, while interesting, way too similar, so to speak; Canterlot is the city of a single genre. What I probably am trying to say, is, I never quite got along with the lifestyle of the fanciest city of Equestria.

I came to Ponyville to find peace, and even though my rich experience and travels have taught me so much, and even though I was sure I knew enough for several lifetimes, I was both happy and a bit terrified to realize there is a lot you can learn from such a small place. Ponyville hides much more than one would expect and I intend to discover all its charms and bits of knowledge; after all, one can never have enough of knowledge.

Private notes:

Miss Pinkie Pie showed me what does it mean to be random. A most unusual aspect of personality, but I intend to study it more. Seems like it brings a lot of fun and happiness.

A gent by the name Caramel taught me I can enjoy stuff I do not like, sometimes even without effort; the party I was very ready to dismiss brought me to him; a new friend.

Three little fillies I met on the street were quite inspired by my effort to find out about myself; I may have just made someone's day.

Way of the Apples

"Laziness may appear attractive, but work gives satisfaction."

Almost a week passed since Rembrandt settled in Ponyville. By now, he was already a familiar face among most of the ponies, and even managed to befriend a pony or two. Still, he could mostly be seen hanging out and about with Caramel; the two often had lunch together in park during Caramels' job break and it was a common sight to see them chatting while on a walk through Ponyville during the afternoon.

Other than hanging out with his new friend, Rembrandt was spending much of his time relaxing in the mentioned park, reading, observing nature or merely thinking of various things while looking at the sky.

So when Caramel informed him he will be working extra hours on the Apple Acres, Rembrandt decided it was about time to visit the well known farm, say hi and perhaps meet the Apple family.

As he approached the farm, the scent of apples and fresh leaves could be felt in the air. Once he got close enough to the family house of the Apples, he felt a stronger scent that resembled a cake or a pie coming from their home. The farm seemed unusually calm; he expected to see many hardworking ponies running around being too busy to even notice him.

Instead, among the apple trees, a single little filly was mingling and practicing bucking trees - she seemed to be perfecting her job, but every once in a while, she would grunt as if something didn't go well.

"Hey there, Mister!" the little filly suddenly yelled out as she approached him with a wide smile - Rembrandt recognized her as a filly he met a few days ago.

"Good afternoon, little one. If I am not mistaken, you must be Applebloom?"

She gasped in surprise. "How did ya know?!"

"Mister Caramel told me a lot about the famous Apple family. He did mention an easily excitable filly with a strong kick."

The words won Applebloom over as she started braging about the record number of apples she managed to pick in one day. It was easy to see Rembrandt found hers, to everyone else boring yapping, cute, as he smiled and actually even commented on it.

"Applebloom! Are ya boring somepony with your stories again?"

"Ah'm not boring anyone!"

Rembrandt looked over his shoulder to see a blond maned mare he decided must be the famous Applejack. She was pulling a once apple-filled cart, probably getting back from town. Her face wore a strict expression.

"Ah'm mighty sorry mister, Applebloom here just doesn't know when to shut her yapper."

Applebloom pouted.

"Oh, no no, by all means, let her speak - I find her effort as a filly on your farm quite impressive."

"See?" Applebloom gleamed with pride. Applejack couldn't suppress a smile. The obviously suspicious look in her eyes crossed Rembrandt face - she probably thought he said that to please the young pony.

"Fine, fine, talk all ya want. Ah won't be botherin' ya anymore, but don' get too relaxed or anything. There's still plenty of work to be done. See ya Mister!" she playfully winked at Rembrandt who smiled in return, then continued on her way to the farmhouse.

"Is it not hard", Rembrandt began "for a filly like you to work all day under the Sun like this?"

"Sometimes it can get to ya, but Ah'm used to it", Applebloom pondered something over as she stared at him and the smiled widely as she asked: "Would ya like to try it?"

Rembrandt blinked. "Me? Well, I guess I could; if you do not mind."

"Sure not - who knows, maybe you can get your Cutie Mark then!"

He smiled considerately. "My name is Rembrandt, by the way."

"Remba-wha?" Applebloom frowned, making the stallion laugh.

"I guess you could call me Rem. Everybody else does."

"Oh, sure thing, Rem!" she giggled and the two headed off into the field.

Though it was easy in beginning, Rembrandt had to admit he was getting slightly tired after the first hour of apple bucking. Applebloom looked full of energy, but he guessed daily physical work would bring one in much better condition than other ponies. It was kind of fun and fulfilling to do though; useful physical effort was not something he did too often, it brought the satisfaction he hadn't felt in a long time.

Two hours passed much faster than he would expected; him and Applebloom had done quite a good job.

"You're not so bad, Rem. You should come work at the farm, you would get fit in no time!"

"While I appreciate the offer, I already have a job. But if you don't mind, I might come and help you every once in a while."

"Mind? Applejack will be thrilled! Her and big brother have been so busy with the infestation of termites."

"Termites?"

Applebloom's usual smile slightly fell. "Yeah, they came out of nowhere so suddenly - the last time we had this problem, I was still a baby pony. And we got lucky that time, 'cause a really big storm came in just before they settled in the trees, and washed the whole colony away - but I dunno what are we going to do now. It will take us a while to figure out how to get them outta here. And we must pick all the apples as soon as possible too, just in case."

Rembrandt looked from worried Applebloom over the to countless trees in the field and on the hills. It would be such a waste to let these trees be ruined by something as simple as bugs.

"Do not worry, I think I can help you."

Applebloom frowned. "Ya can?"

"Sure. Just show me these little buggers."

"Sure! Follow me."

Applebloom led Rembrandt to a location with a bunch of trees that were noticeably replanted away from healthy trees. Their bark was severely ruined. Rembrandt approached one that was in a particularly bad shape, studying its bark and the small bugs that settled in it. After a minute, he said:

"You said the last time you had termites, the rain chased them away?"

"Well, washed them away."

"I don't think that's the case... You should try get some humid surrounding for these trees. And I don't mean just the rain because it never gets inside the tree completely, but plenty of watering - the bark could use a pouring too."

"But that could ruin our apples!"

"Pick them first", Rembrandt continued calmly "then make sure you water the trees often, and make their bark wet and soft. I'm pretty sure that'll work."

Applebloom seemed to be thinking about what he said, not looking entirely sure. But then she asked:

"How come you know this stuff anyway?"

"Oh", Rembrandt laughed, "I just remember reading about garden pests a long time ago in an Encyclopedia. While I was still a young colt."

"... and you still remember that?"

"Well, of course. What is the point of reading something if I am going to forget it?"

"... I suppose you are right mister, but I must say, that is mighty rare."

"Hmm... I wonder."

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Rembrandt got back to Ponyville, feeling satisfied with today's day. He felt slightly tired, but work was never something he complained about. In fact, it only meant he would get a better sleep.

As he sat in the nearby outdoor cafe and ordered himself a dinner, he recalled his second visit to Twilight Sparkle, the one that was supposed to give him answers...

"Good evening, Rembrandt", Twilight opened the door, with a somewhat worried look on her face that immediately placed a concern into Rembrandt's eyes.

"Is something amiss?" he asked as he entered.

"Oh, no no, do not worry... well... it might---it is just that-- well, let's go inside"

They both got settled there with a few books Twilight brought along and once again,with some tea. Twilight opened one book, titled 'Mysterious History of Cutie Mark: Lost and Legendary'.

"This book here is a collection of stories and extra knowledge of Cutie Marks that was either lost or never recorded  - thus we still don't know if they are true, or how much of it is true. Due to the fact rarely any scientist took this book seriously, it is pretty rare, so most of this data can't be found anywhere else. So everything I am about to tell you may not or may be only partially correct..."

"I understand. Please proceed."

Twilight took a deep breath.

"Well, according to this book, there were several rare cases such as yours - in average, about one pony out of hundreds of thousands of them would end up with a case such as yours. Here are many stories about every single pony with no Cutie Mark that supposedly existed - for reasons I mentioned before, these are almost never mentioned in any other scientific books."

She cleared her throat.

"Now, most of these ponies got their Cutie Mark, but there are rarely any explanations for their late appearance. Most of the reasons that are written down mention these ponies were brought down by their bad health, poverty or something else - some of them were apparently even unwilling to find their Cutie Mark."

"But the part that worries me", Twilight swallowed "is the fact some of these ponies didn't get their Cutie Mark... until their, umm... passing."

Death?

"Many of them apparently actually got their Cutie Mark on their death beds, while breathing out their last breath." Twilight continued, her speech seemingly something she practiced in advance - no wonder, it was probably not an easy thing to say.

"Unfortunately, none of these specific examples of Cutie Marks are explained, but I have a theory. It is quite an unlikely theory though, because it has to do with, umm... after life. And we don't really know anything about that, now do we."

Realizing they got way too deep into the mystical parts of Cutie Marks, Rembrandt interrupted her:

"I am sorry but... I would like to avoid the discussion of that possibility. At least for now. Please."

"Of course", Twilight silently said. They both got embraced by a somewhat sad silence, but surprisingly enough, it was nothing but fitting. Like a short moment of understanding.

"Would you mind if I borrow that book?"

"Huh? Oh, um, not at all, uh, I guess! Just, take good care of it and please return it as soon as possible. It is not mine and I got it only with a little bit of an extra effort from a dear friend of mine..." Twilight grinned slightly shyly, remembering how she had to send at least three letters to Princess Celestia and the owner of the book to get her hooves on it.

Rembrandt carefully put the book away in his bag.

"Thank you... for everything.

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The next morning, Rembrandt got awakened by a very loud banging on the door and very excited familiar voice from the outside. He couldn't recall whom it belonged to, until he opened the door and a small filly glomped him, her bow tickling his nose.

"Rem! Thank you so much for your advice!"

"Huh?" he replied, still slightly in daze from both sleepiness and a sudden hug.

"The termites! They already started to slowly pack their things!"

"Pack the-huh, what?"

"Yeah, the weaker part of the colony is leaving!"

"Wait so... you took what I said seriously?"

"Well, duh. We had to try something." Applebloom gave him another hug before running off, yelling out to him in process.

"I gotta run now, but you're invited for dinner tonight! Don't be late!"

Still in a daze, with messy mane and a stupefied expression on his face, Rembrandt got back into the house, sat down at his desk, and started writing.

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This week has been nothing short of wonderful, but it took it long enough to become particularly interesting.

Among all the relaxation in the world I had time to invest in, I found myself relaxing especially well while doing something useful - for someone else as well. I never really did things for anyone else but myself. I am honestly not sure is it that way because nobody ever needed any help or support from me - at least not anyone close to me - or because I wasn't ready to give any help to anyone; I don't know if I was selfish, unwilling or unneeded.

Whatever the reason is, or should I say was, I am glad it is behind me. I guess that sometimes offering a friendly help for no particular reason can be of selfish use as well, because I never felt so happy about it.

Private notes:

Twilight showed me that my destiny could be much darker - but in the end, even if my death becomes the moment of getting my Cutie Mark, I guess my goal will complete itself. Maybe I shouldn't worry myself so much about it anymore, considering it might be inevitable.

I met Applebloom, the pony who seemed interested in lack of my Cutie Mark when I first arrived to Ponyville. She taught me joys of physical work. She showed me that sometimes somepony can be useful even thought it doesn't seem that way; it taught me that every decent pony deserves an equal share of respect.

She also told me that she picked more than one thousand, two hundred, fifty three apples in a single day! One thousand, two hundred, fifty three! 1253! A single filly! That is quite an impressive pick!

Food for Thought

"Each one of us requires the spur of insecurity to force us to do our best."

As promised, Rembrandt visited the Apples for dinner that evening. They all welcomed him very warmly, considering him responsible for the tremendous success they achieved on the farm, while Rembrandt constantly tried to justify it by the fact the book on pests of any kind is probably available in the library. Applejack just mumbled something about "distrust" and "science loonies" before heading into the kitchen, not allowing Rembrandt to give them an excuse not to appreciate his help.

"Oh, won't you just relax, young one! I hope yer mighty hungry, 'cause ya fer sure never tasted apple pie ala Granny Smith!" the elderly pony introduced herself quite flashy, despite her old age and having slight difficulties walking. Concluding it would be rude to continue to defend himself, Rembrandt finally gave in and replied with a smile:

"Alright then, but then I must insist I invite your family for dinner at my place sometime; I may not look like it, but I do have a few recipes of my own."

Elderly pony laughed heartily on his words and without saying anything else followed Applejack to help her serve the dinner. Apple Bloom was off to get the tableware and Rembrandt found himself standing in the room alone with the only member of the Apples he hadn't officially met yet. A noticeably strong, buff stallion of red coat and mane that strongly resembled the golden wheat under the evening sun - it would be sad to describe it merely as 'orange'.

"Good evening, my name is Rembrandt Quill. But some call me Blank Rembrandt, for obvious reason", he smiled softly. The stallion gently nodded in sign of greeting as he spoke, his voice deep and soothing:

"Ma' name is Big Macintosh. Pleased to meet ya, Mr Quill."

"Oh please, call me by my first name. You're making me feel old otherwise."

The two shared a short, but honest laugh. Big Mac went silent as usual, the quiet atmosphere interrupted only by voices of two mares in the kitchen and clanging of the dishes. Rembrandt wasn't sure if the silence was awkward or not. Back in Canterlot, somepony would always have something to talk to him about, even when it didn't interest him - be it fashion, or some fancy ball or invitation to a celebration, be it the rising price of cherries or even talk about trivial things such as fabric on a new suit or wheather - whole discussions of weather, in fact. This pony was just silent. He didn't seem bored or annoyed... just silent.

While Rembrandt pondered whether the stallion found him uninteresting, or did he not want to talk due to possible bad mood, curiosity got the better of the usually reclusive strong stallion as he asked with his usual, somewhat monotone voice:

"Pardon th' question if it bothers ya, but... do ya get judged often because of...?" he trailed off.

It took Rembrandt a second to realized what Big Mac was talking about. Such a serious and pretty blunt question caught him unprepared.

"Oh! Well... ", he glanced at his flank with a somewhat nervous look, "it depends, I suppose. So far, most of the ponies I met here in Ponyville were really understanding about it. Back in Canterlot, though... it took them longer to adjust to it."

Big Mac shook his head sympathetically, but said nothing. Which once again left Rembrandt with the need to say something.

"But I'm fine with it by now", he continued. "After all, as a grown pony, I can not keep being insecure about it... I think", he finished, accidentally a bit too sincerely. He didn't want anyone to think he was insecure.

Big Mac eyed him like he had something to say, or was at least preparing it; even if he were to say it, they were interrupted by three mares that rushed into the dining room, hooves full of food and dishes. Apple Bloom seemed especially giddy for some reason.

"Let's eat!" Granny Smith smiled, and Rembrandt's worries quickly left his head as he felt the unbelievably fine smell of apple pie.

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Rembrandt couldn't recall the last time he ate so well. Sure, back at Canterlot he would always get the fine, tasty and often exotic food. But who knew a simple apple pie could taste so divine? And the cider! It was out of this world! He was surprised the Apples haven't opened their own bakeries around the Equestria already.

The rest of the evening was spent sipping a warm (Apple!) tea and talking about random subjects, bits of Rembrandt's past, stories of Ponyville, the rumors of the mysterious Mare-do Well and where she might be - which led to a loud cough by Applejack and a sudden subject change to Heart and Hooves day - which led to a big laughter eruption from both Big Mac and Apple Bloom.

"Oh my would you look at the time!" Rembrandt suddenly said, the old clock showing it was already well past nine.

"Pardon me for occupying you for so long. I should slowly be on my way", he was pleasantly surprised by a very unexpected reaction as Apple Bloom let out a sad "awww" and Applejack was seemingly ready for anything but sleeping as she allowed herself a small pout. Granny Smith immediately dismissed his 'pardon me'.

"Don't ya be apologizin' young mister, I hadn't had such a pleasant evening in a while, with those termites, an' all. Thank you for yer visit and don' be a stranger."

"Can't you stay for five more minutes~" Apple Bloom whined, followed by Appejack's eyeroll.

"I'm sure we would all like for Rembrandt here to stay for some more, but it is time for bed for all of us. You have school tomorrow too, ya know."

"Fine, fine." Apple Bloom sighed and to Rembrandt's surprise, gave him a small friendly hug.

"See ya tomorrow Rem!" she smiled, and trotted up the stairs. The Apples couldn't help but giggle at her eagerness.

"Ya really have your way with kids." Applejack said, nearly making Rembrandt tip over from disbelief. He couldn't recall a single moment he was 'good with kids'. He couldn't even recall ever talking more or less seriously with any young filly or colt. Well, aside from Apple Bloom. Why didn't he notice that before?

"Well then, we'll let Mac see ya out. Have a pleasant night!"

They greeted each other, Big Macintosh offering to see Rembrandt off to the farm entrance, despite his protests. The two didn't talk too much, both comfortable with a sudden silence and a bit sleepy from the excitement of the evening.

"Thank you for your pleasant company, Big Macintosh. Tonight was truly wonderful. I expect to see you all for dinner at my place soon."

"Eeyup." Rembrandt couldn't count how many times did he hear that word tonight, but he found himself not bothered by it; he came to realize silence was a pretty important part of Big Mac's character, whether the stallion intended it to be, or not.

"Well then..." Rembrandt was about to bid him goodbye, when Big Mac gave him a somewhat confused look, like he was thinking something through. Then he finally said:

"Before ya go... It's alright to be insecure, ya know." Rembrandt gave him the surprised look, but Big Mac continued, "'Tis just the way you go through it - indulge in it, n' it'll affect anything ya do. Fight through it, and ya'll be rewarded in the end."

The short, simple words that left Big Mac's mouth were for whatever reason formed so perfectly in Rembrand't head. While he did appreciate and respect the stallion he knew for such a short time, he suddenly looked at him in a whole different light. He said those words with such ease, almost carelessly, yet the look in his eyes was saying he was dead serious and eager to help.

"...thank you", Rembrandt replied quietly, first allover surprised and finally let a small smile creep onto his mouth, fighting hard against a huge grin that was trying to decorate his face.

"Thank you, Big Macintosh. Have a pleasant sleep."

"Eeyup."

When Rembrandt looked away from him, slowly descending from the farm, he finally allowed a huge and probably extremely silly smile to spread on his face, which almost started to ache from it but he didn't care. He didn't smile like that in a long time.

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"A dinner at your place? Wait, ya know how to cook?"

"Why does everyone assume I can not cook?" Rembrandt protested.

Him and Caramel were on their way to get groceries for the dinner Rembrandt was going to prepare. It has been two days, and he thought it would be proper to get busy cooking by now, so he took extra care to send pretty invitation to the Apple family. Naturally, being best friends with Caramel, he invited their cousin too, to which Caramel promised to bring his girlfriend Wind Whistler.

"I dunno. A fancy stallion from Canterlot would usually eat in a restaurant. Or order a fancy meal from a restaurant. Or have a butler to prepare it. Or--"

"Fine, fine, I think I got it", Rembrandt stopped him with a smile.

"Well, I did learn the basics and how to make a few meals of my own a few years back, when I was trying to discover my hidden talent. While it was a bit fun... it was definitely not my talent", Remrandt finished, making Caramel curious.

"Sounds like a funny experience", Caramel noticed with a teasing smile.

"Yes, to a pony like you it would be a delight to see me covered in flour and eggs, I'm pretty sure", Rembrandt replied humorously and shook his head as Caramel started laughing loudly, attracting the attention of several ponies.

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The dinner at Rembrandt's place was resembling a loud, family celebration. With the addition of Caramel and Wind Whistler, there was a constant conversation going on between at least four of them and once Wind Whistler started a competition with Applejack in cracking jokes (which surprised everyone), finishing their food was a challenge going on between somewhat painful bursts of laughter and banging their hooves on the table. Granny Smith even needed a glass of water to calm herself down, much to amusement of Apple Bloom.

Rembrandt did his best in preparation of the meal, making a delicious, fresh clover salad with addition of various vegetables and home made pizza with all kind of different toppings. Wind Whistler was delighted and even asked for a recipe so she could try and make it for her 'sweetie-bittie-pie' - without question, it made Caramel slightly embarrassed, but it was followed by a good natured laugh.

By the time they decided to go home it was already ten o'clock, to which only very concerned Applejack reacted seriously, saying they have to work tomorrow and Apple Bloom had school in the morning. They went home, while Caramel and Wind Whistler stayed a bit more for last glass of refreshing lemonade. They settled on a nice couch, while Rembrandt took a sofa, quietly talking.

"Thank you for such a relaxing evening, it was really something I needed a lot." Wind said at one point, with a somewhat tired but satisfied smile, as she was leaning affectionately against Caramel.

"The pleasure is all mine, miss Whistler. Do tell though, is there a particular reason why you seek relaxation? I must say, you did seem a bit stressed when we first met."

Wind Whistler shifted uncomfortably and her wings noticeably fell a bit, while Caramel looked at his hooves; it was all Rembrandt needed to immediately speak, an apologetic tone in his suddenly quiet voice:

"I am so sorry, I was not aware it is a personal matter."

"It's alright", Wind Whistler replied, a meek smile creeping onto her face.

Luckily, the lemonade glasses were empty by then, so they all had an excuse to bid each other farewell without things getting awkward. Rembrandt soon climbed into his own bed and spent a long time remembering the delightful evening and wondering about the couples' problem and if he could help if he knew what it was about before he fell into an uneasy sleep.

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A silent knock interrupted Rembrandt's breakfast. When he opened the door, he was very surprised to see the mare standing there.

"Wind Whistler? Uh, I mean, Miss Whist--"

"It's OK, you can use my first name", the mare replied, seemingly not in the best mood, but his chivalrous ways flattering her as she smiled kindly to him.

"I think you deserve an explanation for the last night. You are after all Caramel's best friend and a very dear pony to me... May I come in?"

A moment of silence passed before still slightly surprised stallion invited her in for breakfast.

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"Caramel and I have been together for quite a while already. We love each other dearly and... we had plans of getting married for quite a while. But my family seems to be against it. It is not that they don't like the Apple family... but... well, they're originally from Canterlot... I'm sure you understand."

Rembrandt took in a breath that easily let Wind know he understood her.

If there was one thing Rembrandt truly couldn't stand in Canterlot it was the way its citizens often treated ponies from more rural areas, such as Ponyville. They most likely expected their 'fancy' daughter to marry somepony of higher status, or in some dashing, flashy business.

"I'm sorry if I bother you, I just thought you should know", Wind said a bit sadly, probably not entirely sure if Rembrandt even cared.

"Oh, no, no, by all means, I... I am in fact glad you shared it with me. I have been concerned with you."

"Sorry..."

"You do not have to apologize! Listen, Mi-- I mean, Wind Whistler... I believe my family might be familiar with yours, so, if you wish-"

"Oh I couldn't ask that of you! It is embarrassing enough as it is. Thank you for your kind offer though", she gave him a first sincere smile.

"Thank you for listening. It is actually... nice, to share my problems with someone."

Rembrandt smiled and found himself in the lack for words. His reassuring smile seemed to be enough for Wind though, because she got up and silently wished him good morning, then left.

It is also nice to help you solve these problems... was what Rembrandt decided he wanted to say, but for some reason he couldn't. All of a sudden, as Wind closed the door behind her, he felt... unwanted. Betrayed? He even felt guilty, but didn't knew of what. Why, what were these sudden emotions? Like they didn't belong to him! He felt something trigger in him. Something that nearly made him choke up before he went and guzzled down the whole glass of milk in one breath. What was up with that?!

Nervous, and still with something unfamiliar clenching his heart, Rembrandt hurried to his desk, and started writing.

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Whenever I am not exactly confident or sure in something and I decide that needs a change, I usually listen to my rational side. That usually calm, somewhat monotone voice that reminds you of your obligations and responsibilities. In fact, who doesn't follow the logic unless they have a good reason not to?

But I guess that I never before had that good reason that makes ponies act silly or unusual sometimes - that is why it was quite a surprise to me when I came across a problem no simple logic can solve.

I always thought being rational is the only possible solution. That acting anything but rational is the result of stress or panic. For some reason it never occurred to me it had to do with emotions. I feels like I've been missing on a lot, but I plan on doing so no more.

I guess that at some point, even somepony who was always seeking and finding logic in everything, will discover there is a large array of both explained and unexplained emotions behind some situations.

Private notes:

Big Macintosh comforted me, surprisingly noticing the amount of insecurity I tried to keep hidden. Despite being silent, he sure does know about ponies and their behavior. It was quite impressive.

Talk with Wind Whistler seriously shook me up and I have no idea why. For some reason I felt downright awful once she told me of her problem. Was I being compassionate? I heard other ponies' troubles sometimes, and I never got this emotional. I will have to research this.

Also, it is possible I have a "way with kids"? Sounds really improbable to me.

Exposed Logic and an Open Heart

“Feelings are not supposed to be logical. Dangerous is the man who has rationalized his emotions.”

The next two days Rembrandt spent mostly trying to get rid of the unusual clenching in his chest. It wouldn't go away no matter what he did. It annoyed and stressed him out immensely, ridding him of his usually calm and collected attitude. He tried everything, from relaxing alone, drinking warm tea and reading his favorite books to attending (reluctantly) Pinkie Pie's famous parties with Caramel. Although he soon found out those were becoming a rather enjoyable experience, at the end of the day the clench was still there.

It was the third morning when decided he maybe needed a change of scenery, so thought of to visiting his family in Canterlot. He's been living in Ponyville for almost a month now, writing and receiving letters from his family, who was, as he pretty much expected, pretty understanding about it; his friend were a bit panicked, but soon got adapted when they heard he was living a nice life.

Rembrandt's parents were used to him suddenly traveling somewhere when he was younger and in search of his Cutie Mark, so this sudden decision thankfully didn't surprise them too much. His mother did took extra care to inform him how much he missed him in her latest letter though, so a visit would be in order.

Less than two hours from that decision, Rembrandt was on the train to Canterlot, not sure if he should stay the night or return with the night express. The ride passed pretty fast as his head was filled with thoughts of the family he missed, the clench that wouldn't let go and of train schedule.

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"Remmie, my dear! We missed you so much!"

"Welcome back, son."

"Hiya bro, I missed you so much!"

"Mother, Father, Margaret, it is so nice to see you again."

"I told you a hundred times to call me Rett! Margaret is so girly!"

Rembrandt didn't realize how much he missed his parents and his little sister until he saw them waiting for him on the station. It was a bit out of his character, but he couldn't resist but to hug them tightly, feeling a bit of relief inside of his chest. His sister Margaret, or Rett as she wanted to be called, let out an awkward giggle, but otherwise returned the hug. His parents seemed delighted to see how emotional their son got.

As they headed back to their family home, Rembrandt started telling them about his new friends, job and things he learned and how delightful of a surprise Ponyville turned out to be. By the time he finished, they were all already in the living room of their spacey family home eating snacks and drinking tea.

"Well I am certainly glad to see you haven't gone there in vain. In fact, I was proud you were so determined to do something about it, son."

"Thank you, Father."

"But you really could visit more often, you know."

"Sorry mother, I was just really indulged into the whole town of Ponyville. The ponies there are so different. And I met this interesting lady, Miss Sparkle, who has some books I've never seen before available for--"

"Right~ books, books, books, why am I not surprised!" Margaret snorted mockingly, earning a stern look from her father.

"Marga--"

"It's Rett."

"Margaret, dear, you might as well be a bit more like your brother. Now", he began, seeing that Margaret got noticeably madder, "I don't say your love of art won't take you anywhere, but you really could use a little more knowledge of the world. We have so many wonderful books just sitting in your room-"

"-collecting dust and being eat by bookworms, oh ha, ha, ha. I heard that a tons of times", Margaret rolled her eyes.

"I don't want to learn, I just want to paint!"

"Just painting will not make you insta-famous! You have to study, too!"

Although his father and sister started a petty quarrel once again, this time, instead of feeling annoyed, Rembrandt felt amused. He kind of missed this.

"So Remmie, sweetie, are you getting anywhere closer to finding your talent?"

Rembrandt got caught off guard so he just stared at her for a second. She seemed confused at his silence, so he quickly started talking, merely to fill in the silence between him and his mother.

"Oh, I err, yes, I mean, no, I mean, err... Khm, khm!" he coughed to clear his throat and his mother laughed softly.

"Sweetie, you don't have to be nervous. I am your family, not a lady friend."

"R-right. I'm sorry, mother. I just don't want to disappoint you."

"Remmie! I am your mother! You are my son! You can never disappoint me! Especially not after all you did", she smiled sweetly. Rembrandt returned the smile shyly. He never felt completely relaxed around his parents, because he couldn't help but wonder what were their real thoughts of him.

"Well, in fact, I do think I've been making progress. I mean, I've discovered things in Ponyville... I don't mean like in materialistic sense, more like... well, this will sound downright silly but... spiritual, maybe?"

"... I think you mean emotional."

"Ugh, I don't like that word", Rembrandt shifted uncomfortably, remembering all the emotions that did invade his heart for no reason he could think of.

"Well, a pony as educated as you should use his words properly, so you better start liking it."

Rembrandt could only sigh over his mother victorious smile as she sipped some more tea.

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"Oh do you have to go already?" Rembrandt's mother pleaded, while his father shook his head. The Sun already setted, and the first stars glittered in the sky. The night express was leaving in about an hour and Rembrandt decided he missed his bed in Ponyville, oddly enough; he did promise to visit the next week though, because he also missed talking to his family. Before going back to Ponyville though, he wanted to go on a quiet, lonely walk. His family knew how much he loved his lonely walks where he could think and get his thoughts in order.

"Oh come on Marigold, he's not a small colt anymore. He has things to do and ladies to charm, I bet", his father started playfully, as he always did when the ladies where in question. Now it was Rembrandt's turn to roll his eyes.

"I'm just saying, you're a grown, fine stallion already! Your mother and I want some grandchi--"

"Alright, now you're going too far!" Rembrandt laughed.

"Hey bro, it was nice to see ya again! The next time you come, we have got to hang out! You caught me by surprise when you visited us so suddenly, otherwise I would make you spend a whole day with me!" Margaret spoke in a quick manner, nearly running out of breath, but still considerably more coherent than Pinkie Pie's ramblings.

"Sure thing, Rett."

Her eyes lit up when he finally addressed her with her nickname, a thing he refused to do for a long time. For some reason, he felt like giving that little gift to her. His mother and father gave him a rare and short look of disapproval, but he smiled at them.

"Well, see you in a week then."

The four waved to each other until Marigold successfully dragged Margaret into the house, her being very entusiastic about waving to her brother and finally closed the door. Rembrandt sighed and slowly started strolling through the city, not sure where he was going. He found that while he did feel happy visiting his family and it did relax him quite a bit, that clench in his chest didn't lose its grip. Feeling a bit annoyed that he's been feeling down for practically three days, he got so lot in thoughts he didn't notice a slightly elderly mare in front of him. She spread her wings in surprise and shook her head when he gently bumped into her.

"Oof! Oh please pardon me, madam, it was my fault entirely!"

Seemingly satisfied with such a quick and polite apology, the mare, who was obviously (judging by the dress and ridiculously overdone haircut) a member of one of the old, elite families, smiled politely.

"It is quite alright, I suppose. After all you did apologize sincerely and that is something Mrs Whistler doesn't forget so easily!"

"Well that is very kind of- wait, did you just say your family name is Whistler?"

"Ah, recognized it, haven't you? I am not surprised; and by the look of your flank, I suppose you must be the famous Rembrandt of the Quills!"

"That is right", Rembrandt replied, not upset over her casual mention of his blank flank - at least she was sincere. He had something else on his mind anyway right now.

"Does that make Wind Whistler your daughter?"

"Oh, you know my daughter? Wonderful thing isn't she?" she suddenly looked at him as if were a prize and got closer to him; Rembrandt got an eerie feeling that it had to do with her daughters "unfortunate" choice for a boyfriend.

"Y-yes, I just met her a few days ago. I had her and Caramel Smith over for dinner."

"Oh... right", Mrs Whistlers' smile suddenly fell, proving Rembrandt he was right. The clench suddenly tugged on his chest, and Rembrandt very abruptly decided he couldn't leave the matter alone.

"Mrs Whistler, you'll have to accept my apologies for what I am about to say during out first official meeting, but you're making your daughter very distressed and uncomfortable."

The eyes of the Pegasus got so big and round they were comparable to the Moon. She managed to utter a rather angered: "Excuse me?"

Rembrandt sighed, realizing he couldn't stop himself from continuing; it was like his mouth wouldn't listen to him:

"Your daughter confined into me... Wind loves her Mister Caramel from the bottom of her heart and yet you're the one whom she stresses over because you haven't approved of her relationship. And yes, I know you just 'want the best for her', a stallion from elite family and of dandy financial situation", Rembrandt immediately said when Mrs Whistler opened her mouth, promptly making her fall silent again, "but you're in fact making her sad beyond belief. I personally met Caramel and we've been best friends ever since. He's a fine young stallion and I can honestly say he has just as much of a bright future as anypony you could ever find for her in this city."

It took Rembrandt a few moments to realize a few things. First, the Pegasus in front of him was slowly growing more angry than he had expected. Second, should he be rewarded with upset reply telling him to mind his own business, he was going to be late for a train. Third, he might've just lost his best friend because of this.

The stare contest began, the bright sunny eyes of Mrs Whistler dangerously piercing Rembrandt's meek pale green ones. For some reason he felt determined, probably due to the speech he just delivered, so he stubbornly stared back. It lasted for a few painfully long seconds. Then Mrs Whistler's angry frown disappeared and she looked at her hooves, a sad look over her face. Before Rembrandt could say anything, she very abruptly flew away.

Rembrandt took a deep breath and ran towards the station, not realizing just what had he done at that moment.

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Once he finally sat down and managed to think things through a little bit, Rembrandt realized just how prepared that speech seemed to be. Yet he came up with it in the spot. He felt the words almost naturally flowing out of him. Like he was speaking of something he knew well.

And that stare she gave him. How in the world did he collect the courage the look back at those furious eyes?

Rembrandt slowly fell into an uneasy sleep, dreaming of horde of ponies, all looking exactly like Wind Whistler stomping allover him. For some reason, in the dream it didn't hurt him physically, but he felt like crying.

He woke up when the train let out a high pitched sound, announcing his return to Ponyville. Pretty distressed, Rembrandt hurried to his home, not being able to wait a second longer for much desired sleep.

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Another two days have passed, with Rembrandt forgetting about the clench that was still gripping his heart, but with a new worry over what he did in Canterlot. Wind's mother was probably going to tell Wind some over the top story of how rude he was and she might got angry with him, which he definitely didn't want. No to mention what Caramel might say. Stress was getting to him so much that he didn't notice a pony coming from behind him while he was sitting in a cafe and nearly poured himself with a cup of coffee he was levitating in front of his mouth when she tapped his shoulder. He turned around and saw a familiar arctic blue Pegasus with a wide smile on her face.

"Wind Whistler, good morning", he said, still slightly startled. The Pegasus didn't respond, but still just looked at him with wide, glistening eyes. And that silly, way too happy smile. He was surprised to see her so happy - if anything, he expected her to come up to him with a frown or a pout.

"... uh, can I help yoummf!"

Her blonde mane covered his eyes as she gripped him into a tight, almost suffocating, but friendly, he was sure, hug.

"I don't know what to say but... thank you. Thank you so much!"

Rembrandt froze. Could it be that...?

"I have no idea what you told her, but my mother did mention your name. Whatever you did, I will be eternally grateful for it." when she finally let him go, he noticed her eyes were teary.

"I... umm...", he found himself lacking words. She laughed.

"You don't have to say anything! I just wanted to tell you how grateful I am. I definitely owe you one for what you did for me. And I can't believe you actually did it. You made Caramel bawl once he heard the happy news!" she giggled, and Rembrandt couldn't suppress a smile on the thought of Caramel crying and laughing like a child at the same time.

"You don't owe me anything. I... I did it because I felt like I had to."

Wind burst into very happy tears much to his surprise and he immediately offered her a handkerchief.

"Wh-why in the Heavens are you crying?! Please calm down..."

"You're t-too k-kind!" she said, laughter breaking through her crying features. She wiped her face and, still laughing, added: "I swear, you're the... the... the most something pony I ever met. I just don't have the word to describe that thing I see in you", she grinned with a wide toothy smile.

Whatever the word she meant and even though he didn't find out which one it was, Rembrandt had to admit to himself that he liked being the most whatever-he-was pony Wind ever met.

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Emotion.

I never liked that word much. It represented everything I wasn't. I was never much above being indifferent, unless it was a unique occasion, so to speak. I got excited when I got my parents bought me the present for Birthday I really desired and I showered them with love I usually wasn't showing much. I would get a tad bit soft of holidays and meaningful days, such as Heart's Warming Eve. I felt totally silly the first time I had a crush on a lady friend from high school.

Other than than, indifference ruled my life. It was kind of like a shell around me that protected me from everything I didn't want to have in me - insecurity, disappointment, feeling of failure, being betrayed... being like that saved me from many of those stuff, but also cut me back on everything nice I could've felt. Everything I've started to feel during past few weeks.

But who is to say it is too late to start feeling?

Private notes:

Oddly enough, talk with Wind Whistler's mother helped her! I never thought I might have influence like that on someone. I had an unusual amount of confidence when I talked to her, which is strange. It is not like I'm too soft to go against what someone says, but I usually don't meddle into other ponies' affairs.

The visit to my family was nice. Mother indirectly told me I should start listening to my heart more. Well, at least that is the way I understood her. Knowing her, it was what she was trying to say.

Rembrandt put his pen down and lay in the bed staring out of the window, feeling so relaxed he thought he could fly...

...

Wait, what? Relaxation?! The clench was gone! When?? When did he start feeling alright again? When he finished the article and sent it? When he talked to Whistler? Was it is late reaction from a few days ago when he visited his parents?!

...Was it that tasty cupcake from the Sugarcube Corner?

He had no idea.

With a frustrated groan, he fell asleep, looking forward to a night that wasn't going to be interrupted with strange dreams of being crushed by hooves.