Fairy Gothmother
by forbloodysummer
First published
Twilight wants to try rebelling, but needs Aria's help.
All her life, Twilight Sparkle has tried to be good, hard-working, and well-behaved. She's been told that's what she should strive to be, but what if she's missing out on the secret delights of being a rebel? A punk? A bad girl?
Following this train of thought, she concludes there's only one thing to do: an experiment.
And since she knows very little about rebelling, she'll need to find an expert to learn from...
Story idea pitched by Hopeful_Ink_Hoof in the Uncommon Dazzling Ships group.
Cover picture by rileyav
Proofread by NaiadSagaIotaOar
Can I Play With Madness?
“How the fuck would you know?”
It wasn’t anything momentous that prompted the memory. Just doing some mental prep work before meeting up with her old classmates from CPA for the first time in a few months, trying to pick the moments that most defined each of the five of them to her.
Sugarcoat’s assessment of Principal Cinch’s behaviour at the Friendship Games. Indigo Zap walking into class the morning after getting her ears pierced. Lemon Zest being escorted out of the school library after turning her music up and dancing on the table. Sour Sweet’s unintentional demonstration of her health condition in morning assembly on their first day, right after Dean Cadance had warned them all about it.
But Sunny Flare was a trickier one to pin down. She was the most reserved of the Shadowbolts, and she had a kind of poise about her which reminded Twilight of Rarity. She wasn’t Fleur de Lis by any stretch of the imagination – a model from an expensive perfume commercial brought to life – but she still held herself in a way Twilight found more intimidating than it should have been.
The last person she’d have expected to be found ‘experimenting’ with a boy in the school bathrooms one lunchtime. And if Dean Cadance hadn’t used that exact word when she caught them, Twilight would never have zoned in on it when innocently passing by, and instead remained focused on the quadratic equation she’d been trying to unravel.
So she’d heard everything, eavesdropping at first to learn who the other scientist in the school might be, and unable to get away without being noticed once she’d realised she’d misconstrued the situation.
Sugarcoat, Indigo, and of course Sour Sweet – any of them could possibly have got away with swearing at a teacher, on account of their respective quirks or conditions. But Sunny must have known the additional trouble she’d be in, and yet she’d chosen to do it anyway. A kind and patient explanation from Dean Cadance about how much better it was to wait until marriage, and–
“How the fuck would you know?”
“That wasn’t a very nice thing for her to say. I’m sure Principal Cadance wouldn’t give bad advice,” Fluttershy said, looking up from her task of pouring nuts into a bird feeder.
“I’m sure she wouldn’t either,” Twilight replied. “Not intentionally, anyway. But” – she set down her own bird feeder, filled and ready to be hung up again, on the tabletop, and turned to face Fluttershy – “the thing I keep coming back to, as a scientist, is that Sunny was right.”
Fluttershy’s brow furrowed, but she didn’t say anything. It was odd, seeing her troubled when surrounded by happily chittering animals at the shelter, with the picturesque sun dipping down to the horizon through the window behind her.
Twilight explained. “Cadance and my brother are married. They’ve been a couple since they were several years younger than we are now. And I can’t believe either of them had much experience with others before they met.” An odd thought to have, about her brother and her former dean, but she considered it in the name of science. “So I have to concede that, objectively, Sunny had a point. How would Cadance know?”
“And, um, that’s what’s been keeping you up at night?”
Feeling her cheeks heating, Twilight had to look away. “I extrapolated a little. All the people I know are good people, just like you girls. Which means the advice we share is something of an echo chamber, because everyone has learned from the same guidance. Does that make sense?”
“I think so,” Fluttershy said as she completed work on a third bird feeder, “But I’m not quite following where you’re going with it?”
Twilight pulled a tall stool out from under the table and dropped onto it, spreading her hands as she spoke. “What if we’re missing something? What if we only think it’s best to follow the rules because we’re surrounded by people who’ve been conditioned to think the same, rather than for any objectively better reason?”
With a glance at an enclosure housing two baby crocodiles, who’d been fighting minutes before, Fluttershy frowned again. “Following some rules is objectively better for everyone, though. The golden rule of treating others as you’d like to be treated – well, we’re definitely happier than species which don’t have that.”
“Definitely, yes.” Twilight pushed her glasses back up her nose from where they’d slipped down. “But there’s a lot of leeway, even with that locked in. And how do we know which are objectively best? We could reason it out, but there’s usually one factor or another we overlook when theorising. What we need to do now is move onto the next stage.”
Very carefully, Fluttershy set down the rabbit she was grooming, and then turned to Twilight. “You’ve, um, you’ve been planning experiments for this, haven’t you?”
“I have!” Twilight beamed, reaching into her backpack for her notebook, so she could show the careful proposals she’d formulated. “First I tried crossing a quiet street when the light was red. That was more panicked, but I did get where I was heading faster. And it was a little exhilarating, as well.”
Fluttershy was following Twilight’s finger over the presented diagrams and research methodologies, and, while she nodded in understanding, she still looked concerned.
“But as you can see, I’ve had trouble ramping up the scale of the experiments. The next one I thought of was shoplifting.”
A gasp shortly preceded Fluttershy’s hands flying to her mouth.
“It’s ok, I haven’t done it!” Twilight hurriedly tried to reassure her. “I guess I just don’t know much about rebelling. How can I be bad, when everyone I know is good?”
Surprisingly levelly, Fluttershy appeared to ponder that. She even tapped her finger against her pursed lips. “I, um, may have an idea.”
Twilight shot forwards on her stool, listening attentively.
“A few years ago, a family of bats started nesting in the roof of the school gym. Vice Principal Luna liked them, but most students were scared of them and wanted them removed, saying they were nasty and scary. So I went and bought some clothes that night, and came into school the next day dressed all in black, with jagged piercings, dark eyeliner and big spiky boots.”
“...Huh. I’m really struggling to imagine that.”
Fluttershy giggled. “I know what you mean. The boots and skirt were even made of leather.” She brought a hand to her stomach. “I still feel a bit funny about that.”
Although Twilight didn’t know the statistics of the amount of beef consumed compared to the amount of leather used in fashion or furniture off the top of her head, she really couldn’t imagine the latter coming close to the former, so it was fair to say that plenty of cows would be dying regardless of whether Fluttershy then wore their skins or not. But before she could think of a delicate way to phrase that, Fluttershy continued.
“I wanted to show that someone could look dark and mysterious, but still be just as nice inside, and that it was no reason to be afraid of someone or want to get rid of them.”
Demonstration by analogy! A classic method of highlighting cognitive biases. “What happened?”
Fluttershy’s eyes dropped to the floor. “Other people did not agree.” She gave Twilight a weak smile. “They avoided me in corridors, or went quiet when I came near. A few of the teachers even looked a bit scared. No one got close enough to see past the surface appearance, so the idea of showing that I could look like that and still be nice never had a chance to be displayed. And soon… soon I even started to feel like I was dark and mysterious, because of how they all responded to me.”
Twilight stood up, stepped closer and laid a hand on Fluttershy’s shoulder. “I’m sorry your experiment didn’t work out.” Then she realised how it sounded like she was more sorry about the experiment itself than the real-world consequences that would have followed, and quickly added, “What happened to the bats?”
“They disappeared one night, with no official explanation given. But I’m sure I’ve heard bat chittering coming from Vice Principal Luna’s office a couple of times, so I think it turned out ok in the end.”
“That’s good to hear,” Twilight said, feeling her spirits lift at the sight of Fluttershy’s smile, and ignoring the number of public health code violations that knowingly keeping roosting bats in a school office would cause. “So your point is that Vice Principal Luna might be a good person to start with, for ideas on rebelling?”
“Oh, um, I don’t know about that. She could be? But she is still vice principal of a high school, and part of her job is making sure people do follow the rules. I meant that maybe if you dress the part, you might start to feel it, too? People were horrified by my goth clothes, so maybe that would be a good next step for rebelling?”
‘NIGHTMARE LOOM,’ the sign across the top of the entrance read. Welp, this was the place, just as Fluttershy had said. And it certainly looked the part! Black T-shirts and hoodies filled the front windows, each adorned with the logo of one band she’d never heard of or another.
Stepping inside revealed a small room, with several rails of clothes stretching out before her – all black – as well as lining every wall. The only break to the sea of dark fabric were the pictures on the front of some of the garments, sometimes colourful, and almost always intimidating or aggressive. There were plenty of shiny metal spikes adorning clothes as well.
And loud music was being played through the speakers that must have lurked somewhere out of sight in the corners. Not live-orchestra-loud, but a lot louder than in the average store she’d visit on a shopping trip with Rarity, and seemed to be deliberately trying to grab her attention with its abrasiveness.
She was definitely in the right place for a ‘rebel’ look!
Oh, and there was more of it, too! A small archway in the back wall, nearly blocked completely by clothes on hangers all around it, looked to lead into another room. Taking the plunge, Twilight walked over to the opening, hands clasped in front of her, and ducked through.
The room beyond, deeper into the shop, was similar to the last, but with less natural light, and a few more jackets instead of T-shirts. Twilight thought she could see a checkout counter right at the far end, with a sea of black clothes and accessories on racks between it and her.
A whisper of movement suddenly brought to Twilight’s attention that she wasn’t alone. Not only was there probably a store clerk at the far end on the checkout, but it looked like there was another customer browsing the clothes rails about halfway down the room. For the first time Twilight realised that not only could she see this strange place she’d never imagined herself being in, but she could also be seen in such a place.
Self-consciousness hit instantly, with her blushing so hard she thought her glasses would steam up, and she quickly busied herself studying whatever clothes were on the rail right in front of her.
Black T-shirt with white logo design, black T-shirt with red logo design, black T-shirt with surprisingly pretty purple image of castle, looking like her pony counterpart’s home might if it had been built by malice personified.
This was silly, though. She had come into this place looking for rebellious clothes as a good place to start, but if she could find someone here who would give her advice on where to go after that, then such an opportunity would be too good to pass up.
Taking a hold of herself, she lifted her head, located the shop’s other customer, and made a beeline in their direction. As she drew closer she was able to pick out more details, separating them from the backdrop of more clothes.
The other shopper was a girl, looking around her own age, but immediately obvious as a native to the Nightmare Loom environment and style. Her purple and teal hair was held back in two huge ponytails by star-shaped hairclips, and her tight black top was covered in rips, through which purple skin showed.
Reaching the girl and nervously drawing up next to her, Twilight finally had a view of the girl’s full profile unobstructed by clothing racks, and she had to make a specific effort to stop her eyes bulging. The girl wore tiny denim shorts that hardly covered any leg at all, but made up for it with black leather boots that stretched from the floor right up to her mid-thigh, and were tipped with long, thin heels that even Rarity would have struggled to walk in.
Twilight Sparkle had seen through genuine portals into a parallel universe, and that hadn’t looked as other-worldly as this girl. Because she should have looked ridiculous in those clothes. And she didn’t. She really didn’t!
Long ago, Twilight had pinpointed the exact feeling she got when she recognised someone she wished she could become a student of. And she felt it now.
“Hi there! I’m Twilight Sparkle, and I’m new to this style of fashion! Do you think you could help me pick out some clothes, and perhaps offer some further guidance on what I can do to become more naturally rebellious?”
Twilight managed to keep the friendly enthusiasm in her voice until she finished, despite the flat look she was receiving. A few moments of silence stretched after she finished, where the other girl continued to stare at her, expressionless.
Finally, she spoke!
“Get bent.”
Author's Notes:
Decided to write this this evening, on a whim. Not sure why, or when there'll be more of it, but here it is.
Judas Be My Guide
“Wait! I have so many questions!”
Twilight hurried after the other girl down the narrow aisle between the T-shirt racks, away from the sales counter and back towards the entrance. The girl managed to move faster than Twilight despite carrying an unwieldy, hard-to-fold new leather jacket under her arm.
But then, she was taller than Twilight, especially in those boots, so longer legs gave her a speed advantage, and she probably knew the territory better. And she seemed determined to leave as quickly as possible, too.
“I have just one,” the girl barked, not slowing or bothering to turn back to look at Twilight while speaking. “What part of ‘get bent’ do you not understand?”
She probably didn’t mean to sound that hostile. Most likely just had to raise her voice to be sure of being heard over the raucous music playing over the shop speakers. The first impression could definitely have gone a lot better, but Twilight was pretty sure no one would be that unfriendly for no reason.
The girl reached the shop doorway and stepped outside, still without pausing. Twilight opened her mouth to answer, but stumbled when she passed through the doorway herself, hands flying to cover her eyes.
So bright! She couldn’t have been in Nightmare Loom more than ten minutes. Probably less, given how quickly the other girl had picked a jacket and taken it to the counter as soon as Twilight introduced herself. But the human eye was an incredible thing, and hers were now paying for adapting so quickly to the gloom of the shop.
Fluttershy had mentioned bats, and how they’d inspired her own clothing experiment. Was this a good sign Twilight was on the right path, cringing away from the sunlight?
No time for that now! Shielding her eyes with a hand, she looked after the other girl, who must have already been twenty paces away.
No longer penned in by rows of dark clothes, Twilight walked as fast as she could after the girl. But she kept it to a walk, if only just – chasing strangers at a run probably wasn’t the best way to get them to like you.
She was closing the distance between them, and only then thought to look around and see where she was actually being led.
They’d left behind the winding alleys of boutiques and independent shops, where Nightmare Loom had squeezed in between much cheerier-looking storefronts. Now they were reaching the back streets, with parked cars lining both sides of the road, but no moving traffic. In the distance, Twilight heard the high whine of an engine growing nearer.
The girl Twilight was following stepped between the parked cars and out into the road, walking down one carriageway. The source of noise burst into view: a motorbike coming around the corner, now heading down the street towards them.
The bike skidded to a stop next to the girl, the rider putting a boot-clad foot down to stay upright. Up that close, Twilight could see the motorbike was a beaten-up machine with a skeletal frame turned dusty white from heavy use, something that spent more time off-road than on.
Twilight hung back, watching from the side of the street and trying to be unobtrusive, since the mysterious girl from the shop had slid her arm around the helmeted biker’s waist in a very familiar way, and Twilight didn’t really want to stand around like an awkward third wheel.
That gave her a better chance to inspect the person on the bike, too. A battered black leather coat that must have almost reached the floor even when the wearer was standing up, and big black military-ish boots to match. The coat fell open as the biker pulled the shop girl closer in return, revealing camouflage trousers and a black top of mesh-type material so ripped it looked like cobwebs, covering so little Twilight could clearly see the–
Huh. Yep, definitely a bra beneath – black, shiny and really not small.
Still processing that detail, Twilight almost missed that the girl from the shop had reached up both hands to pull the biker’s helmet off, diving into a passionate kiss the moment it came free. The girl on the bike was differing hues of grey – thankfully only two of them, though the reminder of Twilight’s sister-in-law’s reading habits still brought a shudder – with hair a little lighter than her skin.
That hair was cut short and harshly, hanging down one side but not the other. Kind of like it wanted to join the military but also not follow the rules. Twilight had been assuming rebellious hair had to be big and colourful, but this girl made it streamlined and efficient, brutal in its simplicity. A second person Twilight very much needed to learn from!
With a blush, she realised that her studying the girl had amounted to her staring at two women making out in the street. They hadn’t noticed her, but still, the implication was a lot less wholesome than she’d intended.
...Maybe that wasn’t a bad thing? She was aiming to rebel, after all, and society expected science to be divorced from sexuality or emotion.
She frowned. No… No, that would be going too far. She wouldn’t compromise scientific methods for this or for anything else. The results would never be worth that sacrifice.
Only a sudden movement snapped Twilight out of her ethical quandary, realising that both women now wore bike helmets, and the one from the shop had just swung her leg over the bike, so she perched behind the rider.
“Wait!” Twilight cried, struggling to be heard over a revving of the engine. “I need your help!”
The rider’s head turned in Twilight’s direction, a second later raising a hand to lift her helmet visor. Hard eyes in a grey face stared at her – although, Twilight did notice, those eyes were a very striking green. And vaguely familiar?
She also heard a growl of “Fuck’s sake…” from the back of the bike.
The grey girl looked back at her passenger. “Friend of yours?”
“Parasite, more like. Syphilis is easier to get rid of.”
Green eyes narrowed quizzically. “...Sonata?”
The girl from the shop still had the visor down on her helmet, and from behind it Twilight heard a snort. “Who else?”
The grey girl turned out her bottom lip and tilted her head to one side. “Not exactly a lack of options in your household.”
That prompted the visor being raised, revealing flat purple eyes. “You’re calling us all massive disease-ridden skanks.”
“Nah, I wouldn’t waste my breath stating something that obvious.”
“Call it a difference in standards. My family don’t consider smiling at a rock to be promiscuous.”
Their eyes were locked together. Slowly, a grin spread across each of their faces, the kind of grins that exposed sharp teeth and would frighten children. Then, without any warning, the girl from the shop snapped her attention to Twilight. “What?”
Twilight jumped. She’d thought they’d forgotten she was there. She’d been so engrossed in the bitter exchange of insults between a couple where one still had arms around the other that she’d almost forgotten she was there herself, too.
“I, um…” All the words left her head, as two very intense pairs of eyes held her in place. “I was hoping for some advice.” She was vaguely aware of how tightly she was clasping her hands together in front of her, fingers entwined, but ignored the discomfort to try to get the words out. “On rebelling. On being a… bad girl.”
The grey girl raised an eyebrow but said nothing, while the purple girl behind her leaned her head back and wiped a hand down her face. “My sister’s bedroom is usually where bad girls are found,” she said, more to the grey girl than to Twilight. “If the cries coming through the door are to be believed, anyway.”
Blushing and trying to lift her eyes higher than her own feet, Twilight shook her head at her choice of phrasing, realising how it’d sounded the moment she’d said it.
“Look,” the grey girl said, her voice naturally abrasive enough to command Twilight’s attention and drag her gaze back up again whether she wanted to or not, “all you really need are these – ” she counted quickly on her fingers, mouthing as she did so “ – nine words: Fuck you, I won’t do what you tell me.” After a moment, she added, “Say that back to me,” which meant Twilight had probably been standing there dumbly while trying to process incoming data.
“Fuck you, I won’t do what you tell me?”
The grey girl gave a weak smile. “You just did.” Twilight felt her eyes widen, but again she was struck that she’d seen her before somewhere.
“Let it sink in,” the girl added, then shifted her weight on the bike and looked ahead to the road.
Twilight quickly spoke up, before they were too set on departing. “But I don’t know any goths!” Thinking of Fluttershy’s recent revelation, she amended, “Not proper ones, like you, anyway. Who should I ask about costume tips?”
Immediately, Twilight knew she’d said something wrong. Not something that they’d mock her for, as she had with the ‘bad girl’ line, but something that made both their faces harden.
The grey girl looked down at her clothes, then back to Twilight. “They’re not costumes.”
From behind her, the purple girl followed up. “And we’re not goths. I’m a punk, and she’s a rivethead.”
Before the confusion could claim Twilight completely, the grey girl turned back to her companion and nudged her in the ribs, telling her more quietly, “You do have your cyber moments, though.”
“Oh piss off, twat stains.”
I… I don’t know what any of that means…
“Not a bad idea.”
And before Twilight had a chance to get her wits together, the engine revved again, the rear tyre screeched and span on the tarmac, and seconds later the bike was rocketing away, leaving her there at the side of the road. Still dumbstruck, she saw visors being pulled down without looking back.
When she finally returned to the moment enough to look around, to take in all that had happened and replay events in her head, Twilight hardly knew what to think.
One little thought did keep nagging at her, though. She’d seen the grey girl on the bike before. Somewhere. But she’d never seen anyone dressed like that before, so, either this was a new look for the girl – which didn’t seem at all likely, if she’d been offended by Twilight calling it a costume – or Twilight had only previously seen her face.
Wait, yes, that was it. Her face, poking around a doorway. Twilight couldn’t remember what the girl had said or why, but the doorway and wall behind it in her memory seemed more familiar.
A sleepover at Pinkie’s house. The girl on the bike… was she Pinkie’s eldest sister?
Author's Notes:
This was a long time coming because I had a notion of the general direction of the story, but no ideas for specific scenes. Took me a while to think what might happen next! I do now have ideas for the next couple of scenes, but I can't promise it won't be this long a delay again.
However, if you really like my take on siren x non-siren crackships, then this is the story I've been working on for the last three years - it's all finished, being published one chapter a week, and I think it's the best thing I've written
The Educated Fool
Breaking protocol of where she sat at the lunch table was something Twilight had had to psych herself up for all morning, but the expected stares and gasps from all around her never came, even after she’d been sitting with her food on Applejack’s left for five whole minutes. That was the all-clear window passed, then, as she counted past the 300th second. So, if no explanation for her anarchic place rearranging were required, she could skip that bit of the preparation and move straight to the purpose of it.
“Pinkie?” she said to her new seat-neighbour, leaning in and keeping her voice low (and nearly getting lost in a mountain of bright pink hair in the process), “Can I talk to you about something?”
“Sure!” Pinkie said, grinning wide around her plastic straw between gulps of her milkshake.
Twilight pulled back sharply, having been expecting a reply at the same volume as her question and somehow, stupidly, forgetting who she was talking to. She probably looked a little frazzled from the force of it, and would have thought she could feel her hair springing loose from its bun if that hadn’t been an obvious subconscious fabrication of her brain.
“Oooh!” Pinkie leaned in, clutching her hands in front of her, “Are you putting together a competitive whispering team?” Then she sidled closer, talking directly into Twilight’s ear, holding a hand up to shield her mouth and keeping her eyes on the rest of those at the table. “I’ll level with you,” she said through closed teeth, like a ventriloquist, “it’s not really my forte.”
She gave a nervous-sounding laugh, but held up her hands. “I’d maybe see if you can get Fluttershy on board? It sounds like her calling.” Pinkie looked side to side quickly, and, apparently convinced Fluttershy was looking the other way, continued, “You know, her calling when she calls really quietly.”
Competitive whispering? Trying and failing to blink her frown away, Twilight followed her thoughts out loud. “How would that even work...?” You’d have to have a decibel meter and reward the lowest score, but you’d also have to check the message had been correctly understood. At which point it becomes more about hearing skills than whispering ones, surely? “Never mind, no, that’s not the point.” She took a calming breath, the kind that was meant to be long and slow but she had a schedule so that was just unrealistic. “I need to talk to you. About your sister.” She made sure to look Pinkie right in the eyes when she said it, to stress how important it was and how they shouldn’t get pulled off-topic again. “Does she have a girlfriend?”
Pinkie froze, and Twilight knew she’d said something wrong. Sometimes you didn’t quite notice how much Pinkie was constantly moving in one way or another until suddenly she wasn’t.
“Ooh, um,” Pinkie’s eyes darted side to side, and she even blushed, “I’m sure Marble would be flattered, but, uh,” she gave an obviously-nervous laugh, “I don’t think you’re really her type?”
Not her type…? Twilight looked this way and that at non-specific points on the table in front of her, trying to understand what Pinkie could possibly mean.
After a couple of seconds of awkward smiling, Pinkie added information she obviously thought made things clearer, “I’m pretty sure she likes boys. Really massive boys.”
Twilight blinked. She’d missed a cue somewhere, obviously. Pinkie had said something to make it make sense, Twilight just couldn’t see what it was yet. But that didn’t matter, it could be figured out later. For now, it was time to prioritise and find the direct route through, because Pinkie had named Marble, which rendered the whole conundrum irrelevant. Even if it was still irritatingly impenetrable.
“Sorry, no, I don’t mean Marble. I saw your other sister in town yesterday, with a fuschia-coloured girl. She had purple hair with turquoise streaks, held up in two bunches.” Twilight knew they were correctly called bunches rather than pigtails, because she’d looked it up when she’d got home.
As Twilight had come to expect anytime the topic of dating came up, Rarity was leaning towards them eagerly, while Applejack gave them only a bit of attention and focused mostly on finishing her lunch. Fluttershy was politely in-between, Rainbow yawned, and Pinkie was–
Deathly still. Again. But this time her eyes were downcast, and her mouth was downturned to match. “Her name’s Aria,” she said quietly, several octaves lower than her usual speaking pitch.
After a moment of no further details being offered, Twilight looked away from Pinkie to see if her friends were similarly mystified. She turned just in time to see Rainbow frantically swallowing her yawn, wide-eyed and alert.
“Aria?” Rainbow asked. “As in…?”
After Rainbow trailed off, Twilight swung her head back to Pinkie, who nodded, almost to herself, not lifting her eyes from the empty plate in front of her. Again, Twilight was certain she’d missed something big that had been left unsaid, but it seemed serious. Serious enough that she could ask to be filled in, but everyone else seemed so affected that staying quiet and hoping it became clearer over time might be the safer option.
So she turned back to Rainbow, just in time to see her sharing a worried look with Fluttershy. Rainbow paused for a second with her mouth half-open, looking at Pinkie carefully, then said, “I know your sister’s tough, but does she have any idea what she’s getting herself into?”
Pinkie looked up at Rainbow with an expression Twilight couldn’t quite work out. There was a weak smile and faint traces of watering eyes, with a whole gamut of emotions at play in there. Resignation with wonder, fear with scepticism, commiseration with pride. “It’s been six months.”
That made Rainbow’s mouth drop open again, and she looked off to one side. Applejack, pulling on her braid as she spoke, filled the conversational gap. “Wait, Maud’s going out with a siren?”
On many occasions, such as just a minute earlier, Twilight had known Pinkie to laugh nervously. But she couldn’t think of a time she’d heard Pinkie chuckle humourlessly, as she did now.
All Pinkie said was, “Not that sister.”
Like she was in a trance, Applejack released her braid, set both hands on the table in front of her, and turned to look straight ahead. “Limestone Pie. And Aria Blaze.” She said nothing for a few seconds, finishing her bottle of juice in the process, then turned to the rest of them. “I’m out.” And with that, Applejack smoothly stood, picked up her tray, turned on her heel and strode away.
After watching Applejack go, Rainbow turned back to Pinkie. “How come you didn’t tell us before?”
Pinkie wasn’t exactly quick to respond, so Rarity interjected. “Taking a guess, darling: because she didn’t want to have this conversation with you.”
Although she still knew very little of whatever the connection was between her friends and the girl from Nightmare Loom, Twilight’s stomach was sinking at how she’d clearly dropped Pinkie into a very uncomfortable situation.
“Yeah,” Pinkie sighed, “I was pretty sure what you’d say. But, like I said, they’ve been together a while, and the world’s still here, so…”
A siren from another universe. One who’d twice tried to conquer, and still showed no signs of being nicer to people despite being defeated on both occasions. That was who Twilight had unknowingly antagonised in her quest to learn more. Oops.
It really didn’t help that Twilight’s own Equestrian counterpart had been the one to lead the most recent battle against the sirens, a double who Aria had inevitably mistaken her for, and blamed for the loss of her singing voice. No, that didn’t help at all. But it at least explained her unfriendliness.
“I still don’t understand, though,” Twilight said to her friends around the table, “Aria and Limestone looked exactly the same, like all the other goths I’ve seen. Why did they get so short when I called them that?”
Fluttershy and Sunset had by that point finished eating and had to leave to go do various things, leaving only Twilight, Pinkie, Rainbow and Rarity.
“Hmmm, yes,” Rarity mused, “there’s one like that I’ve never quite grasped, either. What’s the difference between a geek and a nerd?”
“W-what?!” Twilight spluttered. “They’re completely different! A geek is someone who’s socially inept and unfashionable, whereas a ner– oh, wait, I see what you’re doing here. Right. Yep.”
Rarity gave a quiet but still smug little ‘mm-hmm,’ and Pinkie even snickered. That was a good sign, at least, after how down she’d been when Twilight had first asked about Aria.
“It’s really that stark a difference, then?” Twilight asked, cleaning her glasses on the corner of her blouse, “To the people involved in it, I mean?” No wonder those two hadn’t responded well.
Pinkie excused herself, still more subdued than usual, quietly returning her tray on her way out of the cafeteria.
Rarity pursed her lips, eyes flicking between Twilight and Rainbow, then addressed them both. “How many different styles of dresses would you say there are?”
The dumbfounded look Rainbow offered probably wasn’t all that removed from the one that Twilight must have been wearing herself. “Uh…”
“Ok,” Rarity relented, “just shoulder straps then. How many different types of shoulder strap do you think womens’ garments can have?”
“Well,” Rainbow said after a second of frowning, “to hold it up, then it’s gotta go over the shoulders, right? A strap over each shoulder, from the front of the dress to the back.”
Twilight was rather impressed with Rainbow in that moment, puzzling it out by analysis. She herself took it a step further before nodding her agreement, first just quickly looking to the shoulders of each of those around the table.
“Not necessarily.” Rarity grinned. “Strapless dresses? Off-the-shoulder dresses? One-shoulder dresses, like anytime a goddess shows up in a movie? Even in two-shouldered designs, are they spaghetti straps, like on a bra? Around three centimetres wide, like on a tank top? Full-coverage, like a T-shirt? And once they’re over the shoulder, do they continue separately, like a strap top, or join into one, like a racerback? Or forego that entirely, like a halterneck?”
The funny thing was that as soon as Rarity listed an option, Twilight recognised it. Even the name for it, in most cases. It was background knowledge she possessed, but wasn’t particularly aware of consciously. Like that statistic about the size of vocabulary a person understood, compared to the size of that they usually used. “I’m not sure I’m quite following your point?” she blushed, being certain to smile and try to make her disagreement look polite. “An expert sees more detail, but isn’t that to be expected, whether it’s you at a fashion show or Rainbow at a soccer game?”
“It’s to do with how we perceive things, darling. The size and complexity of fields we don’t know.” Rarity ran delicate fingers over the shoulder of her top. “I asked how many options you thought were possible. You said one. I listed nine.”
“Oh, I get it,” Rainbow nodded along, “you mean we thought that, like, fashion as a thing was just this small area, but actually it’s a whole huge field and you only realise that once you learn a bit about it.”
“Exactly. While you’d think soccer to be a vast topic, as that’s the one you have most knowledge of.”
“Right, yeah,” Rainbow said. “Spitfire says our brains have just one scale, and we resize our experiences to fit it.” She paused for a second, frowning. “I never got what she meant before – thanks!”
Rarity gave a gracious nod, the kind that made Twilight feel like an undignified oaf by comparison, and Rainbow stretched out in her chair, leaning back and crossing her arms behind her head.
“So, in conclusion,” Twilight said, pausing to collect her thoughts and exhaling heavily enough to blow her fringe off her glasses, “Goth, punk, rivethead and probably loads of other things I’ve never heard of are all completely different?”
“To the people within those scenes, absolutely,” Rarity said.
Twilight wasn’t melodramatic enough to bury her head in her hands on the table, but she did slump in her chair and support her chin on one arm. “Then there’s even more I need her to teach me, and it’s even more annoying that she refuses!”
“But, Darling,” Rarity said, softly biting her lip before continuing, “you’re insulting her with your ignorance. You’re expecting her to do all the work, when, frankly, there’s nothing in that for her.”
“Yeah,” Rainbow concurred, “I can’t see Aria being the sort to take on rookie apprentices.”
Rarity reached across the table to touch Twilight’s arm. “You need to do at least the basic legwork yourself, before speaking to her about it.”
If it were a more conventional, scientific research topic, then, of course! Twilight would have already made her way through numerous books on the subject as well as a wide canvas of online articles. But, if books had one weakness – and it hurt to admit, but they did – it was the subject of youth culture. Between the timespan required to write, edit and publish a book, and the older, intellectual demographics of the average author, editor and publisher, and, no, books weren’t the best place to look for accurate, up-to-date information in that field.
“Please, Rarity, isn’t there anything you can tell me about it?” Twilight was struck by a sly thought, and felt the corners of her mouth pull upwards. “I’m sure you have more background knowledge than me about that kind of thing… as a designer?”
The flat look she got in return said the ruse had not worked, and Twilight again reminded herself that her social skills were limited enough to sometimes make honest interactions challenging, let alone deceptive ones. Manipulating convincingly was not really in her skill set.
But maybe… in this instance, it wouldn’t have to be? Rarity’s lips were pressed together, and, as she started to speak, she lifted her chin and closed her eyes. “As a designer, my reference pools are broad and varied, so yes, I do have some understanding of those subcultures, at least from a visual perspective.”
Rainbow, whose eyebrows had climbed almost to her hairline at Rarity’s reply, quickly stood up and grabbed her tray. “I’ll leave you two to it,” she called to them over her shoulder, already en route to the door.
That left Twilight alone with Rarity, who fixed her with a glare. “Why don’t you grab a pen and paper, Twilight?” she asked, much too sweetly. “I expect you to take plenty of notes.”
Author's Notes:
There's a reference in this chapter - just a tiny thing, nothing to do with music - and I really can't tell you how happy it makes me to be able to canonically include it.
The Great Unknown
“Punk, as an aesthetic, is about rejecting the ideals we hold as classically beautiful.” Rarity perched on her chair, legs tucked beneath her and one arm lightly supporting her chin, like she was just chatting offhand. What came out, though, had the weight of a prepared lecture. Apparently that was just something Rarity could do without advance notice. “So hair, for example, rather than being soft and flowing, is often gelled straight into spikes.”
Twilight noted how Rarity’s other hand drifted towards her hair protectively, but she said nothing.
“Singing is deliberately discordant,” Rarity continued, “rather than harmonious. Safety pins, usually used to discreetly hold together failing garments, are now proudly displayed. And boots are Doc Martens, because, well,” she wrinkled her nose, “however much your image screams ‘down with the system,’ no one wants their shoes falling apart.”
The pen scratched across the notebook as Twilight scribbled down all the information she could. Not for the first time, she wondered if it might have been worth the time investment of learning shorthand, but the familiar conclusion reasserted itself of that just not being worth it in the age of the computer keyboard.
Which was fine, whenever there was a keyboard to hand. But there wasn’t, and her hand ached, and keeping up was a struggle.
“Ok,” she said, finishing the paragraph and scanning through it once to check she’d copied everything down correctly. Hair, singing, pins, boots. Check. “But isn’t that just as true for the other two styles as well?”
By the time Twilight looked up, Rarity had pulled out a nail file from somewhere. She set about detailing each finger in turn with it as she answered.
“Oh, I’m sure there are some crossover elements here and there,” she said without looking up, “but they’re distinct aesthetics, coming from very different roots.”
So similarities might be down to one deliberately influencing the other, Twilight hypothesised, but could also be products of convergent evolution, if such a thing could be applied to fashion.
Rarity took a breath. “One contrast is that goth and gothic – and I’ll be the first to admit I’m not so sure about the distinction between the two – can often have a much more vintage influence. Quite ballroom, quite Victorian. Corsets are very ‘in’ in those scenes, for example.”
Try though she might, Twilight couldn’t stop the pen slowing down as she recalled that, yes, corsets had been associated with historical fashion, but that these days they were mostly seen in other contexts. Was that the kind of thing Aria or Limestone would wear for a trip down to the shops? The image made her pen slow considerably more.
“That seems quite a lot of effort to go to?” Twilight offered, remembering how the statement most frequently repeated regarding corsets was how uncomfortable, even unhealthy, they were to wear.
“Absolutely, Darling, but these things fall under the heading of Alternative Fashion, not Absence of Fashion. While goth’s main marker from a design perspective might be the dark pallette, that doesn’t mean it’s one-note, or doesn’t stand out in a crowd. You should see some of the gothic wedding dresses people have made.”
Compared to the time Rarity spent on her appearance, from styling her hair to exfoliating, perhaps putting on a corset each morning wasn’t as bad as it sounded. Twilight was just glad to have realised the difference between shampoo and shower gel, and hoped that no one – especially Rarity – would learn her hair washing routine before that point.
“Ok, sure, that’s goth and punk covered, then,” Twilight said, drawing a line under her latest paragraphs of notes. “What about rivethead?”
Rarity smiled and turned up her palms. “I’m afraid I honestly don’t know too much about that one. The other two are fashion influences which have stood the test of time long enough to become mainstream references. The same can’t be said for rivethead. I think it’s a little too subculture.”
That was a double blow, being the one that Limestone had specifically been identified as. Twilight’s eyes rested on her notes without really seeing them. They’d be a good start, but perhaps not enough even to make a better second impression. Maybe she could try the internet again.
“But,” Rarity added, “I’m eager to hear whatever you find out about it yourself.”
“Thanks, Rarity,” Twilight said, looking up from the table, “I’ll see what I can do.” The clock on the wall said they were almost due back to class anyway, so she said her goodbyes and cleared away her lunch paraphernalia, planning how to proceed on the way to her lesson.
For the next step of her experiment, she was on her own!
On an intellectual level, Twilight really didn’t grasp why such great value was placed on authenticity. If something delivered the right result, then did its origins or its sincerity really matter? Declaring that something had to be ‘authentic’ where material goods were concerned, at least, only served to add a great deal to the pricing.
So of course authenticity was the virtue the groups Twilight was trying to get closer to prized. Of course. The first two minutes of internet research on her phone had made that plain. ‘Wimps and posers, leave the hall’ was the line that stood out.
It left Twilight uncertain how to proceed.
Rarity had suggested she needed to do some research of her own, and demonstrate that she’d made some effort and attempted to achieve the desired results herself. All Twilight could think of doing to show that was looking up some pictures of goths, punks and rivetheads, and trying to purchase what she could find that would match. Then, through Pinkie and Limestone, Twilight could find Aria again, and be accepted as her student.
Except that wouldn’t happen.
Because looking up pictures of those people and trying to copy their appearance, Twilight was pretty sure, was exactly the kind of thing that would get her labelled a ‘poser’ in Aria’s eyes. And that would lead to the interaction going even worse than their last.
Would learning from a real person, face-to-face, be better? Rarity had mentioned her friend Inky Rose, who might have a kinder disposition than Aria and be more willing to help out.
Even then, though, that felt like it would be Twilight dressing up in a costume to get a specific reaction from someone, and that didn’t sound too authentic either.
That was how she found herself on the way to Pinkie’s house after school. Like her maths tutor had always taught her, if she couldn’t find the solution, she could at least explain the problem. So she’d lay it out for Aria, highlight where she was getting stuck, and try to ask Aria as openly and simply as possible what she’d do in that situation.
“Pinkie, your friend is here!” the grey girl managed to call back into the house loud enough to be heard whilst still retaining her usual monotone.
That was Maud, Twilight confirmed to herself as she stood sheepishly on the doorstep. A student in the year above, whose passions included rocks and poetry. The funny thing was that Maud was almost always the one to answer the door, but, in all Twilight’s visits to the house, had never been known to have any callers of her own.
Rapid thuds came through the walls, which experience told Twilight was Pinkie bounding down the stairs.
“Twilight!” Pinkie said, rounding the corner. Maud wordlessly stepped aside and disappeared into another room, and Pinkie took her place standing at the door. “I’m so glad we’ve reached the drop-by-uninvited level of friends, I was worried we’d never get to it. It took three years with Rarity! I’m still not there with Fluttershy, I don’t think that’s ever going to happen.”
Even though Twilight knew Pinkie’s enthusiasm hadn’t literally knocked her glasses askew, the subconscious impression was strong enough that she ended up straightening them anyway. And that excitement made it really very awkward indeed that it wasn’t actually her that Twilight had called to see. She could at least try to soften the blow with conversation first? “Is there anyone who’s on that kind of basis with Fluttershy? We all know how she hates surprises.”
“Only Dashie,” Pinkie sighed, but did so with a smile. “They go way back. We’re never getting close to that level.” Then she cocked her head on one side, like Spike did from time to time. “But you’re not here to see me, are you?”
For the 79th time, Twilight reminded herself how easy it was to underestimate Pinkie, and what a mistake that could be. ”I’m, uh… not really?”
“You were hoping Limestone would be around, and that you could try asking her again?”
Twilight could only guiltily grin.
“Well, you’re in luck! Not only is Limestone upstairs, but Aria’s here at the moment too!”
Both of them?! Oh dear. Just one or the other had been difficult enough to face up to. With both, the best strategy might be to turn and run.
No, Twilight, that’s hyperbole, and you’re better than that. “...Great!” she said, straining that grin as far as she could.
“I’ll go grab them for you,” Pinkie said, disappearing before Twilight could give any hint that she perhaps wasn’t ready, but, thankfully, disappearing before Twilight could give any hint that she perhaps wasn’t ready.
Their imminent arrival left Twilight with far too few seconds to strategise what to do next. Which of the two would be better to focus on? Or should she split it between them equally? She found herself wanting to believe that Limestone would be the safer option, because she was Pinkie’s sister so she couldn’t be that bad. But then, Twilight had met Fluttershy’s brother, so that logic demonstrably wasn’t true.
So lost was Twilight in her thoughts and panic that she didn’t notice Maud standing in the doorway again, and jumped when spoken to.
“Would you like anything to drink?”
“Oh, uh,” Twilight pulled at her collar, “thank you, but I’m fine.”
That was when Twilight realised Pinkie had been gone quite a long time. She didn’t want to check her watch in front of Maud and appear rude, but it most likely wasn’t a good sign. Pinkie was probably having to talk Aria and Limestone into coming down to make an appearance and not just leaving her hanging.
Which, if she was honest – as any scientist had to be above all else – was perhaps the best response she could have hoped for, and anything better would have been unrealistic. Pinkie still being upstairs trying to talk them into it was good news, compared to outright, unwavering refusal straight away.
Time was passing, and Maud was still standing in the doorway, mostly motionless aside from blinking every once in a while. That meant Twilight had to make conversation, or seem impolite. Even if she got the feeling both of them would have been more comfortable with their silence.
“So, Maud… how are things with... rocks?”
Twilight wasn’t the best at reading people. In fact, she was probably the worst. Furthermore, of all the people she knew, Maud was by far the hardest to read. So, empirically, Twilight was certain Maud’s non-verbal response to the question gave no big clues as to how she was feeling. But all the same, Twilight’s impression was of Maud suddenly brightening up.
“Things with rocks are good, thank you.”
There was a long pause, and Twilight fretted over what to say next. Could she just ask the same question about poetry?
But Maud beat her to it. “Recently I’ve been spending a lot of time researching concrete. I dislike composite materials on principle, but knowing about them will be useful for our family business.”
Even with her standard flat voice, there was a hesitancy to Maud’s delivery, like she wasn’t sure whether volunteering such information was the right thing to do. Twilight wasn’t sure either, but it definitely made responding easier.
“Ooh, the transistor of the construction industry!” Not many of the things learned from her third-grade physics project had come up since, but she was suddenly very glad of her choice of material to study. “Did you know the largest unreinforced concrete dome in history was built 1,900 years ago?”
Maud blinked. Her reply was even more hesitant. Twilight suddenly realised Maud had probably never received that kind of enthusiastic response before, and might not know what to make of it. “The Pantheon, in Athens,” Maud said. “But the modern method of reinforcing with steel bars means much wider spans are now commonplace. The Seaddle Kingdome is four times larger.”
“Combining concrete’s versatility and low price with steel’s tensile strength!” Twilight beamed. Maybe she did need to spend a bit more time reading up on concrete? Just because not many people talked about it didn’t mean it wasn’t interesting!
Before Maud could answer, a thud came from inside the house. Another straight after, and another, another and so on. Maud turned for a moment to look back into the house, then back to Twilight. “It’s been nice talking to you. Perhaps we could discuss concrete further another time.”
Then Maud was gone, back inside the house and out of sight despite not having appeared to move quickly, before Twilight could even tell her how nice her offer sounded.
That was when Twilight realised those noises were footsteps descending the stairs, loud enough to leave no doubt they were caused by enormous boots.
Author's Notes:
This chapter really should have been called Punk Rock 101, but I'm too attached to the chapter naming pattern now to break it.
I wrote one sentence of this when I was absolutely hammered on gin because I thought Aria and Limestone would want that.
A month later I discovered this author's note, and I have no idea which sentence.
The next chapter is finished and will be uploaded next week.
The Edge of Darkness
Limestone rounded the corner before Twilight had much more chance for thought, and, yeah, her shoes were not small or subtle. Or clean, for that matter, looking like they’d run several marathons across a desert. The tops of her boots disappeared beneath a plain black dress that managed to look rugged, surprisingly casual, and kind of fashionable all at once.
Not that Twilight was any kind of expert on what was fashionable, of course, but she could imagine Rarity calling it ‘chic.’
Aria was right behind, in black jeans and a tiny red T-shirt that left a lot of her midriff bare. But she stepped in front of Limestone as they approached the door, folding her arms.
Twilight heard Limestone mutter to Aria as she passed, “Look at you, taking point.”
“If I bring home a stray,” Aria said, looking back at Limestone, “it’s mine to deal with. I know that.” Then her head snapped around, and her eyes pinned Twilight to the spot. “The fuck do you want?”
Most of what Twilight had planned to say just vanished. Something about maths, maybe?
Thankfully, the one fragment that stuck with her was the one that might help with her self-preservation! “I’m not the one who took your voice!” she blurted out.
Then there was silence, and, the longer it stretched, the more deadly it felt. Aria’s expression had gone from crime-of-passion-murderous to build-a-time-machine-to-exterminate-your-ancestors-murderous. Obviously it was the touchiest of touchy subjects, but that was to be expected, so Twilight had to push on and explain to fix things before they got worse.
“The girl who sang with the Rainbooms during the Battle of the Bands – that wasn’t me. I’m native to this world, and that was my Equestrian counterpart.” The sirens already knowing about Equestria definitely made that bit of the explanation much easier!
Aria pulled back a step and looked Twilight up and down, obviously considering her. “You do look a bit like her, now you mention it.” Her eyes lingered on Twilight’s glasses and ponytail. “From what I remember, she had better hair.”
So Aria hadn’t… thought that…?
Before Twilight could give that thought any more of the attention it really needed, Aria’s face was suddenly very close to her own.
“I’ll ask again: what the fuck are you doing here?”
Even though Aria’s arms were still folded across her chest, it felt like she was picking Twilight up by the collar, and somehow her subconscious pushed her up onto her tiptoes as she felt all her other muscles lock up. “Trying to learn!” she squeaked. Then it all came out in a rush, “I wanted to dress more punk, so you’d know I’d put some effort in before coming to you, but I don’t know how, and if I just copied someone else then I’d be a poser, so I don’t understand how anyone can dress punk for the first time and avoid that.”
Very visibly, Aria forced herself to stop and take a deep breath. “Do you even know what punk is?”
Oooh, I’ve got this one! Perhaps it was the nervousness of being around Aria and her foul mood that made it hard for Twilight to relax even though she knew the answer, or maybe she responded to such situations with excitement regardless. Either way, she felt the familiar warmth of knowledge as she recited the answer from memory. “It’s a rejection of the ideals we hold as classically beautiful.”
“That’s what it does, not what it is.” Aria’s answer was flat, and accompanied with a shrug. “Why does it do that?”
“It, uh…” Twilight faltered. Talking with Rarity hadn’t covered that. And her incomplete explanation somehow managed to look even more ignorant than if she’d given none at all. It was like being tested on subjects she’d never learned! No, wait, it wasn’t like that, it absolutely was that! “I don’t know,” she shook her head frantically, holding her hands up in front of her with her fingers splayed out, not sure if she was clawing at the sky or shielding herself from it. “What is punk?!”
Wordlessly, Aria stalked forwards, stepping out of the house and over to one corner. Her foot lashed out, catching the battered metal dustbin beside the house with a heavy boot and sending it crashing down. Tied black bags spilled out over the lawn, some splitting open and spilling food waste and packaging, and the bin lid skidded across the grass a few metres away.
“That’s punk,” Aria said.
Twilight gaped. Then she scratched her head, and finally she made her way over to where Aria stood, too dazed by it all to even think to approach with the timidness she probably ought to.
She stared down at the overturned dustbin and its contents. Then at the second one standing untouched beside it.
And then Twilight kicked the second dustbin over. Only at the last second, once her foot was already drawing back, had she realised how she needed to commit, and show Aria that she could throw herself into things and leave meekness behind if required. That resolution put a lot more power behind her foot than she might have planned, and, sure enough, the dustbin clattered to the ground beside the first and similarly ejected its contents.
“That’s punk?” she asked, turning to Aria, buoyant on the sudden adrenaline.
With absolutely no sense of urgency, Aria brought her hands up to cover her face, screwing her eyes shut. “No,” she said, through her fingers, “that’s trendy.”
...
Was it possible to consciously feel endorphins draining away? That was certainly how it felt like it felt. She sagged on her feet, and couldn’t lift her eyes from the ground. “It’s like I can’t win,” she said, mostly to herself. Every question she asked, every step she took towards her end goal instead ended up taking her further away from it, whatever she tried. Then she addressed Aria directly, and some of that emotion might possibly have made it into her voice. “I’m stuck in this logic loop. I can’t do it without asking for help, but if I ask for help I can’t do it. So how does anyone ever learn to dress punk?”
Aria looked at her the way Twilight had at that hippie friend of Fluttershy’s when the subject of ‘healing her chakras’ had come up. “Do I really have to spell it out for you?”
Not lifting her eyes even a micron off the floor, Twilight nodded.
“People. Don’t. Dress. Punk.” Even without Twilight looking up to confirm, Aria was obviously speaking through clenched teeth. “They are punk, and they dress the way they want to.”
But the… the rips, the spikes, the… Aria was at that very second wearing a T-shirt that was literally at least two sizes too small for her… None of that could be comfortable. None of it was sensible, unless its main aim had a deeper purpose, like adhering to a style. Without that, it just didn’t make sense as something a rational person would choose.
“But what makes them want to dress like that?” Twilight asked, too bewildered to keep her gaze averted.
Aria exploded. “Because that’s what they think looks good!” she bellowed, full-on shouting at the top of her lungs. Twilight stumbled backwards, and by the time she pulled herself back together Aria was striding back into the house, around the corner and out of sight.
Limestone, who’d been standing in the doorway with her arms folded, turned and followed Aria in, ignoring Twilight scrambling back towards the house. She reached the open doorway in time to hear Pinkie’s voice from inside.
“Pleeeeeeease, Limestone,” Pinkie wheedled, “give her a chance.”
Even if Twilight’s reception had extended to her being invited in, she thought the wiser choice at that time was to wait outside, rocking from foot to foot as she listened. Not that she wanted to be accused of eavesdropping, but overhearing raised voices through an open door wasn’t exactly difficult. And it might have been rude if she just left without saying anything?
“She’s had several,” came Limestone’s voice, all gruff impatience. “Every time she’s been nothing but annoying.”
The little pang Twilight felt at that could wait for later, when she could unpack it and deal with it. For now, she was busy hanging on every word.
“Just one more then! She really wants to learn, she just, um...”
“Happens to be the kind of person I can’t stand?”
There was a pause for a moment. Twilight could perfectly picture Pinkie weighing her response options. A less scientifically-minded person might have said they could practically hear her doing it.
“Yep!”
Thanks, Pinkie.
“But that’s not her fault!” Pinkie continued, hurriedly.
“That doesn’t make her any less annoying.” Limestone sounded almost bemused at that.
“I’ll cover your shift on Friday night!” Pinkie blurted.
“Huh?”
“If you give Twilight one more chance. I’ll work your shift in the Machine on Friday.” Pinkie’s voice became less frantic, more encouraging. “You could take Aria out, go somewhere nice. It can’t be fun usually missing out on that, working those hours.”
From further away and higher up – the top of the stairs, Twilight thought – Aria’s voice called. “Not worth it!”
After a pause, Twilight caught Pinkie’s voice once more, soft and vulnerable. “Please?”
The delay waiting for an answer stretched. Twilight rocked nervously on the balls of her feet.
“Fine.” Before meeting Limestone and Aria, Twilight wouldn’t have believed it possible for someone to put so much venom into a single word.
Then there were the thumps of someone going up the stairs. And not just walking in heavy boots, but actively stamping.
Pinkie Pie sidled into the doorway, oddly not-the-loudest-thing-in-the-vicinity when Limestone evidently had a staircase to angrily traverse. “I think I persuaded her?” Pinkie said quietly. “And I think she’ll stick to it. I’m less sure about Aria, but Limestone keeps her word.”
“Thanks, Pinkie,” Twilight smiled. There was something reassuring about sober, pragmatic Pinkie. If she could manage her usual chaos, she could probably manage everyone else’s too.
“This is the last chance you’ve got, though. I don’t think there’s anything I could do to get you another.”
Determination and optimism were important traits for motivation, Twilight knew, but she also knew predictions had to be realistic. She’d failed every attempt with Aria and Limestone so far. Whatever she did this time around, it had to be good. Or she’d have to drop the whole thing.
“That’s ok. I’ll make it work.”
The boots on the stairs reasserted themselves, descending this time.
“Somehow,” Twilight added under her breath.
Footstep by footstep, they both tracked Limestone’s return with their ears. Pinkie shimmied out of the way as Limestone reached the door, hovering behind her.
“Here,” Limestone barked, thrusting a CD towards Twilight. It was beige, covered in darker stains and marred by a misshapen black mark towards one corner. “If you damage this… well, use your imagination.”
Whatever Twilight had been expecting, it wasn’t that, but she managed to stammer out a “Thank you.”
Limestone folded her arms, but she still eyed Twilight and the CD she held sceptically, like she couldn’t be trusted with it. “Right. I need to clean this shit up” – she nodded towards the toppled dustbins and their spilled contents strewn across the lawn – “before mom gets home. So… off you fuck.”
With that, she slammed the door. Pinkie just had time to cheep “Bye, Twilight!” before it flew shut.
That left Twilight standing on the Pie’s doorstep, feeling like a lemon. She looked down at the CD in her hands, wondering how Limestone would even notice if it came back looking any worse than it already did. Maybe she ought to photograph it, so she could prove it came to her in that state?
Of all the things Limestone could have given her to push her in the right direction, she’d chosen a CD. Not a jacket, an earring, a lipstick, a book… but a CD. Containing a video lecture, perhaps? Or a text-based guide with associated images? Something, apparently, made it that pertinent to starting her journey.
Peering closer, she could make out writing above the dark spot: ‘the downward spiral.’
That wasn’t exactly enlightening. Or even encouraging. Still, she could ponder over it and study it more at home. For now, she was hanging out on a doorstep she’d been explicitly warned she wasn’t welcome on.
So she turned, took to setting one foot in front of the other, and, uh, off she fucked.
Author's Notes:
The Thin Line Between Love & Hate
Six months earlier.
Metal teeth the size of cars tore into the hillside from below, the bucket they lined being followed by another, and another: an endless cycle each lifting away tons of chalk and dumping it onto the conveyor belt. The scale of the devastation as the bucket wheel swept from side to side had to be seen to be believed, but up in the cockpit the titanic forces involved barely registered, awe at the colossal machine having long since faded past even the point of just being statistics on volumes of material handled per hour. Even the screaming industrial metal through her headphones faded into the background despite its volume.
That was just her life, that moment no different to the previous seven hours of her day, and they much the same as the four years before that. Since she’d fitted air conditioning in the cockpit to stop it becoming a greenhouse during summer, she barely even noticed the seasons passing.
The touch of a button halted the turning of the superstructure, and another began the lowering of the bucket arm for the next pass in the opposite direction. She rubbed a hand over her ear, soothing where the headphones were pushing against her piercings as usual. She couldn’t take the stupid things out or they’d seal up; the only solution really was to install proper speakers in the cockpit instead. But her mom or dad would be in the cockpit running the machine anytime she wasn’t, and there was hardly room for two in there, so she’d have to do it while on the job, and that was risky and would take a while.
She ran an eye over the next strata of rock while the wheel arm lowered towards it, checking for any visible irregularities which might damage the buckets and take her hours to fix. It all looked clear, so– Wait! Was that a person on the ridgeline? Her hand lashed out towards the emergency shutdown button, but hovered above it while she leaned forwards in her seat and peered out, trying to be sure.
Definitely a person. She let out a sigh as she stabbed her finger at the emergency shutdown, and then a growl when the vast machine halted as requested, quickly spooling down the cutting wheel. What kind of idiot goes wandering near the path of a bucket wheel excavator? Trying to work here!
The halfwit showed no sign of moving as the bucket wheel ground to a stop, like they had no idea the money they were costing every second they stood there. She screwed her eyes shut for an exasperated second, then pulled off her headphones and grabbed her orange hard hat from behind her, jamming it on her head. They are getting a piece of my mind. And if they’re gone by the time I get down there, it’ll be even worse for them. Pulling herself out of her seat, she opened the cockpit door and stomped down the walkway beyond.
Two minutes later her heavy boots hit the dirt, loose stones crunching under her feet. Without a pause she strode around to the front of the machine, letting out a fresh growl when coming around the front corner of it revealed the idiot to still be standing in the same place. She stalked up the sloping rock towards them, picking her way easily after years of practice.
The details drawing closer revealed about the cretin were not those she expected. First there was the hair: two enormous pony falls reaching down to the waist, and being silhouetted in the afternoon sun made the colours hard to make out. In fact the image looked rather lonely, outlined with hair and long coat swaying loose on the windswept ridgeline. Any sympathy was short-lived, though, as the realisation sunk in that not only had work been halted for a idiot, it had been stopped for an idiot cybergoth; the worst kind of social plague. If they mention a single word about EBM or that other feel-good drivel they listen to, then that’s it: I’m turning the excavator back on and taking out the whole hillside with them still on it.
“Hey!” she barked as she closed the distance, “you got a death wish or something?”
Only that got the idiot to notice her, despite the noisy strides she was taking up the stone slope. She – definitely a female idiot, which the hair had suggested but getting closer had confirmed – stopped staring into space and blinked, focusing but without much apparent awareness.
“Maybe,” she said, her voice rough but quiet enough that it was almost lost amongst the wind.
“Well you came to the right place.” Without pausing her stride, she closed the distance between them and grabbed the strange girl by the front of her jacket, lifting her off the ground. “Gaze into the eyes of Limestone Pie.”
“They’re very pretty, but you’re not really my type.”