It takes Babs Seed longer than Diamond Tiara thinks it should to start talking. After all, if a stranger asked her to describe Ponyville she might pause only because she doesn’t know where to start, what threads to leave dangling for the other pony to pick up, and what to cinch so tightly that she would reveal only after a concerted (and favor-expending) effort. But not this long, and not on something so basic!

“W-what’s there to tell?” Babs Seed nervously chuckles. She hunches over and covers her flank with her short cropped tail which, though quite styled and cute in what must be a big-city fashion, doesn’t do an adequate job. Diamond Tiara finds this very unbecoming, even of a blank flank. Or perhaps especially of a blank flank, because they shouldn’t be so self-conscious of their blank-flankiness to begin with. They should just hurry up and get their cutie mark! “There’s buildings and streets.”

“And,” Diamond Tiara starts, hoping to draw this cousin of Pomarbo’s out, “do you live in one of those buildings on one of those streets?”

As they trot along Babs’ attention keeps shifting to the tops of the trees, her focus warily jumping from apple to apple. Every once in a while, when a pony steps on a twig or a bird sings her song, Diamond Tiara notes a twitch from her hind legs, the precursor to a jump or dodge.

“Err, yeah.” Babs Seed nods, distracted, and Diamond Tiara doubts it’s from the scenery. “In Hooflyn with Mandy and Clement.”

Silver Spoon glances between Pomarbo and Babs Seed, a speck of doubt flashing behind her teal-rimmed glasses. “Are they Oranges?”

“Uh, yeah?” Babs Seed snorts with a pugnacious sneer. “What, you got a problem with that?”

“Ooh, big city attitude,” Diamond Tiara comments, smirking along with Babs.

“Yeah, well, there’s more where that came from.” Babs Seed grows half a hoof as she stops slouching. She spins around to face down Silver Spoon. “And I axed you a question.”

“Excuse me?” Silver Spoon draws herself up, looking down in a way more characteristic of Diamond Tiara’s dam than her own. “Maybe that’s how you talk to your friends back home, but that’s not how you’re going to address me.”

“Yeah, whatever.” Babs Seed blows a lock of pink mane out of her eye, and it immediately falls back onto the same place. “Yeah, they’re Oranges. Apples ‘n Oranges herd up, just like they do with Pears ‘n Cherries. Hay, my grandmare told me about the time his dam-” she flicks her short mane at Pomarbo, who Diamond Tiara realizes is starting to get away from them “-came over for a couple months. Maybe she woulda set her up with Clement, but she left ‘fore she got her mark.”

“Fascinating.” Diamond Tiara picks up the pace to catch Pomarbo while mulling over this new information.

Would Pomarbo be interested in Babs? More to the point, would Babs be interested in Pomarbo as third mare or as a potential competitor for lead? She can’t make her out to look too good if the latter, not if Grandmare Orange steered Babs like she might have steered Clement and Applejack, especially since the Apple definition of ‘cousin’ is so broad (and often malleable). Neither can she put her down too directly, that would send the wrong message. But why would Babs have told her this? An Apple sense of fair play, of giving the other mare due notice of her intentions, and then she will have no recourse if or when Babs tries to slip into place? Or is she reading too much into this, and Babs is here for a reason completely unrelated to Pomarbo and the Princesses?

…No. Even if that last one is the case, it won’t hurt matters to plan contingencies in case she is interested. Truth be told (ugh, she’s hanging around Applejack too much if she’s considering blurting out how she really feels) she would rather Pomarbo herd with her and her alone, or perhaps add Silver Spoon if she comes to her senses, much like Bright Mac did with Buttercup. That would allow him to spend far more time with their foals, not spread so thin that he sees them at mealtimes and little else. Too bad it’s a little early to set any plans into motion; she’ll have to see if he shares his sire’s proclivity for large herds (ugh) or non-earth ponies (double ugh. Not because she dislikes them, but because managing a diverse herd implies more disagreements from having different dispositions).

Regardless, she needs to secure him in the now before she worries too much about the future. She pulls up next to Pomarbo with an affable swish of her mane and a teasing grin. “What’s the rush?”

“Yeah!” Babs Seed exclaims from the other side, a bit more demanding in that Manehattanite way liable to bowl over an unsuspecting colt. “What’s so special about this A-baba thing, anyway?” She sticks out her tongue. “It’s not for babies, is it?”

“Sooner we get there, sooner we leave.” Pomarbo shrugs, his stricken face showing the dismay Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon have gotten used to suppressing anytime the changeling’s occupation (actually, come to think of it, around lots of things that concern the changelings) comes up. His next statement is little more than a whisper. “Might be some babies there.”

Him choking up surprises Babs Seed. She scoffs, looking over the colt with her mouth slightly open and her head shaking back and forth, a very ‘look at what I have to deal with here!?’ expression that Diamond Tiara would be making all the time if she lacked any tact. In fact, Diamond Tiara allows a slip of a smirk to cross her muzzle, if just to throw the newcomer off her game.

“‘Aba’ is short for abattoir,” Diamond Tiara informs with a hushed tone after she slows down and pulls away from Pomarbo. Babs Seed follows her lead with an indifference that could only come from ignorance. “They… process… animals there.”

“Prah-cess?” Babs Seed stutters through the word with a touch of scorn, though blanches when she realizes the meaning. “Then why the hay are we going there?” Thoughts of teasing the filly for her wide-eyed look of horror get considered, then quickly shunted to the side as Babs Seed comes to a halt. She glances back, repeatedly covering and uncovering her blank flank with her short tail. That shy, reluctant filly from before comes roaring back, if roars could whimper, her once-bright eyes as wide as saucers. “I… I might get my cutie mark there!”

Diamond Tiara chuckles as she wraps a hoof around Babs’ withers and gives her a reassuring squeeze. “I remember,” she wistfully reminisces, loud enough for all to hear, “three fillies who used to live on this farm who were very… focused… on finding their cutie marks.”

“Engrossed,” Silver Spoon chips in.

“Obsessed,” Pomarbo adds with a snicker, having stopped this time.

Diamond Tiara laughs at Pomarbo’s contribution, the tense filly under her hoof beginning to relax. “They would have been ecstatic to get a cutie mark working with animals. But I wouldn’t worry; it’s not like they’re very common.”

Silver Spoon points out, “Zipporwhill has a dog cutie mark.”

A very dog-like growl threatens to emanate from Diamond Tiara’s throat. “Yes, her dog Ripley. And she loves playing with him.”

“And then there’s Fluttershy,” Silver Spoon continues, staring up at the sky and tapping a hoof against her chin.

Diamond Tiara rolls her eyes while letting out an exasperated sigh. “The point is,” she says, giving Babs a little shake to clear the worry from her eyes, “that no matter what cutie mark you get, it’ll be something that makes you happy. And here in Ponyville we’re especially accepting of all ponies - indeed, all creatures - regardless of what mark they do or do not have.”

Babs’ smile struggles to reassert itself. “Heh, yeah.”

Diamond Tiara’s grin turns on Pomarbo. “Isn’t that right?”

“Uh, sure?” Pomarbo nods dumbly, not that Diamond Tiara would ever call it that.

“But, earlier,” Diamond Tiara continues with a little twist of a metaphorical knife (jeez the Abattoir is on her mind), “you seemed to object to including everycreature.”

Pomarbo’s face scrunches up in confusion. “Ah thought Ah objected to usin’ everycreature when everypony includes ‘em just fine. Makin’ our performance ‘bout includin’ everycreature seems smart to me.”

“Well, we’ll just see what Ocellus says about that.” Diamond Tiara gives a smart little nod, letting go of Babs to again trot at the head of their little line.

All the Apple barns haphazardly scattered across Sweet Apple Acres share a cheery apple-red exterior with white trim and purple shingles, large double doors and plenty of windows, and a three-story floor plan. At first glance Sweet Apple Abattoir looks just like any other, though with a well-compacted road leading north in addition to the dirt circuit that runs throughout the orchards. A few things stand out, though perhaps not to the untrained eye: the most obvious are the shadowed windows that aren’t actually shadowed, instead tinted nearly opaque. A moderate pile of dirt from excavating an area for two restaurant-rated walk-in Cloudcraft refrigerators (procured by Filthy as part of his investment in the venture) lies in a rounded pile next to the patchy ground where the barn used to stand before it was dragged on top of the buried refrigerators.

Fluttershy, Hedge, and Sassaflash stand outside by the unapologetic sign with a herd of sheep bleating their goodbyes. None of the pegasi are in the air despite the sheep milling around and occasionally bumping into them. This makes it difficult to get their attention, at least without standing on her hind legs and waving, an undignified greeting if there ever was one.

Pomarbo has no such compunction. “Howdy, Shy!” he shouts, waving a foreleg above his head like a buffoon. “Howdy, Miss Sass!”

“How come every time you greet me I think you’re commenting on my flanks?” Sassaflash teases as a single flap takes her over a dozen sheep and next to the four approaching earth ponies. She gives Diamond Tiara a respectful nod. “Miss Tiara, Miss Spoon. Is your sire doing well?”

“Busier than ever,” Diamond Tiara replies, nodding back. Fluttershy follows Sassaflash, though not in as much of a rush, while Hedge winds her way under the wooly ewes and around weeks-old lambs. “I’d like to introduce Po’s cousin Babs Seed. She’s visiting from Manehattan. Babs, this is Miss Sassaflash, Mrs. Fluttershy, and Hedge.”

“Hey.” Babs Seed flicks her head up, sending her pink mane whipping upward before flopping back in front of her right eye.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Fluttershy greets with a friendly smile. “Are they giving you the full tour?”

“We had a question for Ocellus,” Diamond Tiara answers, then turns to Babs Seed with a forced grin. “Did you want the full tour?”

Babs Seed takes a detached sniff, overly so, the rest of her features betraying her suspicion. Diamond Tiara would find it suspicious, too, the fact that they can smell sheep (quite strongly, unpleasantly so) but none of the other smells she imagines should be coming from a place of death and disembowelment.

“Nah,” she concludes as though such a tour is beneath her instead of terrifying. She struts forward to the closest sheep, giving the shaggy ewe a firm pat on the head. It’s hard to tell if she appreciates it, as she keeps chewing the hay (actually wheat straw, some of the cheapest feed available). “I’m gonna stay out here with these guys.”

“Suit yourself.” Diamond Tiara’s grin grows a little wider as she steps to the reinforced door of the Abattoir.

Next Chapter: Ch. 131 - Elegant Hubris, Part Three Estimated time remaining: 11 Hours, 22 Minutes