Psychedelica – Pastel Ponies
A pony story by Joseph Raszagal
As inspired by stuff best kept away from children
Chapter Twenty Four – Still in the Dark

“Heya, Z. Um, Twi's not here today, so I just kinda figured things were cancelled. Well okay, to be completely honest, I forgot about today’s session entirely; Pinkie actually had to remind me about it. Uh, I take it we’re still on though, huh?”

“Good day to you too,” Zecora responded with a bow, “and indeed, there’s still much work to do. Twilight Sparkle might not be here, but her notes left the lesson quite clear. So, is my student ready for his studies to reach their next goal?" Producing a sewing needle and a spool of thread in one hoof, she added, "Because today you will practice fine and careful control."

As she said this, a roll of cloth quickly joined the rest of my new opponents.

I immediately began sweating.

Okay, that couch was pretty hard, but all it really ended up being was a practice in grunt force. Even on a bad day, I could do grunt force. But threading a needle? Shit, I couldn't even do that back when I had hands. Now I’m working with hooves. Clumsy, clumsy hooves and a horn that, at the drop of a hat, could range from anywhere between sparking and not much else to accidentally throwing me across the room.

Although I totally meant to do that last one when it happened; a practice in unassisted flight, we’ll go with that.

Still, I’d sort of managed the guitar and an argument could be made that that was likely even more difficult. Surely I could sew something, no matter how poorly.

"Alright..." I drawled, eying the hovering sewing supplies wearily, “but I’m going to warn you. I haven’t really slept yet, I’ve been preoccupied for a while. Just cut me some slack if I manage to stitch myself to my pattern or something.”

Nodding silently, Zecora then set about preparing another table off to the side with what looked like tea china. Preparing to channel my inner-Rarity, I wrapped my telekinesis around the items and began working my magic.

My incredibly impressive and not-at-all embarrassing magic.

Beads of sweat formed on my brow as needle and thread danced through the fabric floating in front of me.

Well, a really awkward South Central Middle School Prom of ‘87 sort of dance, maybe.

…

That might have come across as oddly specific, but we’re on the same page, right?

Heaving a sigh, I set my materials down and looked over my accomplishment through squinty, scrutinizing eyes. Using brown thread, I’d sewn something approximating the next level in stick-figure art into a large sheet of white cotton. With brown yarn a shade or two darker, I’d given the linen doodle a scribbly mane and tail as well.

Clearly, it was supposed to be me, and damned be the churlish fool who could not appreciate the uncanny resemblance as portrayed in my marvelous design.

“Never show this to Rarity,” I groaned, plopping my head back down onto the counter.

Clopping her forehooves together, Zecora chastised me, “You focus too much on the destination and not enough on the road. An earnest effort is not something I would goad. That you did as asked is effort enough, from practice to perfect should always be tough.”

“I guess,” I grumbled, folding up my amazing attempt and already planning out the perfect hiding spot best suited to keeping it from ever seeing the light of friggin’ day again. “At least floating around recliners and bookshelves made me feel like some kind of psychic Popeye. I liked that a lot more.”

“With more lessons, you might just surprise yourself, Jeremy,” the zebra chuckled, taking a seat at the table she’d prepared earlier. “as for now, why don’t we relax with some tea?”

Shrugging, I rubbed at my eyes and admitted, “I feel kinda like crap for actually breaking out into a sweat from just sitting there on my ass sewing. So, yeah, I could go for a cup of tea.”

“Then would you be so kind as to fetch the pot for me?”

“I don’t remember you ever even going to the stove, but sure. I’ll be back in a sec~

For whatever weird reason, it’s on this that the gears in my head decided to resume their belated spinning.

“Hey, you can’t just take shortcuts by rhyming with me, that’s cheating!”

Zecora simply smiled and chuckled under her breath, quietly arranging the china at both ends of the tiny reading table.

Laughing in spite of my terrible joke, I trotted into the kitchen, only dragging my hooves a little along the way. Lo and behold, a steaming pot sat there on the stove, ready to be poured and enjoyed.

“Between Yoda and Pinkie, I’m going to forget what the word ‘surprise’ means at some point, aren’t I?” I muttered absently to myself, grinning.

Grabbing the piping hot container with my telekinesis, I returned and gently placed it between our cups. Admittedly, I spilled some along the way, but water’s pretty harmless to the floor of literal treehouse and fuck you, I’m really tired.

As I settled myself into my seat, my tutor removed from her saddlebags several smaller bags; inside of each tiny packet a cluster of tea leaves and what looked like some extra herbs and spices. My nose caught a wide array of sharp scents during the steeping process. There was a hint of cinnamon, maybe apple too, and at least one other that distinctly reminded me of some kind of flower. Not being an accomplished botanist, I couldn’t really tell what sort.

Whatever it was, one thing rang truer than the Certainty Bell ever did. It smelled like I wanted to drink it.

Raising her cup to meet mine, Zecora smiled and took the smallest of sips, nodding in satisfaction as she set it back down.

For a few brief minutes we just sat there enjoying our tea in relative silence. Just as it smelled, it tasted amazing. I guess in the same way that daisy sandwiches had become appetizing, this too appeared to appeal to my new pony palate.

Say that 10 times fast.

Predictably, however, Quiet Time wasn’t something that a guy like me was well known for enduring for very long. During the idle moments between drinks, a question popped into my mind. Figuring a conversation might help to keep me awake, especially with hot tea attempting to put me down for the count, I decided to go for it.

“Zecora? I hope you don't mind me asking, but I’m kinda curious. Always have been since I first met you, actually. Why do you speak in rhyme?”

The zebra’s ears quickly perked at the inquiry.

“A fair question, though I must admit, few have ever asked me,” she responded, blushing. “The truth is much less mysterious than you might think it to be.”

“I’m all ears. Hit me with it.”

Nodding, the zebra sheepishly continued, “My native tongue simply had no equivalent here in this Equestrian land. As such, whenever I would raise my voice, nopony would understand. Despite my years of travel, I still found this new language strange, so I took to learning it by adapting a rhyming range.”

Phonetically, that made sense. Back on ye-olden-Earth a lot of students were taught various speech intricacies through the use of rhyme.

I wasn’t about to say that aloud, however. This had to be the first time I’d seen Zecora embarrassed. Managing to flap the otherwise unflappable was apparently a talent of mine.

“Although I've spoken it more than enough to know it well,” she laughed, shrugging in spite of herself, “old habits die quite hard, as I'm sure you can tell. And I journeyed far to learn what I did, so perhaps some shames just shouldn’t be rid. I’m proud of my tongue, even when it fails to speak clear. It was able to adapt anew in less than a year.”

Ah, damn. She definitely had me there.

Smirking, I admitted to her, “Less than a year? Heh, I spent four years at Spanish and the most I can do is ask for a beer and where the nearest toilet is.”

“In all fairness, the latter is highly important, at least if you were to ask me. Another of importance would be is if using it might cost you a fee.”

Devolving into an instant fit of childlike giggles, I stammered, “D-dinks? Free! Food? T-totally free! L-laxatives? You didn’t know it, b-but also free! W-what was that l-last one, toilets? Th-that’ll be 70 bucks, s-sir!”

Shaking her head, Zecora just smiled along and took another sip of her drink.

Well, at least I managed to put a dent in her armor for a few seconds before she repaired it.

Me though? I guess I’m just too easy.

I spent a good minute or so collecting myself, my chest burning from the heat of elementary school-level potty humor. Returning to the sanctity of my tea, I took a hearty gulp and adjusted myself on my seat to straighten my back.

Had I blinked, I would have missed it.

For a short second, my tutor’s eyes glossed over. Immediately after, she blinked, focusing again on her tea as she lifted it to her lips. By the time she turned to address my confused stare, her ears had begun to fold, betraying her otherwise nonchalant expression.

Thrown off by the immediate shift but seeing through the charade all the same, I decided to ask, “Something on your mind over there?”

In response, Zecora simply let out a frustrated sigh.

“Merely the past,” she answered softly, placing her cup back down on the table, “nothing less, nothing more. I had always wished to travel, but was forbidden before.”

“Uh, well, you’re here right now. Guessing it became less forbidden or something? Is there a rebellious radical hiding under that coat that I don’t know about?”

That elicited another chuckle… but not one full of mirth.

I knew what that meant.

Jeremy Robin, Patron Saint of Salting Old Wounds. How the Hell did I always manage to step directly on a landmine as soon as I opened my fat mouth?

“Back in my homeland, a mare's place was chosen from the start, no matter what hopes or dreams she harbored within her heart,” Zecora explained, turning her chin towards the ceiling to stare up at the tree’s many rings. “I had wished to join our tribe’s scouts and explore, but the elders decided that medicine was needed more.”

Quirking an eyebrow, I guessed, “So… it wasn't your call to become, uh, an alchemist? Or maybe apothecary? Is that right?”

Kinda hard to pick a “correct” word for what the zebra technically does. My brain swiftly kicked itself, afraid that I might have already insulted her. Luckily, she just shook her head, choosing instead to continue her story.

What followed surprised me.

“No, it was not my choice to learn the wisdom I know now, nor was it my choice of where or when I would learn how,” Zecora stated, an unexpected glimmer lighting her eyes. “But more than that, my friend, so too do I try not to dwell on such reasons, for my brews have helped well my pony friends here throughout the seasons.”

Finishing her tea, she swirled a hoof around the cup’s brim, revealing an instant refill and a bright smile to go with it.

“A banished soul though I may be, my mother’s words will always stay with me. ‘Wherever you find yourself, daughter mine, do not be afraid to let yourself shine. Be true of spirit and kind of heart, and know we will never be truly apart.’ I feel I would make her proud doing what I can here and now, and perhaps one day she will know somehow.”

As she finished, a gust of wind blew through an open window, serenely ruffling Zecora’s striped mane. In that instant, watching her there from across the table, I knew exactly what Applejack saw in her. If the Element of Honesty could love and trust in someone, that someone was Zecora.

“W-wow,” I stuttered dumbly. “I mean, um, that’s probably the best way to look at it. Heh, shows more maturity than I think I’ve ever felt in my entire life.” Putting on my best toothy grin, I attempted a rebound and instead said, “If it helps any, I’ll bet she’s proud for sure. I know I’d be if I was your mothe~ father! Yeah, father. Definitely… definitely father.”

Well, at least my vocal stumbling rewarded me with another laugh, genuine and happy again.

Much better.

Laughing along with her, I finished off the rest of my own tea and started to rise from my seat… only to fall down backwards onto my ass. Flailing like an idiot while doing so, I managed to not only knock over my cup, but also entangle myself with my chair too.

Because I guess if you’re going to fall down, you might as well cause as much collateral damage as possible.

Trotting to my side, Zecora outstretched a hoof to help me up and inquired, “You really haven’t had much sleep at all, have you? I must warn, forcing yourself along is not a healthy thing to do.”

“It’s alright, I’m fine,” I replied, taking the offered hoof and rising. “I’ve just been busy with… stuff. Amazed I wasn’t distracted during the sewing.”

Oh! Oh! Excuse! I did a shit job as a tailor because I was tired. That was definitely it.

“May I inquire as to what is on your mind? I have avoided asking, but I am not blind.”

“It’s nothing, I promise,” I lied through my teeth. I already had Lyra in on this as my co-conspirator, I didn’t know if involving anyone else was a good idea. For me or them.

“Well, and if I might be so bold, have I not already my own story told?”

Ah, shit. I hadn’t thought about that. And those were obviously some pretty painful memories too.

I scratched at my head for a moment in deliberation, but only succeeded in drawing blank after blank. This was Zecora, after all. Rare was the day that her sage advice missed the mark. Compounding that was the fact that she had me in a corner. Manipulating me maybe, but she was still just trying to help. If I could give her just half of the story and try to vague my way through the rest, she might still have some good wisdom for me anyway.

Treading the conversational waters cautiously, I supplied, “I’ve been going through a lot of books recently and… well… I’ve noticed some historical inaccuracies, so-to-speak. I brought it up to Twilight, but she’s keeping me in the dark. It’s been bugging me something fierce, you know?”

“Have you considered the fact that she’s keeping you from becoming involved for the sake of your safety? Her intentions could be as benign as trying to prevent you from doing anything too risky.”
“Yeah, the thought’s crossed my brain a couple of times. Still, if something really is going on, I’d like to be there to have her back; I owe her a lot.”

“If the worry of protecting her is what has been plaguing your mind, then I can soundly lay those worries to rest, I think you’ll find. Twilight Sparkle is a learned and capable mare, the least in need of defending of all the ponies out there.”

A hard glint in the zebra’s eyes told me that I wasn’t the only one being vague here. I didn’t like that. Hypocrite or not, I was being left out again, but this time I didn’t even know what I was being left out of.

Licking my lips, I felt the early onset of a building anger. If ever there was anything with the power to wash away my tiredness, my short fuse always came in pretty handy.

“Her brother told me as much,” I quietly said, my tail flicking in aggravation, “but what does that mean? Is she secretly like the Juggernaut or something? Twilight the Invincible?”

“Juggernaut?” Zecora replied confusedly.

Shaking my head, I placed my hooves on the table and stood my ground, “Irrelevant, we’re going to stay on-subject here. Why wouldn’t Twilight need any help? I’m not trying to call her defenseless or anything and I know how many times she’s taken part in defending Equestria against all sorts of nasties-wasties in the past, but she didn’t do any of that all on her own either. She had the girls there to back her up and~

Stopping myself, I came to a sudden realization.

Locking eyes with my zebra mentor, I chose my words very carefully and said, “You know something, something that you can’t tell me. But I think there’s another problem here. Before I mentioned any of this to you, you didn’t know about it, did you?”

Silently, Zecora shook her head.

“Applejack’s not the kind to keep secrets either,” I continued, connecting the dots in my head as fast as I could. “Which means that she doesn’t know. Which would mean that none of the girls know.”

Biting her lip, I watched the debate rage in the zebra’s head, whether or not I needed to be made privy to whatever secret was being withheld from me.

Even as she stood from the table and paced her way over to her discarded saddlebags, I decided to keep pressing buttons.

“Something strange is going on and Twilight’s trying to tackle it all on her own. That doesn’t bug you? She’s your friend, and still, that fact doesn’t bug you even just a little bit?”

Making her way towards the door, Zecora paused for a brief second to look back at me. It was obvious she wanted to tell me something, but all I ended up getting was a halfhearted, “A secret hidden in plain sight is still a secret, Jeremy. I gave my word and my word I will not retract.”

And just like that, she left.

Not only was I still in the dark, but the lady didn’t even have the common courtesy to rhyme one last time.

Sinking into my seat, defeated, I felt my blood begin to boil over. Getting anything out of these ponies was like pulling teeth without the pliers, I just didn’t know what the fuck I was supposed to do. Eventually, some extraordinarily petty part of my soul helped me to spy a familiar friend out of the corner of my eyes. Sitting on one of the back counters, well within my wobbly telekinetic range, was a dark bottle full of mistakes.

Peach-flavored mistakes, to be exact.

And I planned on drinking the entire thing in one sitting, if only to spite everybody currently standing in my fucking way.

It was juvenile, it was stupid, and it would piss Twilight off to no end if she knew.

“Perfect,” I grumbled, lighting my horn.

To be continued in Chapter Twenty Five - The Life and Death of Twilight Sparkle...