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Where Night Meets Day 21: Thought

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Silver Lining slowly trotted up to the tent lent to the New Lunar Republic behind Fluttershy's cottage. In a much larger pink tent there was laughter and music, the sounds of a legendary Pinkie Pie party, but here the cool winter air took on a feeling of severity, only adding to Silver's apprehension. Was this really a good time for something so unimportant?

Except it was important, if only to her, and so she pressed onwards, knocking on the solid post beside the door flap. “Come in,” came the quick reply in a voice she knew quite well. Even with all the time apart, she could never really forget it. She cautiously stepped inside, heart in her throat as she tried to find the words to say.

The inside of the tent was plain, identical to the outside except for the lack of snow and the addition of a couple cots and a table. A lamp hung in the center of the structure, bathing the interior in an orange glow that complemented its only current occupant. She looked up from the map she was studying, her purple eyes hard and irritated at first, though they softened the moment they recognized Silver. “Oh! I didn't think it was
you! How's the enemy been treating ya, lil' sis?” Scootaloo trotted quickly over to her side, her steps clanking under the weight of her armor.

Silver smiled at the good reception, hugging her 'sister' affectionately. “I've been just fine. Grounded more than I'd like and harassed to no end, but fine.” She would have carried the hug on for as long as she could, to something more deserving of so many years apart, but the armor got in the way of that. Instead she pulled away, doing her best to keep herself level. It was twelve years ago that she'd last seen Scootaloo, over half of her life... But it wouldn't do to start off on the wrong hoof. “Can I sit and chat for a bit? You weren't at the party, but you didn't want to be lonely, right?”

“Of course! Stay as long as you like. Pinkie invited everypony to her party, even some Empire Knights, but that's just her being her. There needs to be some prep before I can throw the night away, though.” Scootaloo gave Silver another quick hug, then offered one of the cots to sit on. Scootaloo sat on the other one, bowing the material beneath her heavy armor. Her eyes ran over Silver's body, a hint of surprise showing in her eyes. “You've gotten so big since I last saw you... I guess time really has been marching on.”

Silver nodded, looking at the first hints of wrinkles around Scootaloo's eyes. “I just turned twenty this year. I wasn't even in the double digits when this all started.”

Scootaloo looked saddened by the information. “Has it really been that long?” She shook her head, looking down at the dirt floor. “I guess that's just one more reason why this needs to end as soon as possible...” She sighed, then perked up again. “How's mom doing? I meant to send a letter at some point, but mail doesn't cross the border easily. Is she still teaching?”

“Every day, or she would be if it weren't break,” Silver confirmed. “Cheerilee's as active as ever, though there's only a couple fillies to teach this year. It's the second year in a row with no new enrollments in the school. Ponies just aren't having many foals lately.”

Scootaloo gave a sorry smirk. “Here too? I wouldn't know too much about it, but apparently the birth rate is waaaaay down in Manehattan and the other cities, too. Though with so many ponies out fighting, I'm not surprised there aren't as many being made at home.” She looked over into the corner of the tent, as though that particular bit of dirt was suddenly very interesting, before rolling her eyes slowly, following the trajectory of her slowly approaching thought. “Sooooo... speaking of, you got anypony special in your life?”

Silver looked at Scootaloo flatly. “Really?”

“What?” Scootaloo said defensively. “Aren't I allowed to be curious?”

Silver sighed. This was as good a time as any. “It just wasn't one of the first questions I expected after my mother's return.”

Scootaloo's eyes narrowed to pinpricks, her breathing visibly increasing in speed. “Did Cheerilee-?”

“I figured it out on my own. Cheerilee doesn't know I know, but she might have a suspicion. She said a few unsubtle things.” Silver was calm apart from her wings, which twitched at her side, betraying her worry. She could see Scootaloo's freakout as much as she could feel her own pounding heart. Still, the news was being taken fairly well.

Scootaloo's ears drooped as she looked at the floor. “You must hate me for keeping it from you this long.”

Silver let out a breath. This was all going smoother than she'd hoped. “No... not at all, really. Cheerilee was an amazing mom, and you had a whole war to go and start. You were too busy to take care of me.”

Scootaloo stood up, fear in her eyes. “No, that wasn't it at all! I just—”

Silver held up a hoof to stop her mother, a gentle smile on her face. “I'm not blaming you or anything, and I got over thinking I was the problem years ago. If I was in your position, I can't say I wouldn't have done the same.”

Silver stood up, meeting Scootaloo halfway and looking her right in the eyes. “Cheerilee was everything I could ask for in a mom, and if you didn't think you could give me that when you left, then I completely understand your decision. I'm not mad and I really don't hate you. It's just, now that the secret's out... I wanted to get to know the real you. Not my busy big sister, but my super important world changing mom.”

Scootaloo's eyes were shining with the promise of tears, not the eyes of a hardened war veteran, but those of a mare not sure if she should be relieved or horrified. “So... you're really okay with all of this? You don't hate me or never want to see me again or anything?”

Silver giggled, wrapping a wing around Scootaloo and hugging her close. “Just don't keep something that big hidden again and we should be good. Though you could visit more often than you did during your guard training.”

Scootaloo smiled warmly, wrapping her own wing around her daughter and leaning into the hug while nuzzling against her affectionately. “You don't know how happy I am, my little Silver Lining.”

Silver disengaged from the hug herself, laughing at the reaction and sudden attention. “I'm sure I can take a guess.” She walked back over to the cot, sitting down quickly before a thought occurred. “Oh, and to answer your question: No, there's nopony special right now. There almost was, but things got complicated and you probably don't want to hear about that...”

“Nope, I don't want to hear about it. I
need to.” Scootaloo sat down on the other cot, listening with rapt attention in a pose Silver had caught herself in more than once. “Now, from the beginning. We've got a lot of catching up to do.”

*     *     *     *     *

Flora wandered haphazardly through town, deliberately trying to avoid anywhere where she might run into somepony she knew or somewhere she'd remember the current situation, but she wasn't having much luck. Everywhere she went, the usually sleepy town of Ponyville buzzed with activity, its ponies atwitter as they recounted the tale for ponies who hadn't seen it or been further back in the crowd. The market was the worst, as were many of the notable 'historic' sites where the Elements of Harmony had spent their time before becoming big deals, but even the edges of town weren't safe, skirted with gawkers or the very armies she was trying to forget about.

The best place to hide in town, it seemed, was the park. With the bare trees and mounds of snow it lacked the springtime flowers or the summer sun that normally drew ponies there. However, even solitude didn't help her efforts in the park, as her hooves inevitably took her past that fateful bush. It was like any other bush in the park, but as a filly she'd heard the story over and over about how her father had tried to sneak out while injured and how her mother had found him sleeping in the park, unable to get much further in his weakened state. It had been a cute story, even the twelfth time she'd heard the darn thing, but that memory was the worst offender right now. It had made her directly think about him.

His arrival had immediately stoked a fire in her chest as he strutted around in front of the strongest ponies in the land as though he owned the place. After all these years, after abandoning her and her mother, after driving off her sister and getting her brother killed, he had shown up like it was nothing. Even if he had left to protect them, even if he had thought the whole time that his actions were just and right, the fact that he had the audacity not to come back groveling for forgiveness...

But Rose had offered it. After everything he'd done, after all of that suffering, the crying, all those nights for years that Flora lay awake in bed listening to her mother sob, unable to do a thing about it, he'd returned and none of it mattered anymore. One slap and the air was clear again.

Flora stomped hard, sending up a flurry of snow as she turned away from the bush, only her honor as a gardener keeping her from trampling it into the dust. All of that pain gone in a single hit? Flora kicked Jazz halfway across a greenhouse and they still hadn't talked to each other. If it hadn't been for the armies meeting, she still wouldn't have seen him since the argument, but they got a happy ending?

For five years all on her own she'd kept the house safe, kept her mother above water, kept Rosewater in business, kept Sweet Apple Acres from stagnating and falling apart, and the only consolation she'd gotten from all of that was the ability to do her own experiments in what little free time remained. She'd been a stranger in the sad, stuffy air of her own home for years, missing out on all that carefree teenage time... How come they got to instantly be happy again? Where was her pony to hold her close and tell her everything would be alright?

She ripped open the door to her greenhouse, slamming it shut behind her and locking it firmly. This wasn't even a place for Silver right now, this was a place for the warmth around her to match the fire in her chest... a fire dangerously close to dying out and letting in that stabbing icy cold once more. Dejectedly she moved to the center of the room, curling herself around the pot that contained her crystal tree. It was the last thing she had, the dampness of tears running down the clay container as she hugged it close, looking up at the two growing buds. One was on the edge of blossoming, filled with life and happiness, but the other remained frozen and still, as locked as the rest of the plant had been. A third bud had even appeared, tiny, hidden under the leaves around it, but even it had shown some growth.

Looking at the frozen bud, she noticed a vein of black appearing in the center of the vibrant green crystal, and it brought her to tears. She was great at growing plants, it was her entire cutie mark! And yet somehow this one was dying before her. Something was eating it alive from the inside, but nobody could help it or tell it why… She knew exactly how that flower bud felt, but she couldn't even begin to think of a solution.

*     *     *     *     *

Rose and Ink Well took the trip from town square to home slowly, moving as though getting more than a few inches apart would be a worse pain than death. Ink Well had trepidations as he embraced his wife with his wing, with his heart fluttering and falling with every few steps, sure that the bliss he was feeling was too good to be true, that all of this had to be a dream. There was no way, in any of the scenarios he'd played out in his mind in the seven years he'd been gone, that she would so happily be under his wing once more. Yet there she was, bringing a warmth to his side more precious to him than anything else in the world right now.

As they turned the corner to their street, beginning the long walk to the house, Rose's head leaned against Ink Well's shoulder, her steps getting even closer to him as they went along. He looked at the top of her head worriedly, seeing a few hairs of her beautiful burgundy mane replaced by grey. The years had not been kind to either of them, and before he could give it a second thought, he gently kissed the top of her head, then leaned his own against hers. She didn't stir, which, he continued to hold in his harrowed heart, was a good sign, but they both began to walk a little awkwardly to keep up the position.

As they reached the door, Ink Well had to pause before it, mind yelling at him not to break the dream. However, the key was in his bag, currently covered by his wife's form, and if they wanted to enter the house, something was going to have to give. He could feel her head turn to the door, her shoulders heaving in a sigh before she lifted herself from him, leaving from beneath his wing to get her key and open the door. He almost stopped her before she completely pulled away, breath held to see if she'd become a changeling or fade into the aether, but she remained herself as she reached the handle, opening up the house he'd left behind.

He'd seen this moment hundreds of times in his dreams, sometimes in spring, with the smell of fresh flowers and butterflies floating through the windows, sometimes in the dead of winter, standing alone in drifts of snow collected on the carpet. More than once the house wasn't there at all, just charred remains smoldering around three charred corpses... Sometimes blood he couldn't stop, or fates worse yet awaited.

Stepping through the door, it was nothing like he had pictured, yet everything he wanted. The house was cold with winter chill, but warm with the slight mess of everyday living. Many of the decorations were gone from the shelves, a crack in the glass of a nearby cabinet showing that the house had not gone unscathed. Even by leaving and doing everything he could to keep them safe, trouble had found them all on its own...

A short growl came from the doorway to the dining room, and as Ink Well looked over, he saw Dot's hairs bristle on the back of her neck. However, after looking at his face, recognition bloomed, and she ran over to greet her master and friend. Or, rather, she waddled over quickly, her aging legs only letting her move so quickly, no matter how quickly her tail wagged. When he had left, she'd still seemed like such a pup playing around her mother's old form... My, how times had changed.

He stood in the living room, slowly looking around at a house he no longer belonged in. Everywhere were little changes, small things that made the place alien to him, until he turned around and saw Rose at the door, a her eyes sad, yet gleaming as she watched him. She closed the door behind her, cutting off the chilled wind before walking past him towards the dining room. “Is there anything you would like? Tea or coffee or something else?”

Ink Well hesitated, watching her go on without him. She knew his preferences still, right? And yet, why should she? He didn't look like the same stallion he was when he left, he couldn't blame her for thinking his tastes had changed too. “Tea, a little honey, some lemon—”

“—and a dash of sugar, of course.” She smiled back at him from the doorway, something warmer and deeper than he imagined he'd see. Though he was happy to see it at all, the memory of those skeletal forms he'd been haunted by for years flashed over her face before she left. He shook his head, dismissing the demon of doubt from his mind before walking into the dining room and taking his seat nearest the door.

As he sat down and looked in front of him, his heart plummeted, quickly trying to drown itself beneath the tears the sight had threatened to spill. A royal helmet, a flag, and a letter leaning against it. He'd carried the letter for over two years, knowing it would have a place of honor when it finally arrived, but never guessing it would be there. In a way, it made sense, as Newsprint was always at the table, but to keep it in such a prominent position still... To have those memories pressing in every day, threatening to take hold, she'd... well, she'd be in the same position he'd kept himself.

Ink Well didn't move to a different spot as he waited for his tea, nor did he shift as it was placed before him, Rose placing her own cup at her chair beside him. Other couples ate across the table, but they were never that far apart. Or, they hadn't been... It was still only hope that made him think it wouldn't happen again. But hope had gotten him this far, so it had to be trusted for something.

He blew the steam off of his tea, then took a sip, eyes closing as the familiar, almost forgotten taste slipped past his tongue and nearly brought him to tears once more. It was just a little too sweet, always just off from right, and at the end there would be a glob of honey stuck to the bottom of the teacup, but it was perfect exactly how it was. He'd never take it for granted again.

“I should've insisted that I take the train.” Those words snapped Ink Well from his memories, causing him to look over at Rose, who watched him carefully. “You could've flown to Canterlot and met me there. We would've met with her together.”

Ink Well sighed heavily, a slow nod showing he'd had that thought too. He'd had hundreds of thoughts on how the night should have gone, but he'd been judged before he even had made his appearance. “I couldn't have carried you out with me and made it to the border, especially not after flying to Canterlot to start, and who knows what would have happened to the kids without their mother?”

“Newsprint would have stepped up to keep them safe, and all of them would have been here for our return.” Rose took a sip of her tea, the matter having been decided in her head many moons ago. “On hoof, slowly, perhaps nursing an injury we got in the escape, but at least together.”

Ink Well smirked at that, warmth flooding his body as he looked at her determined face. “Looking back is always so simple, to the point where one questions how we ever looked ahead. And, as your simple solution shows, we did a poor job of that at the start.” He looked into his teacup, already sadly low considering how recently he got it. He hoped this wouldn't be a recurring theme, but there were still so many things he had to do. Looking at Rose, he began down the list. “I abandoned you. I broke our vow, shamed our family, put all of us in danger, and then vanished without a trace to let you deal with the consequences. My actions caused our son to give his life for a fight he didn't believe in and our daughter to run away from her home into a dangerous land, and you did not get so much as one letter explaining any of it.”

Rose watched Ink Well flatly, the hint of surprise from his initial statement disappearing as he continued his list. When he finished, she was silent for a moment, looking into her teacup, then into his eyes, looking for her answers there. “Is this a confession, an admission of guilt, or an attempt to take the blame?”

Ink Well took a deep breath to calm himself, wishing her earlier warmth would return, but knowing he deserved much worse than he was getting. “All three. I need you to remember and keep those in mind, else I fear you won't judge me as you properly should.”

Rose continued to look at him blankly. “So this is a trial?”

“No more than we've already been through.” Tonight was going to be a long night, but even if it was the only one he ever spent by her side again... at least he'd gotten one last afternoon together. “It all started when I arrived in Canterlot for the Grand Galloping Gala, draft letter in hoof...”

*     *     *     *     *

As the sun began to set Flora set out from her greenhouse, though her destination still eluded her. She couldn't go home, knowing exactly what she'd do when she saw her father and how little her mother would appreciate it. She could have gone to the shop, but for some reason seeing Wind and her friend together just rubbed her the wrong way. Being chased from their homes, hunted across the wilderness, and still they always smiled like everything was going to be okay. Like the world was better just for them being here... It was almost as bad as her parents right now.

She supposed she could sleep in the greenhouse. It wouldn't be the most pleasant place in the world, but it would do. However, after spending so much time curled up around the crystal plant sympathizing with a flower bud, she really didn't want to repeat the emotions if she could avoid it.

Instead she wandered, keeping her mind as blank and free from thoughts she didn't want as she could manage. Instead of focusing on the negative, she tried to pull up a positive image. Something she could truly grab onto and be happy. One piece of good to come out of all of these war torn years.

A stallion standing tall, eyes closed, completely lost to the music he is creating as the flowers behind him glowed and pulsed, the buds enjoying the moment as much as he did. The music ends and the world holds its breath with the reverberations of the final note. There is a gentle smile on his face as he opens his eyes... and there is nothing but anger in them, the flowers behind drooping as he stomps towards her, face filled with hate.

Flora stopped in her tracks, feeling the ice spearing through her heart again. Why did all of her happy memories have to be with Jazz? On the farm, in the orchards and fields, laughing, working, playing. The kiss in the barn as both of their worlds met through music, even the haunting chill of hearing him play in Jennydale... Silver was there for so much, the best and most supportive friend, yet still Flora could only focus on what could have been.

She looked up into the clear cold sky, wondering how the world could stay the same when so much change was threatening to come. Tomorrow the world was threatening to change for the better, but it didn't alter her reality or her petty little selfish heart. She should be happy for everypony else, supporting them through the good and the bad like she always did. But instead she wandered through the cold, probably worrying her mother sick, and for what?

She looked around, ears drooping as she recognized her surroundings, even in the dark. She'd walked this path a million times, and it led to all those painful, happy memories. Of course I walked here, it's all I can think about! she yelled in her head, furious at her heart and her hooves. She prepared to turn around, refusing to think this was what she had wandered for, but through the trees she caught glimpses of a light, while the faint sounds of happy chatting voices promised her warm food and a fire. Her stomach growled, ignored all day for matters of the heart, and the cold reaching from the dark and leeching heat from her bones sealed the deal. With only a moment's hesitation she hopped over the fence, making her way through the sleeping orchard.

As she got closer to the farm house she was able to make out a tent, the Equestrian banner proudly displayed at its entrance. It would make sense that the Royal Army would camp out on Applejack's land. She was their leader, after all. However the tents looked empty, the warmth and sound and joy all spreading from the barn. As she came closer, the top of the doors swung open, ballons and confetti exploding into the dark, powered by the sounds of endless mirth and joyful music, calling like a siren song to Flora's saddened heart.

As she got closer, she wondered for a moment if she would be welcome, but the glimpse she caught of the scene inside had a surprising amount of Ponyville crammed into the wooden structure as well. And even if they'd been invited, Flora was sure Big Mac or Applejack would let her in to help out. 'It wouldn't be a party without family!' Applejack would yell, while Big Mac quietly kept the concession area full and the ponies happy, glad for a little quiet company in the revelry. Suddenly the image of worry that must've hit Mac's face when he was told to cook for the surprise party sprang into her mind, causing her to laugh, her breath visible in the air outside. But what was she still doing outside? She happily trotted the rest of the way to the door, her hoof touching it and gripping to pull as she heard the fiddle start to play.

She froze at the door looking up at the small 'stage' set up where Jazz was playing brightly, a smile on his face as he kept the others dancing with his tune. And it really was a sight to see, with the Knights all out of armor, twirling around each other or with friends and supporters from Ponyville. Even Big Mac was in on the fun, dancing with his bad back while Applejack stood on the side, making sure nopony got too carried away. And moving between it all, the biggest oddity by far, the puffy pink mane of Ponyville's Premiere Party Pony, returned from her stint in the New Lunar Republic and celebrating among 'the enemy' like it was nothing.

Flora could barely take it all in before the music called back to her, tugging on her ears before pulling at her memories. It took a few moments, but eventually she recognized the tune. He'd played it many a time for the jazz apples, but never like this, with swoops and flourishes his trumpet couldn't catch, nearly hitting the entire counter melody with just his one instrument. She'd always felt she was holding him back, but he didn't have to rub it in...

But it wasn't. Even if he'd known she was there, there was something deeper to the music. Even with all its happiness and mirth, there was darkness welling up beneath it. It wasn't just a happy song, it was remembering the happy times, lamenting their passing and hoping they could return. He was making his instrument cry for him, just as he had in Jennydale, and it had the same effect. Soon the dancing had stopped, all ears enraptured by the music twirling about their heads. Without knowing, they could feel the undercurrents... they could feel him calling for her to return to his side.

The last note was drawn out beautifully, holding the entire barn in silence before they let out a cheer of joy, the party starting once more. The spell was broken, leaving Flora leaning awkwardly on the door, her face flushed with embarrassed anger. How could she have gotten so caught up in those charms? They'd pulled her in before, thinking he was more than he proved to be, and now she stood at the gate projecting all over him like he was going to run down to her and take her in his arms and everything would be fine again. But he didn't care. If he'd cared, he would have said something after all of the commotion earlier. If he'd cared, he wouldn't even be playing that violin right now!

She looked at the stage again, her eyes unmistakably locking with his, and she tried to read them, tried to look for just a hint of the love that was there before. A pony passed between them and she saw her moment, turning from the door and walking back out into the snow. It didn't matter if her stomach rumbled or her hooves cried for relief from the cold hard ground, she wasn't going to stay around. She walked out of the light, past the farm house, and risked one glance behind her at the empty space in front of the barn. If he'd cared, he would have followed...

She continued on her path from the Acres, but an incredibly stupid idea made her turn, instead heading for the unused fields in the back. She didn't want to go back to the shop or her greenhouse. She wanted to feel at home, like she'd so rarely done at her own house, and that could only be accomplished on the farm. But, more than that, there was one place she had in mind. She climbed up the old ramp to the treehouse, pushing open the door to the small space where she'd spent so much time as a filly. Luckily there were still a few blankets from Jazz's date all those months ago.

It'd be bitingly cold, but Flora was willing to take that chance as she grabbed as much bedding as she could, then lay down in the thinking spot, her pillow directly beneath the dusty old lamp that marked it. All of the Crusaders' best ideas had come from this very spot, and tonight she hoped to use its mystical powers one more time.

If I'm gonna think of a solution, she thought as she shivered beneath her meager covers, it's gonna be here. Resolutely she curled up into a ball, hoping the solution would come before the dawn.
Happy Valentines/Hearts and Hooves Day! Have an update. I hope your day goes well.
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dmallard76's avatar
If Jazz doesn't follow, than he is an idiot.