Color me nervous when we trot out the door this morning. Well, she trots and I lay like a lump. Rarity too pauses, and nervously glances out the door’s window, before very cautiously stepping onto the earth outside the elegantly violet door leading from Rarity’s beautiful boutique. But there are no giant plant monsters to greet us today, just a nice bright day with birds chirping and leaves rustling. We are greeted with the sight of an ordinary town, albeit some of the buildings were still damaged. The sun is on the edge of the sky, and the morning air is cool on my back.
Mornings are best in the summer time, without the forbidding chill of winter, and without that tired heat of afternoon. A fresh start so to speak. There is plenty of time for things to warm up still. And thanks to the sight of occasional colorful pegasi flitting about overhead, I have no worries or fears that today would get too hot to bear.
My neck gets sore, from pushing back from Rarity and craning up to watch those flying swatches of color, who are somehow pushing clouds around that should be orders of magnitude larger and more distant than they are. The pegasi seem to be gathering what clouds there are closer together, and that’s as much as I can really watch of that, before giving my neck a break.
“Pegasi have to work all the time, to keep the weather right,” I say thoughtfully to Rarity.
“Nopony works all the time,” Rarity corrects, without turning more than half an ear. “The pegasi of the weather team take shifts. That’s where one pony stops working, and another takes on in her stead.”
I start to nod, but a peculiarity of her wording sticks with me. “How do you know it’s a her?” I ask. “Are weather teams gender um...”
“Her not her,” Rarity says, making me very confused. She pronounces the first slightly differently with more of a ...southern drawl? “Ponies refer to each other as colts and fillies when possible,” Rarity continues in an explanatory tone, “It makes matters a good deal easier that way. But when the sex of a pony is truly unknown, you may say her instead of her.”
“Her instead of...” I silently mouth, then exclaim, “Oh, heir!”
That gets Rarity to stop, and glance back at me. “That’s what I said, dear...?” she says warily.
“It just sounds similar to ‘her’,” I explain with a blush. “It’s no big deal. I was just... thinking yesterday about gender and um, why we use certain pronouns.”
Rarity sniffs, but turns forward and continues on. “Pronunciation is a difficult affair,” she says, “Much of it depends on who you are speaking with, and their family line. But if you know a pony well, what she says is generally self evident.”
“Okay, now I know you definitely said she, not hey,” I say, once again in confusion.
Rarity seems flustered now though. “Well of— of course I, I didn’t mean to say ‘she’” she stutters, “It’s simply convention it’s... perhaps inaccurate I will admit, but I presumed you were... speaking of your friends, who are all fillies!” Her ears smile in self satisfaction at that. So of course I go and say,
“Is there a reason not to make friends with colts?” That makes Rarity blush even harder, because darnit I just implied to her that I was looking to bone Button Mash or something! Which I’m not!
...I’m not.
“I mean,” I say, correcting my wording hastily, “I mean, other than that I have to say hey instead of she, there’s no reason right? Colts can be friends too? Just, in theory?”
“It’s perfectly fine,” Rarity says mutedly. “Most would see it as unusual, but if the right... colt comes along, it’s not unheard of, it’s simply that each tend to stick to their own kind. You’ll understand when you’re older, but colts have very different lives than we do, and different... things to deal with.”
“Like what?” I ask so innocently. There’s no way I could pass up a chance to fluster Rarity like that!
“Like...” Rarity says, as if she doesn’t know what to say, “Hats!” her answer brightly comes.
“Hats?” I ask in genuine puzzlement.
“Yes, the fashion among colts is to wear hats habitually,” Rarity says fluidly, “Whereas fillies do so only on special occasions, as a complement to their existing ensemble! You will rarely see a colt in a hat store, and you will rarely see a filly in a hat repair, so they would feel put out if a colt were to accompany along with a herd of fillies.”
I ponder on that a moment. Some loopholes there, certainly. “What about Apple Bloom’s bow?” I ask.
“A bow is certainly not a hat!” Rarity declares confidently.
“It still goes on your head though,” I have to point out.
“The fact remains,” Rarity says, without saying what fact remains. “Imagine if her brother Big Macintosh were wearing that bow.”
I imagine and... oh my. That... I haven’t even seen Big Macintosh, but if the pictures of him do any justice, he’s... with a bow, he would be totally...
“He would be totally ado҉rable!” I exclaim, biting my lip at that stupid cracky voice of mine. It is so true though, and what’s so wrong with that?
“Well, would Apple Bloom be ‘totally adorable’ without that bow of hers?” Rarity presses.
“Um, yes,” I state evenly, not sure what she’s getting at.
“She can wear a bow at normal hours then,” Rarity says smugly, “And Big Macintosh can only wear one when he wants to look... adorable.” Her voice ends on something of a sour note. I get the impression from her that he’s a stallion who would not appreciate nor be appreciated looking adorable. “Thus, bows are categorically different from hats, as far as colts and fillies are concerned!” Rarity says brightly.
Categorically different? Really Rarity, saying words like that to a little kid?
I’m at a loss to question her claim for a while, and Rarity walks beneath me silently, carrying us along while I ruminate.
“What about Diamond Tiara?” I speak up suddenly.
“Oh look, we’re here!” Rarity says brightly, trotting quickly to take up the remaining ground between us and the hospital.
I suppose I should be disappointed, but admittedly I am being something of a little shit. I’ll bring up Applejack later. Hats, haha. The silly thing is ...it might just be true. Roughly true. Not true at all and just patronizing me? I really don’t know enough to tell if colts wear hats more often than fillies. Seems one’s hair would make wearing a hat difficult in many cases, unless of course it was a...
...giant hat...
Dr. Ace doesn’t have a hat when we see him, just a gorgeously combed swoop in his mane, held tamed away from his eyes by a sweat band. Boy, I just... like looking at him so much. Which is why I don’t. Shut up it makes perfect sense. I don’t know, Rarity said I couldn’t be affected by him, but it just... I just feel affected by him. When he talks to me, and when he helps me to the back lawn. And especially after we get moving and he starts to sweat from gallopping around and attending to me. The way it slicks his fur down over those muscles, it—okay, not freaking out. He’s just a normal pony.
“Alright,” Ace tells me. “You have everything down I taught you, it looks like. You’re doing great!” I can’t stop a smile from inching on my face as he tells me I’m doing great. I want to get every step right for him...because he’s a ...high quality professional therapist, who knows lots of medical stuff. Yep.
“Talk to me, Sweetie,” he says, laying a steadying hoof on my back. “Are you doing okay?” He’s—! He’s supposed to do that, to make me stand stably. It’s not a girl thing, just, just a doctor thing. I really want to... nuzzle his shoulder. I guess that couldn’t hurt? He’s just so friendly and I’m so um... not-affected-being. I just shyly touch the side of my nose against his warm hide because it’s okay it’s... I’m not doing okay, am I.
“I’m trying,” I whimper, shying away from my urges despite trying to not worry about them, while shying away from his hoof’s touch. “I just... there’s so many things I keep wanting to do that I don’t know... don’t remember doing... before.” I manage to meet his gaze with a worried look saying, “My walking is fine, just... I keep wanting to do things, and I don’t know why. I... no, I know why, but I’m afraid to feel it.”
It doesn’t look like he understands, so I try to gather my thoughts, and stop getting them clouded by my all too responsive body. “I’m not used to having these um... touchy feelings, I guess,” I decide on at last. I could have said big dumb girl butt touchy feelings, but I don’t think nuzzling somepony in his elbow/shoulder thing counts as a butt for either of us. It just leads to a butt in the future, my butt specifically, being used as a shaft leading straight down into the foal mine.
“I should just... be okay with them,” I say with my weird teeth clenched in frustration, “Because there’s nothing wrong with acting this way. I’m just not used to it. But I should be getting used to it, but I’m not getting used to it!
“And here I am telling you all this,” I say in exasperation, “And you’re not even a psychologist!” My stupid voice is wavering I should just shut up, but I’m just so frustrated with this! “I’m just telling you, because my stupid body makes me feel good about you and I keep thinking you’re nice, and I can’t even relax when you touch my back, because I keep thinking about things!”
I just can’t continue, just... standing there on four hooves that feel like toes, and glaring at him. My eyes are burning with tears that I can’t stop, and I just can’t stop...
“Would you like to talk to a psychologist?” he asks, looking at me sadly.
That makes me drop my gaze and look at the floor, fall to my butt, you know the drill. “Yeah, I think so,” I say in a subdued fashion.
“Would you like a hug?”
I look up to him and he’s got his hoof out and yes I would god yes I would like a hug but it’s so weird to want it so much. I try to say, “N–n....” but I just can’t say it. Not looking at him. I can’t! The word barely escapes my mouth, “yes.”
So he hugs me. It’s corny as hell. Not even tight, just wrapping a hoof around me, and I just half collapse, leaning against him. He’s just... so close, and he smells so good. I live a whole life without feeling anything like this, and then suddenly I’m just Sweetie Belle. Hugs aren’t supposed to feel this good. “Why does it feel so good” I manage to croak out. I don’t know if he even understands me. Because if it isn’t obvious, I’m sitting here crying again. He doesn’t answer though, just hugs me or, rather lets me hug him.
“Okfine,” I say, pushing him away as soon as I can stand it. “Let’s just...” ugh, it’s still hard to talk. I’ll just take a few breaths. In my dumb fuzzy white chest, that just feels feels way too much. “Let’s just talk,” I say finally. “I mean walk!” shit
“I meant walk,” I insist, “Let’s just walk. You said today was special. I avoided walking as much as I could, just around in the library very slowly. My friends were all busy and it... I just want to walk again. So we should do that, and not this stupid sappy um...” ugh I sound like such a petulant child. “Stuff,” I conclude, just wanting to get past this... whatever this is.
“Hmm...” is all he says at first, getting a judicious look in his eyes. Then he swings his hoof and pats me on the back, and by pats me on the back I mean he whacks me so hard that it throws me off balance and almost bowls me over. “Fair enough!” he says cheerfully while I flail about to keep myself upright, torn between outrage and confusion. “Let me tell you what you’re gonna do today,” he continues. “I want you to be walking by the end of the day, without counting. How’s that sound?”
“I can’t do that!” I gasp, upon reaching some semblance of stability again. Then I frown, saying, “I mean, I think I can’t. I don’t even know which hoof is which. Is one morning really enough for that?”
“I could tell you yes it is,” he pontificates, standing beside me powerfully, “But wouldn’t you rather see for yourself? Come on, stand up Sweetie Belle, and we’ll really get started.”
He doesn’t even have me walking at first. Ace just calls out the hoof numbers, until I... actually, I do have trouble remembering which is which number. How could I forget that? I need those numbers to walk on them at all, right? But he calls out “1!” and then shows me which one is 1, then he calls out “3!” and so on. Once I have that down... again, Dr. Ace makes me shout out the numbers too. He calls a number, and I repeat the number while lifting my hoof. Then he... tells me to stop calling out the numbers, and it feels genuinely unsettling to do so. It’s like I forgot which hoof is which all over again, just because I started calling out the numbers. I was going to call out 3, and lift 3, but now I just have to lift it... whatever it is.
We go back and forth on that a while, calling and then not calling out the number, until it stops... feeling unsettling. I just think 3 when he says it, and lift it, so it’s no different than if I shout it out first. That’s what my rational mind thinks, anyway, even though clearly it is very different.
“Aren’t we going to walk, though?” I ask, when Ace switches to calling out 2 numbers in succession, and having me call and answer, moving the hooves in question to indicate I know which is which.
“Sure Sweetie,” he says curtly, “Now try 3, 1!”
“But—”
“3, 1!”
“OK. 3... 1.”
This goes on for like a solid hour, with me taking breaks every 15 minutes or so because it’s just hard to wrap my head around all these numbers and hoof motions. But with an unwavering patience, he gets me all the way up to sequences of 4. It’s like a drawn out game of Simon Says, that’s what it is. Except hooves instead of buttons. He calls out “1, 2, 3, 4” and I raise my hooves in a clockwise circle, and he calls out, “1, 4, 3, 2” and I raise my hooves in the counterclockwise direction. things like that. I’m not calling them out at all this point, my only contribution being the quiet crunch of hoof on grass whenever I plant one down again. I’m... standing on fingers...
Okay that throws me off, and I stop responding, just wobbling there. “Sorry,” I say gawkily, “I just thought my hooves were... strange for a minute. Um... never mind.”
“Take another break?” he suggests. I about collapse onto my belly.
The next period of time is spent on tail exercises. As if I wasn’t feeling weird enough about my body already. He has me lift and lower it, and... attempt to lift and lower only the tip, like a flicking finger. Tails are so complicated, I don’t even know. It feels like they have muscles all the way up the darn things, even though I know the only attachment points have got to all be in my back beyond the base.
After giving my tail a few guiding taps with his hoof, it’s easy to move the way he wants me to. I can sort of move the tail left and right, like a cat would when irritated. If that cat had a brightly colored tail full of volumnuous curls. It feels kind of like... leaning left and right, to move my tail right and left. Sensible, since my tail has to go left for me to lean towards the right, to balance it out.
Then Ace just tells me to relax, and I give a sigh of relief, my tail bouncing right up into its natural arc. That throws me off too, because I just... relaxed didn’t I? “Um... Dr. Ace?” I ask before he can continue. “My tail feels...” my god I have a tail. “...relaxed,” I say, “But it was relaxed before, when it just hung down. Shouldn’t something be holding it up like this?”
“You’d be amazed how easy it is to ignore tension in the body,” is his quick answer. “Massage artists make their whole living on that. Your tail has some tension right now, but it’s where you want to be. You are relaxed, and what you feel is just the perfect tension. Lots of muscles feel less relaxed to be relaxed. Think of it like... like a spring.
“Like a spring,” he says demonstrating with an imaginary spring between his forehooves. “You can squish it, then it bounces back. You can pull it wide, then it bounces back. Your muscles can uhh... pull wider, making your tail go down, but they’re just fine right now the way they are. Your signals were seriously crossed and uh, you know what happens when you stretch a spring way too far, and it gets bent?”
“It stays stretched out!” I exclaim in surprise. That makes so much sense. Why would every muscle be longest at rest? Sometimes... but then why was my tail hanging down before? “...but it stays stretched out,” I say cautiously. “It’s a broken spring, then. My tail was.. t-tail was never broken, it was my head that was.”
“And that’s where the spring is,” he counters smoothly. “Your tail muscles don’t care how long or short they are. They only exert themselves when changing length. But in your head is that little thought of how a tail should move, and it ratchets your muscles right up perfect.”
Okay now I’m starting to lose the analogy. Like, a winch in my spine?
“It’s a mental spring,” he says in a forgiving tone. “It’s a reflex.”
“I guess...” I say, looking back at the volumnuous purple and pink emerging from my white bottom. I try lowering it again, trying to feel it like that. It sort of...
“Your tail doesn’t feel tired like that, does it?” Ace asks behind me.
“No it still feels tense though, like it’s hard to hold it there,” I mutter.
“But it won’t get tired? The muscles won’t get tired keeping it down like that?” he asks pleadingly.
“No, but it still feels—”
Oh. “Ohh,” I say with newfound respect for my tail, and for Ace’s understanding of physiology. My tail bounces right up of course, but the muscles that move it there don’t have any harder a time holding it up than they do down. Just like a ratchet, like he said. And when I really concentrate, I can almost imagine the pully-up feeling in my tail, the feeling that makes it curve cheerfully, is actually inside my head. Just like a tingly imaginary sense at the base of my skull.
“That’s just...” I say, looking up at him wide eyed, “Fascinating!”
“Most ponies don’t realize how cool their tails are,” Ace says with a lucky grin. I have to smile back if a bit... shyly...
“Alright, now do 3,4,1,2!” he orders. Blinking, and straightening, I lift the hooves in... oh shoot I can’t have forgotten already? No, that’s 3, that’s 4, that’s 1 and that’s 2. It’s dreadfully slow, but I do still remember. It isn’t a few repetitions before I’m speeding up again to an acceptable level.
Then he starts... naming them after flowers? what...
“Okay, remember Sweetie, 2,3,4,1 is daisy, and 1,2,3,4 is daffodil. Now, do daisy!”
Okay... 2, then 3 then... “Sorry, what’s daisy again?” I ask uncertainly. I hope this isn’t going to lead to another musical number with Ace. I don’t know if my mind could take it a second time.
“2,” he says counting each number as I raise the hoof, “3, 1, 4. Good, again. 2,3,1,4. Again. That’s daisy. Now, do daisy.”
I don’t really... understand how these particular orders of hoof motion are important for walking. They seem totally random to me. But with a half hour to go, he has me able to do daisy, daffodil, buttercup and lilac for him.
“Alright,” he says with a commanding aura, “Now I want you to remember one more. Move your hooves when I say. 1, 3, 2, 4.” I do so without hesitation, beaming a bit proudly. “One more time,” he says. “1,3,2,4.” I do that one again. It seems familiar for some reason... “One more time,” he interrupts, and I do so. “Okay,” he concludes with relief, “That one is called ‘walk’.”
I blink. “Oh, yeah it— that is the walking order, isn’t it,” I realize with some curiosity for where this is going.
Ace doesn’t respond, continuing to say, “Okay, now daisy.”
Flustered, I fail to do daisy. “2,3,1,4,” he repeats. I do... that. “Do daisy.” I do it again. Daisy, right. Daffodil, daisy, daisy, buttercup, walk. Wait, walk?
“Do ‘walk’, Sweetie,” he urges. I pause and lift a hoof... just out of nervousness, though. It was the walking order, wasn’t it? What was that again? It was... it started with 1...
“1,3,2,4,” he prompts. Relieved, I tap those hooves on the grass in order. Next he has me do daisy, walk, buttercup, walk. I forget again, and he reminds me. Then, I do walk, buttercup, walk, daisy, lilac, walk, daisy, walk, walk, walk, walk... wait a minute. Why am I moving forward?
I blush horribly, feeling like I don’t even have control of my own legs. I can’t believe I didn’t anticipate that. He calls out walk and I move those hooves, and he does it again, and it just turns into the walk forward that I practiced so much two days ago. I’m just... walking at his command. I’m not even thinking about it, he just says walk and I... walk.
“Okay, stop!” he says as I reach the edge of the lawn. Ace trots up to me, and with a strong hoof spins me bodily around 180 degrees, facing back the way I came. “Now, do... daisy,” he instructs cagily.
I completely blank on what daisy is.
“2,3,1,4,” he prompts. Frowning, I lift those hooves. “Daisy,” he says again and I lift those hooves. “Now, walk,” he says. I start walking and— “No, don’t walk,” he interrupts. “Just do ‘walk’.”
I... do walk, deliberately just lifting my hooves in that order. “Now do daisy,” he says. I do that. I’m not even going to think about questioning it at this point. “Now do walk, three times,” he says. I pause, but then repeatedly do walk deliberately holding back from leaning forward. “Great!” he cheers, “Now do walk, until I say to stop.” I do it once, twice, three times, just repeating it in smooth successions. “Okay, stop,” he says, letting me stop. “Wipe your brow,” he says.
Wh? Oh. I uh, at his orders, I lift up my hoof and lean back to rub the cannon along the forehead beneath my horn, where—surprisingly—a sheen of sweat has developed. I put my hoof down.
“Now, do walk, until I say to stop,” he instructs. With a sigh, I again start tapping my hooves in that order over and over again, just three times before he says “Stop.”
Ace smiles at me and says, “Now walk forward, until I say to stop.” I...I did this before, I already did this so why am I hesitating? I put hoof 1 forward and...and do 1,3,2,4, just repeating it to walk forward, starting slow, but growing smooth and even as the repetitions go by. “Stop!” he calls out. I stop. Where...?
I lift my head to look, and I’m already halfway across the lawn. He gallops up to me in a rush saying, “You’re doing great, Sweetie! Now I want you to walk, leaning to the right so you go in a circle.”
It... takes me a few tries, but it really is impossible to walk while leaning, without turning that way. My shaky, broad circle around is the... first time I ever turned around, by myself, without an instructor pushing me, or a wall, or a bookcase. It seems impossible, yet there are my hooves moving spryly beneath me in that repetitive rhythm, the back hooves pushing while the front ones catch me as I move forward, and the other side of the hospital lawn swivels into view in front of me. I stop in mild shock. Should this be even... happening?
“Okay, now walk, Sweetie!” he cheers. I... the lawn is right in front of me, waiting for me to cross it. My weird hoof finger thing wavers in the air and plants firmly on the ground, then the next one wavers, and I lean into it just the way I have been doing all this time, planting it ahead of me and pulling up hoof number 3. And it’s just repeating ‘walk’ from there, over and over again. I walk. I’m...
“I’m walking!” I exclaim, tripping on my pastern, and falling flat forward on my face.
“I’m okay!” I shout out, once I separate my nose from the turf.
Despite this, Ace trots up to me and asks, “You okay, Sweetie?”
I try to answer, but I’m having trouble with a giddy nervous bubbling laugh that forces its way out of me just looking at that gorgeous horse man with four legs coming up to me so surely, and I was just like that. “I-I-I’m wal-walking I w-heh-was really r-hehe-really walking I-hehe-I’m w-he-walk-he-walkin-heheheh.” Yeah I’m pretty much incomprehensible.
It’s strange because I can’t laugh, but I can’t talk without giggling. I just sit there silent, breathing hoarsely, full of a desperate tension as what I want to deny happened really did happen. He wasn’t kidding; he wasn’t optimistic; I wasn’t just pretending to walk, as a pony. I can walk. I’m really walking! I’m...
I’m Sweetie Belle...
“Sorry,” I say, once I’ve collected myself enough to speak, with maybe a little hiccup. “I’m—I’m okay now,” I assure him. “It was just too much; I never... I mean I was starting to worry if I’d ever walk again.”
That’s a lie, because the truth is I never in a million years ever even dared to hope that I would ever walk like this. I never even hoped I’d be doing something like walking as a pony. I was the parapelegiac who threw away their crutches. I was the fish who took its first steps on land. I wasn’t even thinking about it, and it was happening. That’s how walking should be, not stupid counting.
But... pretending that I really am a little pony, who was just a little worried about being able to walk again, rather than never having walked like this before, that’s almost the same effect.
He helps me up to my hooves, because I have hooves now and I’m okay with touching them to the warm, strong, capable hooves of that hot hunk of okay okay not thinking about that. Thinking about walking.
“We only have an eighth hour or so left,” he says while helping me up, “So I want to make it count. I need you to walk, yes walk to the other side of the grass, and I want you to lean right as you do, so you turn around to come back. Once you’re turned around, lean left, to turn around again. You’ll be making a sort of figure 8.”
I gulp, tight throated, and nod, “I can do this,” I say seriously. “I... really can.” Staring at the edge of the lawn across from here, I put hoof 1 forward. 1, 3, 2, 4, 1,3, 2,4, walk, walk, walk... Ace walks right alongside me, moving at a sedate pace so my shorter hooves can keep up. All I have to do is repeat this and okay, time to lean... and he bumps me in the shoulder every time I don’t turn quickly enough, until I’m all the way around facing where I came. I walk. I walk!
It doesn’t even feel like a pattern of hooves anymore. It feels like a pushing and a swaying, just sway, sway and I just keep my hooves going the way they have always gone. Ace tugs my side me gently, a mere reminder, and I start leaning left towards him this time, walk-walk-walking, the grass scrunching under my hooves in an immensely satisfying way. I look over to the distant other side of the lawn, and I walk there.
This is most certainly the reason that Rarity squeals so loudly the moment she returns to pick me up, seeing Ace and I walking together around and around on the lawn. She is so happy to see me walking, and I’m so happy to be able to show her this. Her Sweetie Belle is getting better! I even get to walk all by myself back to the hospital building itself.
Once the hospital surrounds us, I manage to lose my coordination. I guess I was getting too used to having a wide open lawn to walk on. These doorways and walls are just... tough, and for all that I have been walking, it’s at a slow pace for a filly, much less a full grown mare. So from there, Rarity lets me ride on her back. Lying there atop the warm smoothly moving Rarity, I feel utterly exhausted. I can hardly put two thoughts together. It isn’t long before I’m flopped out on his extremely cushy couch in his cherry wood panelled office, both mentally exhausted and emotionally drained, while he tells us what’s what.
“Now I won’t joke with you,” Ace said seriously to Rarity standing there too nervous to sit down. “Sweetie Belle is going to need a lot of help getting around. She’s got it in her to walk, and she’s made a ton of progress over the last week. But it might be a while before she’s up to walking around on her own. It’ll take a lot of practice, and a lot of stops and starts before she’s comfortable with it. It isn’t just the motions; you have to be comfortable with them, and getting used to that takes time. I’m fairly sure she’ll have a lot of support and encouragement, if you’re the kind of pony I know. But I can’t emphasize this enough, Sweetie Belle is going to need somepony with her at all times in case of emergencies, and she’s going to need a pony she can learn from while she works out walking on her own. She’ll get tired very easily; believe me it’s harder than it looks for her.”
“You got that right,” I mumble from the cushions, not really caring if anyone hears me.
“So she might at times need somepony to carry her,” Ace continues smoothly, addressing me directly then, “And I know you don’t want to be babied, Sweetie Belle, but a little babying might be good for you until you’re back on your hooves, and not just back on them literally speaking.” He turns back to Rarity and says, “So I just want to make sure she has somepony who can watch over her for a while.”
“It certainly shall be done,” Rarity says confidently. “I wouldn’t even think of letting her languish, and I assure you, she will be taken very good care of!” She gives me a sober look and says, “She’ll probably be sick and tired of it before the next week is out, but she will certainly have all the support she needs.”
“I don’t mind,” I cut in chirpily. “It beats not walking!”
“You’ll have an advantage Sweetie,” Ace cuts in, drawing my attention... and ear. “That now I think you’re ready to practice on your own. So now that you’re settled enough to practice on your own, you should advance a lot quicker than you have been.”
“You call this advancing slowly?” I exclaim popping my head up perturbedly. “I lear—remembered to walk, in just a week!”
Ace laughs lightly. “Thanks for the compliment Sweetie,” he says warmly, “I’m glad you’ve been improving so well! But even though you can advance a lot faster now, it doesn’t mean you should. I don’t want you to push yourself too hard. You don’t need to practice, if you feel tired or worn out. Give your mind a rest before starting up again. Remember, learning to walk is easy, but your goal is getting comfortable with it.”
“I’ll do my best,” I say noncommittally, squirming nervously at Ace’s attention. This stupid couch is really soft and nice to rub on. Which I’m not going to do because it’s just more being weird and girly around the stallion of my dreams. Oh god I jynxed it, didn’t I. I swear if I have a dream about Ace now, I’m going to ...do something very rude. Though frankly I wouldn’t object to a dream about his couch. I could go to sleep like this...
“And keep in mind Sweetie,” Rarity says tilting her head to look at me worriedly, “The ponies who are helping you will be hurt very much if you take advantage of them, so please be honest about your feelings. Nopony here wants anything but the best for you, so don’t worry that something you might say will have us forcing you, or working you harder than you feel you can achieve.”
“Wouldn’t even dream of it,” I mumble sleepily.
“Alright, give it two day’s break,” Ace utters curtly, “And then another maybe a week of morning workouts with me. After that, we can probably take it down to once a week, while you work out the rest on your own. If you’re not running on four hooves before the month is out, I’ll eat my shorts!”
I smile at him, then my smile falters. “Wait, seriously?” I ask with a skeptical eyebrow lift.
“Pfff, no. That’s just an ‘expression’ Sweetie,” Ace says dismissively waving a hoof at me. “I just mean I am very confident that you will do well.”
“Okay, because you’re the only pony I know wearing shorts,” I say. My eyes widen then and I almost cover my mouth and say, “I mean, there’s nothing wrong with that! I just was curious I mean I don’t think there’s anything wrong with it just,”
“Chill, lil’ Sweetie,” he says jovially, “It’s a lot colder in Trottingham, and I just sort of got used to it!”
“O-oh, is that where you’re...from?” I ask hesitantly.
“Yeah, but don’t worry. I like Ponyville just fine,” he says with a smile. “Though you’re right, with this summer heat I really don’t need to be wearing these things.” He hooks the nail of his hoof around the edge of the shorts and a-a-a-a-and I barely have time for my eyes to widen before he pulls them down exposing his smouldering, steamy, surely sweaty, salty stallionhood.
"...what?" he asks us cluelessly. I see Rarity facehoof out of the corner of my eye but I can't look away. H-h-his package isn’t even erect. Why can’t I look away? WHY
“You like it?” Ace asks with a shake of his hips. Something squeaks inaudibly out of my lips. My mouth lips, my mouth lips. “It’s a real racket!” he says, with a delighted chortle. I-he’s-I-oh my gosh he’s—
“Honestly, Sweetie,” Rarity sighs at my side, with that careless toss of her mane, “What did you expect, a hoofball?”
I look at Rarity incredulously, then back to Ace’s smoking hot hindquarters so firm with just the right amount of bulge to them and a...
“Oh, you meant his cutie mark,” I say.
“What else could I possibly mean?” Rarity asks coyly. I give her another incredulous look and... is that a smile? She’s fighting back a smile, I just know it. Maybe I can burrow my way into this couch cushion, where I can be the founder of a subterranean kingdom in these cushiony folds. Defended by the knights of loose change, ever vigilant against the dustbunny hoard, I shall remain the princess of bedsprings and pocket lint.
“I... think she’s had enough,” Ace says, kicking the shorts off his rear, with but a single raised eyebrow.
“Indeed,” Rarity says, still mightily suppressing that smile, walking side saddle to my couch. “Come on up, Sweetie. You can walk outside the hospital if you like, but I still don’t trust those stairs.”
“Yeah—um, the bathroom um—” shutting up now. My hoof emerges from the cushions, and hooks on Rarity’s shoulder, pulling myself from its depths to topple over, belly down, onto her prepared saddle blanket. My legs sink to snug on either side of her in a very natural manner.
One very not awkward and calm exit from the doctor’s office later, I finally find the voice to whisper to Rarity, “I need to use the toilet.”
And yes, I did start feeling a need to use the toilet, right around the time his shorts came down. Pure coincidence, I swear on my mother’s grave. Must have been that trip to the drinking fountain... complete with hoof pedal to turn it on. Rarity kindly obliges, carrying me down familiar hallways towards the bathroom I visited before. When she comes to a halt and kneels, I slide off of Rarity and manage to retain my footing...hooving, staring up at the doors to the two bathrooms. Picking the one for fillies, I again enter the—wait.
I use the door frame to slide myself back, looking up and to the left at the...other door. I glance back at Rarity who walks forward saying, “Having trouble Sweetie? I’ll get the door for you hold on.”
“No, no it’s okay,” I reassure her with a raised hoof. “I just... what’s in this door?” I ask, pointing at the one that doesn’t lead to the bathroom I went into before.
“You mean the one labeled ‘Broom closet’?” Rarity asks with a single flat ear.
I swiftly blush and mumble “Nevermind,” shoving open the real bathroom door and easing my way in there. Standing a few moments I—looking up at an orange mare walking out the door trying to get past me. “S-sorry, excuse... sorry,” I stutter, lifting one hoof and then the other, then just falling forward on it to stumble my way past her, out of her way. She gives me an... odd look from where I ended up beneath the sinks, but shrugs and keeps walking exiting the door calmly.
Oh, shoot! If I had held my pee, then I could have talked to the real Sweetie. Darn it! Of course the public toilet’s not empty, anymore. So I just... silently point myself at the stall door that isn’t closed and locked, and start counting. 1,3,walk, walk, walk, moving smoothly forward in more than a drunken waddle, until I’m all the way inside the stall, and can close the door, sliding the latch shut above me. M-maybe they wouldn’t notice if I just talked with—a stallion grunts from the other stall. NOPE finishing and getting out of here.
After I’m done with that most unremarkable toilet usage, the sink is way too tall for me, which wouldn’t be a problem if I wasn’t already tired. But I just ignore my confused weariness, and pull myself up and push the spigot with a hoof. I’m just... not really sure what I’m supposed to be doing here. I let the water slick down the fetlocks on my hooves, and climb down from the counter to shake them drops off them, one after the other, before noticing the blow dryer... at eye level.
The door opens and Rarity comes in herself. “Since you reminded me,” she says quietly to me in passing. I try not to pay attention as she saunters easily over to an open stall, closing the door behind her. With a sudden flushing sound, another stall door opens and the stallion I heard earlier walks out and immediately begins washing his hooves. That snaps me out of the morbid fear of having to hear Rarity piss in a toilet again, and I turn away, looking at what does look like a hand dryer mounted on the wall, albeit with us noticeably lacking hands.
I reach up (it’s not high even for a filly) and push the button, whereupon a noisy rush of hot air makes my ears flatten. Wincing at the noise, I quickly dry off any remaining dampness from my hooves in the hot turbulence. It’s so weird that they have things like this, but then you go outside and you’re looking at medieval cottages and ponies hitched to wooden wheeled carts. I still can’t figure what is powering this stuff, aside “magic.” The only electricity Rarity has... apparent electricity at least, is her overhead lighting, which was quite flush with the ceiling and walls, no exposed wires, sockets or cords.
Yeah, yeah, I have a freaking horn in my head, and I’m still expecting to find any other excuse for how things work.
I let the air dryer blow itself out, as such machines are wont to do, and wobble my way to the door. I don’t know what’s more frustrating, whether I still have to take a breath and prepare myself before trying to walk, or that it’s an incredible improvement over what I’ve been doing so far. Either way, I peek around the edge of the door to see an empty hallway, then carefully ease myself around the door’s edge, until I’m sitting there on my de-pissed haunches, waiting for Rarity to come out. When she does I’m quite relieved to get up on her back again, just to not have to think about walking so much.
A pony approaches us again, on Rarity’s way through town. She was trying for a low key lunch at her boutique, I suppose for my sake. I just kind of hide my face in my hooves, as the strange pony approaches, descending from the sky to trot towards us purposefully. Why couldn’t it be Fluttershy? I would have liked to see Fluttershy. I bet I’m totally embarassing Rarity like this, like it’s a total faux pas for even a young pony to ride on another. I should be walking on my own two–er—four hooves, shouldn’t I? I can’t even hide under her legs, so how am I supposed to deal with... um...
I think the mare’s only physical flaw might be her color. The ordinary blonde of her mane meets with a fur of a greenish blue that wouldn’t look out of place in the bottom of a shallow swimming pool. But she has a delightfully rounded figure of soft curves that compliment the svelte frame she wears them on. Her clear, blue eyes are warm and friendly with just enough vacant anxiety in them it makes me want to just hug her right there. Her mane is flat, much like Twilight Sparkle, but cut short at the neck to make room for her rather... impressive looking wings. They don’t extend past her rear, but they’re bigger than the other pegasi I’ve seen. It makes me feel sort of... thrilled... I probably shouldn’t be staring at her wings.
“Good afternoon, Rarity,” she says in a soft spoken round voice, and oh my god she sounds as cute as a button. Ohmygod she has freckles! “Is this your sister?” she says to Rarity, while looking at me shyly. I don’t know what to say I just... blush...
“Hello Helia darling, and such a good afternoon it is too. I think I can smell the afternoon showers already,” Rarity says drawing this um, ‘Helia’ pony’s attention away from me momentarily. “This is Sweetie Belle,” she then says bringing Helia looking right back at me. “Sweetie, this is my friend Helia. She’s a sunlight monitor.”
“Pleased to meet you, uh,” Helia says holding out a hoof uncertainly, ducking her chin and smiling at me. I don’t want to weird her out or anything, so I force myself to reach up a forehoof and touch it to hers. I hope that’s what she wanted.
“Sweetie Belle,” I lie.
Her relieved smile comes as our hooves touch and part. Ponies are so fun to touch, even if she was walking on that hoof a moment ago, and I just washed my hooves. It fills me with a sort of light fluffiness. I should respond before her smile wavers again.
“I’m pleased to meet you, too,” I say, hiding my nose under my curled forehooves atop the equally soft Rarity (although her blanket is much rougher to the touch) hoping I don’t sound too nervous. “I um...”
“Have you seen Thunderlane?” Helia abruptly asks Rarity, turning away from me. At first I think she’s asking me, but then I realize she looked at Rarity again, once I sneak a peek. “We were supposed to work on our cloud shearing today.”
“Afraid not,” Rarity says with genuine disappointment. “I sometimes see him down by the down and thread, but I’ve had my back full with poor Sweetie here this week. Eh, no offense, Sweetie Belle.”
“None taken,” I say distractedly, looking at Helia standing beside us. I could reach out a hoof and just stroke her side and rub my face all over her uh... but I don’t. Because that would be hella weird. But she’s so... rubbable!
“Thanks anyway,” Helia says forgivingly, spreading her graceful wings. “See you later!” She walks away a few paces before taking off, still sending a breeze blowing over Rarity and I, as she rises up into the air. I said her color was her only flaw, but her cutie mark is a sunflower, as yellow as the stripes in her mane but with a warm brown center to it that somehow provides the perfect contrast for her strange fur color.
“Good day, dear!” Rarity calls after her, waving a hoof. She just resumes walking again after that, the slighest of pleasant nickers resonating in her throat as she trots along.
“Who was that?” I ask unthinkingly.
“Helia, dear,” Rarity says casually, “Helium Mist. I believe I already introduced you.”
“But, I mean is she a special um... pony?” I ask, struggling to voice what I don’t really understand myself. There was just something about her.
“No more special than any other pony, I would assume?” Rarity says uncertainly.
“She was just... so... lovely!” I exclaim at last, receiving some satisfaction at that, before I stop to think about the words coming out of my mouth.
“She certainly is easy to look at,” Rarity says admissively to my blushing silence. “She was so insecure about her colors as a filly though, until she wound up with that cutie mark. Really provides the perfect accent to tame those wild blues, don’t you think?”
“I was thinking the same thing!” I utter in astonishment. “I didn’t even know I mean, that she was insecure, but her cutie mark is really pretty... so is the rest of her too.”
“She has a natural beauty to her, I agree,” Rarity says wistfully. “Much like yourself!” she adds on a brighter note. “If you eat well and stay in shape, I don’t imagine you won’t fail to turn a few heads yourself!”
“You too,” I say impulsively, trying to change the subject as I hug my limbs more tightly around her.
“Oh, psh, me?” Rarity says, her tail flicking behind me. “Trust me dear, this beauty is entirely earned.” The way she says it sounds ... oh no, she’s insecure about her appearance. Of course she is; it’s Rarity.
“You’re the most beautiful and elegant pony I know,” I say honestly. And... hey yeah, I am saying that honestly! I’d say it just to make her feel better, but this is Rarity we’re talking about, the unicorn who can make a fluffy bathrobe and slippers look good. She can walk around Canterlot in nothing but a giant hat and put all the fancy dresses to shame. You can’t not appreciate her attractiveness. Especially when we’re in the bath together.
“That’s very flattering dear,” Rarity says patronizingly, “But let’s see about getting you to remember more than an armful of ponies, before making such comparisons.”
She walks four more paces before I get it. “Ugh,” I groan, burying my head in my hooves. “That’s right. I have amnesia.”
“Forgot, did you?” Rarity asks me, in a playful whimsy.
I roll my eyes where she can’t see them, but otherwise manage to remain silently, royally owned, until we reach the boutique. I see it and brighten up immediately, saying in an excited voice, “Ooh, can I walk from here? I can see it, so I could make it, I think!”
“Of course, Sweetie,” Rarity acceeds, moving out of the roadway to kneel to the ground so I can get off easier. “I can’t expect you to ride me everywhere,” she remarks, “Soon you’ll be going anywhere you wish, under your own power!” She winces at that and, looks wanly at me, halfway off her, saying, “Provided that you stay out of the Badlands.”
Pushing free from her, I... fall on my belly with an oof. But wiggling my hooves around, I rear up again, and manage to get planted on all fours, before turning my head to regard Rarity, speaking with purpose. “I wouldn’t even dream,” I say emphatically, “Of ever doing anything like that again.”
“Things happen, Sweetie,” Rarity says unexpectedly tenderly, standing up beside me. “I would appreciate perhaps you give a little more advance notice however, should you attempt something as ambitious as that. And preferably, listen to reason.”
“I am all about listening to reason,” I agree confidently. I look at the boutique, then down at myself. My four soft white hooves are firmly planted in the dirt, and my tail is perched just perfectly behind me. As I stand up straight, my head is resting easily over my shoulders. “Now let’s see if I can wa҉lk!” I say eagerly back to her.
The ground is a little uneven, but I just ignore the slight upward slope, and fail to come close to falling over like at the coffee shop. Counting 1,3, then 2,4, then segueing into that repetition Ace drilled into me today, I... walk forward. It probably looks like I’m high on ketamine or something, but it works! I am moving forward, and the boutique approaches. Rarity follows slowly along behind me, her magic enwreathing the door and swinging it open even as I approach, so I don’t even have to pause to walk in. The bell jingles overhead. “You can meet me in the kitchen,” Rarity says behind me as I concentrate on stumbling forward. “I’ve a few things to tidy up, and then I’ll be right in to whip us up some lunch.”
It’s stupid, but I’m so gosh darn proud of what I’m doing. It’s not much, but it’s something I can do, and I can work on it more in the future to become even more useful. Now I just need to find out what’s happened to me, and to Sweetie Belle, and figure out some way that we can separate, preferably into two adorable fillies, rather than a filly and a muskrat or something. I certainly wouldn’t appreciate living the rest of my life as a muskrat.
Sweetie told me of a pony known as Lyra Heartstrings, and I even got the name right. I don’t know if she obsesses over humans like in the fan universe, but she’s the best hope I have of somepony qualified in big magical shenanigans, who isn’t in a position to be hurt by the truth. I can’t tell Rarity because she’d be devastated and angry, and I’m honestly terrified of what would happen. Twilight is out since she’s... uhm... not here anymore, and I can’t assume she wouldn’t just go straight to Rarity. I know my headcanon regarding Twilight Sparkle, but I’m less confident about the real one.
But Lyra’s an unknown; everypony is an unknown really, but at least she’s a known... unknown. Better than just asking a random pony at least; Sweetie Belle actually recommended her, and Lyra sounded pretty qualified to help, too, from what I understood! I’ll find Lyra at the... funny spiral tower if I have to, because I can walk now. I can walk across the boutique, and—
Woah, getting a little dizzy, as I have to turn at the wall, and lose track of my footsteps. Hoofsteps, that is. I certainly don’t walk face-first into the wall. But rather, I resume walking again, and it’s really walking walking with only a little counting. I just know I will only get better from here. Today I march into the kitchen looking for a tasty meal, tomorrow I march across the world!
I think all the hairs on my body escape their flesh, at the sound of a stallion’s voice right behind me, saying, “Well, hello there Sweetie Belle!” All my legs go so stiff, that I pop right up into the air. “So nice to finally see you come around,” he says in a loud boisterous bark that sounds horribly familiar. Whipping my head around behind me, I can only say two words to the ponies sitting there at Rarity’s kitchen table again.
“Mom! Dad!”
Sorry for the delay. I’m bad with Internet, and was having trouble reaching fimfiction for a while, possibly somewhat due to just dumb error. I’ve been writing! Just... not so good at getting it on here. Mostly just publishing it via Freenet.
