Blueblood

Yes, but now the backstory seems to be out of chronological order.

*This post submitted for judging* In contrast to the excitement of many competitors, whether it was enthusiasm or nervousness which animated them, Flying Brick waited for her turn with a straight-faced calm. She wondered if there was anything significant in the fact that most of those who were excited were amateurs. *And what, are you calling yourself a professional?* Well, she could technically say that, in that her physical prowness in sport earned the her bits. Unfortunately, that probably wouldn't be much help here. Street acrobatics were more of an exhibition sport than a competitive one, and focused more on grace, speed, and agility than strength and endurance. That fact was pretty well represented in the brick-red earth pony's physique, that of a gymnast a little more bulky than average. All this added up to a rather unpromising preparation for a tug-of-war. *Still, nopony else from Stalliongrad is here. Somepony has to represent.* She shrugged as she thought to herself. If she even wanted to be considered a real competitor here, she couldn't limit herself to her forte, and she was not going to shame her home city by backing down. So, when the announcer called for the next competitor she raised her hoof and stepped forward. "My turn." As she took her position, she sized up her opposition. It seemed to be a policy to choose one from each of the three pony kinds, probably to ensure both variety in the one side with a consistent challenge to the other. The three ponies on the other side were looking the mare over as well, and weren't apparently sure what to make of her. One, a pegasus stallion with silver coat and a steady gaze, addressed her. "Not a mare of many words?" "No need to waste breath." Her earth pony opponent, a younger stallion with a cockier attitude, riposted, "Yeah, you'll need to hold it for your mud dive!" Flying Brick didn't mind the braggadocio, all part of the game. She flashed him a grin and rejoindered, "Oh, I'll take my mud bath when I'm good and ready, not before!" Her final opponent, a unicorn mare who looked, ironically enough, the one most used to pulling a tug-of-war rope out of the three, didn't address her opponent directly, instead leaning over to the earth pony stallion and saying, loud enough for Flying Brick to hear "Go a little easier than usual on this one. Acrobats aren't much for the old rough-and-tumble." The brick-red mare's grin drained into something like a stoic scowl. That kind dig was hardly sportspony-like! "Don't spare on my account; Stalliongrad builds strong!" And with that remark, she took the rope in her mouth, and planted her hooves. The three across the mud grabbed their side and set to. Immediately, Flying Brick found herself having to readjust her footing and began to feel just how much out of her depth she was. An athlete who's training is unsuited to a sport is not better than an amateur, aside from developing strength and endurance. However, the strength to pull oneself over a wall, and the endurance needed to run a gauntlet through a construction zone served her well enough through the first few tugs. The real problem was the terrain. *So much dirt, mud, I can't get a grip with my hooves! Not like good stone or brick.* The lack of traction may well have been the point, but with the pulling from the other side ate up a little more distance with each tug, her thoughts were hardly appreciative. She leaned her entire body back in an effort to slow the momentum, but a few more seconds brought her hooves to the edge of the mud. All thought was subsumed to the moment, to the effort. She was operating on instincts now, but her instincts were not those of what the unicorn called the "rough-and-tumble," but were rooted in the acrobatic tradition of her own city. That, at any rate, was the explanation she gave afterward for what she did next. As the next, and to all appearances final, tug came, she suddenly sprang into the air over the pit! The sudden give in the slack caused her three opponents to fall into a sitting position as the observed her skyward arc. Her name and talent were well matched; the flying leap had brought her nearly to the other side, her back hooves planting into the mud on her opponents' side. Giving a bow to her rather nonplussed opponents, and another to the crowd, along with a big grin, she then tipped herself backwards into the mud. "Like I said, when I'm ready!" She called out to her earth pony opponent, and to his credit he laughed good-naturedly enough. Flying Brick didn't even bother to look over to the time board as she walked away. The ending moment was perfect, and to exit to the cheers of the crowd, that was enough for her.

Hm, I'd say the cutie mark story needs some more work done on it. I confess I don't exactly see how just the voice of an author connects to her discovering her writing talent. Perhaps the author could have had a similar foalhood?

Hm, let's see... As a point of style, the parenthetical remarks are a little off-putting (Pot, meet kettle). Just saying someone might remark on it. What exactly a "Debbie-Downer" is wasn't immediately apparent to me; I first thought it was a sock with bad elastic, which would be annoying for a dancer. I guess that's slang for a female pessimist, but still. I can see where you drew from life in this, though no one else probably would. It gives a bit of realism to the character, I guess. Not bad, sis.

"Personal Space" had a different meaning for Flying Brick, along most of the underclasses of Stalliongrad, than for Greater Equestria. For this reason, she had a tendency to get in pony's faces, out of nothing more than gregariousness, which could be interpreted as rudeness. Still, she wasn't fundamentally rude, and the slight stoop her shoulders took on showed shame at a real breach of etiquette. "Sorry, Lady, my enthusiasm and thirst got better of me; but it was very good." A rather sheepish grin capped the apology. Her attention was quickly arrested by the whole conflict that had just come to head, apparently, between some unicorn and Gilda. Not having been present for the first part of it, the mare could only view the proceedings with rank and evident confusion. From what she'd seen of Gilda, she seemed a decent griffon. What was this about a world-view? Why was the first unicorn challenging her, and why did the second call him a hypocrite? But, there was one thing she did understand. "Hey, speak of respect!" The earth pony interjected her head between the two "contestants," fixing them both with a rueful stare. "Take hoof-wrestling outside; you might upset the nice mare's refreshment table, and other ponies want to partake of it!" She nodded at the two who had just come in. "Now, we can take the show out of the tent, let everypony else see this!"

The bandages weren't really necessary, Flying Brick had to admit. It wasn't as if she were bleeding, after all. Still, with her normally dark-red underbelly discolored a purplish-blue from the huge bruise she'd gotten from the skydiving competition, perhaps it was best to conceal the marks. Also, it did kind of hurt if the ribs moved too much, not that the Stalliongrad mare would ever admit that! The infirmary had been understanding, having seen much bravura in its time. They had recommended taking a break from events, which was fine with the brick-colored earth pony; not many that had been set up so far really played to her strengths. Right now, she was looking for a place to rest, and spotted a tent where ponies seemed to be convening. *That will do.* The day was hot, and she could feel the cool breeze coming from the magical fan inside. And in such tents, refreshments were often found! It was with alacrity then, that the street acrobat trotted into the pink and yellow tent, and what should she spy but a griffon! Slightly sour-faced, but still... "Hey! Good to see you!" Brick called out in a stentorian Stalliongrad accent to Gilda, reaching out a hoof to slap her on the back (which might have felt like a cobblestone had been thrown at her), before pulling her in quickly for the traditional Stalliongrad gesture of welcome among the lower classes, a quick, friendly, bear-like hug. "Let me buy you a drink! Ah, they are free." She remarked as she looked over to the refreshments Pink Lady had set up. "And I see you have one, quite smart! I shall get one too." Wasting no more time, Flying Brick practically leapt over to the lemonade, uttered a quick, "Spasibo!" in gratitude to the mare, before gulping down the liquid in the glass, and then throwing the frozen fruit into her mouth as well and crunching it down with gusto. After a few noisy seconds, she gulped that down to as well, nodding approval. "Is very good for mid-event refreshments. Light, cool, but with substance at the end. Smart find." She directed this last sentence at the griffon. She'd never actually met Gilda before in her life, but she'd always liked griffons. One saw a lot more of them in Stalliongrad than in Greater Equestria, and one couldn't blame a mare for being homesick. It was only now that she started to notice the other ponied present. She gave them a polite enough nod, along with her name, "Flying Brick. Just came from the dive, in case you wondered."

*Well, the ladder wants a sure set of hooves. Got that, at least...* Flying Brick, of Stalliongrad, had been hesitant about entering herself for this particular event; as impressive and gravity-defying as her street acrobatics were, they weren't a patch on a pair of wings as far as heights went. And diving? *Fuggedaboutit,* the umber earth pony had thought to herself, as she smacked her gum on the sidelines, *The water ain't a thing you wanna drop into, not downriver from the factory district.* The clarity of the landing lake, combined with the somewhat reassuring presence of an earth pony on the panel of judges, had finally induced the visiting mare to join the line. And as she watched the performers go in front of her, she wasn't sure what she regretted most, the joining or the initial hesitation. *That cloud kicker took the one idea I got for this! Kick flips off a few clouds, grind a rainbow to a triple spin-* She halted short in her train of thought. Could Earth Ponies even do that? She'd heard there was some skill or spell or something that'd give you that edge, not that she'd ever been able to get that advantage. "You're freaking yourself out here, Brick. Don't think, just remember, the key is forward momentum and the right angle. Forward momentum and the right angle." She muttered the mantra to herself, fully aware that it applied more to her own sport than this one. She shut her eyes, trying to think of some way to apply her favorite maxim to a water event- Her eyes burst open. Of course, nopony was likely to think of that! The ladder was open in front of her, and she spared no seconds for thought. She took the ladder at a running start, like some steep fire escape she'd mount to start a public routine. By the time all four hooves had hit the boards, she was in her "zone." Each step was instinctual, her trained muscles twitching in reaction to each sway, as if anticipating the vagaries of a loose screw. It was a long climb to the actual board, but if there was one edge an earth pony could boast over a pegasus, it was endurance. She lost no momentum as she reached the summit, grasping the top handrails with her front hooves an instant before launching herself into a mid-air somersault, slamming into the board on her back hooves so as to slide down the board as it bent downwards, reaching the tip as it sprang back up, sending her flying into the air in a manner not usually associated with bricks. Sans wings, there was not much in the way of style that she could add on the way down. Sure, she'd taken a few forward flips off the launch, but that wasn't the main goal here. It was a high dive, but even flying bricks fall fast, and if the mare wanted to pull off her sudden inspiration, she needed to use every foot of fall to set it up. The slight deviation from the vertical was essential here, and to maintain it, Flying Brick had to plan each twist and turn to hit each cloud at the right angle. They didn't slow her down much, but each fraction of an inch off-center mattered. Less that half a minute later, there was the lake. Taking all the muscle energy she'd reserved during the dive, she suddenly pulled her back end down, slightly below the front. The angle of the dive, plus the angle of attack, plus the sheer momentum Flying Brick had brought to the landing had caused her to skip over the surface of the water. Or, maybe bounce was the more appropriate term, since at that speed water effectively becomes a solid. The first "skip" gave her enough air time to pull off another mid-air twist before getting herself back into the right angle to skip again across the water. The acrobatics had to stop for the rest of them, she had to conserve momentum if she didn't want to finish with an unimpressive plop into the water. There were only three "skips" in total, and the third brought her clear to the shoreline. Extending all four hooves, she hit the sand bent-kneed, before straightening up to look straight at the judges' table. "And she sticks the landing!" Flying Brick spat out in a kind of pained rush of air before collapsing. Dear Luna, everything hurt! Her entire bottom side, where she had struck the water, was a bright red instead of the usual burnt color, and the draining away of the adrenaline rush had made her aware of all her rattled bones and tenderized muscles. She didn't feel like moving for a while...

From the way Applejack smiled, Earth Writer could tell he'd done something right. Figuring out what exactly that something was could wait until his brain stopped fizzing like sarsparilla. One thing was clear *That wasn't so complicated after all! You just shouldn't overthink things like this, and they'll go fine.* Filing away that thought for later, he relaxed, letting the tension out of his nerves that had allowed him to act on his impulse. "You're Welcome, miss Applejack! And I'm Earth Writer." He honestly couldn't remember if he'd introduced himself before, but he didn't care. "Better not hog the front." The unicorn said, as he extricated himself from the hug. "There's a lot of ponies here lined up here, and I can't blame them! Enjoy the rest of your day." Taking his leave of her with another smile and wave, he went to his purchased bushel and pulled it a short distance away, about where Survey was. Levitating an apple at random from the variety within, he took a large bite out of it. The apple was small, about the size of a normal Macintosh (as opposed to the larger sort grown at Sweet Apple Acres, from which Applejack's brother had gotten his name), but the flavor was sweeter, more like a Gala apple, with just a hint of tartness. It was a complex taste, Earth Writer decided, mostly sweet, but not missing any flavor you might want. *Just like this town.* He thought, as he swallowed. "I sure am going to miss this place." He remarked to Survey. "I'll bet my last bit you won't find a mare like Applejack in Canterlot."

Earth Writer's smile brightened as Applejack brought over the variety bushel. The unicorn was certainly not a picky eater, and looked forward to enjoying the many kinds of one fruit. Yes, that would do quite nicely. Now for the other part of the business... The mare's instincts were nothing if not sound. While having her wrap a hoof around his neck was somewhat disconcerting, her casual air was sufficient to mostly put him at his ease. "No, I've not really kissed anypony before." *Immediate family notwithstanding.* He added mentally, closing his eyes as he enjoyed, and returned, the hug. He could feel her breath flow over the fuzz on his muzzle- "Wait. You got five bits?" The unexpected breakoff actually caused Earth Writer to laugh out loud. "Yes, certainly!" In good humor, he levitated the five coins from his wallet space, placing them on the counter before turning back to Applejack. *Now, before you lose your nerve.* His hoof still being around her, he pulled in a little, planting a kiss right on her lips! When he pulled his own away, the unicorn was grinning from ear to ear. "Is that generally how one does it?"

A look of speculation crossed Earth Writer's face as he considered the variety of apples, followed by brief flash of panic as he heard the list of kiss types. *Oh, Celestia, I had no idea that this was so complicated!* But the panic was as brief as the manifestation thereof. "Oh, surprise me on both!" He waved a hoof with a cheerful carelessness with his answer. "Always good to try something new, right? And life ought to be something of an adventure." The unicorn smiled as he leaned over the counter, but his smile had a touch of something... not exactly sad, but like one who was reminded of a serious subject while telling a joke.

By this point, Earth Writer felt he had a pretty good picture of who Pathfinder was, apart from just saying that she was an imitator of Daring Do. It might be truer to say the mare was an exaggeration of her foalhood hero. Certainly an exciting companion, and probably a good friend, but definitely somepony you didn't want around your younger sister. "Well, so long, until we meet again!" He called after the departing pegasus. While his newfound acquaintance would have been worth the time he spent in line in any case, he did have an original purpose here. *Well, here goes nothing.* Earth Writer turned back to face Applejack. "I don't think you're selling anything other than apples, but that's what I came for anyway, so! I'll take one bushel." He spoke brightly enough, but it was only a mask. Internally, he had still not finished mustering his nerves for the "special offer"...

By this point, Earth Writer was having to use his hoof to stifle laughter. He would have made a comical sight himself, one forehoof jammed in his mouth while his cheeks ballooned outward like a jazz trumpeter's. Just watching how the little filly had to deal with the gushing mare, eventually being entranced by her adventurous spirit, was an absolute joy to behold. He didn't begrudge Pathfinder her enthusiasm; he himself could be just as voluminous on his own passion, Geography. The unicorn was slightly disappointed in one aspect, however. He kept hearing these hints of fantastic tales, but Pathfinder always moved on before telling the rest of the story. Still, apples or no apples, kiss or no kiss, it had been worth it to come out just to see that. He spat out his hoof as the pegasus slapped him on the back, coughing slightly as he shook his head. "In-cred-i-ble." Earth Writer enunciated every syllable for emphasis, but good-naturedly. He did ask his next question in a serious tone, though. "You are going to stay here long enough to keep that promise of yours? She won't forgive you if you don't. OF course," He nodded in the Apple family's direction. "They might not forgive you if you do. I know I wouldn't, if you got my little sister hurt."

*Seriously, Applejack? Mare comes up to you, looking and acting like Daring Do in the flesh, and you assert you know a bigger fan?* Earth Writer had to grant Pathfinder a point; that was certainly the silliest thing he'd heard Applejack say. Not that sensibility was a great feature of the conversation unfolding in front of him. The unicorn's eyes widened as Pathfinder just reached over to take the the farmer's hat. You just didn't do that; not only was it generally rude, there was a lot of emotional value to that hat for her. There were hardly 15 spares in her closet.... Stifling a laugh behind a cough, Earth Writer walked up beside Pathfinder. "Bit worked up, are we? Don't tell me you're nervous." He knew perfectly well what her reaction was likely to be, but after that display, he felt like winding her up just to see what happened next.

(Sorry for letting this drop, guys). Earth Writer nodded. "Well, at least you have something to show him that you're working on the problem." HE grinned as he went back to let in the businesspony. While in the doorway, Earth Writer spotted the officer on patrol. He seemed to be looking into something, so the unicorn only gave him a little wave before showing Grey Matter in. "Byline's ready for you."

Pathfinder's timing was... interesting, to say the least. Having a mare unexpectedly touch him on the lips just when he was thinking about kissing one brought him to the here and now with a blush that shot straight up to the tips of his ears. If Pathfinder had asked, Earth Writer probably would have agreed to go with her, so she wasn't entirely out of line in shutting down that train of thought, giving the unicorn time to nod sensibly and collect himself. "No telling where we might meet up, really. I'm moving out tomorrow, and geographers have been known to travel in their work." It seemed the wonderbolt had finished; apparently she'd made a picture of the event as well. *Typical for a celebrity, I suppose.* And now it was Pathfinder's turn. This was gonna be worth seeing! It got off to a promising start, certainly. He couldn't now recall any point in his colthood where Applejack could have been called "silly"; the farmer had a reputation for being a dependable and sensible pony.

"Hm? Oh!" Earth Writer had been so used to a lack of response from Pathfinder, that he had almost given up on hearing anything from her. Giving the shoemaker an apologetic wave, the unicorn turned back to his original conversational partner. "Mind-controlled?" That was the sort of thing that warranted a raised eyebrow, at the very least, but the writer had already tired his out. He could only laugh softly and shake his head. "One day, I'd like to do your biography. Just look me up whenever you want one done." Seemed that Pathfinder was next in line. *That means I'm next after.* Self-consciously brushing his mane out of his eyes, Earth Writer couldn't help but be distracted by the prospect of the offered kiss, along with the apples. *First time kissing a mare, besides mom and my sister.* Looking for that sort of thing hadn't really been a priority for him before...

"Earth Writer." The Unicorn gave his name as he stuck out a hoof. "Dunno if you'd know me, but I lived here before I went off to University." Having shaken hoofs, the writer got down to business. "You may have to ship the finished product to my place in Canterlot; I'm leaving on tomorrow's train, and I don't want to rush you. And you only need to make the one; I'm not concerned about looks, and my other shoes are fine."

"I..." The unicorn wasn't quite sure how to phrase things now. "Well, It's not really either of those. You'd never guess who I ran into into today." He paused for a moment. "Well, actually, you might. The name 'Grey Matter' ring any bells?"

Seeing Bon-Bon blow off the offered advice actually made Earth Writer feel a little better. He was too honest a pony to congratulate himself on his "discretion" in not going forward, but at least holding back did no harm. In the meantime, Pathfinder was unresponsive, so the writer felt the need to get another conversational partner. When Metal Maker returned, the unicorn called him over. "Say, you wouldn't happen to be offering one of those hoof-mounted pen holders? I know I've got magic for writing, but if I'm trying to juggle multiple things, well, it'd just help me manage a bit better if I'm in the field, you know."

If Starflower had not departed the scene so rapidly, she probably could have received a kiss in pure gratitude from all present, nevermind Applejack. Earth Writer had actually opened his mouth to offer at least verbal thanks, but the nurse had departed before he could speak a word. "Nuts..." He muttered to himself. Perhaps he should have shouted after her? The unicorn's conversational partner hadn't responded yet. Whether Pathfinder was engrossed by the unfolding piece of street theater before them, or simply grossed by the recently-departed stench, he couldn't tell. Truth be told, Earth Writer was rather interested himself; and he cringed in sympathy when he saw the lover's spat follow hard on the hooves of the lighter comedy of the unexpected bath. "This won't be pretty...." Again he wondered if he should speak up, and again, circumstances precluded his decision. Mystic probably would have been better at giving advice anyway, but still, Earth Writer's repeated hesitation did not sit well with himself. *Am I a coward? Any decent pony should have spoken up sooner in either case.* He shook his head, addressing the Pegasus again, "Now, this sort of comedy-drama actually is pretty much always going on. I'd forgotten how much, actually; you don't tend to see it a lot in the larger cities rather than the small towns." He paused. "Well, I haven't; you're better traveled than I am. Is my generalization correct?"

(Was waiting for Evil to post; guess we didn't give him enough material.) Earth Writer shrugged. "I wouldn't know, sir. What I saw of the offices looked a little shabby." As soon as he said this, the unicorn realized he may as well have given the game away, so he upped his pace into the building, before Grey Matter could ask him the specifics of how he knew. That might have worked, if he hadn't made straight for Byline Buck's office without asking for directions...

Pathfinder's last little outburst actually caught Earth Writer up a little in the conversation, leaving him a little stunned. It was finally beginning to sink in just how different Pathfinder's life must be from anything he'd ever experienced. Ancient tombs, cannibalistic hallucinations... wow. "Probably a good thing I write non-fiction. I couldn't make up anything like that." The unicorn shook his head in admiration. "You ever given thought to publishing your biography? I would certainly read it." Having someone like her to talk with, Earth Writer was understandably unconcerned with happenings closer to the front of the line. It was only when they grew too intrusive to ignore that he took notice, and when a new wave of stench seemed to wash over the company from Pigpen, it was with much choking and coughing that the writer's attention was brought back to the outside world. "Sorry." He gasped out, clapping a hoof over his nose. "Usually we're more accommodating in terms of smell."

"I see..." Earth Writer could only shake his head in something like disbelief. *This has turned out to be a very peculiar day, simply packed with coincidences.* He wasn't sure whether or not to reveal his new position, or just wait for it all to come out in the editor's office. Ultimately, he decided on the latter; his sister's artistic tendencies had given him a flair for the dramatic. In the meantime, he continued his conversation. "I know the way to the office. I haven't read much more than the classifieds, lately. There's, um... how do I put this? Most of it is not interesting to me. The editor will probably explain more. Speaking of which, this seems to be the offices now."

(Sounds good to me) Earth Writer nodded as he listened to Grey Matter's theory of Biography. It made sense that he would want an outside perspective; otherwise it would be autobiography. Still... "My writing style's rather research-heavy. After I get the story from you, I'll probably be interviewing others you've mentioned, visiting places, and reading through whatever papers you let me." He shrugged. "Of course, I guess that goes without saying, if you want quality in biography. Same as all non-fiction, really. I'll probably be putting an emphasis on place, because of my background. I happen to think one's surrounding environment quite important in shaping what circumstances they encounter, and ultimately use to build themselves." A good conversation of literary theory was now quite on its way to occupying the full of the unicorn's mind, before it stopped short on a statement. "Equestria Daily? You work with them?"

"Erm..." Earth writer self-consciously rubbed the back of his neck with his hoof. "I don't have a spare bed, really. It's pretty much the next step up from student lodgings, my place. If you don't mind the couch, I suppose." The unicorn shrugged. "I'd look into some hotels if you're gonna stay long." He started off back to his street with the grey Earth Pony. "So, did you bring any notes with you, diaries, or is this all just gonna be dictation?" His thoughts were not completely gone yet from his disturbing meeting that lunchtime, but the writer wasn't exactly looking over his shoulder for anyone following him. After all, that would just be paranoid, wouldn't it?