[Fillydelphia] A descent into Madness (closed. Pm for info)

[BeGoneThots]

"By the time you get back i can have what we want in hoof. Pretzel vender is a block down and two to the left." She said before moving toward the counter. When a pony reached to pull her back she shot them a glare that made them back off.

Coming to the counter she spoke softly. "Old records office please." "Down the hall to the right. Thrid door on the left ma'am. But the pony there is out on lunch. He wont be back for an hour." "Thank you."

As she made her way down the hall she kept feeling as if she were being watched.

[Blueblood]

Upon arrival at the Pretzel stand, Psmith found himself spoiled for choice.  Plain, salted, cinnamon, cheese-stuffed, stick-formed, twist-formed, bites... and that was leaving aside the generous array of condiments, ranging from mustard to mango chutney!  The stall-owner, for his part, watched bemusedly as the young aristocrat inspected his wares through a monocle lens, as if selecting only the choicest delicacies for the Royal Plate.  After a few minutes, the unicorn nodded.

 

"We shall have it."

"Have what, sir?"

"The lot.  The catalogue, entire.  The kit and caboodle; lock, stock, and barrel!  All the lovely colloquialisms expressing completeness.  We are catering, comrade, the hunger of those who must deal with government bureaucracy, and so assuaging the wrath of the democracy.  A mission of peace, paid for on the Royal account..."  Here the unicorn slipped a banknote into the till, before trotting round to start pushing the pretzel cart towards the naval records office.  The sudden rush of action proved to be too much for the proprietor, who from that point on was just playing catch-up with Psmith's words and hooves.

 

"What's the occasion, sir?"

"IMAGINE business, comrade.  Which is why I have placed, you will notice, a small stack of flyers about your wares.  All I ask is that you hand them out to to curious, to raise awareness of our organization.  Leadings psychologists and philosophers have found that offering free food with information makes ponies receptive to your message.  May you take that piece of wisdom and thrive with it."

 

In a jiffy, the pair arrived at the front of the building.  "Free Pretzels!  Pretzels for free!"  Psmith called out in a stentorian voice.  At the sound of the magic word "free" the lines emptied as the crowd (and a few clerks) clustered around the pretzel stand.  Satisfied at the day's good deed, the unicorn took two salted pretzels, sans condiments, and headed after Stormstride.  She wouldn't be having to deal with lines anymore...

[BeGoneThots]

Having lost patience with waiting she had moved behind the desk and begun sorting records herself. Much to the displeasure of the attendant when je returned from lunch to find a.... mare? Sorting through records and blockig him from stopping her by levitating him in the air.

"Please ma'am... these records are old. Delicate even!!! Some are almost as old as Equestria itself!! Please dont handle them by hoof!!!" "As i said before.... time is a priority and you are delaying me. I am a seasoned scholar and know how to handle old documents for research. Bow pipe down before i stuff a cloud in your mouth... Psmith. Put a pretzel in his lips before i lose temper. Im almost to the file i need."

True to her words. each paper was gentle handled and placed back in its exact spot before moving on. She did however leave several drawers open as they may be needed." "Put me down or i shall summon the guard!" He snapped. Her eyes locked on him as she turned and approached. "I assure you... i have more combat and training than the feather weights you call guards. And with rest and food in my belly....i have an arsenal of spells the likes of which even Discord would tremble to stand against. I am being very polite by tending to your records as if they were my own. And i wont hurt you... but if you do not pipe down i will flood this office with humidity... wet air and old papers.... you know what happens." The colt fell silent. She was not threatening physocal violence parsay. But in his mind the destruction of old records was just as bad. Seeing him shut his mouth she lowered him. "Now... quick march. I need the records for the crash of a specific ship. Dates, locations. A body count. And where the poor souls were laid to rest.... off you go" "er... what ship?"

[Blueblood]

It was becoming clearer by the minute just why Stormstride was not quite the right fit for any official organization like the Guard.  The very skeleton of rules and regulations by which such an organization had any sort of structure seemed anathema to her.  Which, when Psmith came to think of it, was a very feminine point of view. 

 

Well, that suited Psmith fine.  His own methodology being eccentric, he got on better with Storm than he might have with a still on-duty investigator.  Barely batting an eye at the levitated clerk, he tore off a bit of pretzel and offered it like an olive branch of peace.

 

"We require the records associated with the wreckage of the H.M.S. Wave Breaker.  It broke, one may say, upon the rocks nearby the harbor.  That is all we know at present, but we wish to become acquainted with the details.  Our inquiry aims to, ah, put some ghosts to rest, as it were."

[BeGoneThots]

The pony took the offering slowly. He moved to the records and began sorting through. He looked towards storm and Psmith on occasion.

After a half hour he came to them. Holding out copies of the items. "There... everything on file. Including a listnof things recently recovered. From the wreck and surrounding rocks." Storm took them and laod her last few coins on the counter. "Thank you." Turning on hoof she marched out to the hall. "Who is she?" The clerk asked Psmith. He wasnt angry. Just... awestruck. The mare was frightening and powerful. But soft spoken and gentle hooved.

[Blueblood]

Mm, these pretzels really were good.  Psmith enjoyed his with no small amount of refined relish, along with the mustard.  Hunger, it is said, makes the best condiment.  For all that, he noticed that Stormstride seemed to be eating hers on autopilot while the clerk worked, though the carbs certainly seemed to have done her some good.  The clerk was definitely impressed for his part, if his questions were any indication.

 

"Comrade Stormstride?  She, my dear comrade of clerking, is a pony who has recently found herself.  What that self was turned out to be rather surprising to many of us, herself included.  She has moved from a guard stallion to a mare investigating in a more independent capacity.  Stay tuned for our next sensational revelation!"  And depositing his own tip on the clerk's desk, he followed Storm out.

[BeGoneThots]

Storn was flipping files. Dropping her trash into a can with surprising accuracy. "Hmm no listing of where the mare was buried. They ran out of room in the cemetary at the time. Meaning they likely dug a new one..." she rambled on.

Navigating the crowd was fairly simple. And once outsode she paused. "Hotel. I need a quiet place to think. As well i think a trip to the library. Which would you rather handle?" She asked. Straight to the point. But with a gleam in her eye. She was on to something.

[Blueblood]

Psmith considered the question.  "One of the great dilemmas, a puzzler to scholars and philosophers.  Whether 'tis nobler to apply oneself to the pursuits of the mind, or forsaking austerity, plunge oneself into the common ruck with the virtue of hospitality."  With a minimum of pontification, the unicorn made his decision.  "If it were up to me, I should go forthwith to secure lodgings."

 

He caught the gleam in Stormstride's eye, which is why he kept his verbiage to a minimum.  He didn't want to talk over her just as she was about to say something interesting...

[BeGoneThots]

"Very well. Take a cab and find a hotel. Once you secure a room, you will find me at the Fifth branh of the library. The records and statistics are there. Any cabbie can fond it easy."

She turned and tucked the files in her bag. Taking off at full gallop, she was lost to sight. As she made her way toward the library, she shot past a guard. "Hoi!!! Slow it down missy!!" She paid no mind and kept going.

It wasnt long before she reached the branch. As she entered she moved with purpose. Heading right for the desk in the records section. "Wave Breaker. The listings of those buried in the second cemetary." The clerk was so startled by the sudden sharp tone she jumped and moved right to the shelves. Returning eith a book she set it down. "Here miss..."

Stormstrided nodded and moved to sit. As she began looking over the information, there were conflicting set of data. "Not good..." she whispered as she tried to match everything up.

[Blueblood]

Psmith took his time about his task.  Sundown wouldn't be for a while, an in any case, he was starved for other company.  Hence, he lingered in the lobby after checking in to the hotel, chatting up one guest about sports, another about the weather, and a third about recent local events.  Soon, the conversation moved to disasters.

 

"We had a Kraken come up on the beach last year; nopony really was hurt, but it was exciting!"

 

"Indeed.  I should hate to think of any true disaster falling upon the fine ponies that I have met today.  I had been reading about one such, the wreck of the Wave Breaker.  I have... personal reasons for wishing to learn the location of the, hm, victim's remains."

 

"Well, now... there's been a few wrecks since.  My pappy was part of a rescue crew roundabouts.  He said identified remains are generally shipped back to the towns from where they came.  Any that we couldn't were interred in the Tomb of the Unknown Sailor.  More of a crypt, really, but there you are.  If your search brought you down, that's where you'd go"

 

Psmith got to his hooves, bowing.  "Many thanks, citizen!  I shall inform my colleague immediately!"  

 

Books weren't always the best source of knowledge.  Soon, the unicorn, information in hoof, was taking a cab straight to the library...

[BeGoneThots]

Stormstride had made notes. Soon enough she had plenty of data. Addresses of graveyards, listings of places where the possessions of the dead were held. Possibly even a few links to other towns. As she sorted her papers, she looked up toward the front door. No sign of him yet. Looking back to her work, she read some material about the wreck itself. How the ship broke apart was suspect. 

 

However, no magical traces were found, and the unicorns on board were not able to produce the kind of magic to sink a whole ship like that. She had hit the rocks on her side. Her hull buckled and splintered, throwing passengers and cargo into the waters. The ship was then pulled away from shore and sank. It was not pleasant. Anyone still in the boat would have been killed as she sank. Worse yet would be the fact that any survivors would have likely been battered on the rocks until unconscious or worse. The ones that got off easy were those that drown in the initial impact.... harsh thoughts. but the mare was used to them after the last few months. 

 

As she poured over the notes she whispered to herself. "Mare....pegasus... blue..... No broken bones... if she was from a shipping town she would have known how to swim... I wonder... No marks on her. Meaning she either was asleep when she went into the water... or else she panicked and forgot how to swim.....poor lass."

[Blueblood]

Psmith announced his arrival with the old barber-surgeon knock upon the table:

 

Rat-ta-ta-tat-tat-TAP-TAP!

 

The last two were on Stormstride's horn rather than the table; the unicorn had to make sure she was paying attention, after all!  "Comrade, success dogs our doorsteps!  After conversing with the locals, I believe that I have determined the location of our missing cadaver.  The likeliest location of internment happens to be the Tomb of the Unknown Sailor, located not so very far from here.  As the sun approaches its setting hour, it should be but a simple matter of depositing our potted pal, and witnessing the reuniting of the shades!"

 

While Psmith was never what one would call especially loud, he had not in any way moderated his normal volume, which prompted a harsh look and a "shush!" from the librarian.  Tut-tutting, the noble shook his head.  "Unromantic philistines.  Truly, those of us with finer sensibilities are an acute minority."

[BeGoneThots]

Stormstride leaned over and stared at the librarian. arching an eyebrow before leaning back. "It wont be that easy..." She held up her files. "The remains were cremated and placed in sealed urns with no name for the unknown...meaning there are likely a hundred urns in there that could be hers...." She rubbed her brow with a hoof. "Then again there is another factor....getting inside. The tomb is sealed and guarded by the elite.. the best of the best... Trust me, even Celestia herself would find it hard to break in, let alone get back out....That tomb is something sacred. And the guards there.... I dont think even Twilight has the magic to combat them....." 

 

rubbing her chin in thought she ignored the librarian's shushing again. "We need to see the accident site......I have a hunch...." The mare didn't say more as she stood. Just headed for the door. As she came to the librarian's desk she leaned over. "Do NOT shush me again....I have less patience than my friend and twice the power...." Walking away she flicked her tail at the desk. She stopped outside and sat. She was looking tired. 

[Blueblood]

"Tsk, so quick for your mind to leap to the action direct, comrade, the style violent!  Have you not considered the salient fact?"  Psmith winked and tapped his muzzle in a manner conspicuously conspiratorial.  "We have ourselves an urn to deposit, containing the remains of an undoubted sailor who has, all things considered, nowhere else to go.  In addition to this asset, I have also with me the writ and authority of Royal Office.  Should we wish to enter, we can do so, easily and legally.  And we won't even be fined for putting our friend to rest!  Indeed, I do believe the guards shall salute us on the way out.  It is a plan without flaw nor any possibility of error!"

 

Or so the lad said.  Although, as he followed Stormstride out of the library, she seemed to think there was some sort of flaw.  "You have a hunch.  Worrying word, that.  Harbinger of the idea half-baked, the artillery shot half-aimed.  What runs through that mind and troubles it so?  Release it, comrade, before it takes hold of the levers!"

[BeGoneThots]

"That ship was built for waters like these. And her crew had made the journey in worse weather than that night had. As well they hit the rocks sideways... as if they purposefully broadsided them. You name a captain that would do that, just to sink his own ship and kill his own crew.....I don't know one..." The mare moved to hail a cab. "This was either the freakiest accident, or something pushed that ship against a rock and broke it in half. Even the investigator of that time said it didn't seem right. She hit a rock, broken in half, then was pulled back out to sea where she sank, but the parts were all close together? Seems pretty foul to me." 

 

She patted the urn in her saddlebag. "Think about it. You think he will be at peace knowing something purposefully killed his beloved? I know I wouldn't be able to rest. I'd likely go hunt it down until the end of time." She turned to the cab as it pulled up. Stepping inside she sat and spoke softly. "Furthermore.... Ghosts do not always hang around their remains. In fact most tend to hang around the place of their death. I could have shipped his remains to the Southern Lands of the Zebra folk. and as long as he hadn't seen me do it, he's still be at the remains of his ship trying to get back to shore.....Something tells me.... she isnt with her ashes just yet."

[Blueblood]

If the aristocratic temperament had permitted Psmith, even briefly, to widen his eyes in shock, he may have possibly done so.  As it was, all Stormstride managed to get out of him was a raised eyebrow from across the cab.  "Murder most foul?  A serious allegation, comrade.  However, one must not content oneself with oddities and insinuations, but take the situation as a whole, totaling all relevant facts and sorting probabilities."

 

The unicorn brought out his monocle once again, polishing it thoughtfully as he spoke.  "Upon consideration, I am not convinced.  My employer has acquainted me with the history of naval development, particularly of contemporary and historical shipbuilding.  While ironclads were still some decades off from the date of the wreck, metal reinforcements of the hull would have been experimented with, in retrofit as well new construction.  This not only accounts for the odd handling of the ship, as the weight balance would be affected, but also the relative intactness of the wreck.  The hull was ruptured, but the bands kept the two pieces together.  The weight of metal, sadly, would additionally make the ship sink faster, hence not allowing the pieces time to spread."

 

He screwed in the eyeglass, leaning forward like an attorney making his concluding point.  "Last, and most importantly, the great question of the roman policier must be answered: Qui Bono?  Who would benefit from such a disaster?  No one on board, certainly.  A good ship is worth more to its owners than insurance money.  Equestria was not at war with any nation, and more vague enemies would have taken credit or followed up on the offense.  No, taken altogether, Comrade Stormstride, your allegation will not hold water, as it were."

[BeGoneThots]

"I never said murder. But possibly lackadaisical practices in processes of the day could have resulted in accidental sinking of that ship. Which means that the justice due to the dead... our friend here included, was never served. Monetary compensation is late. And will do nothing. But recognition of the lives lost due to a hurried pace and cutting a corner or two. That is what they deserve. No less than that."

 

She leaned back. "Beach please... As close to the lost sailors monument as you can get us sweety." The driver smirked and gave a soft snort. Trotting along at a steady pace. Stormy looked to Psmith. "It means little to me to solve the mystery. it is the act of restoring a lost thing to its proper owner... and I have a hunch....maybe our friend can help us when night falls." She said. 

 

Arriving she stepped out and looked toward the stone monument. The Wave Breaker was listed. She looked over the names and the small space at the bottom where the space for the unnamed was. "When this is over... I will have both your names here.... Even if I have to carve it in myself... I promise you that Shipwright."

[Blueblood]

"Hm... culpable negligence, then?  Well, the dead have moved beyond prosecution, though not perhaps judgment.  Or forgiveness, for that matter.  I wonder... does the captain of that sunken ship also wander, wracked with guilt?  I think I would, all things considered.  After all, it is rather hard to rest in peace when you must share the afterlife with all the ponies your actions sent to a watery grave."

 

Psmith settled back as the cabbie trotted towards the Tomb of the Unknown Sailor, watching the sky.  Red at night, sailor's delight... it would be a beautiful morning for all those who lived upon the sea.  He wished them well, and a better fate than those of whom he and Storm were concerned.

 

Disembarking, they trotted over to the monument, the noble examining the plaque through his eyeglass.  "There is evidence that names were added later under some of these ships.  I should say that we shan't find it too difficult to add a couple ourselves."

[BeGoneThots]

"I hope it is that easy...." closing her eyes, Storm thought for am moment. "The wreck wasn't too far from here. Let's go have a look shall we? Most likely it has a sign posted and a guard to keep ponies from diving without permission. But I wonder what they could do to stop a ghost." The glint was back in her eyes. She moved with purpose. Her stride measured not as a trot or gallop, but a brisk walk. She was unmarred by the local vendors and such. As she passed a cart, the vendor called out. "Stormstride!" But she did no stop. Not until the vendor called again. Pausing she turned slowly and looked at the pony. "Yes?" "Here... I.. I wanted to thank you for catching the thief that stole my cart last month. I know it isn't much.. But have this."

 

The stallion placed a large and ornate flower in her mane. "There.. Looks good on you. You look very pretty today." The stallion turned slowly back to his cart. Stormstride stood there a moment, blushing and slightly bemused. The look on her face was pride, mixed with a bit of self pleasure at being recognized for her work and as what she wanted to be. 

[Blueblood]

"Indeed, the time is for action, for the revelation of the truth which sets free!"  With a call and a flourish, Psmith followed to fetch Shipwright.  Soon, perhaps, old wandering ghosts could be laid to rest at last.  The noble's optimism was encouraged by the sight of Stormstride receiving a flower from the vendor.  As much as one can do for the dead, it is always best to make peace among the living, and it seemed that between them, Blueblood and Psmith had managed to do so for the guard.  She was certainly a far cry from the emotionally strained pony who threw a delinquent so hard they made a dent in the side of a train!

 

The light was fading by the time the pair reached the hotel, leaving the red sky a deepening purple as night's heralds began to take their place.  Nodding to the receptionist as he passed, they brought out the urn containing the sailor's remains.  "We may have found her, comrade; have patience and it shall be rewarded."  He murmured to the occupant.

[BeGoneThots]

The urn was silent. But it pulsed with a tiny bit of light. Acknowledging the words. As Storm moved to the mirror in the hotel room, she paused. looking at herself. There was a bit of confusion in her eyes. "i've been going about it all wrong..." she whispered after a moment. She moved to the bed and sat. "Lets eat before we go back to the spot. I dont want to be out late on an empty stomach." she said softly. 

 

She was in thought. She had always felt this need to protect others that couldn't protect themselves. But had she been wrong about it? Was it possible that it was not about protecting? And what about herself? She had always ignored her own wants and needs until every other pony was taken care of. Now, she was questioning what she wanted and needed. The basics of food and shelter were easy to come by. But the emotional and mental needs... those were hard to figure out. The more she saw herself like this... and acted like this. The more she felt....normal. After a moment she just lay down. 

[Blueblood]

"A wise decision, comrade.  Indeed, long experience of history, as well as a smattering of philosophy, will reveal that the only wise choice that can be made on an empty stomach is to fill it.  And so, let us restore our tissues for the night ahead!"  Psmith trotted out to call over one of the staff.  "Is room service offered?  Very well, we require fortifying comestibles of solid quality, with two cups of strong coffee.  We have a night of work ahead of us.  Edifying labor, of the sort that socialists celebrate!  Though, I have known several to be excessively materialistic..."

The cleaner only nodded before fleeing from the tide of verbiage, leaving the unicorn to talk to empty air for a few seconds.  Psmith soon tired of the activity, and returned to the room.  "Now that the delivery of a late dinner is secured, comrade Stormstride, shall we talk a little of matters more personal?  My intuition tells me that you have much you wish to dislodge from your chest.  Is it lying to me, comrade?  Such has happened before, to no good result.  It told me once that my history teacher was fond of snakes.  This was in error, as we found out on the day of midterms.  Our 'thank you' present was not appreciated."

[BeGoneThots]

"Your instincts are correct. I am troubled. But by what I do not understand nor know." Sitting up she looked to him. "I have been concerned with every other pony so much that I dont even know myself. and when I find time to be myself....who am I? I dont recognize this pony in the mirror." She reached up and touched the flower in her mane. "I am confused... as to why certain things can feel right, when I have never felt them before..." Looking at the colt she sat silently. 

 

She didn't expect judgement. No he was well reserved and refined. He knew what to say and when to say it. She let a thought cross her mind. What would her daughter say or think? Her brother as well... Having never really gotten to know Thunderbuck, the mare had no idea how he might react. But CaramelCream.... Storm's lips curled into a small smile as she thought about her daughter. That filly was forgiving and loving to a fault. She would likely have tried to make friends with every changeling in that school while they were attacking. 

 

As she shifted herself on the bed a bit, she felt unusually warm under her coat. She brushed her cheek a bit. But found no sweat. She couldn't see it herself. but her cheeks were red as roses with blush. Embarrassed at being caught with her defenses down. And she didn't even realize it. She was calm and quiet for once. She looked back at Psmith. He was a proper gentlecolt. She hoped he had some useful words or some secret knowledge... anything to help explain why she felt her heart about to beat out of her chest in a mix of panic and exhilaration. 

[Blueblood]

In spite of the airs of worldly experience that he assumed, Psmith was barely over half of Stormstride's age.  He thought a lot, and talked even more, but the questions that his companion were now asking were putting him slightly out of his depth, and he knew it.  His response was not immediate, therefore; the unicorn colt sat considering the blushing pony before him for a good minute before opening his mouth.  When he did, each word came out with chosen care, rather than the free and easy flow that was his normal mode of conversation,

 

"Very often, one is born into a box of expectations that one is not suited for.  If one desires to fit oneself into the box, one can force change upon oneself.  If one seeks instead the comfortable, another box may be found.  But life, ultimately, owes nothing to our comforts or desires."  As this answer was ultimately two-sided, he went on further, trying to elaborate his position, "Personally, I would always say that an abstract box was too small than that a real pony was born wrong."  Again, he felt that this probably wasn't an explanation, so he shrugged.  "Perhaps... the confines are finally ceasing to press, and so what you feel is relief."

[BeGoneThots]

As simple as it was... it was right. Stormstride was no longer under pressure to perform or behave a certain way. No force constructing a wall around her to make her speak and act as she was required. No overbearing parents or irresponsible superiors. The only thing left was her daughter, to which she still clung dearly but knew better than to try and pull on that connection. 

 

After a moment she laughed a little. "once this is over I may lose myself for a little bit. Just live a little. I'll come back to Canterlot when I figure myself out a bit. Maybe get a pedicure and a decent dress." She relaxed some. There was something on her mind still. But she wasn't willing to talk about it just yet. After a moment there was a knock on the door. "Room Service." She stood and came to the door. opening it she smiled and thanked the waiter for bringing it. once the cart was in the room, she shut the door and locked it. taking her food to a chair, she sat to eat quietly. She was still isolated somewhat. Distancing herself from others at times. 

 

After the meal she went to the bathroom to shower and freshen herself up. After a moment she could be heard muttering to herself, but the sounds of the shower muffled it too much to hear.  There was a thump from a chair on her side of the room. Her saddle bags sat on the floor, partly open. They had fallen from the chair, their contents partly spilled out. Inside there was a small, cheap make up kit, a brush, and a few mane pins. The other side held her family book, a few newspaper clippings of various things where her family was mentioned. And what looked like a tattered photo. The photo was of her parents with Thunderbuck. Attached was the newspaper article. even thought the image was faded, it was easy to tell, they had fallen on hard times. The house in the background was old, a bit ragged. Buck was wearing hand me downs from when Storm was his age. And the parents looked like they had hoof carved their own glasses from glass and metal wire. 

 

At the bottom of the bag was something else. Something she had kept hidden. A pair of silver tail bangles. The kind ponies where when they get married. One was pristine, like it had never been worn. The other looked beat up and had several scratching marks like it had been in active combat a few times. There was also a bit of magical burn on the edges.