And They're Going to Better Places

[sailorlaughter]

Who: Whoever
What: Nemo's funeral goodbye party
Where: One of the commune fields (one not full of artichokes)
When: Saturday morning
Warnings: ANGST
Prose or Commentspam: Whichever

This goodbye party had been a lot easier to set up, with all the help, than the first one. Between everyone that had shown up, the field was quickly set up with tables for food and cider and a stage for the music. Pinkie, being Pinkie, had somehow or other already gotten Bertie's piano up on it, as well as a small framed picture of Nemo surrounded by flowers. Finding the picture was the hard part, honestly; she'd ended up getting one of the Twilights to print one from an old scroll entry.

Zetta had been right. This wasn't a funeral, exactly - and Pinkie did know what funerals were, even if she liked calling them goodbye parties instead. So she hadn't made everything black, though the decorations and mood were more somber than usual for one of her parties. The mare herself lingered by one of the tables, for lack of a door to greet her guests at. It wasn't like they were her guests anyway, right? This was Nemo's party.

Comments

[stormbroken]

"...No, I mean the reason for the marriage to begin with." Please tell her that you at least have working knowledge of the griffins and the parasprites. "You know, the things folks do when they're actually in love with each other?"

In an act of desperation, she tries her best to speak his language, maybe hoping she can get through to him that way. "You know, the right kind of tussle you can only have when you're gobsmacked over somepony? I mean, you can have the t. other times, but it's only really special when you're with that special s.p. and it's the way you end up with a carriage full of bouncing foals, pip pip?" Come on, Wooster, please, understand that?

...Flare has, of course, completely forgotten that she's technically at a funeralgoodbye party.

[tinkertytonk]

Bertie stares at Flare for a solid five seconds as he tries to work out what kind of fight would involve being gobsmacked, well... gobsmacked and result in children. "Are you talking about couples who row all the time, Ms. Star?" he asks finally. "I mean, certainly most run headlong down the aisle expecting kids to pop up in some reasonable sort of order, as they do, but I really don't think they've got to be the fighting sort for that. Gussie and Emerald were soppy as tea-covered cozies with one another from start to finish. Still are, as near as I can tell it, Fink-Nottling about the fens of Lincolnshire, hunting newts."

He wrinkles his snout. Poor girl. Had she realized she was taking up with a newt-fancier?

[stormbroken]

Five seconds?

Try twenty. That's how long Flare stares back. He sincerely doesn't know. He has no idea. She thought Bertie was a bit thick before, but...no. No, he is sincerely a foal in a stallion's body.

The mare might be getting a bit of a tic in her right eye, a bit of a twitching eyelid.

Finally, she speaks.

"Bertie. How do you think foals are made." If he was listening, Bertie might be able to tell that no, it's not really a question, per se.

[tinkertytonk]

How the deuce had their conversation taken such a bizarre turn? First nuts, and now kids? Granted, he'd been the responsible party in the former case, but he has no idea where Flare's meaning to go with the latter. Her question has a direct enough answer, at least. He's hearing perfectly well, of course. Listening might be a stretch. He's far too busy puzzling over the many moods of one Ms. Flare Star.

"Oh, they just sort of come along, don't they? I asked Jeeves about it once, but he said you had to get married first. Seemed an awful bit of bother just to cobble together some miniature bird or beazel with your eyes and last name, what? I did think of asking Bobbie Wickham to marry me for the thing, but she was rather more keen on fobbing her niece off on me than listening to words of love and longing from young Bertram." And a good thing too, as far as he could see from the likes of Clementina.

[stormbroken]

Flare is completely baffled. Bertie thinks children just... happen. Not even storks, or cabbage patches, or the other various lies that parents tell their foals to get around the ugly details of mating.

You just get married and foals appear out of thin air.

"You've never actually looked at a filly, have you." That's all that Flare can muster up to say, completely and utterly flabbergasted.

[tinkertytonk]

He raises a brow and looks her up and down pointedly. "Of course I have! Many's the striking profile I've admired from afar. What are you on about, old girl?"

[stormbroken]

"I don't mean from afar, you dolt! I mean up close and int--" Flare's outburst was loud enough to get the attention of others, certainly, which brought with it the sudden, suffocating awareness of where exactly she is and why exactly she's here.

"...Never mind, Wooster. This isn't a conversation to be had amongst mixed company. Don't want other ponies getting the wrong idea."

[tinkertytonk]

"Why would they get the wrong..." Bertie trails off as it dawns on him, then he scuttles to the far end of the piano bench, staring at her with wide eyes. She'd shouted, but he keeps his voice low, hurried.

"You don't think they think we want to get married, do you?" Did she? Was that the reason for all this talk of kids?

[stormbroken]

Oh, Bertie. She was never going to be able to get any of her words to sink into that thick, squishy skull of yours, was she.

"...no. No, I am pretty sure they do not think we want to get married. In fact, I was talking very much like someone who is not, and never will be, married." It was a harsh whisper, a few decibels louder than what Bertie was offering, and every bit as harsh as before.

"And you're as innocent as a newborn foal yourself, if you think kids just happen."

[tinkertytonk]

His cheeks color at the accusation. "I-I am not innocent!" he protests. "I know loads of things kids don't!" Bertie pauses for a moment as he tries to dredge something up. "Like where the best speakeasies are in New York! Find me a foal who knows that and I'll purchase a hat to commence with eating, Ms. Star.

"That aside, of course foals don't just happen. They'd be popping up all over the place if they did, like dandelions. You've got to get married, of course. Then, well. Well, then. Things happen as they do. Labors of love all round, as it were. Then there's a kid."

[stormbroken]

"...Labors of love. Right. You have no idea what the buck those are, do you?" The fact that Bertie even had to think to find a way that he wasn't innocent only proved her point, but there was no need to press that. "Those mystical 'things' that are only supposed to happen when you're married but find their ways of happening OTHERWISE too? Look, Bertie. This isn't the time or place to talk about what ponies do when they're married, okay? Just drop it."

[tinkertytonk]

Bertie huffs, playing a petulant scale on the piano for comfort. "A chap can hardly be blamed for carrying on what the other party in a conversation brought up, Ms. Star. But consider the matter taken by gravity from the nearest fourth story if you'd like."

[stormbroken]

"I brought up a subject that I didn't realize you knew nothing about. A subject you don't really explain in the middle of a fu--goodbye party or any gathering of ponies at all! It's one thing to joke about it when both parties already know, but to actually go over what I meant..."

Sigh. Flare needs a drink.

[tinkertytonk]

Bertie still doesn't understand why she thinks kids are so very taboo to talk of, but she's right that this is a goodbye party and bickering ought to be left at the door. Or the gate, as the case might be. He draws in a deep breath, then lets it out before plastering a smile on his face once more. The conversation has been an excellent diversion, at least.

"Well, then, in lieu of that, shall I have a crack at this music you've got?"

[stormbroken]

"Go ahead. I dunno how exactly music works, looks more like plans for a parasprite jail than something readable, but the words seemed kind of fitting." Flare shakes her head, glancing to the buffet.

"I think I'll give you some space, though. Last thing we need is to start rambling about crazy-flank weird junk again."

[tinkertytonk]

Bertie can't help chuckling lightly at her assessment of sheet music. However annoyed he is at her recalcitrance, she does have the silliest way of talking about things. "Righto! Enjoy the rest of the party, Ms. Star."

He sets up and starts to play, leaving the odd mare to her own devices.