Chiara Riviera

The damage was worse this time, and Whiplash had already been dismissed for the night. The sting of her numerous cuts and bruises dulled out any sense of emotional pain at her best friend leaving her to rot in the jail cell of Manehattan’s holding cell. The all-too cold bench of the cell had become somewhat of a comforting embrace over her numerous years ending back up in here – now going on three or four years of this dance. The pain-laced scowl was etched on her strikingly-bright face – a huge contrast in itself. Chiara looked nothing like how she acted, and the constant, pure in her face had become unfortunately characteristic for the dreamsicle colored mare. “Alright,” Officer Bobby Copper*, who had become a familiar face to the young mare, “Riviera. I’d like to say it’s good to see you again, but we both know that’s not true. You know I don’t like seeing you two back here.” He paused, continuing his routine. “You and your pal had gotten into that stallion’s house, gotten the safe open, and had been busted by him and his friends when they’d gotten home early. I can’t say I feel sorry for you,” Copper explained, shaking his head. “Still shouldn’t have beaten you both too bad, for bein’ kids an’ all,” he explained, looking up from the foreign filly’s file. “Happy birthday, by the way. Fourteen’s a big number, you know. Foals finally start to grow up when they get around this age. Figure out their goals.” Chiara’s only response was a pain-laced, fury-driven growl. She knew the drill. Copper would try his best to act like everything was fine, and there was nothing wrong. Everything had been wrong. It had been eight long years of everything going , eight long years of never going home. Chiara was getting more upset with each year. After no response from the angry, beaten teenager, the Officer gave a sigh and passed the icepack towards the mare. “Your mother’s going to be here soon. Ice your face.” Gods’ sakes. Chiara found herself seething at Officer Copper’s words, the taste of iron and anger in her mouth. How could he understand anything? He just lectured her, left, and then let her mother scream about how ‘honored and grateful we should be, living in Equestria’. There was nothing honorable or great about this damned country – one that continuously raised prices, gave dirty glares, the two of them, Mother and Daughter, for not being Equestrian born and raised. As if there was something better to be so. Please. Chiara hated every moment here, with the sense that friendship between six Equestrian Ponies could solve every problem in the world. It was a naïve way of thinking, one that Chiara herself had believed once. Her mother had arrived precisely 27 minutes later. Mane wrapped up in silk, jacket haphazardly wrapped around her body, the mare looked like she’d just been dragged from her bed by the news of her daughter being in jail . Knowing Chiara, she had been. Pushing past the entirety of the policemen in her way, Primavera Rosa’s face was never wrapped in anger or anything of the sort, but always disappointment. The disappointment always made Chiara feel a slight pang of shame, but it had never lasted very long. Primavera’s drive for prosperity in Equestria always fueled Chiara’s anger further than any disappointed look ever could. At 2:27 AM on this night, however, there was no disappointment on the foreign mare’s face. For once in Chiara’s life, there was nothing but pure, unrestrained in Primavera Rosa’s eyes. Chiara found herself shrinking back in the cell, despite being safely behind bars from any stray slippers heading her way. “Chiara Riviera! ” The loud shriek came as a harsh to the birthday filly. “You and that Whiplash have pushed it too far this time! Just look at you! You’re purple instead of orange!” Her mother was pacing back and forth in front of the cell, leading the mare to speak her first words since she’d been caught with Whiplash in the stallion’s house, “I’m doing what I have to do, mammi! How else am I supposed to catch your attention at this point! You hardly ever acknowledge me anymore! All of the time it’s just ‘Restaurant this, Equestria that! Aren’t we just so good to be living here?’ No! I hate it here!” Chiara’s ears were pinned against her head, bruised and battered face expressing as much emotion as she could – a black eye, numerous cuts on her face and body, and more bruises to count. Primavera’s own emotions started to flare up, meeting her daughter’s own tone in the middle of the police station. “Why? We have it good here! We have roof on our heads, a good, safe country! Full stomachs! Of course we’re grateful to be here! We are so much better off than we would be back in Bridlely!” Chiara found herself to be crying now, finally fed up. “This is , not mine! I miss the Riviera, the warm water, the days being warmed by the sun! Ever since I’ve been here it’s been nothing but glares and hatred for everything, including how I sound when I speak! I hate it here! You haven’t noticed it! You’ve just been too busy living your own dream that you didn’t care about your daughter! If I have to get into trouble to talk to you, then I’ll keep doing it!” Chiara was shouting as much as her mother, now. It was a scene in the department. Primavera’s eyes narrowed, staring directly through her daughter, “you’re not understanding this! You doing this will get you killed! I’m already in extreme debt now due to your escapades! I can’t keep bailing you out! I financially cannot keep doing this, Chiara! I’m not going to save your hide! You are fourteen tonight! You aren’t supposed to act like this! I don’t know what to do with you anymore!” There it came. Primavera’s eyes, now softening, looked directly at Chiara through the bars. “I can’t do this, Chiara. Not anymore. We can leave, try to work to be better. I don’t want you to end up dead, after all I went through to get us here.” Chiara still, despite their conversation, felt pain and anger. She was still mad at her mother, mad at the country she lived in, mad at the water for letting her leave her home. She couldn’t let eight years of pain and anger fade away at one thing – yet, there was something in Chiara that made her at least want to try. She was tired. Tired of being left behind by friends, tired of the pain she felt when she’d get into trouble. Maybe her mom was being truthful – they could work to be better. Chiara wanted to be better. She was just a scared, tired, upset kid. Officer Copper cleared his throat, before approaching the two and unlocking the cell door. “Don’t worry about the bail this time, Rosa. I want to see Chiara better, too. If this is the start of a good path, then I don’t want y’all worryin’ about money.” He gave a fatherly grin behind his thick mustache, before pausing. Out of his pocket came two tickets – hoofed right over towards Primavera and Chiara. “Here’s some tickets I was gon’ use for myself and one of the other Boys. Think of it like a birthday present, Riviera.” Chiara peered at the ticket name – “Manehattan Flyer’s Derby.” She rolled her eyes. Who wanted to go see some dumb pegasi fly?

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Bridlely hadn’t been much, especially in the seaside town on the riviera. Days had been spent well-warmed by the sun and full of laughter, chasing after her friends along the sea. Life had been good, albeit filled with minute struggles, full of long days ending with her sleeping on the bar at her mother’s job, well into the earliest hours of the morning. It hadn’t been much, but it’d been . Chiara liked Until it wasn’t. The news of “moving day” had been something the filly wasn’t supposed to hear -- overheard between her mother and the fellow cooks in their restaurant. The shouting was what had drawn her, about how the “restaurant was f//ked without it’s best cook”. Her world came crashing down. The news hurt. Primavera and Chiara were Bridlely for a place called “Equestria”, all the way across the sea. a very young Chiara couldn’t believe her too-large ears. Leaving? Why would they want to leave a beautiful town? The riviera was a wonderful sight to wake up to, and the days were full of sun and warmth. Chiara hardly used the word “perfect”, but the seaside town was arguably the textbook definition. -- -- -- The day she was to leave came all-too quickly for Chiara Riviera. she had loved the riviera to the point where she’d taken her last half of her name to reflect that love. The tradition of picking the last half of one’s name became bittersweet, for the young filly had chosen her name only a few months before her inevitable departure, on her sixth birthday. To the young filly, it felt as if she’d been punished in a way. Why did she have to go with her mom? Why wasn’t the Riviera enough? she’d kept repeating this over and over in her head, as she was stuffed onto an all-too crowded boat after not even getting a reasonable amount of time to say goodbye to her , her grandfather. All she’d have to remember him was an old headdress, now used as a scarf for the all-too small filly. She didn’t want to go, not at all. It was warm here, familiar, and it was all she’d known for her six years of her life. And now it was gone. She stared at the ever-fading Riviera-side town with tears streaming down her orange coat, crying out to her mother about leaving. She didn’t want to! This was unfair! She was crying all of these out and more to her mother, who could only look away with a sad look. The filly named after her beloved Riviera no longer lived there. What was there left for her?