Settling In
After their late-night chat, Whirlie stayed over at Pinkie’s, having no furniture and having not even unpacked what little she hauled herself. The next day, Pinkie followed Whirlie home to assist in the unpacking and, by some failure of logic, keep her on track. Most of what Whirlie had brought with her was books and a curious assortment of tools. Unfortunately, with no tables or bookcases (yet), most of the contents of the cart ended up in piles on the floor.
Whirlie was in the process of organizing a stack of notebooks for the third time when she happened to glance over at Pinkie. She tilted her head and frowned, “Why are you wearing an umbrella on your head?”
“My tail is twitchin’!” Pinkie explained. “That means something’s gonna fall...”
*BOOM*
The house shuddered at the sound and Whirlie fell down. Pinkie promptly removed her hat and announced, “All safe!”
The two cautiously opened the front door to find Whirlie’s anvil embedded in the front walk.
“Sorry about that!” called a gray moving pegasus with a bubble cutie mark.
“Don’t worry,” Pinkie explained, “she’s always dropping anvils on ponies. Good thing we were inside!”
-/-
Hours later, the movers had left, but the interior of the house had still not been put away. Whirlie had helpfully provided her diagrams, but the moving ponies had trouble deciphering them while Whirlie had been out front directing the removal and placement of her anvil. She came inside, exasperated to find none of her things where she wanted them. Pinkie just shrugged, explaining that she’d helped (which explained a lot).
“Did they forget to bring your forge?” Pinkie asked after glancing out front.
“No, I’m going to have to have one built. You can’t really move them,” Whirlie explained. “I’m also going to need to make a number of modifications to the house if I’m going to get any work done,” she said, holding open one of her notebooks. Pinkie eyed it intently.
“Well, I know where we can get plenty of rocks!” Pinkie explained. “Tomorrow we can go to my family rock farm and get what you need.”
-/-
Some weeks later, Whirlie was settling into life in Ponyville comfortably. Although she had met a few local ponies, she spent most of her time at home. Being on the outskirts of town, most of the ponies she met were there specifically to do business (either selling her materials, or commissioning repairs or manufacturing).
The modifications to her house were complete: she had a pair of large doors on the back that opened onto a wide, flat, stone platform. A couple of workbenches and bookcases lined the walls of the bottom floor, which was generally open and empty, while her living space was upstairs. Most of her smithing she did out front.
Her business was up and running. She spent most of the day repairing tools and tinkering. Her neighbors only occasionally complained about the hammering noises; and most of those problems were solved by her convincing herself to quit working after dark.
Before too long, she was ready to begin her next personal project. “To the clouds, Whirlie,” she sighed to herself, looking up. She noted Cloudsdale floating by in the distance. “This time, I’m going to make it up there.”
She set off for the town library to research unicorn magic.