Beep! Beep! Be-WHUMP!
Another day, another dent in the alarm clock.
Vinyl Scratch pulled her foreleg back from the offending nightstand, cursing her infernal timepiece. Even though the event had ended early last night, she’d barely gotten any sleep.
Usually, pulling her equipment to and from venues sapped enough energy to fall asleep the moment she fell onto her cot, but after everything last night, stress had wrapped around her like a bad coltfriend. She tossed and turned all night with barely a moment's peace. Old, bitter memories masqueraded as dreams, shaking her awake every time.
Smacking her lips, she futilely tried to chase away the taste of her morning breath. Anytime she forgot to brush her teeth before bed, she swore something would crawl on her tongue and die. Her heavy eyes refused to open after her bouts of sleeplessness. Instead of fighting it, Vinyl stumbled blindly out of bed, nearly slipping on the sleeve of a discarded wool sweater as she got to her hooves.
She felt for patches of cold floorboards to guide her steps among the scattered piles of laundry and loose electronics to the kitchen. The blind trek might’ve been more impressive if the kitchen wasn’t also the bedroom, the living room, and whatever other room she needed it to be in her single slice of Canterlot. At least she had her own tiny bathroom so she wasn’t locked in a staring contest with her toilet every mealtime.
Her leg thunked against a familiar, plastic door. With the promise of potential energy at hoof, her eyes were coaxed into narrowly opening to see what she could raid from the fridge. All that remained from previous visits was a carton of less-than-freshly squeezed orange juice and a dwindling bottle of Mountain Mist soda.
“Oh, right. I was supposed to go to the store yesterday,” Vinyl grumbled to herself. At least it would cover all the essential vitamins and caffeine she needed to start her day.
Vinyl used the fullest extent of her culinary prowess to pour the remaining soda into the carton and shake it into a half-flat brew. Rummaging through her pantry, or rather the overhead cabinet closest to the mini fridge, she dug around looking for anything that didn’t need boiling water and three minutes. The best pairing would be the box of Fruity Bites cereal, but everypony knew the best part of eating neon-colored cardboard in a bowl was drinking the multicolored milk at the end.
“Didn’t I buy apples this week?” she asked herself.
While she had, the real question was if she had eaten them already. She’d have to bribe her brain with caffeine before it was willing to remember the answer. But, she was unwilling to drink her concoction by itself. She blearily scanned the room for her red delicious quarry until her eyes drifted over her pride and joy, the Aquarius MXT-300 Series StarWhirler, or rather, the Aqu—gaping hole—irler. While the damage was distressing, the more pressing issues were the two slices of cake sitting atop the turntable from the night before.
Despite taking a spin on the turntable and a bumpy trek home, they had largely maintained their isosceles shape. The only damage they suffered was a slight bend at the tips which bent inwards like a pair of delectable devil horns. Her urge to vaporize them as a stand-in for Upper Crust was countered by her hunger. “Cake” was only a “pan” prefix away from a morning staple anyway, so it counted in her book.
With an unbalanced breakfast finally assembled, she pulled her folding tray over to her sofa to dig in. The furniture's aging springs creaked and whined in protest, refusing to properly function like a couch. It took some shifting before she found a comfortable spot to start eating. When she was finally ready, Vinyl greedily took her first swig of her morning brew.
There was a school event not too long ago where somepony had snuck some party salts for their fruit punch. After Vinyl had downed her fourth or fifth glass, she had the brilliant idea to lick an ionized power sapphire to see if it tasted as good as it looked. Its electrifying sourness was shockingly similar to the current double-dose of citric acid burning all the way down her throat. On the bright side, the corrosive flavor was waking her up faster than the caffeine.
Checking the clock, Vinyl was slightly ahead of schedule to make it to the lab on time. She rewarded herself for punctual behavior with her first bite of cake. Even with her taste buds savaged by citrus, the slightly stale, yet heavenly cream still swam through her mouth, wrapping her tongue in sweet blankets of bliss. It almost made up for all the trouble Fleur had caused over the dessert last night.
Vinyl opted to finish her cake before chugging the rest of her fuel for the day. She’d probably need it if any of the fallout found its way back to the School for Gifted Unicorns. The faculty were fine with all sorts of accidents happening on school grounds. Off-campus incidents, on the other hoof, were another story.
“Your actions reflect upon all of us, Miss Scratch” as well as “Please bear that in mind next time you blah blah blah” could be found alongside other disciplinary lectures on a collection of greatest hits by authority figures. They came from such illustrious institutions as Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns, the Equestrian Society of Performing Arts, the Canterlot Royal Guard, and many more. Free shipping to detention or jail was always available if she acted out.
Trouble was a constant state of being for the DJ, be it a party getting too wild, rubbing an aristocrat the wrong way, or a wild party upsetting an aristocrat. Part of her wished she could just sneak off to the underground nightclub scene full-time, but that would be admitting defeat. She needed the school for her plans, and losing was not an option. Not when she still had something to prove.
Vinyl licked the last bit of frosting off the plate before tossing it into the kitchen sink’s soapy water to deal with later. There were still a few more morning rituals to perform before starting her day, and dwelling on her creeping anxiety was not one of them.
Vinyl Scratch might’ve been a major screw up, but DJ Pon-3 was no quitter.
Vinyl buried her muzzle into her scarf, bracing it against the cold morning air. With musical precision, she locked her door with a click, turn, slide to the rhythm of the music blasting through her headphones. After a quick test of the unmoving door, she turned up the beats, muting the outside world as she pulled her coat tighter.
All around her, the streets of Canterlot were already bustling with morning activity. Ponies made their way to work, school, or whatever else dragged them out of bed in the morning. If their faces were any indication, the school fillies and colts were far more interested in the snow than their education. They kept stopping to lob freshly packed snowballs at one another while their parents fought to keep them in line.
One particularly precocious colt across the street from her tried to sneak a snowball while nopony was looking, but the powdery white projectile forming behind his back wasn’t exactly subtle. His father whipped around and dispelled both the snowball and any playful notions behind it immediately. Vinyl knew the type from how he was dressed. They probably had too much wealth and prestige to risk enjoying such common pleasures. The slightest hint of simple fun was an affront to the sanctity of their status.
Still, Vinyl was a responsible mare who knew right from wrong. Without a second thought, she whipped up an oversized snowball and pelted the killjoy’s withers while nopony was looking. It exploded right on target, covering the back of his head while slipping a cold, slushy payload down the collar of his coat.
The stallion reared back from the freezing touch and looked fervently for the little hooligan responsible for the heinous act. He paid no mind to Vinyl’s calm pace away. Her shades and scarf did plenty to hide her snickering. To top it off, the stallion’s ire refocused on his chills, allowing his son to join his friends in the foalish fun. Vinyl silently thanked the stars such ponies were idiots. Heaven forbid anypony do anything remotely enjoyable to the slight inconvenience of their parents’ schedules.
Vinyl quickly maxed out her headphones to derail that bitter train of thought before it could travel any further. She didn’t want to ruin her day before it even started.
Five blocks, three streets, and a couple of bridges later, Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns came into view. The pristine institution catered to ponies of all ages, producing many of the finest unicorns the world had ever known. Vinyl wouldn’t necessarily count herself among the particularly gifted, but she felt she made up for it with unyielding tenacity.
Chatting up a trio of young fillies near the main entrance was Fleur de Lis. To the casual observer, the tall beauty shone as a pinnacle of Equestrian perfection. The lady carried herself with perfect royal form and refined dignity, an up-and-coming gem of the elite world. She turned heads and set trends anywhere she went when she wanted.
And Fleur herself couldn’t care less about any of that.
Those who could remember the swan during her ugly duckling days knew her better as Schlurr De’Lish, a paradoxically plump and lanky nerd with speech-impeding braces. Sure, the insulting name was made by bullies to tear her down, but by the time Vinyl had met her, she’d hardened into a diamond and didn’t give a flying feather about what they had to say. If somepony called her fat, she bragged about eating sweets at her mom’s bakery every day. If they poked fun at her braces, she’d spray spit-filled “tongue twishtersh” into their faces. And if they tried to tear her down for her obsession with Ogres and Oubliettes, she’d show off her fleurs-de-lis cutie mark, the same classy mark as her favorite original character, Lady Faire.
It turned out she’d have the last laugh. Her features became more refined over the years. Her pudge morphed into shapely curves, her braces gave way to a pristine smile, and everypony either forgot or repressed the origins of the real-life lady. Fleur could’ve turned over a new chapter in her life after blossoming into a natural beauty, but she was still the same Schlurr De’Lish underneath it all.
So, it was no surprise to Vinyl seeing Fleur de Lis wearing an oversized, gray sweater with a poorly crocheted winter cap. The drab ensemble looked exceedingly comfortable to Vinyl, but it was also the sort of wardrobe malfunction that would give any fashion pony a mild stroke. Fleur had joined several small fillies in the snow to make snow alicorns on the freshly powdered campus lawn. With hers fully formed, she quickly grew bored of waiting for the others to finish and started rolling around on her back and barking. The giggling fillies around the dog and pony show ate the act up while passersby tried to ignore the strange mare’s antics.
Vinyl couldn’t help but snicker to herself. “Never change, Schlurr, never change.”
When the DJ drew closer across the snow-covered grounds, the puppy sensed a new presence and perked up with her ears at full alert. Fleur flopped onto her belly and surveyed the area while sniffing the air. When her eyes caught the glint of Vinyl’s shades, a mischievous smirk crossed the larger unicorn’s face.
“AROOO!” Fleur howled at the morning sun, stopping Vinyl in her tracks. Fleur scampered to her hooves and charged full tilt towards her best friend. Her beautifully brushed tail wagged back and forth as her loose tongue lolled in the wind.
“W-wait! Fleur!”
Vinyl scrambled to stop the quickly approaching pony-dog with her magic, but Fleur shot a quick counterspell. Fleur dove headlong and crashed into Vinyl with the strength of a hoofball linebacker. The two tumbled over and under across the ground, sending the DJ’s signature shades and headphones flying. As they came to a stop and Vinyl’s head smacked against the snow, she began to think maybe a little change wouldn’t be so bad after all.
Vinyl shook the dizziness away, only to find herself pinned under Fleur’s heavier frame. She didn’t know how a pony with a model’s body could weigh so much. A smattering of loud slurps snapped her back to reality. The stunt apparently hadn’t been enough for Fleur seeing as how she was lapping up the snow off of Vinyl’s scarf.
“Fleur! What in Tartarus are you doing?”
Fleur answered with a happy bark and friendly lick to Vinyl’s face.
“I should’ve seen that coming,” Vinyl grumbled to herself. She shuffled and squirmed trying to free herself, but the mutt wasn’t budging an inch. “Would you get off of me already?”
“She’s a puppy. Ya gotta say ‘heel,’” one of the fillies remarked between giggle fits.
“Yeah, she’s a, how you say, a method actor!” another one wearing Vinyl’s shades added in her best Lady Faire impression.
“What's a method actor?” the last of the trio asked. The others looked at each other and replied with a bewildered shrug.
Vinyl’s face soured at the oversized puppy pinning her to the ground. The evil glint in back of Fleur’s eyes demanded she play along, for the sake of the fillies, of course. The defeated DJ fell back into the snow and sighed. “Fine. Heel, Fleur.”
“Ah ah ah, pas assez bon, Vinyle,” Fleur admonished with saccharine sweetness. “A canine responds to authority. Try once more, but with…” she paused for a dramatic finish. “The magicks!”
“Bite me.”
A twinkle of excitement followed by a sinister grin crossed Fleur’s face. Vinyl quickly realized her ill-worded “yes, and” prompt for the voice actress to follow. Fleur welcomed the opportunity by clicking her teeth together, testing their chompers’ tensile strength.
“Heel-heel-heel-heel! For-the-love-of-Celestia, HEEL!”
Fleur flipped off her prone friend, shook the loose snow from her sweater, and ran Primrose’s Proper Priming spell to restore her own mane and tail before declaring to their audience, “End scene!”
The fillies stomped their hooves in delight, cheering the performance to the horror of several onlookers. Meanwhile, Vinyl grumbled a few swears under her breath as she righted herself from the cold ground. Fleur retrieved Vinyl’s accessories from her new filly friends and promised they could have some more fun later. Finally acting her age, she sent the fillies inside to get to their magic kindergarten classes.
“Sorry about that, Vy.” Fleur passed Vinyl’s gear back to her as a tepid peace offering.
Vinyl snatched them back, slipping the headphones around her neck and sliding her amethyst lenses back on for her signature look. “No you’re not.”
“When you’re right, you’re right.”
A jolt of pink recast cleansing magic shot up Vinyl’s body, ridding Fleur’s slobbery mess from her face. The spell ended by wrapping around Vinyl’s unkempt mane and tail, straightening, detangling, and unknotting themselves until they bounced into a shorter version of Fleur’s stylish flowing waves. Vinyl blew an errant bang from her face and glared at her friend.
“Whoops! That was an actual accident. Here, let me just fix that.” A quick ruffling of hooves through her mane and Vinyl was looking more like her rough, sporty self. “There. Deglamorized and ready for some research!”
The school belltower sounded, signaling the ten minute warning before classes would begin. The remaining elementary schoolers stampeded through the doors in a mad rush to their rooms while the older students took their time filing into the doors. Fleur removed her sweater upon entering and assumed her proper role of the head-turning mare and fell in behind Vinyl’s trot inside.
Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns encompassed all levels of study, from magic kindergarten all the way to advanced arcane studies. It wasn’t uncommon for impressionable fillies and colts to sneak around to see the advanced magic from the older students and researchers. They’d watch Royal Guard trainees duke it out on the training grounds or take a peek at their favorite school of magic being performed by masterful mages. As for Vinyl and Fleur, they were among the number of research students diving deeper into their spellcraft than the average student.
From the moment they stepped through the doors, they were met by a mix of curious looks, glares, and whispers. It wouldn’t have been odd given what had just happened in the yard, but there was an underlying hostility that was hard to miss. It was worse than the time they’d rigged a microphone with a speech jamming sigil at a school assembly and gotten their whole grade level in trouble. While the unintentional victim had laughed the prank off, the Headmistress Pennywhistle was less than amused. Still, it was hilarious, if a little terrifying, hearing Princess Celestia babbling unintelligibly to kick off Spell Safety Week.
“Hey,” Vinyl whispered, trying to get her friend’s attention. “You didn’t pull that dog stunt on anypony else, did you?”
“No. Why do you ask?”
At first, Vinyl thought Fleur was pulling her leg, but shooting a glance out of the corner of her eye, she realized why. Every eye was locked on her. For once, Fleur was the invisible one out of their duo. At the club, there was sound equipment, fencing, and security phones to keep the unruly crowds away. But here, Vinyl felt exposed. Completely vulnerable. She pulled her scarf over her mouth, hoping to hide her nerves as she quickened her pace.
DJ Pon-3 may be used to basking in the spotlight, but Vinyl Scratch didn’t like the attention one bit.
With all the scrutiny Vinyl was being bombarded with, they couldn’t have arrived at the Magical Acoustics Research Department quickly enough. Vinyl’s quickened pace had devolved into a mad dash by the time they’d reached the top floor of the school. Fleur called out for Vinyl to slow down as she darted through the department’s inner hallway to reach the audio lab. She barely squeezed through the door before Vinyl slammed it behind them and locked it. A wave of relief washed over her as she slid down the side of the soundproofed walls.
The lab’s stale air was divine when compared to the choking atmosphere outside. The entire department previously served as the school of illusion’s third lab, but Dr. Arpeggio Melody, their professor and head researcher, renovated the space for his auditory illusory studies. His pride and joy was the multipurpose audio laboratory and recording studio. It was also Vinyl’s favorite place in the whole school, her home away from home, and now her sanctuary for the day.
“Vy!” Fleur shouted between labored breaths. “What the hay was that all about?” She shot a spell through the window looking in from the lab’s control room, flipping on the ‘Live’ sign. There was a thrum of magic as sound wards in the walls activated, giving them a little added privacy.
“I don’t know, you tell me!” Vinyl shot back, her scratchy voice cracking more than usual.
“I’m not the one trying to break Wonderbolt land records here!”
“Seriously? Did you not notice everypony staring daggers at me from the moment we set hoof in the school?” Vinyl removed her shades to wipe her brow with her trembling foreleg.
“Now, I wouldn’t say daggers, but I did see a couple of sporks in the bunch: the unholy matrimony of cheap utensils.” Fleur began clicking on the room’s lights and equipment. “Maybe some of my endearing charm is finally starting to rub off on you.”
“I mean it, Fleur! It was like I’d just danced in the endzone after bucking a basket of kittens.”
The colorful imagery earned a snicker and a passing hug from Fleur on her way out of the recording studio. A few moments later, she reappeared in the control room to bring the rest of the lab to life. She reached over to a microphone on the console, toggling it with a familiar buzz of static.
“My money’s on their parents getting bent out of shape about last night.” Fleur said through the speakers. “You know how Canterlotians just love to find a reason to complain.”
Vinyl grunted at the notion, but recollected herself to assist Fleur in their routine checkup. She threw herself into triple testing the sound equipment in a vain hope of routine chasing the anxiety away.
“Check. One, two, check,” Vinyl sounded off. She waited for a response, but nothing came back. “Everything sound good on your end?” She glanced back towards the control room, but she wasn’t at the console.
Stepping closer to the window she could see Fleur was standing at the coffee station. Vinyl knocked on the window, but apparently her friend was too engrossed with her beverage prep to notice. Vinyl didn’t have the patience to sit still with her nerves flying all over the place, so she quickly trotted to the room to check the rest of it herself.
“You could at least finish the list before making your latte.” Vinyl’s half-jokingly complained, but Fleur ignored her goading. “Fleur?”
“Hey, umm, Vy?” Fleur called warily, “You might want to have a look at this.”
Vinyl shrugged as she hovered the paper over to her. She’d nearly taken her seat to look at it, but a bright yellow sticky note stopped her in her tracks. On it was a hastily scrawled note.
In a meeting about THIS! - Arpeggio
An arrow on the edge pointed to a headline: From Riches to Rags! Deafening Screech Causes Chaos During Winter Rollout. Under it was a picture of none other than Upper Crust in her wine-drenched dress among several other angry socialites with messes from the previous evening. Vinyl couldn’t help but snicker with a cheshire grin. Going beyond the headline though, the rest of the article quickly wiped the smirk off of Vinyl’s face.
What was supposed to be a warm welcome of winter at the Festival of Flakes held in the Royal Sister’s Castle Courtyard turned to catastrophe after the party was brought to a quick close last night.
A local delinquent Vinyl Scratch, known better as DJ Pon-3, abused her stage presence by blasting festival attendees with a deafening screech from her sound system in the middle of the Festival of Flakes. What has been termed the “Vinyl Screech” could be heard throughout the castle district and surrounding area, causing headaches, disorientation, and disruption of royal proceedings.
“It was quite the amazing sound...” Princess Luna said in an interview during her Night Court. When we asked if the court was interrupted, she said they were able to maintain control, but “could only imagine how the nocturne among the guard were faring,” in reference to their heightened sense of hearing. There were reports of affected nocturne hearing the screech as far as Grand Canterhorn Station on the outskirts of the city. The princess refused further comment.
Those at the festival were subjected to a “near ear-shattering shrieking sound,” according to attendees. The pressure was enough to disrupt magic spells and there were reports of broken glass and other damages.
“You can see the destruction for yourself!” Upper Crust, CEO of Horst Holdings who had been celebrating a recent acquisition, said while showing off her now ruined Imperial Crystalline dress. “That little anarchist took one of the premiere parties of the year and utterly annihilated it. And for what? To put herself in the spotlight? To make a mockery of a beloved annual tradition? Ruin a wonderful evening for the best and brightest of Canterlot? Well, we weren’t looking before, but we certainly are now. I promise you, there will be consequences.”
DJ Pon-3 performs regularly at the Cantrips night club on Dressage Drive and was reportedly commissioned as a last minute musical substitution for the event. Her last major public performance was during the Royal Wedding of Princess Mi Amore Cadenza and Prince Shining Armor, despite her reported anti-establishment leanings. We spoke to two of her previous contractors who attended the party, Photo Finish and Hoity Toity, for more details.
“Ah yes, Frau Scratch is strictly business[…] She comes, she plays, she goes!” Photo Finish said when asked about their working relationship. When we asked for more detail about her aggressive tendencies she referred to her as “a firebrand: spontaneous and unpredictable.”
“I can’t think of a single time the DJ has accepted an offer from me outside of playing for one of my fashion shows,” Hoity Toity said. After speaking to him at length, he admitted he may be “reassessing their working relationship.”
After the “Vinyl Screech,” the DJ quickly finished her performance and fled the scene with her equipment. Upper Crust and other concerned citizens are now looking into preventing such future disturbances from occurring again at a high profile event.
“We’ve already begun looking into what legal responses, if any, can be taken against [DJ Pon-3],” Upper Crust said. “We will not stand for this. If nothing else, we will do everything in our power to make sure she is never given a stage to vandalize again.”
Fancy Pants had abandoned his breakfast tea halfway through the article and now the Canterhorn Courier itself, flopping the paper down in frustration. He expected some backlash from the whole debacle last night, but the accident must’ve really struck a nerve with somepony connected to the paper. The article made the Vinyl Screech sound even worse than the recent changeling’s invasion. The Festival of Flakes hadn’t even been the worst offender in recent memory. That dubious honor was held by the last Grand Galloping Gala. The castle’s ballroom was still a month away from being fully repaired last he checked.
“Miss Fluffer Duster, a moment, if you would,” Fancy Pants called from behind his newspaper.
“Y-yes sir. Right away,” a timid voice called from the second floor.
Fancy glanced to the floor above as the pegasus finished dusting the tops of the bookshelves. The maid carefully descended to the spot beneath her before quietly making her way towards the spiral staircase connecting the floors of his enormous study.
“Miss Duster, you have my permission to glide down if you wish.”
She nearly tripped over her hooves at the improper suggestion. She peered over the banister nervously attempting to determine if this was a test of some sort from her new employer. Fancy set his paper next to his tea and stood to his hooves, giving the shivering gray pony his full attention.
“Miss Duster, you are free to use your natural abilities as you see fit as long as you are careful. You most certainly wouldn’t see me restricting my magic in Cloudsdale or Las Pegasus.”
“Yes sir. Very good, sir.”
Fluffer Duster surveyed the area below as the battle between proper Canterlot etiquette and expedience waged in her furtive glances. After one last check, she leapt over the bannister and fluttered down, landing gently next to Fancy Pants. She cast a few cautionary glances around the room, worried that somepony might’ve seen her breach of Canterlot decorum.
“Not to worry, Miss Duster. My mother flew freely through these halls before you were even born. Besides, I’ve never seen the point of that old rule. Born more out of tribalist wing envy than caution if you ask me.” Fancy gave her a knowing wink, bringing a small smile to her face. “Besides, the way I see it, if you knock anything over, you’re just giving yourself more work to do. I believe that alone is enough incentive to be more than careful when inside.”
Fluffer Duster’s smile fell away and she nodded fervently in agreement. Her eyes wandered around the various trappings and treasures decorating the room, each one likely worth more than what she made in a month.
“An urgent matter has come up that requires my immediate attention and I will need to reassess my morning.” Fancy Pants reached into his coat, producing his well-worn pocket planner. He flipped through the pages to the day’s schedule and scanned the time slots, wondering if he could squeeze something between his appointments.
“Right,” the maid said as she straightened up. “I was going to inform you when you finished your tea, but a letter came this morning from Monsieur Gustave le Grande. It said he will be unable to attend brunch this morning.”
“How unfortunately fortuitous,” Fancy thought aloud as he amended his schedule. He scribbled a few notes to calculate how much time it had allotted him and paused. “Did he happen to say why?”
“I believe it was something about a parasprite swarm near one of his new restaurants in Baltimare. He said he may be unavailable for the rest of the month.”
“The rest of the month? Are you sure?” Fancy Pants asked with growing concern. “Did he say anything about the twenty-third?”
“He was quite clear about it in the letter. Also, parasprites can be quite devastating, you know. We had an infestation in Cirriucuse when we floated too close to the Everfree Forest. It took us weeks to repair the skyloft gardens.”
All the warmth was sapped out of the room when Fancy Pants sighed deeply and began jotting down several notes. He flipped back and forth between pages as the sound of quickly turning pages chilled the air. She opened her mouth to say something, but the deepening furrow of his brow sealed her lips.
It was quite amazing how quickly this winter was becoming one of discontent. The season was off to a terrible start right out the gate, but there was no point in cursing a bit of rotten luck. Fancy tucked his troubles back into his coat, only to see they’d spilled over onto the poor maid next to him. Her legs were locked in place, her wings were folded securely at her side, and her eyes were focused forward on nothing in particular; all the sure signs of a terrified messenger fearing the bad news she’d delivered.
“That will be all Miss Duster,” he said, making the mare jump slightly. “Thank you for your patience, and I apologize for losing my temper.”
She curtsied and excused herself posthaste, using her newfound flying permissions to quickly dart back up to her cleaning duties. She nearly knocked over a vase, but caught it mid-spiral, setting it right with a nervous squeak before diving back into her work.
Fancy Pants shook his head and pulled his pocket watch out, hoping he had enough time to salvage his schedule before afternoon tea. “Now then, which fire to put out first?”