Summer Sun, Dawning Chaos

by CTVulpin

Act II, Scene 1: A Day's Work

The noon-day summer sun shone down upon the canopy of the Everfree Forest, which rustled and sulked in its untamed defiance of pony magic. The trees grew thick and bent in the trunk, their upper branches spread as wide as possible and lush with leaves that greedily soaked up most of the sunlight, allowing just enough to nourish the lower foliage and give the diurnal animal residents a clear view around them, provided the mists were not too heavy. The Forest’s defiance of ponykind’s attempts to manage it, as well as the monsters and carnivorous animals which it gave shelter to made it a place where few would tread without a particularly good reason, and no intelligent being of Equestrian origin would even consider building a home in. It comes as no surprise then that the forest’s one resident that outsiders would consider civilized was not Equestrian by birth.

The zebra alchemist Zecora lived in the Everfree, dwelling in a hut carved into an exceptionally short and wide-based tree, for two reasons: the wild forest was home to many a strange and useful plant from which she could derive ingredients, and she understood in a way no pony ever could how the Everfree valued strength and fortitude over compassion and mercy. Long before she had first approached Ponyville, and the challenges of prejudice and ostracizing that came with it, she had won herself a wide circle of forest through which even fierce manticores and sneaky cockatrices would travel with the utmost care for fear of awaking the striped equine’s displeasure. She still had to defend herself from time to time when she was out gathering, but mostly from young creatures who hadn’t earned an aching nose or a fever dream from her.

On this particular day, the rash and the stupid monster whelps were moderately safer, as Zecora was at home with her cauldron, mixing up a fresh batch of what was becoming her most popular product: an herbal bath remedy prized by the Aloe and Lotus of the Ponyville Spa for its fragrance and soothing properties on mild skin irritants, and gratefully far less in demand for its actual purpose. As the brew slowly boiled and thickened, Zecora gave it a quick taste – the surest testament to its safety for use – and declared it to be coming along perfectly. Once the reduction of the mixture was completed, it would be left to cool and dry out into the powdered form Zecora would bottle up and distribute. Satisfied with her progress, Zecora sat back and started to chant one of her favorite foal-hood nursery rhymes, only to be interrupted by a knock at her door, followed by a young voice that was quite familiar to the zebra. “Zecora, are ya home?”

“I am here young Apple Bloom,” Zecora said, walking over to the door, “To what do I owe this unexpected visit from… you?” She faltered and finished the rhyme on reflex as she opened the door and found herself looking at four very long yellow pony legs topped by a filly who was currently eye-level with the top of the doorframe. The zebra expressed her surprise in her native tongue before gathering her wits and asking, “How in the world did you get so tall? Legs like that don’t belong on a body so small.”

“Yer tellin’ me,” Apple Bloom said, “I can’t count how many times I fell on my face getting’ here. Almost lost AJ a couple times.” She attempted to duck and hobble into the hut, only to lose her balance and topple through the doorway. The pink bow in her mane caught on the doorframe and came undone, freeing the apple-red hair to fly up and over into her face as Zecora backed up to catch her. A tiny orange pony tumbled out of the suddenly loose mane and landed with a squeaky grunt on the zebra’s head.

“Applejack I presume?” Zecora asked, rolling her eyes up as she helped Bloom steady herself, “Now I think I know what happened to you and Apple Bloom. Did you forget the warning I gave you, to avoid the flowers of azure hue?”

“Nah, we didn’t forget,” Applejack said, hopping down onto Zecora’s back, and then onto a table when the zebra took her over to it, “We found a patch of the poison joak growin’ in our south field and didn’t recognize what it was until it was too late. We’d done pulled up ‘bout half the weeds afore Apple Bloom realized what we were standing in.”

“The Spa’s all out of the special bath,” Apple Bloom added.

“Well, luck is with you my friends,” Zecora said, nodding at the cauldron, “My work on a new batch is nearly at its end. Allow me a few minutes and you’ll soon be on the mend.” She went to a back room and returned a minute later dragging another large cauldron. She parked it near the fire and then grabbed a ladle and transferred three scoops of the brew into it. “For the two of you, that much should do,” she said after she set the ladle aside, “I’ll fill it with water to the brim, and then let it warm and you can jump on in.” No sooner had she finished speaking than a flash of light and a loud crack went off outside the hut. Apple Bloom jumped in surprise and came down in a jumble of stilt-like legs as an ash-grey unicorn stallion with a fire-like red and orange mane appeared in the open doorway, his mouth hanging open slightly as he took in the scene.

“This… is interesting,” he said after a moment, and then locked his gaze on Zecora and asked, “Can I assume you’ve mixed up some poison joak cure? And does it work before the symptoms show up?”

“Yes,” the zebra said simply.

“Perfect,” Ashen Blaze said, “since I’m obviously not the most urgent patient here, I’ll just wait my turn somewhere out of the way.” He stayed close to the wall as he moved away from the door while Zecora poured two more ladles worth of the cure into the bath cauldron and then went into the back room again. Ash reached the table and did a double-take as he discovered the micro-Applejack standing by the mortar and pestle. “Bah re Applejack,” he said in amazement, “you give a new meaning to the phrase shrinky-dink.”

“Go ahead and get the ‘little’ jokes out of yer system Ash,” the miniature farm pony said, and Ash bit back a laugh at her high pitched voice.

“Nah, I’m… I’m good,” he said, “Soul Mage might’ve had a couple if he were here though.”

“Say,” Apple Bloom said, “how’d you bump inta poison joak anyway Mr. Blaze?”

“I was actually out gathering some,” Ash answered, “Never intended to actually touch the skvetchte plants,” he levitated the pestle to demonstrate his method, “but accidents happen…”

“Why in Celestia’s name would you be doing something like that?” Applejack squeaked, looking askance at Ash.

“Not in Celestia’s name actually,” Ash said, grinning broadly, “In Gale’s.”

Zecora emerged from the back room carrying a bucket of water in her mouth, which she proceeded to empty into the cauldron. “For what purpose does she require poison joak, if I may inquire?”

“The reason she gave me,” Ash said, “is that she’s been itching to rebuild her famous gel launcher from our mercenary days, pre-Tau’rin, modified for an equine build of course. She’s had the magebane gel for some time now – it cancels out most types of magic temporarily, Apple Bloom – and she wants to experiment with new gel types like an accelerated-action poison joak gel. However,” he paused for effect and gave a wistful sigh, “I suspect the true reason is that she, Soul, Heart, and the Princesses are conspiring to keep me busy and out of the castle as much as possible. It’s nice to have people worried about me.”

“Can’t say I understand most of that there explanation,” AJ said, “but if ya need poison joak, I’ve got a patch growin’ on mah farm fer some reason that I’d be more than happy to see go away.”

Ash narrowed one eye at the diminutive pony. “Curious,” he said, “I figured that since the stuff is native to the Everfree Forest that it’s adapted to low-light environments. I wouldn’t expect to see it someplace like well-maintained and very sun-exposed farm.”

“You are quite right Ashen Blaze,” Zecora said, “Poison joak withers under the sun’s full gaze.”

“That warrants investigating then,” Ash said solemnly, “I’ll give the spot a look-over while I’m gathering the blooms. Have Twilight look at it for a second opinion, quarantine the area, and…” he trailed off and waved a hoof idly. “Anyway, let’s get this anti-joak bath ready, shall we? I think I feel my skull starting to swell…”

---

The candles were lit, the curtains were closed, the front door was locked, the owl had been moved upstairs, and the dragon was taking his afternoon nap. With all predictable and avoidable distractions removed (after all, there was no accounting for Pinkie Pie), Twilight Sparkle walked to the center of the room and swept her gaze around, taking in every wall before activating her horn and making her magic spread in every direction. As one, every book in the library jumped off the shelves and formed a spiraling line from the ceiling down to eye-level. With an ease born from monthly repetition of the ritual and basing her actions upon the new organization scheme she’d created and memorized the day before, the lavender librarian began Re-shelving Day by sending the Astronomical Astronomer’s Almanac to All Things Astronomy, 3rd edition to its new home at the beginning of the astronomy sub-section of the science shelves. Soon many other books were soaring through the air, each sent on its way by Twilight after only a brief glimpse at the title. After a minute or so she had established a rhythm and started to tap a hoof in time with the motion of the books moving in for her inspection, and the inkling of a song started to form in the back of her mind.

The sound of somepony trying to open the front door cut through Twilight’s concentration, causing her to pause for a moment in confusion. Did I forget to put out the “Closed” sign? she wondered, Ah well, they’ll get the message anyway. She focused back on the book before her – Super Naturals by chance – only to be distracted by the rattling latch again, followed by a firm knocking. “Go away,” she muttered in a cross sing-song, “nopony’s hooome.” The entreating stopped and Twilight nodded in satisfaction, flinging Super Naturals somewhat faster than was necessary toward its spot on the shelves.

“Twilight Sparkle.” The lavender unicorn bit back a growl of frustration as she recognized something in the voice coming from outside. She put the remaining books on stand-by as she cocked an ear toward the door and waited. “Twilight,” the voice came again, sweet and clear and quite familiar, “open up please.” Twilight gasped and looked around with some panic at the books still floating in the air.

“C-coming,” she called after a tense minute, sending the unshelved books into several hasty and mostly stable stacks as she galloped to the door. She took a second to try and compose herself and present a calm face before unlocking the door and starting to speak automatically. “I’m so sorry! If I’d known it was…” She paused as her brain registered what her eyes were seeing and then spoke again in a flat, unamused tone, “you’re not Princess Celestia.” On the doorstep stood the Great and Powerful Trixie, complete with hat and cape, looking smugly satisfied as she held Cabbage Patch close to her side with one leg. The sea-green pony was staring at the ground, muttering apologetically, and clearly wanted to be anywhere else but couldn’t muster the will to run. “I didn’t know you did impressions Trixie,” Twilight said flatly.

“I don’t,” Trixie said, hugging Cabbage closer, “That was Cabbage here. Impressive, isn’t she?”

“You had me fooled, so yes,” Twilight said, rolling her eyes, “What do you want Trixie? I’m busy.”

“It’s about my show,” Trixie began.

“Ah,” Twilight interrupted impatiently, “sorry, I haven’t found the time to come see it yet. I’ll go this evening if I can finish re-shelving all my books.”

“Thank you for that,” the showmare said dryly, “but that’s not… quite what I was going to mention. I need you to pull some more strings, because despite how well-received Trixie’s Traveling Thespians were at the Summer Sun Celebration, we can’t seem to attract a proper audience for our real shows.”

Twilight regarded Trixie and Cabbage, who was stealing furtive glances up at the librarian pony, for a few moments before sighing sadly. “Look, Trixie,” she said, “It’s great how you’re willing to ask for help, but I don’t know the first thing about show business. The best I could do is try to find a book on the subject, and my library’s not even halfway organized at the moment. Besides, the best way to get Ponyville, or any place I think, to like you is to let them all get to know you. I really shouldn’t be the only pony you come to with problems.”

Trixie rolled her eyes to the sky, let Cabbage go to put a hoof over her heart, and gave a dramatic sigh of longsuffering. “Oh the irony,” she said, “The Great and Powerful Trixie has overcome so much, only to be defeated time and again by the apathy of one. Little. Village. I think I preferred it when I was hated here.”

Twilight wasn’t sure whether to be concerned for Trixie and her company’s well-being or annoyed at the unsubtle jab at her home, so she settled on being unimpressed by the theatrics. It wasn’t too difficult to keep her posture impassive and her eyes hooded, having gained experience from Rarity’s occasional overreactions. Twilight’s eyebrow quirked upward slightly as she thought about that and an idea came to her. “Rarity’s pretty knowledgeable about getting ponies to attend fashion shows,” she said, “Why don’t you go see if she has some advice?”

Trixie’s hoof moved from her chest to her chin as she thought. “She works in that building that slightly resembles a carousel, correct?” she asked. Twilight nodded and Trixie turned away with a flourish. “Trixie thanks you for your help Twilight,” she said, “and hopes you don’t mind if Trixie has to use your name to get the time of day from Rarity.”

“I doubt you’ll have to, but good luck,” Twilight said as Trixie walked away, Cabbage Patch trotting close behind her. Twilight started to close the door and turn her attention back to her work, but then poked her head outside and called out, “Wait a second. Cabbage Patch?” The small sea-green earth pony flinched as she and Trixie stopped and turned their heads to look back at Twilight. “That was an excellent impression of the Princess,” the lavender pony said, “Do you do others?” Cabbage nodded slowly. “I’d like to hear them sometime,” Twilight continued with an encouraging smile. A blush came to Cabbage’s cheeks and she murmured something that sounded like a stammering “thank-you” before she turned her head away. Trixie gave Twilight smile before turning and leading the way down the road. Twilight pulled her head back into the library, closed and locked the door, and turned back to her books. “Now, where were we?”

---

“You see little filly?” Trixie asked rhetorically as she and Cabbage walked, “You have a real gift that needs to be shared.” She levitated her hat off her head and held it above Cabbage’s, making it wobble teasingly as she continued, “Twilight Sparkle is very close to Princess Celestia, so if you fooled her, you can easily impress the common pony up on stage. We’ll make a showmare of you yet.”

“We shouldn’t have tricked her,” Cabbage muttered, her voice quiet and dull but with a hint of an attitude.

“Well, she wasn’t answering my more polite knocks,” Trixie replied, putting her hat back on.

“She wasn’t happy about it,” Cabbage droned insistently, “We were interrupting something, and she only said what she needed to get us to leave.”

“Nonsense,” Trixie said confidently, “she might have been a little irritated at first, but she was truly trying to help. Now come on, time waits for no pony.”

“Do I really have to?” Cabbage asked with a slight whine, “I just want to go home. Why couldn’t Barnacle come with us? I feel safer around him.”

“Cabbage Patch,” Trixie began, and then paused for a moment to consider the approach she should take. “Captain Salt is a good pony,” she said at last in an approximation of a motherly tone, “but I think that sometimes he shelters you too much. Somewhere under this shy, stage-frightened shell of yours is a fine actress that needs to come out. You can’t spend your whole life as a seapony in a tank.” Cabbage didn’t reply, simply letting her head droop a little and adamantly ignoring her surroundings as she let Trixie lead her through the town. Trixie walked with an air of complete confidence, meeting the gaze of any pony who glanced her way and pointedly not reacting to any unfriendly looks she received. The pair found the Carousel Boutique without incident and were pleased to see that it was open for business.

The bell on the door jingled merrily as Trixie entered the fashion store with Cabbage almost attached to her side. There was brief murmur of conversation from an upstairs room, and then a white unicorn with a long purple mane and tail styled into an elegant curl and wearing a pair of thick-rimmed red glasses on her forehead appeared at the top of the stairs. “Welcome to the Carousel Boutique,” she said, “what a surprise to see you here Trixie. Are you considering putting some variety into your costuming as well?”

“No,” Trixie said, turning her nose up at the idea, “Trixie is quite satisfied with her iconic… wait, what do you mean by ‘as well’?”

“Your friend Harlequin just so happens to be here right now and – Wahaha!” She jumped to the side as Trixie bolted up the stairs, past her into the hallway, and found the mustard-yellow tumbling clown pony in Rarity’s workroom contemplating himself and the half-completed tweed jacket draped across his back in a full-length mirror. He noticed Trixie glaring at him in the reflection and put on a charming smile as he turned to face her.

“Quin,” Trixie said in a low warning tone.

“Trixie,” he replied with an unconcerned nod.

“Excuse me,” Rarity said huffily from behind Trixie, “I don’t know how you do things on the road missy, but you could at least show some proper manners when you’re in somepony’s home.”

“How much was that going to cost you?” Trixie asked Harlequin, ignoring the upset fashionista.

“We haven’t discussed the price yet,” Harlequin answered.

“Harlequin,” Trixie said, trying to keep her voice level as she advanced on him, “We do not the bits to splurge on luxuries right now. We’re barely bringing in enough money right now to keep food in the larder. And you were supposed to be talking up the show!”

“I was,” Harlequin said defensively, “From the scuttlebutt I picked up, I figured Ms. Rarity here was a pretty influential pony. So, I figured I’d pay her a visit, see if I couldn’t put my charm to good use.” His grin shifted from confident to sheepish as Trixie’s eye started to twitch.

“How you ever survived on your own is beyond me,” the showmare said, shaking her head. She turned around to face Rarity, who was still looking irritated at her. “I must apologize,” she said, earning a slightly sharper look from the white unicorn, “Quin does have a… problem resisting the urge to buy things, especially if it’s something that looks nice.”

“I see,” Rarity said, mollified, “Well, if money is an issue…”

“Oh, it is,” Trixie said emphatically, “and that’s why we,” she cast a glance back at Harlequin, who was looking forlornly at the jacket he’d been denied, “have come to you. I, at the least, was hoping to get some advice on how to gain greater attendance at our shows in this town.”

“Hmm,” Rarity said, lowering her glasses over her eyes and stretching her head forward to give Trixie a critical look-over. “Well, that won’t be a simple matter by any means,” she said at last, giving a despairing wave of her hoof as she turned toward the door, “after all you have such a certain… reputation that needs to be taken into account, and even in such a laid-back and simple town such as Ponyville a reputation can be a powerful thing. I wonder if even my simply fabulous talents of persuasion and charm would be up to the task? And would it be worth my time?”

“Please do not tease Trixie,” the azure unicorn said, following Rarity as she headed toward the stairs, “This is a livelihood we’re speaking of here, not just for the Great and Powerful Trixie, but for three other ponies who have thrown in their lot with Trixie. Besides, you bear an Element of Harmony, do you not? Generosity I believe?”

Rarity paused at the top of the stairs and looked back at Trixie. “Yes I am,” she said proudly, “but that does not mean I can’t expect some return on the time and resources I invest in something. I do have a business to run after all.”

Finding herself at a temporary loss for words – a distressing turn of events in itself – Trixie simply kept after Rarity as she started downstairs. They came to a stop halfway down when they both spotted Cabbage Patch standing on one of the modeling platforms, striking poses while tying and wrapping a small collection of ribbons onto various parts of her body. Rarity’s gaze went from the earth pony to the now somewhat disarrayed box of decorative ribbons that she had put out for sale and then over her shoulder and up at Trixie. “She likes ribbon and cloth,” Trixie explained with a shrug, “They’re like a security blanket for her or something.” The showmare’s voice caught Cabbage’s attention, and she froze in her place and looked up guiltily at Rarity.

“No worries darling,” the white unicorn said reassuringly, finishing her descent of the stairs, “I like to see ponies enjoying themselves with my wares. Just, do be careful and put them back when you’re done. Unless, that is, you intend to purchase some?”

“Um…” Cabbage said, sitting down. She untied the ribbons she was wearing and started to fold them up nicely, but with a longing in her eyes that Trixie could see from her spot on the stairs. “I…” the small pony whispered as she smoothed out a wide pastel green ribbon, “I like… this one a lot. But…” She looked up at Trixie, her face a perfect picture of the conflict playing out in her mind. The sound of hooves at the top of the stairs gave Trixie an excuse to look away, but it only gave her a view of Harlequin, who was trying to hide some disappointment of his own.

“Oh, things were so much easier when it was just Trixie,” the showmare muttered to herself. She trotted down the stairs and over to Rarity. “Perhaps we can make a deal,” she said, “If you help Trixie’s Traveling Thespians make some real money in this town, and I mean selling out within the next week or two, we’ll buy some ribbons and let Quin get that suit.” Her companions perked up and Cabbage ran over and almost hugged her. “Of course, that means everypony puts in their best, right?” Trixie said, looking at Harlequin and Cabbage, “No show, no matter how well advertised, is a success if the audience isn’t inspired to come back.”

“All right Trixie,” Rarity said, smiling, “this will be quite a challenge, but I’ll lend you a hoof. Go fetch your pegasus friend and meet me back here in half an hour. We have plans to make.”

Comments

[UseFistNotMouth]

Love the cover image too.