Alarm Clock

by Meta Four

Fae and Loathing in Ponyville (Morning One)

For the second morning, Ditzy woke to jaunty brass notes and decided to leave the radio playing.

“I’m feeling fiiiiiiiine,
got nothing to complain ’bout!
I’m on my way,
it’s just an average day!”

I haven’t heard this song in a decade, she thought. “Then suddenly it gets played two mornings in a row,” she said. “What are the odds?”

“I turn on the ray-ay-di-o,
to see what’s on,
but to my surprise ...”

She ignored the song as she entered her bathroom and washed up. The song ended while she was brushing her teeth.

“What the hay is this? Hey, Two Tone, did KTRT turn into an oldies station while I wasn’t looking?”

Way to go, ladies, Ditzy thought. you’re playing yesterday’s tape.

“Well, that depends, Vinyl.”

“Unless …” Ditzy’s eyes widened. She flew back into her bedroom, toothbrush still in her mouth, and crashed into the far wall.

“I recall that song playing on the radio when we were both in high school.”

I’m stuck in a time loop! she thought. A glance around the room only confirmed the sinister hypothesis. The walls: paneled and undecorated, exactly the same as yesterday. The ceiling: painted beige with an unadorned lamp, exactly the same as yesterday. The cloud bed: … probably exactly the same as yesterday. The floor: definitely the same shag carpet as yesterday.

Clearly, those could only be explained by a time loop.

I’m doomed. Ditzy’s breathing became faster and shallower as her mind raced. Doomed to keep reliving the same twenty-four hours until my brain explodes from omniscience. Nothing I do will have any lasting effect. I can steal anything, seduce anypony, or engage in wanton property destruction ... without any consequences!

She put her hooves to her temples and shouted, “I can’t handle this kind of power!”

“So if that qualifies as an ‘oldie,’ what does that say about us?”

Her head felt light, and her legs threatened to give out beneath her. Power and me mix like … like oil and me! I couldn’t handle that job in Boxy Brown’s Heavy Freight! I barely survived my term as W.W.U. Bird Migration Specialist! And those were small fry compared to this! I’ll go mad with power just before I go mad with insanity! No mortal should have this—

Out of the corner of her eye, Ditzy glimpsed her window, and her careening train of thought screeched to a halt. “Wait a sec …”

Ditzy pressed her face to the windowpane as she looked out. The scene outside was different. Yesterday, the sky had been marked by heavy clouds and a rift in the fabric of space; this morning the sky was clear, save for a few songbirds. Yesterday, the street in front of the apartment was empty; today, one of the fia sídhe stood next to Ditzy’s mailbox, eating a muffin. Yesterday, the grass of nearby lawns had been long and unkempt; today, the lawns were all neatly cut and trimmed.

“It means you were born old, you hipster.”

With a sigh, Ditzy relaxed and trotted back into the bathroom to finish brushing her teeth.

“And you drink the blood of one-hit-wonders to maintain your youth, I presume.”

“Gasp! You know too much!”

---

Morning One: Fae and Loathing in Ponyville

---

When Ditzy stepped out the front door five minutes later, the fia was still waiting by the mailbox. The buck’s presence was not a complete shock—after all, the apartment was built on one of their old trails. Nevertheless, the Fair Folk only visited sporadically over the past few years.

The silver trim on his leather barding gleamed brightly in the dawn sun. His immaculate white cape fluttered in a breeze that Ditzy couldn’t feel. His antlers glowed silver-blue as he levitated the muffin to take another bite.

Ditzy fluttered over and landed next to him, startling him into dropping what was left of the muffin. “Hail, fair mare of the blessed eyes!” he proclaimed, bowing briefly.

Blushing slightly, Ditzy answered, “Well met, thou of the Court of Danann. For what occasion ... dost thou grace our abode with thy fair presence?”

“I am Abhean, son of Bec-Felmas. You recall how our folk earned our home by defeating the Fur Bolg on the Plain of Pillars.”

“Verily.”

“Of late, the Fur Bolg have grumbled at our presence and spoken of driving us out of the land, back over the ocean. A fortnight ago, the Spear of Lug went missing from the royal armory, and now, rumor has it that Eochaid mac Eirc himself possesses the Spear.”

“Huh,” Ditzy said.

Am I supposed to know who that is? Ditzy thought. Why can’t the fia just write me a letter for once? Then I could do my research before answering.

“Forsooth,” Abhean said, “if the Spear is in the hoof of the King of the Fur Bolg, then we cannot prevail against them in battle.”

“Dost thou seekest counsel, or soothsaying?”

Ditzy cringed slightly at the words she had just spoken. “Seekest?” Really? she thought. I’m horribly out of practice. He probably thinks I sound like an—

“Of counsel,” Abhean answered, “King Nuada possesses a surfeit. It is your vision he lacks. With one eye, you see Mag Mell, and with the other, Tech Duinn. If you could be so kind, what can you tell me of our predicament?”

Ditzy rolled her eyes—thanks to her condition, she could roll her eyes as much as she wished, and nopony ever noticed. Then she assumed the expected sooth-saying stance: her rump on the ground, her back upright, and her forehooves on either side of her head.

In theory, Ditzy invoked her visions by clearing her mind and allowing the aether to speak through her.

“Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm.”

In practice, Ditzy hummed aloud for a full minute and then said the first words that came to her mind. Or, as was the case this morning, she sang them. The words were not her own, however:

“Woke up this morning, to the sound,
of an alarm clock, ringing in my ear.”

Ditzy swayed from side to side, slightly at first, but picking up speed and intensity as she continued.

“I rubbed my eyes,
glanced at the clock,
hit my roommate Jay,
in the head with a sock.
Rolled out of bed,
got to my hooves
and started to move!”

The urge to move became too strong to ignore. Ditzy leaped, flapped her wings, and danced in mid-air, making up what she lacked in grace with sheer energy. She continued to sing:

“Da dada-da dada-da da-da-da
daaa daaa daaaa!
It’s just an average daaaaaay
and nothing really stands out!
I’m just skating on the same route!
I’m feeling fiiiiiiiine,
got nothing to complain ’bout!
I’m on my way,
it’s just an av—”

Ditzy stopped singing as she glanced at the buck. He was staring at her, completely slack-jawed. She promptly landed and asked “Um, is something wrong?”

A single tear trickled down Abhean’s cheek, and the corners of his mouth turned upward. “Surely, the waters of Connla’s Well flow in your veins,” he said, his tone bordering on reverence.

“Uh, thankest thou?” This prompted another kick from Ditzy’s mental linguist.

Abhean opened his mouth to reply, but was interrupted by another speaker: “Talking to yourself again, Derpy?”

Ditzy turned. This new speaker resembled nothing less than the equine personification of candy. Her coat was a creamy nougat, and her mane was a delectable combination of violet and pink. Even her cutie mark was a trio of confections in colorful wrappers. However, in spite of her appearance, Bon Bon’s voice was anything but sweet. “Or are you practicing for your one-mare show? Singing, dancing, Reneighssance Faire roleplaying?”

“Ummmmmm, maybe?” Ditzy answered.

She noticed a third pony was present: a brown stallion, behind Bon Bon. He stared directly at Ditzy. He seemed to be in no hurry to say anything, so Ditzy decided he could wait.

Forcing a blank expression onto her face, she turned back to Bon Bon and said, “Why? Afraid I’ll put you out of a job, Sweetie Drops?”

At this, Bon Bon twitched slightly, before tossing her mane and trotting away. “In your dreams,” she said with a snort.

The stallion remained behind, but continued to refrain from speaking. He simply stared at Ditzy, with an expression on his face that—

“That mare wearies me with her affronts to your honor.”

Abhean’s words drew Ditzy’s attention back to him. He was looking in Bon Bon’s direction. His antlers glowed once more as he levitated a sword—gleaming brighter than his armor—up to face level. He turned to Ditzy and smiled. “Shall I set her head upon a pike, milady?”

Under her breath, Ditzy said, “Oh, Tartarus.” This is why I don’t talk to the fia more often, she thought.

To Abhean, Ditzy said, “Oh, thou needest not trouble thyself on our account. Wethinks our honor can withstandeth a little ribbing. Surely thou agreeth?” She smiled.

A part of Ditzy’s mind berated her for butchering Early Modern Equine so cruelly. The rest of her mind told that first part to stuff it until after she could convince Abhean not to butcher a fellow pony.

“Nay,” the fia said, “’twould be my pleasure to grant you this boon. Snicker-snack!”

“We insist that thou stay thine hoof, Abhean, son of Bec-Felmas!” Ditzy stomped for emphasis. “Thy blade is a surpassing fair weapon, and Sweetie Drops’ blood … Sweetie Drops’s? … ’Twould be darn shameful to befoul thy sword with the blood of that candy-flanked mare!”

Abhean furrowed his brows and looked into Ditzy’s eyes. Forcing her pupils to align, she narrowed her eyes and met his gaze. A moment of silence passed.

Abhean was the first to blink. He averted his eyes as he sheathed his sword. Then he bowed. “When my brethren spoke of your wisdom, they did not speak highly enough. I shall bear your song back to the court, where it shall be a light unto our path.” He took Ditzy’s hoof and kissed it three times.

He rose. Then he turned away, twirling on his hooves, with his cape swirling and billowing about him.

Why do they all do that? Ditzy thought.

Abhean looked over his shoulder to give his parting words. “Oh Mare of the Blessed Eyes, may the road rise up to meet you, may the wind be ever at your back, and may you reach the shores of Mag Mell a full hour before the Gan Ceann know you’re dead.”

He bounded away, down the fia-path.

Hmm ... Ditzy thought, as she watched him leave. That path seems to have ... shifted. This warrants investigation. Make certain that nopony else is in danger from ... Oh, right, I’m still not alone.

Ditzy could feel the brown stallion’s gaze on the back of her head. She turned and got her first good look at the silent watchpony. There was not much to see: he was an earth pony, and an aggressively drab one. Ditzy had seen his spiked manestyle on hundreds of other stallions. His face was one that she could have walked past every week without remembering. Even his hourglass cutie mark looked vaguely familiar. His only distinguishing feature was the piercing stare he directed at Ditzy.

Ditzy stepped towards him. He did not step away, nor did he step closer. “Um, hi?” she said.

The stallion yelped in reply, then galloped down the street.

Ditzy arched her eyebrows, then shrugged and turned back to the fia-trail. “I wonder if I can investigate this and still make it to weather patrol on time,” she said. Feh, they can manage without me, she thought. Today’s a good day to take off.

She trotted down the trail, into the sídhe.

---

Ditzy had not traveled a hundred feet down the trail before the buildings of Ponyville disappeared completely from sight. Thick forest obscured all sides, where thatch-roofed pony houses would have stood if this were a path through normal space. There were ashes, elms, yews, and several trees that Ditzy couldn’t name—trees that didn’t naturally grow anywhere near Ponyville, not even in the depths of the Everfree Forest. Luminescent curtains of blue moss hung from every branch. Those were certainly not native to Equestria.

She dared not take to the sky, for fear of losing the path, but she looked skyward as she trotted. Between the branches of the trees, she could see glittering silver clouds and twinkling stars in the cerulean mid-morning sky. A gust of wind rustled the branches and carried strange scents to her nose—reminiscent of oregano, cumin, chili peppers, and an underlying scent which Ditzy hadn’t encountered since her last foray into the sídhe: roasting meat.

The sound of woodwinds and strings startled her. They played a high, haunting melody, and they sounded blessedly far away. A hunting party? Ditzy thought. At this hour? She cleared her voice and sang, her voice a warbly alto:

“Theeeeeeeere
will be no hunting season
this yeeeaaar.
All the hunters
have been poisoned
by an old bear.”

If those hunters get any closer, Ditzy thought, I’m heading back. Wait, what’s that?

Up ahead, the path ran into a clearing, up to the door of a building. In fact, it was a normal, wooden, pony-built structure, not one of those caves or magically altered trees that the fia saw fit to dwell in.

Although, for a pony-built structure, it was oddly small. And oddly raised off the ground on wooden legs. And oddly smelling.

Wait, Ditzy thought. I’ve been here before. And that’s not a house for ponies …

The woodwinds and strings faded to silence as Ditzy approached the building. She ascended the walkway, ducked inside the door, and was greeted by the startled clucking of the building’s residents: a dozen or so chickens.

“Pardon me, ladies,” Ditzy said.

She trotted to the opposite end of the henhouse and stuck her head out the door there. She was greeted by the well-trimmed backyard of a good-sized cottage, crowded with more animals than she’d ever seen in one place before. This was Fluttershy’s residence.

In fact, Fluttershy was right in the center of all those animals. Somewhat surprisingly, Rainbow Dash was at her side. Even more surprisingly, the pegasi were singing a duet.

… Singing a duet? Ditzy thought. Singing a duet! She retreated back into the henhouse as quickly as she could, blushing furiously for having almost eavesdropped on the two ponies’ courtship. Well, she assumed it was courtship. She hadn’t actually made out any of the song’s words, which was probably for the best, considering how direct Dash could be.

Focus, focus! Ditzy thought.

“I didn’t come here to snoop on anypony’s love life,” she said. “I came to see how the fia-trail has shifted.”

And I found that it now runs through Fluttershy’s back yard. That’s ... pretty good, actually. She’s the sort that the fia aren’t likely to bother. And if they do give her trouble, she can easily—

“Um, pardon me.”

The voice, soft and quiet as it was, still startled Ditzy. “Daaaaaaaaaaah!” she yelled, before flailing and landing on her back. Opening her eyes, she found herself looking directly at the upside-down face of one very concerned yellow pegasus.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, Ditzy Doo, I didn’t mean to scare you, are you alright?”

Ditzy waved a forehoof. “Meh, don’t worry about me, I’m fine!”

“Oh, that’s good.” Fluttershy traced a circle on the floor with one of her forehooves. “I was worried that you were here because you … well … you know …”

“Oh no, nononono. That would just be weird and awkward, hehe.”

“Ditzy, this is weird and awkward.”

“You got me there.”

Fluttershy sat down and turned her head slightly away. “Anyway, since that’s not why you’re here, I was, um, wondering, if you don’t mind telling me ... what are you doing in my henhouse?”

Ditzy considered her words carefully. Her answer needed to be plausible. It couldn’t contain any falsehoods that might hurt Fluttershy or her friends in the long run, but it also couldn’t contain any truths that might snap her mind like a brittle twig.

Ditzy made a game effort to meet Fluttershy’s eyes, and spoke. “I dunno.”

Author's Note:

I heavily edited this chapter since originally publishing it. The edited version went live on 2 February 2015.

For historical purposes, I've preserved the original version on Gdocs, here.

Comments

[kingtwelvesixteen]

That is the best possible ending line.

[Blank!]

Precise, too.

[Seraphem]

Still interesting. Maybe treating it a little too mater of factly. So much new, so much we have no idea what is going on about. Worldbuilding is rather... meh. What is being built looks good, but the introduction feels a bit.. off. Just to dropping stuff out of nowhere. Enough to see some form to this, but also ehhh hard to explain. Still interesting.

Other then that, Derpy is just adorable. The whole time loop thing, springing to mind so quick. All because her room is the same as yesterday, the the radio playing the same song. The chicken coop explanation. Bit of an annoying pronoun game going on at the end with Fluttershy... but still that last line. I get the impression it's one everypony is used to hearing from her and just accepting.

[PresentPerfect]

And I love the way you're characterizing her. This will be a good read, I think, for its length. :)

[Hiwani]

5860957 Honestly, I like the way things are explained in this story. That is the nature of worlds in which multidimensionality and fae spirits are quite common. The world is just too big to explain. That is the world building being done here. There is a lot of crap that Derpy can see, but no one else, and we just kinda have to accept that. It doesn't need to be explained because most of it isn't explainable.

Also, I like the way things are just kind of dropped in front of us, because this is how Derpy sees the world. She's used to just kind of accepting whatever I thrown at her. Eleventh dimensional rift in the morning? Ok. Fae creature bringing tidings of battle and seeking guidance? Sounds good.

[Ink_25]

The first paragraphs of this chapter describe very well why one should not be woken by a radio alarm clock in the morning.
It will propably end as it does in "Groundhog Day"...
(Okay, the loop in the movie is resolved in the end, but you know what I mean.)

EDIT: I wrote this at 2 A.M., sorry for the mistakes (fixed them).

[Bugsydor]

You had my attention, sir, but now you have my respect. Massive props for your use of the Fae, and for Ditzy's realizing that she's butchering Early Modern Equish.

I'll have to pay attention to you.

[Revan]

This is going to be so much fun.

[Cursed Quill]

Clearly, those could only be explained by a time loop.

Clearly.

[mlkj]

Oh, this is just perfectly written
I am so glad there is another 50000 words to look forward to!

[Tape Deck]

I haven’t heard this song in a decade, she thought. “Then suddenly it gets played two mornings in a row,” she said. “What are the odds?”

---

This is some of the best Derpy Ditzy stuff I've ever seen. Nice Job.
just
(I prefer Derpy, but don't mind Ditzy at all. Muffins, though, <shudders in fear>.)