Dueling Keyboards

by FanOfMostEverything


On Trichomancy

Rarity entered Namepending Castle, once again wishing they'd picked a name for the thing rather than putting it off for so long that the nickname stuck. Indeed, lost opportunities seemed to be a theme of the day. She'd made the most of her mane, but losing the Vanity Mare shoot did sting.

And with regret came reflection...

Twilight wasn't hard to spot; Rarity simply had to make a beeline for the main library and there she was, sitting in a crystalline chair at one of the reading tables, a pile of paperwork before her and something far more enticing sitting on one corner.

"Oh my," said Rarity. "Is that a Mare's Day bouquet?"

"Huh?" Twilight looked up, her eyes bleary with bureaucracy as she refocused. "Oh, hi, Rarity. Didn't hear you come in." She looked at the bouquet, a lovely arrangement covering a broad swath of the color wheel, and rolled her eyes. "Don't read too much into it. I'm ninety-nine percent sure that Cadence sent it to make me think I had a secret admirer."

Rarity considered the incarnate demigoddess who more than half of Ponyville and a fair amount besides desired. "And the other one percent?"

"Same scenario, but it's my mother who sent the bouquet." Twilight pulled a red rose out of it and stuffed the blossom in her mouth. "Wan' thum?"

"No thank you, I just ate. I do hope I’m not interrupting.”

Twilight shook her head as she dipped her quill. “Not at all. Celestia just sent some of the less critical proposals for me to approve or deny.”

Rarity couldn't help but grin. “Still the Princess of Interns?”

Twilight gave a small giggle. “Kind of, yeah. Can't believe I called myself that.” She bit her lip and glanced back at Rarity. “You know, I’ve been meaning to ask you, that’s an amazing look, but what is that jacket made from?”

“Oh, this?" Rarity posed at the best angle for the article. "If you think I’m generous, you should see how cattle treat organ donation. You see—”

“I think I get it.” Poor Twilight. Green was not her color.

“Yes, well." Rarity coughed into a fetlock. "In any case, I actually came here to ask a question of my own, if you aren’t too busy.”

Twilight smiled and slid out of her chair. “I always have time for a friend, Rarity." She gave a quick hug. "What is it?”

“Well, I know you said mane magic was tricky, but once I wasn’t panicking about the Vanity Mare shoot, I took some time to think about it. What about that mustache spell?”

Twilight tilted her head. “What about it?”

Rarity waited a moment for Twilight to make the obvious connection. After the moment came and went, she continued. “Well, it creates hair, doesn’t it? How would that be different from restoring my mane?”

Another second or two of blank incomprehension passed before Twilight gasped. “Oh! I can see why you’d be confused. That spell doesn’t create a mustache, it summons one.”

“Summons? From where?”

“The Elemental Demiplane of Mustaches.”

Rarity blinked. “I’m sorry, the what?”

Twilight gave the smile that heralded an imminent lecture. Her horn lit up, and a blackboard standing near one of the walls rolled up behind her. “There are all kinds of random little dimensional pockets floating around our universe. I suspect they’re a relic of Discord’s reign." Chalk floated behind her and began sketching something like Sweetie Belle would get by blowing bubbles in milk. "There a demiplane of mustaches, nitrogen, ranch dressing—“

“Ranch dressing?”

Twilight nodded and drew a rune that somehow managed to capture the symbolic essence of buttermilk. “It comes up a lot more often than you’d think in advanced arcane studies.”

“This sort of thing is why I never bothered to learn anything more advanced than Phosphorus’s Fabulous Phantasm," Rarity said with a sigh. "I mean no offense, Twilight, but there are times when magic seems downright nonsensical.”

Twilight froze, turning her head ever so slowly to look back. “As opposed to the perfectly rational world of fashion.”

“What precisely are you imply—“

“Rarity! Thank Celestia I found you!”

Both mares turned to see a panting earth stallion, his avant garde spectacles all askew.

“Starstreak?" said Rarity. "Whatever is the matter?”

“It’s terrible! Inky Rose has… has..." Starstreak shuddered and spouted, "Run out of black!”

Rarity gasped. “Twilight, I’m afraid I must go. This is an emergency. Ta!”

Excellent friend that she was, Rarity chose to ignore the parting, “Yup. Perfectly rational.”