//------------------------------// // The Preliminary Match: A Deadly Stunt // Story: Magical Deathmatch // by Impossible Numbers //------------------------------// Applejack heard the word over and over in her head. Deathmatch. Deathmatch. Deathmatch. Coco and Rarity turned to her. As the white dot grew, she could see the Diamond Bite was leading a white platform. Rearing behind a hovering speaker’s stand on top, Officer Feldspar had the same manic grin from before. Slowly, Applejack looked down. The criminals who were still conscious struggled to move, let alone escape. She didn’t even hear common sense calling her name. Gaze fixed on Feldspar, she reached for the nearest dropped weapon. “Ladies! That was the fight of the century, and we’ve barely gotten started!” Feldspar’s platform hovered a few feet overhead, and it was exactly like the boulder of a desk. Applejack had to crane her head to see. Neither Rarity nor Coco spoke, though Rarity glowered and Coco crouched. Beside them all, the Diamond Bite patiently recorded the scene for the screens to display. “You hear that?” Feldspar cupped an ear with pastern and hoof; around them, the chanting crowd raised their voices. “The crowd loves you! You are exactly what I promised: the greatest heroes the galaxy has ever known! Why, their spirits couldn’t be higher if we went into space! I’d almost call that a heavenly manifestation.” She wiped an eye. “It’s… too much. It really is.” No one responded. Feldspar’s grin, never far away, came back doubled. “Now, to business. Some slick moves today, girls – disarming Team Backstabbers is worth a trophy in itself! – but this isn’t ballet or the circus. Your enemies are helpless! Take the initiative! Twelve hits, and the round’s yours.” Applejack shook with sheer hatred. “Unless, of course, you’re going to be unwise enough as to forfeit. And we all know who’s going to get the chop if that happens.” Feldspar giggled. “Don’t we?” “You can’t be serious!” Rarity stamped a hoof. “I absolutely refuse to partake of this disgusting barbarity!” “Woo, a lot of long words, Your Majesty.” Feldspar gave a mock bow. “Is that the royal speech over and done with? You know what we did to our queens a long time ago, right? I’d think a little more deeply, if I were you.” Coco looked helplessly from Applejack to Rarity, apparently waiting for a clue. Feldspar’s grin faltered. “Well? Don’t just stand there soaking up the glory! DO IT!” Deathmatch. Deathmatch. Deathmatch. Deathmatch… Applejack swallowed. Well, yes, during the actual fighting, she’d constantly felt the patient gaze of death waiting at any moment, like a predator, to spring its trap. She still rushed with blood even now. It should have settled down, but it too could hear the roar of the crowd. What else could she have done? Whatever she hoped for, she’d never get away with it. Feldspar didn’t look like an understanding pony. Certainly not one to let a slave push her luck too many times. Why would she? The crystal pony had reserves, and even without “guest stars”, she could even go hunting for more victims. Anyway, who’d care about a few criminals? The world would be much better off without them. Horror flooded through her at the thought. Rarity couldn’t do it, and Coco certainly wouldn’t. Oh, no. They’d all come from Equestria, and however many enemies they’d faced, actual fatalities inflicted by them – the ponies – were a whopping zero. Even in the Crystal Empire, they’d barely been involved with whatever magic had blown the evil king away. That was all the work of the subjects. Killing just wasn’t how it was done. The worst part was that she was starting to wonder why. There’d been foes who’d turned over a new leaf, sure. In other cases, what was the point when locking the things away in Tartarus or throwing them halfway across the world had done the job? Even now, they’d been shockingly lucky, and neither a monster like Ahuizotl nor a mindless beast like the Scorpony had suffered anything they couldn’t walk off. But Apple Bloom’s face, frozen in ice, lurked inside her head. The pony who’d done that was coming towards her right now, grinning like a child, seeing what Applejack was seeing, and enjoying it. Bracing her legs, she tightened her muscles. She’d fight monsters for Apple Bloom. Anything to knock them down. Anything to make sure they never, ever got back up again. Giggling, Feldspar leaned forwards. “Don’t even try it, sweetheart. The Bubbling Ether Shield technology protects me as well as the crowd. You wouldn’t have a chance for a second shot.” Applejack ground her teeth. She looked to Coco and Rarity. Neither of them moved. Both of them were looking at her. She couldn’t. Not in front of Rarity. Not in front of both of them. If she did, she wouldn’t be Applejack. It was as certain as the hat. Ah’m sorry, Apple Bloom. As soon as she thought it, anger rose up in her mind. She had to do it. Precisely for Apple Bloom. What were these lowlifes compared to her? And then afterwards she could explain it all to Apple Bloom, and her sister would be safe. Her sister would… Would… Would she ever look at Applejack the same way again? Her insides seemed to be running red hot, burning with friction, crushing and squeezing each other between two worlds too large for one body to contain. She couldn’t move. At least they’d still be around. But she wouldn’t, would she? Not Apple Bloom? Not the same filly who wore the oversized Stetson and cheered on her big sister, who could do no wrong? Sweat sizzled on her skin. Any moment, she must break. The orange pony stepped forwards. “If you will not do it, then I will.” “No!” Coco said before quailing under her own outburst’s echoes. The orange pony glowered at her. “We can’t jus’ do it,” said Applejack. Newfound certainty rushed through her throat. “That ain’t the Equestrian way.” “What choice is there?” said the orange pony with the calm, infuriating tones of reason. “Pragmatically, if we fail we die. If we succeed, we live. One way offers no hope, the other offers our only hope. Who else could say they’d do better under our circumstances?” “That ain’t right,” said Applejack, but she could feel its cold rationality creeping up on her. The strain inside her eased. “No? Or else you’d prefer to risk your life and ours for the sake of street rats?” Even her contemptuous kick was mechanically exact, making a nearby criminal flinch with the sand kicked up. “But we’re supposed to be heroes,” said Rarity sharply. “Heroes do not do that sort of thing.” “It jus’ ain’t in mah bones,” said Applejack. The orange pony snorted. “You think you’re letting the side down?” “It’s jus’ something you can’t do. Soon as you know right an' wrong, you can't choose wrong.” “They wouldn’t hesitate to do it to you.” “Yeah. But Ah ain’t them. Ah’m me.” “What are we going to do?” said Coco. “That’s what Ah’m tryin’ to figure out!” said Applejack, but she caught the Look in Rarity’s eyes. There could only be one answer. They were drawing towards it. Their legs braced for the inevitable. Overhead, the crowd began chanting, but somewhere along the way the actual messages had become tangled, and now it was impossible to hear anything amid the confused noise. Feldspar gritted her teeth impatiently. “What are you doing?” she hissed. “The moral dilemma’s all very well, but you’re losing the audience. Kick ‘em off already and have done with it!” “No,” snapped Applejack. Growling, the orange pony threw up her limbs and then swung them down for the nearest weapon. “Then I will.” “You put that down!” “You pick one up and help me, then.” “Ah ain’t askin’ nicely again. First shot you take’ll be your last.” They held the glare. On the edge of Applejack’s field of view, Coco began dancing on the spot. A sigh: Feldspar’s hovering platform drew back slightly. “So I take it you forfeit? What a waste. You’re throwing away a promising career, you know.” She hit something on the podium’s stand. Pain bit into Applejack’s leg. She and the orange pony yelped and fell almost to their knees, bracing themselves in time. Even as Applejack watched, the crystal ring’s nubs began to grow and creep like vines, biting down harder on her skin. “Wait!” Rarity cried out. The pain stopped. Applejack gasped with a breath fighting to get out. “Hm,” said Feldspar. “Come to your senses at last, have you? Then knock off the charade and get to work.” “NO!” The echoes of Applejack's cry faded away. The chanting died down. The crowd slowly fell silent. It was a while before Applejack felt the shock. She hadn’t thought. “No,” she said, trying not to look in anyone’s direction. “No, Ah ain’t doin’ it.” “Oh?” Feldspar sounded vaguely amused. Then Applejack met Rarity’s gaze. She couldn’t do it. Her muscles trembled with the effort of staying up. She wanted more than ever to see everyone else walk out. But her own mind had melted and boiled away. There wasn’t even certainty anymore. She was gone, even from her own words. “Ah’m sorry. Ah jus’ can’t.” Muttering ran along the crowd. The orange pony growled with frustration. Coco breathed heavily. A few boos broke out. The glee returning to her voice, Feldspar reached down for some unseen switch. “Ah well. My public gardens could do with a few novelty statues anyway. Strike a pose, ladies, because you’ll want to look your best for eternity.” “WAIT!” Rarity stepped between Applejack and the floating platform. “Sheesh, make up your minds!” Feldspar snapped. She raised her hoof again. “Who says we have to destroy the other team?” Rarity said. Feldspar gestured around them. “They do! Epic bloodlust doesn’t settle for half-measures.” “Oh, really?” Rarity raised an eyebrow. It was quite a raise. It suggested, in no uncertain terms, that there were peaks from which to observe the follies of others, and of all the follies it had been forced to look down upon, this one would require a telescope to see that far. Applejack felt herself blushing hot just standing too close to so much radiating scorn. “Yes, really!” Feldspar said impatiently. “This is Magical Deathmatch! The clue is in the name!” “Even for heroes?” Now the voice had silky overtones, but only in the same way that a katana hidden within a kimono is silky. “This is leading to a no, then?” The hoof was poised over the stand. “Have you no vision whatsoever? Noble heroes, valiant defenders of justice and peace, and fabulous saviours of Equestria into the bargain: all reduced to petty killers?” “Rarity?” hissed Applejack. “What are you doin’?” “Shh,” Rarity hissed back. “You got us into this mess. I’m getting us out of it.” “Ah got us –!?” “OK, OK,” said Rarity a little more guiltily. “Just trust me, please.”  Around them, the crowd were silent. Thoughtfully silent, unless she was imagining it. Even Feldspar and the orange pony looked about uncertainly. Then to Applejack’s surprise, Rarity turned directly towards the Diamond Bite. Around the arena, her stern face sparkled with a newfound energy. Her eyes, so calm and purple as royal orbs, now sparkled with the stars of inspiration. “When killing is so easy,” Rarity said, and her commanding voice boomed out, “and common and disgusting besides? Oh no. I put it to you, my dear crystal ponies: what is that to a clean, skilful, challenging neutralization? To have grace and sting, to win with one hoof tied behind our back – metaphorically speaking, of course. It is easy to kill. It is far more satisfying to win without killing.” “You’re wasting your time.” Feldspar reached down. “That is our gimmick, as Equestria’s proudest! That is our challenge to you, Crystal Empire! No deaths. No easy conclusions! Merely us, our raw wits, and our heroism! Our daring challenge unto you? Think we're not able to meet it? What say you to this!?” And there was so much of the Princess towering in those last words that Applejack’s knees weakened for the kneel before she remembered herself and pulled back up again. A few murmurs. A few more delighted noises. Applejack looked up. Feldspar, glowering at them in the pit, deliberately lowered her hoof. But she was glancing about the arena. Even she had no idea how the crowd would react. Noises of approval rose up. Nods and smiles amid the general shifting. A smattering of applause. “ARE YOU PONY ENOUGH FOR THIS!?” Rarity screamed. Even the orange pony jumped. Applejack herself almost swallowed her tongue. Ponies in the crowd half-heartedly yelled “Yeah!” “I SAID, ARE YOU PONY ENOUGH FOR THIS!?” “Yeah!” yelled more of the crowd. Stamping broke out. “THEN PROVE IT! ONCE MORE WITH FEELING! ARE YOU PONY ENOUGH FOR THIS!?” “YEAH!” Finally, the dam broke. Applause flooded the stadium. A chant rose up of “ROSEBUD! ROSEBUD! ROSEBUD! ROSEBUD!” Applejack sighed. The pressures eased off. Her insides breathed and slopped back into place. She no longer felt as though she were cooking from the inside out. Coco rushed forwards and hugged Rarity, who was still stiff and staring and so remained unmoved by the gesture. Ha! Take that, Feldspar! She saw the hoof draw back. The world opened up again. “What?” Feldspar stared around at the arena as though it had popped into existence without warning. She was jolted by fresh outbursts of enthusiasm. But Applejack could see where this was going. Feldspar was a slave to the crowd. Even if she wouldn’t get swept up in the chants and stamps and yells, she’d certainly not stand in front of it. So when their gazes met, Applejack put in as much smug satisfaction as she felt she’d get away with. After all, she might not have another chance. Across the dunes, the dots of the other teammates drew closer. Trenderhoof was the first to crest the nearest, looking like a colt who’d gotten lost in a town full of strangers. Others were bewildered, trying to see some sense in the crowd. And all the while, Rarity maintained her dignified, daring glare. A dozen Rarity’s loomed clearly over the vague flashes and colours of the crowd. The crowd. It was all about the crowd. Feldspar growled. Then Applejack saw the orange pony reach for a weapon. “Don’t,” Applejack snapped. “You fools!” hissed the orange pony. “You’ve doomed us! Have you any idea where this gimmick will land us!?” Evidently, the same thought had occurred to Feldspar, whose thin line of a mouth now widened and curved. “A gimmick,” she said as though chewing over some particularly fine delicacy. “A gimmick… yes, I think we could work with that…” Her hovering platform shot down to ground level. Her gaze shot down to the assembling team. “Very well,” Feldspar said smoothly. “If it’s a challenge you want, then we accept.” To the Diamond Bite, she loudly added, “You hear that, folks!? Team Rosebud has thrown down the gauntlet! History in the making! A dramatic conclusion to what I’m sure we all agree has been a hoof-biting, heart-pounding, head-banging, mind-blowing match of brains against brawn! Give it up for our special guests, the best of the best who put the primeval beasts to the test! Crime-busters and daredevils!” By now, her improvised speech was lost to the swarm of sounds buzzing and bursting with excitement. Another Diamond Bite zipped between them. Applejack blinked and stumbled backwards, and in that moment realized how tired her body suddenly was. She almost fell onto her haunches. Too much seemed to be happening to allow a picture of Cheese Sandwich into her life. “Great work, Team!” he was saying. “I don’t know how you did it, but the nightmare is over! I’ll tell you what: party at my place tonight, and more cakes than a bakery chain! Song time! Ahem – The day the sand was blowin’, we had no way of knowin’ –” Unexpectedly – if thankfully – the Diamond Bite closed again. Less thankfully, this was because Feldspar was right behind it. She lowered her hoof, letting the thing fall onto the sand. “You win this round,” she hissed. “Enjoy your little victory while you can. Because next time, your ‘gimmick’ isn’t going to help you out of a jam. I’ll make sure of that.” “Yeah,” mumbled Applejack. “You do that.” It wasn’t winning repartee, but it got the job done. Disgusted, Feldspar floated up and out of sight. She sighed. Apple Bloom was safe. Until the next time, she knew, but that was in the future and hopefully a long, long way off at that. It could stay there. Apple Bloom was safe. For now. But still, just for a moment, she wondered if she had been this close to… to doing it… The pressures crept back in. By now, she was too far gone to resist. Opposite, amid the cautiously murmuring team, the orange pony glowered at her. Ah know. Ah know. She didn’t even want to think it. Suddenly the crowd sounded a long way away. No matter how many times Rarity washed her dust-stained face in the crystal basin, she never once felt clean. She could almost imagine Sweetie Belle standing beside her, cocking her head in that curious way. The filly’s imaginary voice floated through her mind. Something like: You’ve been there for hours. How much attention does one face NEED? Well, my skin has been through a lot, she thought in reply. While the other teammates hung about behind her, she didn’t dare speak aloud. They were giving her funny looks as it was. The locker room was silent. Occasionally, someone coughed or scuffed the floor underfoot. Overhead the chandelier waited. Now she inspected it more closely, those gemstones encrusted along the rim could easily be Diamond Bites… She knew what was going on. Most of the team had escaped, but then most of them had never been so close to danger before. Even the likes of Lord Tirek the Magic-Thief and Discord the Chaotic Abomination had largely just taken what they wanted and left anomie, confusion, anger, emptiness. But at least then, the ponies had been alive to talk about it. They hadn’t for a moment been close to death. Not from pincers or glowing crystal weapons. Best to leave them to it. Some looked thoughtful as though contemplating their free will. Others looked like they’d given up on thought. She could tell by the crinkling of their eyes, the way they moved listlessly or sat down hunched and dazed. After all, we’ll be back sooner or later. We all know what we’re up against now. Oh, the poor things! If only I had my boutique… No! Fat lot of good my dresses would be now! Among them, Cheese Sandwich zipped and leaped and shifted with a jauntiness that fell short of his reddening eyes. “You did great, team! Sure, there was that awkward bit at the beginning where you ran around screaming like headless chickens, but that’s not bad for a first time!” Trenderhoof sat on a bench. He hadn’t moved since they’d all come in and he’d staked his seat. Alone of the other ponies, he was skewing his jaw as though lost in a not uncomfortable contemplation. “I suppose we have been favoured by Lady Fortune,” he said, more to himself than to Cheese. Not that Cheese noticed. The result was a slap on the back that caught Trenderhoof by surprise. “That’s the spirit! A few more lucky breaks like that and we’re sitting pretty! Or sitting in whatever manner we like!” Trenderhoof looked over and Rarity almost swooned. That was him, all right. Relentlessly confident, rugged yet stylish, determined yet dashing… Wait, why am I thinking like this? “A good point, good sir,” he said with customary graciousness. “It does not do to let ill-thoughts breed ill-manner. That was something you learned fast in Canterlot, let me tell you.” “Oh, I positively invite you to!” replied Cheese, and then as though the scene had changed, Rarity’s focus shifted. Both stallions spoke confidently, and yet their jerky bodies were saying: We’re keeping up the side, right? We’re all deserving of praise, right? We’re not going to mention how we left the whole fate of the team to four mares who basically stole the spotlight and may or may not have nearly gotten us killed, right? Because we’re lucky! Rarity bubbled with sympathy. If only she could go over and pat them both on the back. They were utterly wrong, but it’s the thought that counts. Well, it’s the spirit of the thought that counts. Quietly, teammates slipped out of the door one-by-one. Coco made to follow them, and then gave a frightened squeak as a leering snout protruded. Peccary stepped into the room, dainty hooves a complete mismatch to his mass of bristles, spines, and grinning approximations of teeth and tusks. “You leave her alone,” snapped Rarity. Surprised and sniffing, Peccary gingerly stepped aside. Coco didn’t even stop to thank her. She couldn’t get out fast enough. Rarity sighed. “Winners or not, we’re still prisoners, are we not?” Whether her tone had worked or failed, Peccary simply lumbered further into the room, keeping his distance. Rarity noticed with grim satisfaction that he’d stopped grinning, though the cutlery set of his jaws stuck out anyway. Through the other entrance, Mineral Cure swept into the room. By now, only Applejack, Trenderhoof, Cheese, Rarity, and the orange pony remained. “What a magnificent show!” Mineral Cure’s fake cheer drilled through Rarity’s patience. “I see most of the team have already left. Such a shame you have yet to build your rapport. Rapport is healthy and healing. We find that a healthy team is a happy team.” “Oh yes?” said Rarity icily to her own reflection. “Given that, would you be interested in joining?” “Ohoho!” Mineral Cure’s stinking perfumes bit even harder than the patronizing tone. “I am not worthy of joining the great Team Rosebud. I am but a crystal pony. Citizens have their own carefully delineated roles under the stewardship of the Ultimate Supreme Company Executive Officer Feldspar of the House of Silicates.” “What a memory you have.” Rarity checked her eyelashes, mostly to have something to do that didn’t involve immediate violence towards that annoying voice. She saw the orange pony’s reflection loom up behind her. Well, if she had any parting shots, she’d have no help from Rarity. Besides, Rarity didn’t want to talk to anyone right now. “You realize,” whispered the orange pony, “how much harder you’ve just made our jobs.” I know, thought Rarity sadly. I was hoping you wouldn’t say that. “A moment ago, we were this close to losing our ‘jobs’,” Rarity said, trying to keep all emotion out of her voice. Matter-of-fact. That was a style all its own. “Under the circumstances, I think our management of the situation was the best compromise.” “Very high and mighty. But you won’t be so confident next time. And think of this: the moment you decide there’s an easier way than not killing, how long do you believe the crowd will remain on your side?” “Now, really!” Ah well, I was never any good at ‘matter-of-fact’ talk. “What was I supposed to do?” “Hm. I’ll let you figure that one out.” She couldn’t help herself; as the orange pony stepped around her for the exit, Rarity burst out, “What are you? Manehattanites might be rough around the edges, but I was under the impression you all at least aspired to some degree of urbanity!” After a bit of thought, she added, “Suri Polomare excepted.” The pause in the aftermath of that strike was… Rarity frowned. The stranger’s face was… She smelled… She had the slightest sound… No… Surprise ran through Rarity’s mind. So used was she to spying around bodies and faces to the souls hiding behind their costumes and masks, that this… She couldn’t read the stranger at all. It was like divining thought from a machine. The orange pony gave her an empty look. “Who said I was from Manehattan?” “Well, I assumed from the Orange family ties and from your cutie mark –” “You assumed wrongly.” And with that, the orange pony strode out. Even her walk was nondescript. There was no character to the mare. Only when Rarity turned back to the mirror did she notice Applejack standing behind her. The mare had moved so quietly. “Oh my! Don’t sneak up on a pony like that!” “Ah din’t sneak up,” said Applejack calmly. “You were jus’ distracted.” “Well, give some warning next time.” “You’re still a li’l jumpy, ain’tcha?” Rarity saw her reflection blush. It was no good. Applejack somehow spread her honesty to others, and Rarity holding her own against a crowd of blood-hungry spectators was nothing to her trying – and failing – to hold her own against Applejack. “Ah think you did the right thing,” she said, still in that calm voice. “Ah know it’s mah fault, but –” “I wouldn’t have done it either,” Rarity said at once. Or would I? Sweetie Belle was on my mind the whole time, but… “Ah know. But what else could we do?” Neither of them spoke. It wasn’t an answer they were willing to give. Or were able to give. Instead, Rarity turned, half away from the mirror, half towards Applejack. Vague memories of the dodging, swiping, leaping around the Scorpony ran through her legs. She almost sweated with them. Gingerly, she placed a hoof on Applejack’s shoulder. It was like touching a boulder covered with moss, and the smell didn’t help. Still, she held her breath and her hoof. Then Mineral Cure stepped over. At once, Rarity let go. Both she and Applejack spun round. “What do you want?” Applejack said, and Rarity fancied a tinge of embarrassment bit into the anger. Mineral Cure blinked in surprise. “I am here to serve. Captain Cheese Sandwich is preparing a party in celebration of your magnificent victory. I would like to confirm the menu selection with you.” “Oh, Mineral Cure!” Cheese shouted across the pathetically empty room. “You busybody, you! Lighten up, Miss Lost-Your-Lustre! Everyone’s getting the best old Cheesy Squeezy can rustle up, if you please-y!” “It pleases you to joke, Mister Sandwich.” Fake laughter, fake closing of the eyes to make it seem genuine. My word, this mare is just adding to the list of charges for bad taste! Then, to Rarity’s utter astonishment, Mineral Cure leaned forwards and the smile clouded over under the shadow. “What you did was brave, but foolish,” she said so quietly that for a moment Rarity doubted she’d heard it. “Feldspar will let you continue for now, but I must warn you: you cannot avoid it forever.” “What are you –?” Applejack clammed up at the hasty, pleading look this earned her. Peccary snorted. They waited until his hooves clopped past. “Death is essential to the game!” Mineral Cure continued. “You must understand this! So long as the gimmick you hold remains, you have merely placed other lives in greater danger! Be warned! So,” she continued in suddenly normal and brittle cheer, “I believe that is the full list of items you would enjoy. Very good. I shall instruct the kitchen staff forthwith. Please, enjoy your stay in Antipodean City.” She bowed and scurried out as politely as she could. Rarity swore she glanced up at the chandelier on her way. “What was that all about?” said Applejack. “Shh,” Rarity hissed. “You want to get her into trouble?” “No, but…” “Oh Applejack, sometimes you’re so slow. We’re being watched.” Predictably, Applejack glanced about. “Don’t do that!” Rarity hissed. “You want to give the game away?” “Huh?” “Just… Just act normal, please.” “Ah don’t act. Ah do what comes naturally.” “Then do what comes naturally… normal. Please!” Applejack sighed. The greater realm of etiquette and sophisticated senses was a foreign country, as far as she was concerned. Rarity could practically smell her frustration. From the doorway, Peccary narrowed his eyes with obvious suspicion. Rarity glared at him until he got the hint, squealed awkwardly in that piggy way of his, and sidled out of the room. Presumably to distract herself more than anything, Applejack added, “So whatcher doin’? Not that lookin’ in a mirror for things to spruce up ain’t normal for you, but Ah fancied you were givin’ one or two other things the once-over?” “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Rarity returned to checking her curls in the mirror. She paid no attention to the two stallions, and definitely no attention to the slowly relaxing shoulders of a Trenderhoof deep in pleasant, welcoming conversation… “You’re doin’ it again.” Rarity sighed. Just when she thought Applejack lacked any kind of keen eye, too. “I’m merely glad to be alive to appreciate anything,” she said, soundly defeated. “A stallion’s charms, my own mane, the crystal architecture… That stadium had a certain tasteful wealthy and classical style, n’est ce pas?” “Don’t really care, to be honest.” “Oh, but Applejack! One must take one’s charms wherever one can! And the roar of the crowd, the approval, the delight, the sheer radiance, the joy, the appreciation! I believe we’ve acquired some allies among assumed adversaries! Oh, but let me give them only a fraction of the high art to which I am accustomed, and then we’ll see who’s the slave and who’s the master –” “You realize,” said Applejack, in such cold tones that Rarity shivered out of her daydreams, “that you’re talkin’ about ponies who wanted to kill yer?” Rarity’s mental dance rammed into an ice block. Shock ran through her. “Well, yes, I mean, sure, I don’t doubt, but –” “An’ they got Sweetie Belle locked up.” Rarity almost felt cornered. It was as though the ice block were sliding towards her. A marathon of horror and alarm stampeded through her mind and body. “Applejack, please! I don’t forget.” “All right. Only for a while there, you looked like you’d forgotten.” “But –” “Like you was enjoyin’ it.” “And I don’t!” Rarity said desperately. “You honestly believe I would want to be here, Applejack?” To her relief, she saw Applejack back off a bit. The mare had such a way of looming. Even the orange pony lacked the sheer physicality on display. “No, never,” said Applejack at once, reaching up for a hat that she again had to remember wasn’t there. She grimaced. “Sorry. Ah din’t mean nothin’. Ah guess Ah ain’t got the jumpiness outta mah system yet.” Rarity watched the two stallions. Cheese said something. Trenderhoof laughed, and he laughed with the wonderful, easygoing, but tasteful measure so characteristic of his good grace. How she envied them both right now. At least something beautiful is blooming out of this dead field of misery, she thought, and she let a smile peek out of her lips. “Well,” she tried bravely, “the important thing is that we all got out of this as well as could be expected.” “Not quite,” said Applejack grimly. Caught out, Rarity looked at her reflection in the mirror for inspiration. She noticed a scuff on her cheek, and tried to smooth it down. “We all got out alive,” she said at once. “Coco, Trenderhoof, all of the team.” “Nope,” said Applejack. “We lost two.” “No, we didn’t.” Rarity gulped. “I’m sure we didn’t.” “No you’re not. You know as well as Ah do.” “It was so chaotic, and there were all those immediately pressing concerns.” “One of ‘em the Scorpony got. Ah din’t see what happened to the other one, but we were down another when we came back here, Ah know that much.” Now Rarity’s hooves rubbed at her face. Still the scuff mark refused to go away. “We didn’t,” she said, but feebly; Applejack’s voice was the end of the discussion. Darned scuff mark. Get out! Why won’t you get out? She rubbed and rubbed until it hurt her cheek and she hastily let go and waited for the pain to die down. After a while, she felt she could speak. “Who were they?” “Don’t know.” Trenderhoof’s laughter now sounded far, far away. She didn’t even notice any movement until the two stallions’ hooves clopped past, and she turned in time to see their retreating tails go round the door. Enough. She spun round. She’d go out without fuss. She’d managed so far. “Ah dunno about you, Rarity, but Ah’m goin’ to bed.” Rarity scanned the face for any sign of jocularity. Not that she felt much different. She scanned without hope. “It’s not even past midday, I expect,” she said vainly. “Ah don’t care. The less Ah have to do with this place, the better.” “But don’t you think we should take advantage of our freedom, such as it is? Get to know the place? Um. Look for  a way out, perhaps?” Frowns, pleading looks, cringing disgust, and bursting, wide-eyed horror flitted and twitched across Applejack’s face. Rarity could see how much Apple Bloom’s haunting ghost was costing the mare. Applejack’s views on family were like her views on oxygen. Didn’t understand it. Didn’t live without it. “You can, Rarity. Ah ain’t gonna give ‘em an inch.” “Neither am I! Be reasonable, Applejack!” “Ah’ll see you later.” She made to step out – Rarity resisted the urge to chase after her – but then hung back. She turned around. “Ah’ll say this for you, Rarity. You’re handling this place a lot better than Ah thought you would.” Sadly, Rarity watched her go. Alone again, she could at least concentrate on that scuff mark. But she didn’t. Some silly bit of imperfection? It’d come out sooner or later. At least, she hoped it would. If only you knew, she thought. She gave Applejack a five-minute head start, fidgeting with her mane and ignoring the empty lockers and crystal facets all around her. Only then did she feel confident enough to face the next room, which thankfully turned out to be empty. It was just as well she waited. By then, the outburst had been contained for just long enough that all she managed was a whimper. As ever, she strode out, head haughty. Not quite as high, but she wasn’t feeling up to much anyway. In her mind’s eye, Sweetie Belle’s ghost followed her out of the room.