//------------------------------// // Everything Happens to the Probie // Story: I Should've Stayed in Bed // by Withoutwords //------------------------------// Most unicorns did not use incantations. Or runes. Or potions. Unicorn magic was usually kept solely to the realm of pure spellwork. Those spells were themselves usually spontaneous and simple. So it made perfect sense that the specific magic Lyra wanted to use would require two straight days of preparation, followed by an hour-long incantation in a room decorated with runes, over an obscenely complicated potion. Luckily, living in Ponyville had its perks. Zecora was more than willing to mix the potion for her, and Twilight Sparkle had insisted on drawing the runes and helping her memorize the incantation. The prep work had to be done by herself, but that was about it. Rarity even let her use an empty storeroom at Carousel Boutique so she didn't have to worry about clearing out a room at home. Lyra trotted happily down the street, her saddlebags thumping heavily against her sides. The prep work was all done and today was the day- finally, her greatest wish was going to come true. Years of research and study, and it had all come down to this. Lyra stepped into Carousel Boutique, giving Rarity a polite nod of greeting on her way to the storeroom. The door was closed and locked; Lyra lifted the key from her bag and unlocked it, stepping inside and closing the door behind her. Twilight Sparkle's work was impressive, to say the least. The floor was dominated by a huge circular design, a fragmented spiral within a fragmented spiral. Bold runes swung outward from the circle, trailing up the wall in eight sweeping lines that met in another, smaller circle in the very center of the ceiling, even trailing down the cover of the lantern hanging there for light. To Lyra's eye, everything was perfect to a hair's width. Lyra lifted a small covered pot from her saddlebag and set it in the middle of the floor, on the only tile not covered in runes. She removed the lid, and the air began to fill with the rich scent of cinnamon and cloves. The lid went back into her bag, which went back out the door, leaving only Lyra and her potion. She stood over the pot facing north, inhaling deeply. She should ask Zecora to mix up a simpler version to use as an air freshener. No, don't woolgather! she ordered herself sharply, shaking her head to clear it. She closed her eyes, taking another deep breath. “Onn wa catora ven. Hoshna con vembris conna.” -|- “DiNozzo, witness statements. Ziva, pictures. McGee, you do sketches.” Timothy nodded, turning back to the van to collect a measuring tape, sketch pad, and pencils. Work was work, and he'd gotten used to the horror he saw from time to time in this specific line of work. He didn't think he was unflappable by any stretch of the imagination, but he could handle sketching a murder scene or two without losing his lunch, at least. Tools at hand, he stepped very carefully over a pool of mostly congealed blood to measure the wall, note its dimensions, and start adding in the blood-spattered chair and desk. Tibbs had seen a lot of crime scenes in his day, he thought as he worked, the back of his mind slipping into the role of narrator while the main part was caught up in inches, feet, and milimeters. This wasn't the worst at all, but there was something about it. Something that was, in its own way, horrifying. Someone bumped into his shoulder, sending his pencil skittering across the paper and leaving a dark, ugly line. He sighed, identifying the person as Palmer from his quick apology, and started erasing. The scene sketch began to form in rough boxes and outlines over the grid, each detail painstakingly recorded, while Tiimothy's inner monologue bloomed into the realm of pure fiction. Affairs were cheap in the world of writing; it took imagination to make them interesting enough to sell. Not that he let the fantasy distract him. He was good at his job, and he wasn't about to let Gibbs catch him daydreaming. He caught sight of a soft light reflected in a fragment of shattered mirror and immediately shut down his storyline, turned toward it. “Hey, Boss?” he called, taking a step toward the wall, where he could see a faint aqua-green circle. “I think you should come look at this!” Photography was much faster than sketching, and Ducky wasn't one to hang around once the body was cleared for removal- he hadn't realized he was alone in the room. The circle brightened and expanded. Timothy stepped back, carefully closing the sketchpad. He moved toward the door slowly, as if the circle was sentient but somehow wouldn't notice him as long as he didn't move too fast. “Gibbs?” He heard footsteps and the sound of the screen door opening, but by the time Gibbs made it into the house, the only evidence that Timothy McGee had ever been there was a tape measure and a broken pencil in the middle of the floor. -|- Lyra wasn't sure what she'd been expecting when she gasped the last line of the incantation, and to be perfectly honest, she didn't much care, as long as she got some result. A solid hour of non-stop chanting, standing in one place in the stuffy little storeroom, had left her pretty exhausted. For a minute or so, nothing happened. The only sound was Lyra panting, the only movement her heaving flanks and trembling legs, and she wondered if she'd messed up somehow. She did not look forward to having to go through this again... But after a minute, something did happen. The runes all over the room began to glow, brighter and brighter, until Lyra had to close her eyes. The light was so bright it stung even through her eyelids, and there was nowhere she could turn her head to escape it. As the light somehow continued to brighten, she heard a faint voice, indistinct and garbled, as if she was hearing it from a long way away. Then there was a loud thud, and the light suddenly vanished, leaving multicolored spots dancing across Lyra's vision. She shook her head and blinked rapidly in an attempt to clear her vision, and when she could finally see again, she discovered she was nose to nose with a human. In a lot of ways, it wasn't what she'd expected. For one, it was much, much bigger. Not counting her horn, she was slightly shorter than the human, and it was sitting down. It probably couldn't even stand up straight- the ceiling would get in the way. Another surprise was that it was wearing clothes. The clothes weren't particularly fancy, but they didn't seem as if they'd be much protection, and they were uniformly drab and dark except for four letters emblazoned in white. Still, a human was a human, and Lyra wasn't about to be picky with her dream sitting right in front of her. “Hi!” she said excitedly, bouncing slightly on her front hooves. “I'm Lyra.” “Um... Hi. Lyra.” The human looked around, its odd face looking confused. “I'm McGee. Timothy. Timothy McGee. It's... um... nice to meet you?” “You can speak!” Lyra exclaimed happily, bouncing on all four hooves now. “I knew it! I knew humans could speak!” Timothy McGee moved back until it ran into the wall and just sat there, staring at her like a lump, until the door opened. “Lyra, dear, I heard you talking,” Rarity said, stepping in. “I just wanted tooooh, my Celestia!” “It worked, Rarity!” Lyra said unnecessarily. “This is Timothy McGee.” “It's... awfully large,” Rarity said thoughtfully. “Are you sure it's a human?” “Yes, I'm a human,” Timothy McGee said. “And I'm not an it, I'm a he. Ma'am.” The last was an afterthought, but a respectful one. “I don't suppose either one of you can tell me what's going on? Where am I?” “In my shop, dear” Rarity said, stepping out into the hall. “Come out- it's awfully cramped in there. Lyra, darling, come with me to the fitting room, please!” Lyra glanced at Timothy McGee, then shrugged and trotted after Rarity, leaving her human to get himself out of the storeroom. If he was anything like most stallions, he'd be embarrassed to be watched, anyway. As soon as Lyra stepped into the fitting room, Rarity kicked the door closed and leaned against it. “He cannot stay here!” she exclaimed. “But Rarity-!” “No, no buts, Lyra. I know I said I'd be willing to house your human, but you told me they were our size- I do not have room for such a... a... large creature. I'm sorry, but he'll have to stay somewhere else.” Lyra sighed, pawing at the ground with one hoof. Rarity was right, of course- there was no way somepony as big as Timothy McGee – that was a really cumbersome name; she needed to find a way to shorten it – would be able to stay here. The rooms were just too small, the ceilings too low. In fact, she couldn't think of a single place in Ponyville big enough for a human right now. “Let him stay here just for a few hours?” Lyra asked. “I'll have to find someplace else for him, and it's better if he doesn't wander off.” Rarity nodded. “Yes, of course, dear,” she said. “See if Applejack will let you use her barn- it should be large enough. I'll entertain your guest.” “Thank you, Rarity!” Lyra said, nuzzling her affectionately before hurrying to the door, stretching into a full gallop as soon as she hit the street. -|- Rarity took a moment to compose herself before following Lyra out of the dressing room at a much more decorous pace, and found Lyra's human hunched down next to one of the dress horses, examining a half-finished formal cape. He turned as she entered the room and smiled. Despite his intimidating size and alien physique, Rarity suddenly decided she wasn't nervous about him at all. His smile was open, inviting, and a bit... shy, as if his only goal was to put her at ease. In fact, she felt slightly guilty for her initial frightened reaction. “Did you make this, ma'am?” he asked politely, still smiling that engaging smile of his. “This stitchwork is amazing.” “Why, thank you,” Rarity said, gliding over to stand next to him. “Yes, I made it- this is my dress shop. I fancy myself a bit of a fashionista.” “You're amazingly talented,” he said, reaching out but not quite touching the cape. “The detail is just... perfect.” “You're entirely too kind,” Rarity protested humbly, smiling. “Lyra's gone to find you better accommodations; I'm afraid what I had set aside for you just won't do.” She stepped back, studying him critically. “Much like your ensemble. Whatever possessed you to pick such a drab color?” “It's my uniform,” he explained, blushing. Yes, he was definitely not somepony to be feared, or even to be wary of. “We kind of have to wear it.” “I see,” Rarity said, trotting over to her store of fabrics. “Well, you'll be with me for a while, so we might as well do something useful with our time.” “Um... ma'am-” “Please, dear, call me Rarity,” she said absently. “I think a nice, rich cream will suit you best, don't you?” “Miss Rarity, you really don't have to- I'm fine with these clothes.” “Nonsense!” Rarity exclaimed, snagging her tape measure and sending it to take some measurements. “I cannot let such a unique opportunity pass me by! No one has ever made clothing for a human before: I'll be the talk of Equestria! Now hold still, please. I can't measure your rump with you wiggling like that.” -|- What is this I don't even.