//------------------------------// // Chapter 3 // Story: Down With the Pastryarchy // by kudzuhaiku //------------------------------// Though not fully awake, Twilight Sparkle had to hustle. She had remained awake long after the others had gone to sleep and now, she had to face the consequences. They had to catch an airship, as it was the fastest, most reliable way to cross the city due to traffic. As she trotted along, she wondered what might come next, when the skies were too full of traffic and airship travel became impractical. Las Pegasus had been transformed by its new mass-transit system and now a veritable sea of equinity swarmed through the streets, with the city’s population having more than quadrupled in just a few years. The growth could only be described as explosive and the popular public opinion was that the city neared a state of collapse. For a city in danger of catastrophe, there sure was an awful lot of construction. “Over there,” Seville said while pointing. Turning her head, Twilight saw one of the new ultra-modern airships. It had a much smaller nacelle, but required far more electricity than previous generations. It didn’t run on coal like the older ships, but operated with a stirling engine heated by a closed-loop alcohol-based boiler. The alcohol boiled at a lower temperature than water and was heated by more alcohol, which burned far, far cleaner than coal. This new design was invented by Chanson Argentée, Emperor of Fancy. Everypony said it was the future and Twilight was inclined to agree. “It looks like a big steel zucchini,” said Applejack while she gave Twilight a hard shove to keep her moving. “And boy howdy, I can smell the hootch in the air. Smells like Granny Smith’s moonshine.” “Zucchini?” Pinkie Pie pronked beside Seville, oblivious to the luggage strapped to her back. “Gee, I think it looks like a pen—” “Pinkie Pie!” shouted Applejack, “—cil. I mean, it sorta looks like a pencil, it’s long and skinny and kinda pointy in the front.” “Come on, ladies, let’s get moving.” Seville, always a gentlepony, led the way through the massive crowd of ponies swarming through the transit hub. “This is worse than Manehattan. I’ve never seen so many ponies crowded into one spot like this. With the rest of the world retreating to Equestria, I’m starting to wonder if we have the room to hold them all.” Twilight, hearing Seville’s words, knew that she’d have a lot of princessing to do. The Moondust Resort & Casino was massive, far, far larger than Twilight imagined it to be. It had its own airship station—which many of the larger buildings had—but the Moondust could dock two dozen airships at once. There was a sign boasting of the world’s largest movie screen and that each movie ticket came with twenty gambling tokens. Another sign said that the world’s largest all-you-care-to-eat buffet could be found here. The tallest part of the building was over sixty stories in height, and the building itself spread out over nine whole acres, almost making it its own city. Why, it made the Castle of Friendship small and cramped by comparison. As the airship eased itself into its berth, Twilight felt the first pangs of apprehension. There were a lot of ponies here, all packed into one place. Not just the bake-off, but in the casino and the resort. In the massive pool in the courtyard down below, there had to be hundreds of ponies, and perhaps over a thousand in the courtyard. This place… was a Tartarus for introverts. When her mouth went dry, she licked her lips but there was no moisture to be had. “Twilight, you okay?” Seville’s voice jarred her from her thoughts and when she turned she almost bumped snoots with him. He was that close, and somehow, she hadn’t noticed. Sidestepping, she moved even closer while trying to collect her composure. She had faced big crowds before—she had faced whole armies before—but the apprehension always manifested itself. “Twilight’s buggin’ out—” “I’m fine, Seville… just a bit overwhelmed by everything, that’s all. This place is enormous. It’s huge.” Recovering herself, Twilight gave Seville a full-body bump and flashed him a smile. “Thank you for thinking of me.” “Don’t mention it, Toots.” Something about the way he said it caused a bad case of the giggles and Twilight found herself powerless to stop them. When she looked him in the eye, it made matters even worse, and she was forced to turn away before she lost it completely. The fact that he could talk that way with a straight face was utterly devastating to Twilight, and she was powerless to resist his pulp-novel charms. Before she knew what was going on, she was giggle-snorting and this was the worst. Fearing a fatal encounter with embarrassment, she stepped away from Seville and covered her face with her wing. “Whatta dame.” With these two words, Twilight Sparkle lost it. “Oh, hey, we got Twilight laughing early, that’s a good sign!” “Sure is, Pinks.” “Keep working her over, Seville.” “Can do, Pinks.” Snorting, the corners of Applejack’s mouth jerked upwards into a fine grin while her tail slapped around her cutie marks, swatting flies that weren’t there. “I can’t wait to see our room…” There was a fountain. Just inside the enormous, oversized double doors, there was a fountain. A water feature. Pinkie Pie bumped into Twilight’s backside when Twilight stopped suddenly, without warning, but rather than back away, the pink pony lingered there. Equinal space was a nebulous concept for some. Of course, this was one Princess Suite among many. A whole floor full of them. Twilight and her friends had passed by dozens of enormous, oversized, ornamental-to-the-point-of-being-tacky doors. Pinkie Pie had been mistaken thinking that the Princess Suite had been reserved for them. A Princess Suite had been reserved. Vaulted cathedral ceilings soared overhead and sunlight streamed in through stained glass windows reminiscent of Canterlot Castle. While it left behind a fantastic initial impression, it dazzled the senses in a surefire way, Twilight could not help but notice that there was something chintzy about it. Something that almost felt mass-produced. While the room was large, it wasn’t as large as one might expect from first-sight. It was clearly as large as the floorplan allowed, with every other Princess Suite on this floor also having an equal amount of floor space. There was one ginormous bed beyond another set of double doors, and three smaller cot beds—still folded—could be seen. They had been delivered, but not set up. Some poor housekeeper or porter was probably being overworked right now and feeling the pressure caused by the bake-off. No matter what she looked at, Twilight’s eyes kept returning to the fountain. At first, it was impressive, but a second inspection made it seem gaudy. She could see that it was just plaster that had been slathered over with faux gold leaf. The Moondust was selling an experience; a mass produced sensory experience, and anypony with enough bits got to feel like a princess—or at least was sold the illusion of what was believed to be princess-level luxury. “Conditioned air is sinfully delightful,” Applejack said while sauntering through the room. “I used to hate it when I was younger, but I was a stupid filly back then. I kept sayin’ it didn’t feel natural. Now as I get older, and my back aches more, and my hips get all hot and cramped, air conditioning feels better and better.” Totally unconcerned by good taste or decorum, Applejack stood over a vent in the floor, kicked her hind legs into a wide stance, and then stood there making what could only be described as orgasmic faces while she let the cooled air blow over her hot, sweaty nethers. Twilight had seen Celestia do the same thing, but the faces the big, bossy white alicorn made were far, far more expressive than anything Applejack could muster. “Oh yeah, that hits the spot.” Closing her eyes, Applejack lost herself to bliss. “My press credentials.” Seville moved to check out the papers left on the table and he utterly ignored Applejack’s soft whinnying. Meanwhile, Pinkie Pie was shrugging off the luggage strapped to her back, which was mostly Seville’s luggage; she was stronger than he by far and loved to tease him about it—until of course it was suggested that she did the heavy lifting. But it was all in fun and the complaining wasn’t real complaining, though Twilight always felt a little nervous when it happened, always fearing that something might be taken wrong. Teasing always felt risky to Twilight and she was never truly comfortable being around it or doing it. “Jackie, now the room smells like swamp-crotch—” “Get stuffed, Pinkie Pie. It’s springtime and already one-hundred and twelve degrees outside. That ain’t right.” There was an explosion of laughter from Pinkie Pie, who, now free of luggage, could inspect the room. She bounced from place to place, from pony to pony, from doorway to doorway, until she came to a sudden stop and stared, open mouthed at whatever was beyond, outside of Twilight’s view. “Pinkie?” Twilight, wondering what was up, began to cross the room. “The tub, Twilight! It’s bigger than your bed! And the toilet! It’s gold!” Having reached the door, Twilight ducked her head inside to have a look. Beyond was the gaudiest, tackiest, most revolting crime scene of interiour decorating that she had ever seen. All of the fixtures were of gold leaf and the toilet was, indeed, gilt with tacky fake gold. The primary colour of the bathroom was an off white—Rarity would have called it ecru—and all of the accents were grotesque shades of mauve and pastel yellow. The tub—Brobdingnagian in nature—was crecent moon shaped, but to Twilight’s eyes looked more like a banana. A big golden banana. If Rarity was here, there would be screaming and theatrics of the worst kind. “That’s the ugliest thing I’ve ever seen and I live in a castle with Goose.” Seville’s words almost caused Twilight to jump right out of her skin. Somehow, he had snuck up beside her and she had been so distracted by the horrors beyond the door that she hadn’t noticed. She could feel that every single feather had fluffed itself out and now her neck—its muscles quivering—felt hot, even with the air conditioning. Pinkie Pie, being Pinkie Pie, objected. “I think it’s pretty!” “You would, Pinks—” “Hey, Bub! I don’t have to take that from you!” Pinkie’s face of mock-outrage was a little too perfect and Twilight, overwhelmed and somewhat sleep deprived, felt a little alarmed by the exchange. “I’m gonna go jump on the bed! Buh-bye!” She was gone in a pink blur, leaving Twilight and Seville stuck staring at the horrific crime scene. Seville, possessed with a surplus of earth pony sense, gently pushed Twilight back, closed the door, and shook his head. He sighed, chuckled for but a moment, and raising his eyebrow, he looked Twilight right in the eye. “Goose would think this place was great. What’s that say about him, I wonder?” “The prince likes big tacky things covered in gold.” “Applejack, that’s just mean. Totally true and well-deserved, but mean.” Clucking his tongue, his eyes closed, his ribs expanding with heaved chuckles, Seville shook his head. It took Twilight a few seconds to realise what Applejack meant and when things did click into place, her mouth fell open in shock. Turning about, she saw that Applejack was still spread-legged over the vent and was still making funny faces. When it occurred to her that she was the only pony not laughing, Twilight let slip a nervous titter and hoped nopony would notice how much she stood out right now. After several long seconds of feeling tense, nervous, and out of place, Twilight realised that she needed to relax. She needed to lighten up. A vacation was needed… some time to cut loose and do incredibly foolish things. Her thoughts drifted back to the time when she and her friends had visited Appleloosa—and she had rekindled her love for cheesy, ooey-gooey quesadillas. That had been a great trip, a fine, memorable trip, and this one could be too. All she had to do was relax and allow herself to enjoy life a little. Easier said than done, though. Twilight laughed, and this time, it was neither forced nor fake. With genuine, sincere laughter, some of her tension melted away, and after a brief think, she arrived at the conclusion that what Applejack had said was funny. Princess Celestia was big… oversized… and covered in gold… very much like this Princess Suite that she now stood in. The little laughs gave way to big laughs and then, much to her own surprise, Twilight felt better. A little bit of Applejack’s honesty hit the spot. “Sounds like Twilight is unwinding, be prepared for anything,” Pinkie Pie shouted from the other room. Twilight Sparkle walked into the gaping mouth of the dragon, uncertain of what she would find beyond. Her frogs were tickled by the plush red carpet that was the dragon’s tongue and there was a surreal moment as she was ushered into the room beyond, the Belly of the Beast V.I.P. Lounge. Being a Very Important Pony, Twilight and her friends were given privileged access to what was said to be the finest dining experience in Equestria. She expected something overwhelming, but was pleased to discover a room that was relatively small—almost cosy, even. Exclusivity had benefits, one of them being small comfortable rooms that were not overwhelming. The impeccable maître d' led them through the room to a quiet table in a dim corner and then stood aside as they were seated. “The wine list will be brought out shortly,” said the maître d' while bowing his perfectly groomed head. “We are honoured to have you as our guest, Princess Sparkle of Ponyville. Princess Celestia of Canterlot has pre-paid all of your expenses, so please, indulge yourself.” “She what?” Twilight, no stranger to princess games, now had an inkling that something was up. Reservations in the finest restaurant in Equestria? Was Celestia apologising for what was sure to be a fiasco in advance, or did she have other, more sinister motives? Twilight’s eyes darted right, to Seville who sat beside her, and then left, to Pinkie Pie. Yes, she suspected treachery, but not just from Celestia—no, this stank of Cadance’s nefarious perfidy as well. What foul evil was ahoof? “Reservations were established almost six months ago,” the maître d' replied. “Usually, reservations take a year or more, but there was a cancellation just before Princess Celestia contacted us by telegram.” Twilight’s muzzle contracted as though she had a mouthful of sour candy. “She’s so thoughtful, that princess—” “Seville, did you have something to do with this?” Twilight asked. Right away, she saw the shock and surprise on his face, and knew, she knew that he was an innocent victim of princessly plotting. “Nevermind.” “It seems as though we’ve been had.” Seville gave the maître d' a nod. “Thanks.” “Very good.” Then, without further ado, the maître d' was gone. When the maître d' was out of sight, Applejack leaned forwards, raised one eyebrow, and transfixed Twilight with a hard, almost maternal stare. “That’s quite a long time. Twilight, honey, tell me… have you done the deed yet? Have you sealed the deal? Or have you been dragging your hooves this whole time?” Seville turned away to look at a painting on the wall and Pinkie Pie crammed a whole breadstick into her mouth, leaving poor Twilight to face Applejack’s direct inquiry all alone. Try as she might, Twilight could not look away; it was as if some strange magic compelled her to keep eye-contact with Applejack. This was, by and large, earth pony behaviour. They felt the pressing need to discuss such private matters among friends, with a real focus on procreation. Procreation procrastination peeved persnickety ponies. “It’s complicated,” Twilight whispered, recalling that she had made the same response to her mother when confronted over tea. “No.” Applejack, hatless, furrowed her brows and her green eyes blazed with a fierce intensity. “It’s not complicated at all, Twilight. Even fools can do it, and often do. Some even do it by accident. I told you, it’s like jumping into a swimmin’ hole full of cold water. It’s best to just jump in and get it over with. Twilight, we talked about this.” This was true. Twilight had endured several painful conversations about this very subject. “Yes, Pinkie Pie got burned in the past. One jerk wanted a notch on his bedpost for fronking the Element of Laughter and then there was the whole Cheese Sandwich mess.” Applejack leaned forwards and for a moment, her lips drew tight over her teeth. “Look, I get it, I do… Pinkie Pie getting hurt and your own hangups and insecurities weigh on your mind. That pony right there”—she gestured at Seville—“he aims to make you happy and near as I can tell, he ain’t the love’em and leave’em sort. And yes, I say that with the full awareness that he and Pinkie bumped uglies and went their separate ways. Sometimes, I think what happened to poor Pinkie Pie has hurt you more than it did her.” This was not the lunch conversation that Twilight expected or was prepared for. “It’s not nice to keep another waiting,” Applejack continued, drawling out each word. “I can’t imagine how awkward it must be for Pinkie and Seville to scratch that itch while waiting for you to get in on the action—” “Look, I told them they could, okay?” Twilight kept her voice low and struggled to keep her emotions in check. “I understand that ponies have needs. I do. I get that. And I felt that it was unfair for them to wait for me to sort out everything in my head. I am fully and totally aware of what they do with one another and I’m okay with it. It’s a relief more than anything. But it also makes things complicated. For me. Everything has been so complicated. Like, everything. I haven’t had time to sort things out.” A powerful internal cringe made Twilight shudder. This wasn’t true. She had just lied to her friend. She thought of her boredom and her growing sense of ennui. There had been plenty of quiet moments to sort things out and for whatever reason… she hadn’t. Rather than apologise, she sat there stewing and feeling sorry for herself, which made things worse. Of course it made things worse, and she knew that, but she couldn’t stop it from happening. How long had she avoided the Cadance issue because it had left her so uncomfortable? “Twilight, you need to trust me when I say that you’ll feel better about everything if’n you’d just let this happen. You have to let yourself be vulnerable sometimes, Twi—” “I can’t!” Embarrassed over her outburst, Twilight lowered her voice. “That’s just the thing, Applejack. The vulnerability. Having weakness. My experience… changed me. It’s left me hard. I became… whatever it is that I am right now… an alicorn… an amalgamation of a whole separate pony… I’ve become the summation of Eternity’s experiences and I can’t tell where she ends and I begin. Has she become me or have I become her? I’ve lived her life… all of it. From beginning to fateful end. And I’ve seen what becomes of a pony because of weakness.” “Twilight Sparkle… this here phobia of weakness… is a weakness.” She sucked in a deep breath and her most immediate desire was to shout that Applejack was wrong. Twilight exhaled, deflated, and slumped over in her chair against the table in a most unladylike sort of way. Ears sagging, Twilight silently berated herself for allowing herself to reach this point. “Twi, this goes against everything you stand for as the Princess of Friendship.” Applejack’s voice was soft, reassuring, tender. “Opening yourself up to others is not vulnerability. It’s not weakness. I think I see it now… what happened to Pinkie Pie… twice... has become the focus for your… how do I put it? You saw thousands of years of betrayal, one right after another, and now, you need to move past that. ‘Bout the only creature you open yourself up to is Spike, near as I can tell.” “Spike can be trusted,” Twilight muttered. “Spike comes to us and tells us you need help,” Seville said to Twilight, his voice low and gritty. “Right now, we’re all waiting to see if you’ll ask for help while also making plans to help you.” Lip curling back into a snarl, Twilight could not help but feel betrayed, but refused to feel angry about what Spike had done. She thought back to the day when she had enchanted a doll and almost destroyed Ponyville. When all of her other friends had failed her, and she had failed herself, Spike was there to pick up the pieces. Closing her eyes, Twilight moaned and allowed the self pity to wash over her like an incoming tide. Reaching across the table, Applejack took Twilight’s fetlock into her own. “None of us can understand what’s happened to you. You’ve had one of them extraordinary experiences. Well, you’ve had several of them, really, now that I think about it. When you got your wings, it got a little harder to relate to you. More so than when you were just a unicorn. Your conflict with Starlight left you a little colder and out of touch with others. I could still reach you, but it felt like I had to work for it, Twilight. Not that I mind the work. Earth pony and all that.” “Anything worth having is worth working for.” Reaching out, Pinkie Pie grasped Twilight’s other fetlock and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “This might be my fault—” Eyes fluttering open, Twilight lifted her head. “How is this your fault?” “Well…” Pinkie Pie’s blue eyes fell to the table and her nostrils flared wide. “I keep insisting that everypony back off and give you the space you need to sort things out. In the past, that’s worked. You usually do sort things out and then you’re fine again. You come to us when you’ve started to recover. But lately, I’ve been wondering if I’m wrong.” Twilight’s gaze fell upon the flickering candle in the middle of the table. She had borne witness to countless conflicts, had watched all of civilisation crumble into near-nothingness, and had even seen a future when nothing at all had survived. She had steeled herself to deal with these things; any outcome, any possibility, any foreseeable future. She was prepared to deal with all manner of catastrophe and apocalyptic scenarios. Weakness had been purged and she had remade herself in the image of the princess that she was expected to be. Except, she hadn’t. A server approached, bearing the wine list in her magic. Twilight picked herself up, sat up straight, pulled herself free from Applejack and Pinkie, and folded her forelegs across her barrel. Weirdly enough, she felt better, but she also felt worse. She was right where she needed to be though, with her friends, and she trusted them to do what was best for her. “No wine for me, thanks,” Twilight said to the server. “But I’ll take an ice cold bottle of Armor~Cola if you’ve got one.” The mare bowed her head and then nodded. “For you, our honoured guest, anything.”