Twilight made her way down the dirt roads of Ponyville with all the calm that she could muster. Sombra trailed after her like a lost puppy. So there was a being of pure chaos roaming the streets. Fine. That was nothing new. Discord was, at least these days, a mild irritation at worst, and Sunset was actively benevolent most of the time. Chaos no longer fazed Twilight. What irked her now was the fact that there was a new element in Ponyville that she knew almost nothing about. She knew everybody in Ponyville, not just everypony, by name, occupation, age, pronouns, and which book they’d most recently checked out.
Caramel, confectioner and odd-jobs stallion, 36 years old, he/him/his, A Brief History of Thyme by Saffron Hibiscus.
Lily Valley Bouquet, florist and gossip hub, 33 years old, she/her/hers, Their Eyes Were Watching You: A Guide to Government Agencies and their Spies by Zora Zealous (currently five days overdue.)
Lyra Heartstrings, xenobiologist, cryptozoologist, and musician, 34 years old, she/her/hers, Revenge Between the Rivers: A Mystery of Brook Sparkle by Apple Core.
And now there was a gap in her knowledge. Two gaps, actually. It chewed at her stomach like a toothless alligator.
But! That would soon be rectified. She would learn. She would understand. She would add these newcomers to her network of friends and other relationships. Be it as friends, foes, or anything else, they would become part of her collective!
She caught herself, shaking her head. These intrusive thoughts were becoming increasingly common, and increasingly worrisome. There were times, when she closed her eyes, that she could almost see her friends and acquaintances in a sort of web, thin strings connecting everypony she knew to everypony else she knew. But now was not the time for that. Now was the time for finding a draconequus.
Twilight breathed in slowly and let it back out in a short pant. She looked up. Without even realizing it, she'd made her way to Sugarcube Corner. Well, a chaos spirit being here made as much sense as anything, particularly if Screwball shared her parent’s love of all things sugary. There also appeared to be a loose rope tied to the lamppost outside which was, if not actually chaotic, a little unusual. She stopped abruptly, and Sombra stumbled over his hooves in an effort not to bump into her.
The dark unicorn glanced up at the building and grimaced. “Here? Must we?” he asked. He liked Sugarcube Corner well enough; the food was delicious, and Pinkie Pie could make even him crack a smile. Unfortunately, he always got the feeling that there was something in there judging him, watching him, telling him how badly he stuck out. “I don't think Mrs. Cake likes me,” he said lamely. The alicorn did not reply.
Twilight took one more moment to gather her thoughts, then pushed open the door and trotted inside. Pinkie was at the counter, and Pound was busily sweeping the floor of the bakery. A few Ponyville residents sat scattered around the shop; over milkshakes, Thunderlane and Flitter stared adoringly into one another's eyes, while Cloudchaser rolled her own. Octavia pored over a piece of sheet music while making short work of a plate of cookies. Cranky Doodle was munching on a slice of chocolate silk pie, quite content. And sitting at a booth by herself, Screwball stared into space, sipping on a lemonade, a large cupcake sitting on a napkin in front of her.
Twilight nodded subtly at the chaos spirit, indicating to Sombra that they should go over to her. The large unicorn merely stared back blankly. Twilight inclined her head a tad more insistently. Sombra leaned in. “Have you a crick in your neck?” he hissed softly.
Twilight rolled her eyes and stormed over to Screwball’s booth.
The pink mare blinked as a fairly grouchy-looking purple alicorn imposed herself right in her line of sight. She was followed by a black unicorn with the frame of a wrestler, the teeth of a carnivore, and the disposition of a scholar being forced to put down his books and interact with other living beings. “Hello,” Screwball said, cautiously setting down her lemonade.
It was as though a switch had been thrown. Twilight’s face lit up, and suddenly she was all smiles. “Hi, Screwball. How are you?”
Screwball considered this for a moment. “I’m well enough, thank you,” she decided at last. “How are you?”
“Me?” Twilight laughed. It was a very long, very fake laugh. “I’m just great. I just wanted to come by and get to know you a little better! We didn’t really talk at the party, after all.”
“Very good of you,” Screwball said. “Won’t you introduce me to your friend first, though? I don't believe we've formally met.”
The big black unicorn made a soft noise that was meant to convey that it was alright really, there was no bother, and could they please just leave him alone? Twilight was remorseless. “Screwball, this is Sombra, my chief political advisor. Sombra, this is Screwball, Discord’s daughter.”
Sombra inclined his head and murmured, “Pleased to meet you.” His voice, Screwball thought, was nice. Gravelly and smooth all at once, like a pebble beach.
“And you,” she replied, extending a hoof. “Curious. The last I heard of you, you were a cruel tyrant who had died cursing his kingdom.”
Sombra froze. “Er…”
“You can tell me later,” Screwball said, shaking his unresisting hoof. “Was there anything in particular that you wanted to discuss with me, Twilight? Things to do with the spreading of chaos, the destruction of sanity, the end of the world?”
Twilight went pink. “What makes you--”
“Please. I know my parent’s reputation.”
“Hm. Fair enough,” Twilight said. “But no, not really. You haven’t started anything as far as I can tell, so I just sent a letter to Princess Celestia detailing your arrival. Other than that, I’m giving you the benefit of the doubt.”
“Thanks ever so much,” Screwball said drily.
Twilight chose to let that shot pass. “Really, I am just here to learn a little more about you,” she said. “We didn’t talk at all at Fluttershy’s, and, y’know, immortals are a pretty rare breed. I’d like to get to know you.”
Screwball studied the other mare, then nodded slowly. “Alright. What do you want to know?”
Twilight blanked. She glanced at Sombra. “Er…” he said. “Start from the beginning, I suppose.”
“Alright. My birth.” She sat up a little straighter and cleared her throat. “I sprang from Par’s mind, fully formed, at a physical age of about ten or so. In my left hoof, I held a bucket of paint. In my right, a baseball bat.”
Twilight blinked. “You came out of their head?” she asked, looking a little green.
“Yeah. What’s so wrong with that? That alicorn guy came out from behind your ear.”
She looked at their faces and regretted everything she had said. Why, oh why did her family history have to be so weird? “Look, why don’t I tell you about Lucy instead?”
“Who is ‘Lucy’?” Sombra asked.
“My best friend. You must’ve seen her, tied up outside the shop.”
Twilight sat bolt upright. “You left your friend tied up outside?”
“Yeah. I don’t like it either, but hey. If it’s ‘no dogs allowed’, then it’s ‘no dogs allowed’.”
“Oh,” Twilight said, relaxing. “No, I’m sorry, we must have missed her.”
Sombra’s ever-present frown deepened. “Where did you tie her up?” he asked.
“One of the big candy canes,” Screwball said. “Why?”
“Because there is a rope there,” Sombra said, “but there is no dog.”
Screwball went rigid. There was a faint sound like a needle scratching on a record, and the spirals in her eyes glitched for a moment. Twilight leaned in and studied her closely. “Are you--”
And then Screwball was gone, sweeping her food to the floor and bolting for the door. “Lucy!” she shouted. “Lucy, where are you?”
“Tartarus,” Twilight muttered, leaping out of the booth. “We’d better get after her.”
Sombra made to follow her, but was arrested by a sharp clearing of the throat. Mrs. Cake had returned, and she was giving a rather pointed look at the food that had been thrown to the ground. He tried to explain, but his words died in his throat. Head hung low, he approached the counter and took the proffered dustpan. With a sigh, he began to sweep up the mess. At least he was out of the way for whatever chaos would come next.
While Apple Bloom started cooking up her allergy medicine on the kitchen stove, Applejack had decided to keep Mentiad company in the living room. He had fallen into a miserable sort of silence, now, interrupted only by the occasional sniffle. The silence was starting to wear on Applejack. Clearly, though, if there was going to be a conversation, the onus was on her to start it. “So, uh, sugarcube,” she said. “How’d you know Discord an’ all the rest, anyhow?”
Mentiad sniffled. “Oh. Well, it’s been awhile,” he admitted. “Lots more of us, back in the old days. The sisters took care of most of the admin. The rest of us mainly focused on our own domains.”
“Who-all else was there?”
Mentiad thought, smiling faintly. “Hm. Been so long since I really thought about them. Prince Omega of course, and his eternal foil, ORB. Harlequin lived up north in the Crystal Empire. I was always pretty sure that they had the hots for Princess Amore.” His smile faltered for a moment. “Chrona, of course, though when she would turn up was anyone’s guess. Nearly as bad as Paradox. All the rest, I suspect you’ve already met.”
“Love to meet th' rest of ‘em someday,” Applejack said.
Mentiad stared off into space. “Well, perhaps,” he said vaguely. “It seems so many of us have already returned…”
“Sugarcube? Are y’all alright, there?”
“Well, not particularly,” Mentiad said flatly. “I still can’t breathe through my nose.”
“Ah’ll go see if Bloomers has that potion ready,” Applejack promised, rising from her chair.
“Thank you,” Mentiad said as she left. He stared at the ceiling. He was forgetting something. He knew that he was forgetting something. He didn’t think he wanted to remember right now.
Fluttershy shoved the door to her cottage open. A flock of starlings flew from their perches, startled, but she only gave them a quick apology before hurrying up the stairs. She flew into her bedroom, but stopped dead when she saw a certain green figure sprawled out on her bed. “Treehugger? What are you doing here?”
The hippie raised her head and smiled. “Aw, hey, ‘shy. My train back home’s not gonna get here ‘til tomorrow. Is it chill if I crash here?”
“Er, yes, of course,” Fluttershy said, glancing around. “Where did I put it…”
Treehugger sat up. “Yo, dude. What’s put the bee in your bonnet?”
“I’ve lost something,” Fluttershy said, opening up one drawer after the other. “A key, a very important key.”
Treehugger stood up. “Key to what, dude? Hey, is this some of that ‘saving-the-world’ stuff? Not, like, saving the ground squirrels, but like, the world?”
“No, not exactly,” Fluttershy said. “I need to talk to Discord, but they’ve run off. A little while ago, I convinced them to give me a spare key to their house. But I can’t find it.”
“What’s it look like?”
“Oh, about the length of a crochet hook, blue, made of cardboard…” Fluttershy said. “Don’t worry about it, I’ll find it.”
“Cardboard?”
“It’s best not to ask too many questions when it comes to Discord.”
“Huh.” Treehugger looked around. “De-stress yourself, bud. It’ll turn up sooner or later.”
“Yes, maybe so, but I need it to turn up now,” Fluttershy emphasized. “Something is very wrong with Discord.”
She looked at Treehugger. The hippie looked back, apparently unbothered. “Their… chakras are out of alignment?”
That got a reaction. “Fer serious?” the green mare asked, leaning forward.
“Yes!”
“Huh. Thought they’d be less of a square than that. Okay, I’ll help you look.”
“Thank you, Tree Hugger. I just don’t know where it could have gone! The last time I remember having it was when I was sorting my sock drawer-- that’s where I usually keep it-- and then Applejack came over to ask about a sick pig…”
Tree Hugger furrowed her brow. “What did you do after that?”
“Well, I got out Diseases of the Pig by Swine Flu, and looked up the symptoms, and I bookmarked the page in case I needed to check it again later.”
Tree Hugger looked over Fluttershy’s bookshelf. About half of her books seemed to be about various animal diseases. The rest looked like soppy romance novels. She pulled down Diseases of the Pig. “What was wrong with the pig?”
“Um, Selenium Abundance. Why?”
“‘S’,” Treehugger muttered. “Scroup, Scuffsnout, Scumblescrote, Seditious Feelings, Selenium.”
She pulled out the marker Fluttershy had left there. It was blue, made of cardboard, and about the length of a crochet hook. “This it?”
Fluttershy lit up. “Treehugger, you’re a marvel!”
“Yeah, I get called that a lot.”
“A marvel?”
“No, dude. Treehugger.”
“...Right, yes. Now I just need to remember how to use this.” She frowned at the key-shaped piece of cardboard. “And to hope that Discord wasn’t kidding when they gave it to me…”
She closed her eyes, shoved the key straight out in front of her, and turned it. There was a brief feeling of vertigo, as though she were falling in three different directions at once.
When she opened her eyes, she was somewhere else entirely.
“Dude.”
So, apparently, was Tree Hugger.
Applejack looked over Apple Bloom’s shoulder, gazing doubtfully at the stovetop. “Are y’all sure about this?”
“Sure Ah’m sure!” Bloom insisted. “This is one of th’ first potions Zecora ever showed me, Ah’ could do it blindfolded. What’s got yer knickers in such a twist, anyhow?”
“He’s royalty. If you poison him--”
“Then Ah’ll be in just as much trouble as Ah would if Ah poisoned anypony else,” Bloom said firmly. “It’s just allergy medication, sis. There ain’t no way to mess this up too badly, 'specially seein' how he's immortal anyway. Worst thing it can do is not work.”
There was a sneeze, followed by a loud crack and the stink of ozone.
Applejack grimaced. “Considerin’ th’ number he’s doin’ on th’ farm, Ah’d say that’s bad enough. You almost done?”
“Just about. All it needs now is a little bit of crushed roses.”
“Oh, you’re making Snuffenuff!” Mentiad said brightly. Both mares wheeled around to look at him. His nose was leaking and his eyes were rheumy, but he was still smiling vaguely, utterly entranced. “I remember reading about that ages ago.”
“What are you doin’ up?” Bloom demanded, stepping away from the stove.
“I’m out of tissues. Interesting thing about Snuffenuff--”
“Nope, come on, yer sittin’ back down.”
“Don’t be silly, I’m perfectly capable of--” he tripped over his own hooves and smashed facefirst into the floor. After a moment of confusion where even Mentiad wasn’t sure how many limbs he had, he rolled onto his back. “Funny thing about linoleum,” he said, staring vacantly at the ceiling. “Invented by kirin immigrants to Equestria, and given its name by the future Lord Mayor of Trottingham…”
Bloom helped him back to his hooves. “Ah reckon he’s gettin’ worse. Ah gotta work out th’ right dosage, make sure that stuff don’t boil over.”
She led him back to the parlor. “And then I told Dick Topline, I said, ‘Dick, me boy me lad, if you want to get anywhere in life, what you need to do is get into politics’. Of course he said, ‘Oh no I don’t,’ but I told him, ‘Oh yes you do,’ and he told me…”
His story trailed off into incoherent babble. Applejack looked at the pot of medicine. It didn’t look very appetizing. It had turned a disturbing shade of pink, and it smelled distressingly like burned bubblegum. She wouldn’t have let Winona take that kind of medicine, at least not without wrapping it in bacon.
She mulled over that. “Well, like Aunt Candy Apple always says, ‘a spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down’.”
She pulled down a bag of sugar from the pantry and poured in a little over a tablespoon’s worth. “That oughta make it a little more palatable.”
She stirred the broth. It foamed a little, but soon it settled down to a little bit of scum on the surface. Bloom trotted back in. “Ah reckon a quarter-cup’ll do it.”
“Sounds like a lot.”
“He went through all the tissues in th’ house in half an hour. Trust me, this is th’ dosage he needs.”
“All right. Yer the boss.”
“Glad you agree,” Bloom said, taking out a bag of little shriveled pink petals and pouring in a few. The potion sizzled and bubbled where they hit the surface. She frowned as the fizzing died down.
“Something th’ matter?”
“...No, nothin’. Thought it smelled a little sweeter than normal, that’s all.” She pulled out a measuring cup and poured a little of the brew in.
Applejack glanced away. “Better hurry an’ give it to him before he fries any more trees.”
“Yep, right away.” Bloom put the cup on a tray, picked it up in her mouth, and quickly ported it along to the next room. Applejack trailed along in her wake.
Mentiad was lying on his side in the middle of the floor. The lack of tissues had forced him to put the empty box over his nose to avoid dribbling on the carpet. He looked utterly miserable, but he brightened when he saw Apple Bloom come in with the pink fluid. “Excellent! How much of that do I have to drink?”
Bloom set down the tray and cup. “All of it.”
His smile fell. “Oh. I see.” He looked at the cup of pink liquid. A bubble formed on the surface and popped with a gloopy sound. “Bubblegum flavored, I seem to recall.”
“Yep.”
“Hasn’t changed at all over the years?”
“Nope.”
“Shame. Oh well, bottoms up.” He pinched his nose shut with magic, realized that it really didn’t make a lick of difference given how clogged up it was, then quaffed the medicine in one quick gulp.
His eyes crossed. He gagged, and a dribble of pink escaped his lips. With apparently titanic effort, he swallowed it all, twitched, and fell over sideways, back legs kicking erratically.
Applejack gasped and stumbled back. “You killed him!”
Bloom rolled her eyes. “Hardly.” She quickly shoved the empty tissue box over Mentiad’s nose, then rolled him onto his stomach.
A few seconds ticked by, and then Mentiad spasmed. He gagged several times, and several rather abhorrent snorting sounds emerged from the empty tissue box. After several seconds, he rose sharply to his hooves, taking a deep breath in through the nose as he did. After several seconds of wide-eyed panting, he glanced at the two mares. “How is it that over the course of nearly thirteen hundred years, no one has discovered a way of making bubblegum flavoring taste good?”
“Bin too busy tryin’ to cure more diseases,” Apple Bloom replied shortly.
Mentiad opened his mouth, then snapped it shut again. “Fair,” he admitted. “Thank you, Apple Bloom.”
“Weren’t nothin’. Y’all all better now?”
He considered. “Well, I can breathe through my nose again. So… yes, I think so.”
“Glad to hear.”
Applejack had her mind elsewhere. “Now, Ah know it weren’t yer fault… exactly,” she began. “But, well, we lost a lot of trees today…”
“Oh, right. Sorry. Um, you’ll be wanting money, right? I’ll need to talk to... someone about that, but I -- the Crown -- should be able to pay you back pretty soon.”
“Course! Take all the time you need, sugarcube. As long as it’s before harvest.”
“Mm. Say, you wanna know a weird fact about snuffenuff?”
Applejack tilted her head. “...Sure.”
Apple Bloom grinned. “Ah reckon Ah'll already know it.”
“Alright, you’re on, Bloom. What do you need to add to snuffenuff to make it into a potent stimulant?”
“Easy, sugar.”
“That’s a little forward, don’t you think?” Mentiad asked, quirking a brow. He lasted nearly three seconds before dissolving into giggles at his own bad joke. “But yes, well done!”
Applejack felt a pit open up in her stomach. “Uh. Hey, Bloom…”
Apple Bloom shut her eyes. “AJ, please tell me ya didn’t.”
“You know,” Mentiad said, the giggles not ceasing, “I’m feeling much, much better now!" His mane started to puff up, crackling with electrical power. "As a matter of fact, I think I’ll go hit the town! Thank you both so much see you later buh-byeeee!”
He turned and crashed through the window, pronking off into the orchard, heading toward Ponyville.
Very calmly, Apple Bloom reached over, removed Applejack’s hat, and smacked her over the head with it. Applejack didn’t move to stop her.