//------------------------------//
// Time with Twilight 
// Story: Living in Equestria 
// by Blazewing 
//------------------------------//

Sunday dawned cool and cloudy. It looked like we were in for another rainy day, though thankfully, it didn’t look like it’d be another thunderstorm. I guess I could’ve checked the weather schedule I’d gotten with the news, but I was so used to it being wrong back home, that ignoring the forecast and guessing were pretty much habit. When I heard the familiar knock at the door, indicating that it was time for my weekly visit, I opened it up to see Cirrus and Nimbus standing outside.

“Hello, Dave,” they both said.

“Hello,” I said. “How are you both doing?”

“Pretty well,” said Cirrus. “Pretty busy, too.”

“We’ve been all over the place,” said Nimbus. “On the minister’s orders, of course. We just flew in from Canterlot, and boy, are our wings tired.”

“Oh,” I said, sympathetically. “I’m sorry to add additional work to your plates.”

“Nah, think nothing of it,” said Nimbus, good-naturedly. “We’re not complaining. We like keeping busy.”

“Which is to say,” said Cirrus, winking, “Ironmane likes keeping us busy. He thinks it’ll keep us out of trouble.”

I would’ve asked if it had worked, but thought it might sound accusatory or rude, so I said nothing.

“Besides,” Cirrus went on, “this job gives us a chance to stretch our wings and see Ponyville, which is always welcome. It’s a lot friendlier here than in Canterlot. Up there, there’s too many ponies with sticks up their rumps.”

“And no sense of humor,” Nimbus chimed in.

“Well,” I said, delicately, “I’m only saying this as someone whose only had a few short stays in Canterlot, but I haven’t found it too bad. Then again, I’ve only rubbed elbows with fellow peers and the princesses there, so I’m not as well-acquainted with Canterlot society as you two.”

“Don't worry about it, Dave,” said Cirrus. “Consider it a narrow escape. Why, the number of stories we could tell, but we don’t have time to stick around and recount any today.”

“We’d love to, but we’ve got other places to be and things to do,” said Nimbus. “And besides, it wouldn’t do to hang around when it’s scheduled to rain.”

“Oh, no, I understand,” I said. “I wouldn’t want to hold you guys up on any account. But whenever you guys have any downtime, I’d be more than glad to welcome you in for a chat.”

“See, Dave, that’s why you’re such a stand-up guy,” said Cirrus. “You’ve always got your mind on other ponies’ needs.”

“Instead of only caring about what’s good for you,” said Nimbus.

“Shucks,” I said, modestly. “It’s just how I was brought up.”

“Well, in any case,” said Cirrus, “here’s your dues.”

And he handed over the usual hefty bag of bits.

“As for news,” said Nimbus, “has anypony told you about the gem pocket that was uncovered for the Lounge?”

“Prince Shining Armor did,” I said. “It sounds like great news. The Lounge should never want for anything now.”

“Minister Ironmane certainly hopes so,” said Cirrus. “He takes a keen interest in the Lounge, almost as much as Gilli Brutus.”

“Not surprising,” said Nimbus, “considering he-”

At this, Cirrus shot him a sharp look, and Nimbus stopped abruptly, looking tight-lipped. I stared from one to the other, puzzled.

“Considering he’s Minister of Foreign Affairs,” Nimbus said, in an offhand tone. “He doesn’t want us to lose our peace with the dragons.”

“He’s very adamant about that,” said Cirrus, nodding.

I didn’t say anything, but I wasn’t entirely convinced that that was what Nimbus had been about to say.

“Well, sorry to bolt, Dave, but we really need to be off,” said Cirrus. “We want to beat those showers.”

“The last thing Ironmane wants is messengers dripping on his office rug,” said Nimbus.

“All right,” I said. “I’ll see you both next time. Stay dry.”

Cirrus and Nimbus gave me a cheery salute with their wings, then took off. I watched them go with a mounting feeling of puzzlement. What had Nimbus really been about to say? It wasn’t surprising that Ironmane would take a keen interest in the Lounge, considering...what? It could very well be that he was just concerned for relations with the dragons, but then why would Cirrus have shut Nimbus up like that? No, there was something more to this, but for the life of me, I couldn’t think what it was.

“I can’t just ask him himself,” I said to myself as I went back inside. “If Cirrus and Nimbus wouldn’t say, he’d be the last pony to ask about it, even if things are better between us. Maybe those two are just pulling another joke on me. That’s definitely a possibility.”

In the end, I decided to just let the matter drop until something else cropped up to add fuel to my suspicions. After all, Shadow Spade herself once said, in the book Moonlight and I had finished, ‘Evidence is everything: it makes the difference between deductive reasoning and making mountains of molehills’.


***


An hour or so after, the rain came. As I expected, it wasn’t a monsoon-worthy, Hundred-Acre Wood-flooding downpour, with thunder and lightning to go with it, but a light, continuous drizzle. It was lucky that it wasn’t a storm, or else I’d have been worried for Moonlight. I well remembered the terror in her eyes and voice that first day, when the thunder struck.

Speaking of Moonlight, I was half-expecting her to drop by with the next Shadow Spade novel, even as I sat down to the piano to practice. However, there was no sign of my pegasus friend. Perhaps she had sensibly decided to stay inside, even if our houses were close to each other. Maybe she’d been given a good opportunity to continue her unfinished story, with the rain pattering the windows providing a nice backdrop. She might also be cloistered somewhere safe and dry with Almond, ignorant of the inclement weather as they spent time together. 

There were any number of possibilities, each equally likely, and it wasn’t my business to pry into which it was. Wherever my young friend was, I was sure she was fine. With the leaps and bounds she has been making in building up her confidence, she didn’t need me constantly chaperoning her like a concerned parent.

As I thus mused, I looked out the window, and saw an unusual sight. Screwball was lounging on a lawn chair not too far away, wearing 3D glasses and a one-piece swimsuit that looked more like a Magic Eye picture, and holding a tanning mirror, while the raindrops continued to fall about her. For the moment, I forgot about my quiet friend’s disregard of the laws of physics, and wondered what on Earth would compel her to attempt to sunbathe in the rain. Granted, it was rather tame compared to some of the other things I had seen her do, but it was very bizarre. 

Then I realized that the drops weren’t hitting her at all. As they came down, there was an entire clear space devoid of rain, keeping her in view. It was as though some kind of invisible barrier was protecting her. Not just that, but a single beam of sunlight, through a rent in the clouds, was shining down on her. Was that a part of her unusual powers, or was she on good terms with the weather team?

She seemed to notice that I was watching her, as she looked my way, lifted up her glasses, then waved to me with a cheery smile. What could I do but smile and wave back? She slid her glasses back in place and settled back into her former posture.

“She’s a sweet pony,” I said to myself, “and I know she means well, but I don’t think I’ll ever understand how she does what she does.”

Sunday, March 10


***


On Monday, after lunch, I presented myself at the library and knocked. A few seconds later, the door opened, and there stood Spike, with the punctuality of a valet, but much more casual than one.

“Hiya, Dave,” he said.

“Hello, Spike. Is Twi in?”

“Yep. She’s been expecting you for a while now. Come on in.”

He stepped aside, and I stepped inside. The table that I knew so well was already littered with papers and writing implements. Twilight sat at one end, feverishly putting everything in order. To be specific, she was arranging quills, and I saw with a leap of pleasant recognition that they were from the set I had gotten her for Hearth’s Warming. She looked up as I approached.

“Hello, Dave!” she said, brightly.

“Hiya, Twi,” I said. “Had a good time boning up on dragons?”

“Oh, absolutely!” said Twilight, enthusiastically. “There’s something so fulfilling about finally learning about a culture that’s been shrouded in mystery for so long.”

“I agree,” I said, “even if I haven’t lived in Equestria long enough to appreciate it as much as you.”

“I even had Spike read it with me,” said Twilight. “Ever since his little adventure with Garble and his gang, he’s been rather reluctant to learn more about dragons, and would rather stick to the pony way of life.”

I looked over at Spike, who rubbed the back of his head sheepishly.

“Understandable,” I said.

“But ever since he met Gilli Brutus, he’s started coming around to wanting to know more, so when I invited him to learn with me, he took me up on the offer.”

“Is that right?” I asked.

“Yeah,” said Spike. “I know it’s kinda weird to say, but I’ve never been overly proud of being a dragon, not after I saw the kinds of jerks we can grow up into.”

“Even though there are plenty of ponies who aren’t exactly nice, as I told him,” said Twilight.

“Every species has its model citizens and its misanthropes, little buddy,” I said. “I’d often felt like the only one who actually cared about school in my class. You’re not alone in feeling like the odd one out.”

“I know,” said Spike. “But Brutus told me more about dragons than I ever thought there was. He said we’re a proud race ‘as tough as stone and as old as time’, and that there was more to us than guarding treasure. He’s made me feel a lot better about what happened during the Migration I joined.”

“Well, that’s great,” I said. “I’m glad you’re feeling a little more patriotic towards your fellow dragons.”

“So am I,” said Twilight, smiling at her little dragon pal before turning back to me. “Well, then, Dave, shall we get started?”

“Absolutely,” I said.

Twilight and I sat down at the table, while Spike went to another corner, took out a comic book, and started to read. Twilight roved her eyes over the quills set out again, scrutinized them closely, then set about swapping them around again. She caught sight of my raised eyebrow at this behavior, and said,

“I’ve been using several methods to organize these quills ever since you got them for me. Sometimes I feel like putting them in order by the size of the quills themselves, then by the size of the bird they came from, then by the birds in alphabetical order.”

“Does any one of them write better than the others?” I asked.

“Oh, no,” said Twilight, brightly. “That’s what makes Davenport’s quills so much sought-after. He hones them to writing perfection, so that you can do as well with one as with another. The fancy ones are more for aesthetic purposes, and of course are more expensive, but they add an impressive visual appeal to be seen writing with one, don’t you think?”

“Er, sure,” I said, not entirely sure what to think. “Well, in any case, I’m glad you’re putting them to good use. I have my pen and ink here with me,” I added, bringing them out.

“Good, good,” said Twilight, “but it never hurts to be prepared, hence the quills.”

“Right,” I said.

And on that note, with my pen in hand and with Twi next to me, the two of us got started.


***


“‘...And while dragons do not possess holidays in the traditional sense, they do have the Feast of Fire in the winter, a gathering of dragons to promote togetherness and creativity, yet with an undertone of habitual draconic competitiveness. Dragons sit together to tell stories, and the best storyteller is awarded a substantial supply of gemstones for his or her personal use. It has been observed that many of the award-winning stories are those involving pacifistic creatures receiving an unhappy ending…’”

“I still can’t get over that,” I said, pausing to rest my hand for a bit. “I’m not trying to criticize dragon standards, but I could never abide stories like that. If someone lives miserably ever after, they ought to have deserved it.”

“I agree,” said Twilight, grimly. “I found that rather surprising as well, but it’s the dragons’ way, I suppose.”

“Brutus told me about one of the winning stories,” said Spike, looking up from his comic. “About a sick dragon nursed back to health by some friendly forest critters, only for him to burn the forest to cinders and drive the critters away when he got better.”

“Yikes,” I muttered.

“I know,” said Spike. “I think he honestly expected me to enjoy it, so I just smiled and nodded.”

“Good call,” I said, before turning back to the assignment. “So, where were we?”

“Well, after describing the Feast of Fire, since its at the end of the year,” said Twilight, “I’d wrap it up by describing how the dragons bring in the new year, with a tournament to see which had grown the strongest over the course of the previous year.”

“All right,” I said, dipping my pen again and starting anew. “‘At the end of each year in the Dragonlands…’”


***


“‘...No one can deny that after years of unrest between dragonkind and other races, and with the opening of the Brimstone Lounge on the borders between Equestria and the Dragonlands, all welcome the chance of finally being able to learn the rich and fascinating history of the dragons.’”

I set my pen down with a sigh of relief. Twilight picked up the essay in her magic, flipping through it quite rapidly, though I didn’t doubt not a single word escaped her. When she reached the end, she shifted the pages into a neat stack, beaming.

“Excellent, Dave,” she said. “You’ve gotten so much better with this. I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks, Twilight,” I said, “but it’s only because you’re here guiding me. I’ll always be grateful for that.”

I drew an arm around her and pulled her in for a side-hug, and she gratefully nuzzled my cheek. I truly was lucky to have a friend like her, as lucky as I was to have a friend like Pinkie, or Moonlight, or any of these ponies.

“So, is your schedule all packed now that this is over?” I asked, when we pulled apart. 

“What do you mean?” asked Twilight.

“I kinda hoped we could unwind a little afterwards, just the three of us.”

Spike looked over at the sound of ‘three of us’. Twilight smiled.

“I do have some time to spare, as a matter of fact,” she said. “And, in fact, I did prepare a little after-work treat.”

“Did you now?” I asked, raising an interested eyebrow.

“Mm-hmm. Spike, could I ask you to get the cocoa started for us?”

“You bet!” said Spike, eagerly.

He hopped up from his seat and hurried off to the kitchen. At just that moment, there was a knock at the door, stopping the little dragon in his tracks. Twilight got up and opened it with her magic, revealing a beaming Pinkie, holding a box held in her teeth by a packing string. She gave it a fling, and Twilight caught it, at the same time levitating a hoofful of bits to Pinkie, who received them in a saddlebag at her side.

“Thanks, Pinkie,” said Twilight. “You’re right on time.”

“No problem, Twilight,” said Pinkie. “When Sugarcube Corner delivers, we’re never too early or too late, but right on time when your tummy needs it. Hi, Davie!” she added, waving at me.

“Hey, Pinkie,” I said, waving back.

“Well, enjoy!” said Pinkie. “Gotta get back in case somepony else placed an order. See ya!”

With that, she hopped off, and Twilight closed the door behind her.

“Wow, Twi,” I said. “You knew exactly when to have that delivered?”

“I always leave a little room open for the possibility of a random event,” said Twilight. “Like the occasional Pinkie Pie visit. You live with her long enough, you have to take that into account.”

“Smart,” I said, grinning.

“I didn’t think Sugarcube Corner even made deliveries,” Spike said, looking puzzled.


***


Within minutes, the three of us were supplied with steaming mugs of hot cocoa, which Twi told me was a mix bought from Donut Joe’s in Canterlot, and a generously-full plate of cookies, which was what Pinkie had delivered. We settled on the main couch, Spike seated between me and Twilight. From the relaxed look on his face, one might have thought that he himself had been in the midst of our work session, and was in need of a respite. Neither Twilight nor I commented on it aloud, though, and simply enjoyed the contented feeling that reigned inside the library, and the sweet, chocolately taste of the cookies.

“It can’t have been that long ago since I had one of these,” I said. “I can’t remember them tasting so good.” 

(If I was still on my diet, I’d feel pretty guilty about eating these.)

“Tell me about it,” said Spike, polishing off another. “I’ve even tried making my own just like them, but somehow, they never taste as good as the way Pinkie and the Cakes make them.”

“Pinkie’s not shy about giving them out to her friends, either,” said Twilight, wiping crumbs from her muzzle and patting her stomach. “Not that we have much reason to complain, of course. A Sugarcube Corner confection is the perfect pick-me-up for a pony.”

“And a dragon, too,” said Spike.

“And a human, too,” I added, making the others laugh.

From there, we moved to other amicable topics, like the Daring Do and Shadow Spade series. Twilight had already gotten word from Moonlight about us finishing the first book, and how she’d already picked up the next one. She was pleased with how much the two of us had taken to it. She only wished she could say the same for others.

According to Twilight, Rainbow was still bemoaning the fact that the next Daring book wouldn’t be out for some time yet. I couldn’t blame her, but at least I had other ways to occupy my need for good literature. Conversely, when Twilight tried to get Rainbow into another book series to stave off the ‘withdrawal’, our speedy friend refused, stubbornly stating that no other book could possibly possess the ‘raw awesomeness’ that the Daring books had. She had actually laughed outright when Twi suggested Shadow Spade, saying it was ‘for eggheads who liked dressing up’.

“Shows what she knows,” I said. “If she actually sat down to read it, she’d see how deep it goes, far beyond attention to details in fashion. It’s like they say: don’t knock it ‘til you try it.”

“Glad someone gets it,” said Twilight, sounding relieved.

“But I have to say,” I went on, “that it never ceases to amaze me how A.K. Yearling can keep thinking up those intense action sequences, while never making them sound repetitive or hackneyed. Even for all the times Daring’s escaped out of the top of a building, she still finds a way to make them nuanced each time.”

“I know, right?” asked Twilight, leaning in eagerly. “She’s one of the greatest fiction writers ever, in my opinion! She knows not to make the plots too similar, even if there is a certain formula to them.”

“Totally,” I agreed. “She even gives credit where it’s due to Daring’s adversaries. It’d be so easy to portray them as utterly incompetent against her constant awesomeness, but she writes them to have just as many near-victories as Daring has actual victories.”

“Exactly!” said Twilight, now leaning so close that we were nose to nose, both of us grinning like goofs. “Story, characters, settings, emotion: it’s all a perfect blend! She also operates with geologically-consistent histories for locations she writes about! What I wouldn’t give to help with her research.” She sighed. “A long-held dream of mine.”

A very pointed clearing of the throat turned our attention downward. Unbeknownst to either of us, Twilight had used Spike’s head as a footstool when she leaned in towards me. Both forehooves were pressed down on the little dragon’s head, and he did not look pleased at all.

“Oops! Sorry, Spike.”

Twilight went back to her former posture and removed her forehooves from their unwilling perch. Spike smoothed his spines, which had been ruffled a bit.

“Next time you two are gonna have a nerd-out, warn me,” he said. “Especially if you’re gonna get close enough to kiss.”

Twilight blushed, and I rubbed the back of my head awkwardly. That hadn’t even crossed my mind. There was a few seconds silence, in which Spike’s irritation seemed to fade away, before I decided to break the ice again.

“Speaking of Miss Yearling, as a long-time fan, I can assume you know all there is to know about her? I could only glean so much from her little bio on the back cover of each book.”

“Oh, absolutely,” said Twilight, perking back up. “I mean, she’s never made any public appearances, but there have been biographies published about her.”

“That’s right,” I said. “I forgot that she was reclusive. So nopony has ever seen her in person? Er, pony?”

“Nopony except those who know where she lives,” said Twilight, “and she’s far out of the way of civilization. Besides, she’s not overly fond of visitors unless they have business with her.” 

“That’s a shame,” I said. “If she’s not living in Canterlot or anywhere else nearby, I guess there isn’t a chance of Moonlight and me meeting her, even if I did promise we would if we could.”

It might have just been me, but I could’ve sworn a distant and familiar voice said, ‘You didn’t know, so it’s ok.’ Was I hallucinating again?

“It is a shame,” said Twilight, nodding. “If it were that easy, though, she’d be hounded day and night, so it’s smart for her to live distantly from others. She only ever corresponds through mail. It’s how my mother keeps in touch with her.”

I blinked in surprise.

“Your mom’s pen pals with A.K. Yearling?”

“She is,” said Twilight, proudly. “She’s a writer herself, but she prefers making short stories and novellas. She once got an award from the Equestrian Writers Association for one of her pieces. Specifically, it was the ‘Daring Do Award’, ranked as being just as good as one of Yearling’s books.

“Wow,” I breathed. “That’s incredible.”

“I know,” said Twilight. “She doesn’t like to brag about it, though. She’s very humble about her work, even if she is really good.”

“Sounds familiar,” Spike muttered into his mug of cocoa.

Twilight smirked at him. I smiled too. This cozy, familiar feeling felt like the day after I’d first arrived in Equestria, spending time with Twilight before seeing Rarity about new clothes. It was hard to believe so much time had passed since then.

At that moment, a clock chimed 3 o'clock. Was it that time already? I hadn’t even noticed. Twilight and Spike looked just as surprised as me, though Twilight looked regretful too.

“Sorry, Dave,” she said, “but we’re going to have to shelve our talk here. I’ve got some spellwork to practice, and I need Spike to assist me.”

“Yeah, you don’t wanna stick around when Twilight’s practicing new spells,” said Spike. “Especially the big stuff. If I didn’t have tough dragon scales, I probably wouldn’t wanna stick around, either.”

“I getcha,” I said. “It’s no problem. I’m just glad we were able to spend some good R&R time like this.”

“Me too,” said Twilight.

Getting up from the couch, she fired up her horn, and my latest essay flew up off the table, whereupon it was placed neatly and securely in a manilla envelope. These, along with my notes on dragons, were set down in my lap. Gathering them up under my arm, I got up, as did Spike.

“Before you head off,” he said, “gimme a sec.”

He scurried off upstairs. Soon enough, he returned with a couple of books in his claws, which he handed to me.

“What are these?” I asked.

“One’s a Power Ponies anthology,” said Spike, “containing the first ten issues, complete with writer’s notes, character bios, and behind-the-scenes facts. It’s a lot easier than dealing with individual issues, especially if you’re trying to keep them in mint condition.” 

“Are all of yours in mint?” I asked.

“Not all, but I’m getting there,” said Spike. “I’m saving up some good ones for the next Trader’s Exchange in Rainbow Falls.”

“Trader’s Exchange?” I asked. “What’s that, like a flea market?”

“Something like that,” said Twilight. “Ponies gather items to trade for other items. No bits are allowed, so it’s all a matter of whether or not a pony wants to trade something for something else offered.”

“Ooh, sounds risky,” I said.

“But it’s a fun sort of risk,” said Twilight, keenly. “And a princess officiates to ensure fair trades. Luna did it last year, and I think Cadence might be doing it this year.”

“Oh, that’s neat,” I said. “So, what’s this other book, Spike?”

“A beginner’s guide to Ogres and Oubliettes,” said Spike, “with basic rules and a character sheet so that you can create your own character. Really, it’s not too complicated, since it mostly hinges on the players’ imaginations. Once you’ve got it all down, hit me up, and we’ll set up a guy’s night,” he added, with a ‘finger gun’ point and a wink.

“Sounds good, little buddy,” I said, tucking them both under my arm. “I’ll be sure to give these the cover-to-cover treatment.”

“That’s what I like to hear,” said Twilight. “But, really, Dave, this was a relaxing afternoon. I wish I wasn’t so busy, because I’d love to do it again sometime soon.”

“Me too, Twilight,” I said, “but your studies come first, and I’d hate to be the one to make you slack off from them. Besides, it’s not like we never see each other anymore.”

“I know,” said Twilight, smiling.

She reared up and put her forelegs around me in a gentle hug, and I used my free arm to reciprocate in kind. When she released me and got back down on all fours, I turned to Spike and held out my fist to him, which he gladly bumped with his own, grinning broadly.

“Take care, you two,” I said. “I’ll see you around. Good luck with your spells, Twi.”

“Thanks. See you later.”

“See ya!” said Spike.

I turned and headed out of the library, intending to mail my essay to Minister Ironmane. As I closed the door behind me, I could hear Twilight asking Spike to fetch certain books. I couldn’t catch the exact titles, and maybe it was because I was getting out of earshot, but it sounded like a jumble of vaguely Latin jargon.

(And people think J.K. Rowling’s spells sounds like mangled Latin. Then again, who am I to judge? I’m just a muggle, even in Equestra.) 

Monday, March 11


***


Tuesday found me flipping through the books Spike had given me. The Ogres and Oubliettes book wasn’t very long. It was more or less a basic outline of the game itself. The setting, non-playable characters, and quests were determined by the game’s Overseer, essentially an O&O Dungeonmaster. It was he or she who determined what the players would face and where. The rest was all up to imagination. 

Something that was consistent from game to game was the very extensive list of spells one could cast, and how many skill stats were required to use them. Some of them were oddly specific, like transforming someone into a root vegetable, or making them hiccup hallucinogenic bubbles, or forcing them to sidestep like a crab while speaking Pony Latin. There was also, as Spike said, an example character sheet to give one an idea of how to build a character, different classes with their pros and cons, and requirements for leveling up and upgrading stats. I’d have to think about which suited me best, and there were a lot to choose from.

The Power Ponies comics were a lot more fascinating. As Spike had said, there were 6 super-powered ponies, all mares, who battled against the forces of evil, protecting the danger-prone city of Maretropolis, and the inaugural story told in this anthology was about these heroes first coming together as a team. Besides Zapp and Mistress Mare-velous, whom Spike had already told me about, there was the Masked Matterhorn, who was adept at many different spells, though she favored a freeze ray; Filli-Second, who was blessed with super speed; Radiance, who could create constructs from her magic jewelry; and Saddle Rager, who could turn into a muscle-bound juggernaut when angered. I could definitely see the parallels between them and comic book heroes back home.

There was also a young colt named Humdrum, who served as a sidekick to the whole team. He didn’t have any superpowers, and was more or less there for comic relief, getting tossed around by the villains, falling all over himself, and getting in the way. I couldn’t help wondering what the point was in making him so useless and putting him out into the field where he could potentially die. From what I could glean, however, he chose to go out into battle with them after the Masked Matterhorn saved his life. He felt he owed a debt of service to the Power Ponies, and even if they insisted that he stay behind for his own sake, he still managed to sneak after them and get himself in trouble. You would think he’d have learned his lesson after the first time, but the Power Ponies were remarkably patient with the kid.

In spite of this, the other aspects of the comic kept me invested. The artwork was superb, with careful attention to the tiniest detail, so that nothing looked particularly off-model; the writing was fascinating, keeping a genuine story flowing from issue to issue, and not solely being about heroes beating the daylights out of villains; the characters were varied and engaging; they all had enough personality to keep any of them, even the villains, from being one-note and bland. On the whole, it was a solid storyline, and it was only the first handful of issues. It was easy to see why Spike was such a fan.

It was about mid-afternoon by the time I finished. I was just putting the book down, when suddenly, a bright flash of light blazed before my eyes, temporarily blinding me. When I could open them again, I saw something floating in front of me. It took me a few seconds to realize that it was a letter, but what a letter.

The envelope was gaudy as all-get-out: bright blue and sprinkled with stars made of glitter. My address was written in white, to stand out against the paper, I suppose. At first, I wondered who on Earth, besides Pinkie, could stand to use such extravagant stationary, but looking at it, I felt like I knew who might have sent it.

Taking it and slitting it open, I pulled out the letter, which was written on lavender-colored paper, with very grandiose and loopy penmanship. Even if it weren’t for the cutie mark adorning the signature, the evidence of the envelope had already made me guess who the sender was, and my suspicions were confirmed on the very second line.

“Dave,
Rejoice! The Great and Powerful Trixie shall once again, at long last, by gracing Ponyville with her presence! Hold your applause, please, though I know it’s difficult. 
After a whirlwind tour around Equestria, it’s time to take a break from life on the road. For how long? Who knows? But however long or short it may be, I would be sorely remiss not to pay a visit to my dearest fan and friend. Look out for my caravan on Friday, March 15. That’s when I expect to arrive, barring accidents, of course.
I can’t wait to show you the new tricks I’ve developed. It’s lucky you wear socks, because my new repertoire will undeniably rock them off! 
See you soon!
Greatly and powerfully yours,
Trixie.”

I couldn’t help laughing. Trixie could have sent this on simple paper, and it would have had the same effect. Instead, she went the extra mile and made a presentation out of it, just for me. Moreover, the fact that she would be returning to Ponyville was very welcome to hear. The last time I’d seen her was at the Brimstone Lounge over a month ago. I was very much welcome to the idea of seeing my great and powerful friend again.

I had just put the letter aside when there came, not a knock at the door, but a tap at the window. Puzzled, I looked over, and saw Moonlight’s face at it, smiling as she waved at me. Walking over, I opened it up. She was hovering to stay level, and had a book clasped to her chest.

“Hey, you,” I said, grinning. “What’s this about?”

“Just a change of pace,” she said, with a giggle. “Hope you don’t mind.”

“Not at all,” I said, stepping aside. “Come on in.”

Swiftly and easily, my skinny friend flew in, and I closed the window behind her. When I turned back to her, I saw her looking at Trixie’s letter.

“Who sent you this?” she asked. “I’d say it’s a bit garish, but I actually kinda like it.”

“That’s from Trixie,” I said. “The magician I told you about. She’s planning on being back in Ponyville on Friday.”

“Oh, neat!” said Moonlight. “Maybe I can finally see one of her shows now. I’ll have to leave myself a note not to forget this time.”

“I’d love for you to meet her,” I said. “She’s something else. So, what have you got there?”

“The next Shadow Spade book,” said Moonlight, holding it up. “They’re not numbered, so I needed Twilight to pick it out for me. This one’s The Ebony Guise.”

“Ooh, I like the sound of that,” I said. “I’ll get some popcorn ready, and we’ll dive right in.”

“Okay,” said Moonlight, making herself comfy on the couch.

Soon, I was back with the snacks, and set them down before settling myself beside my reading partner.

“Stayed dry on Sunday?” I asked.

“Mm-hmm. It wasn’t a storm, so it was easy to bear up with. Almond had actually come by before it started coming down hard. It was a real surprise, since neither of us knew when he’d have free time again. So we kept each other company until it cleared up.” 

“Well, that sounds nice and cozy,” I said, banteringly.

Moonlight gave me a playful shove, and we both laughed.

“Weird thing, though,” she went on. “We thought we saw Screwball outside, sunbathing. Er, rainbathing. Was that just us?”

“No, I saw her too,” I said. “Odd, isn’t it?”

“I thought it was pretty funny,” said Moonlight. “Almond only said it seemed a nice spot for it, since the pond would probably overflow.”

I chuckled.

“So, you ready to get started?” I asked.

“Yep!” said Moonlight, plopping the book down between us,

“And for the record,” I added, “I’m not gonna make bets on who the culprit will be this time. If I were an actual gambling man, I’d probably lose everything in my pockets betting against you.”

Moonlight’s only answer was a cheeky giggle.

Tuesday, March 12