Vignette Valencia had a problem.
She was a pony now. At least she didn’t have pesky wings or magic horns to deal with, but she was still a pony.
Vignette Valencia then had another problem.
Equestria Land was in chaos. Everyone was running or flying in panic at their new forms. No one knew any better as they ripped and crashed here and there. A rollercoaster almost broke into two thanks to a pegasus flying way too fast, and she worried it might fall on unsuspecting people.
Or creatures. For a second, she debated about whether the word people applied to her and them anymore.
She paid a passing thought to her account on SnapGab, then realized social media as a whole would slow down for a while. Using phones without fingers would be quite the challenge. At least computers were marginally easier: they relied a lot on buttons, not those admittedly fancy swipe-and-touch screens. It almost felt like magic, now that she thought about it.
Heh. Magic.
But, she had no time to think about those things. A griffon was plummeting her way, and she was surprised she managed to gallop from the threat.
One obstacle down, a hundred more to go. Getting used to four legs, falling debris, and unanticipated magic beams and strange creatures.
She got out with a scratch.
When all was said and done, though, no one knew what to do. Equestria Land was partially in ruins, and half the attractions just weren’t the same without people—or, rather, humans, because she’d thought people might apply to them in some senses.
In the aftermath, she got word from her buffalo boss that Equestria Land would be closed for the mean time and that she had the responsibility to announce it.
So, she announced via SnapGab that Equestria Land would be temporarily out of commission thanks to the global magic disaster. It was a painstaking experience for her, not only because she’d invested much of herself into the place, but also because she had a very difficult time typing it out with her flat hooves...but, of course, it also made her sad that Equestria Land would close.
Not that anyone cared that much. They had bigger problems than not going to the local amusement park.
It was a welcome change of pace, not being asked a dozen times over by random strangers to take a selfie with her. That whole fiasco with the Rainbooms and the light parade had proven more than enough on that front.
She sat at Sweet Snacks Café, contemplating on what to do next. In this strange new world where magic was the norm and humanity just disappeared out of thin air, Vignette appreciated drinking her milkshake in peace. While she was sometimes acknowledged by the occasional passer-by, they’d leave her alone, as they had to get used to their new body and their new abilities first.
She checked her phone sitting beside the milkshake and her bowl of stress salad. The SnapGab notifications were piling up, but she deemed it a straining task to tend to all of them with her phone-unready hooves.
The phone had her note app open. It had some notes, but not because of the virtual keyboard. She managed to use her voice-to-text feature on the app. Ironic she’d relegated it to her useless things on my phone category before.
She’d recorded some notes and items for Equestria Land’s re-opening. It had to be a soft one, and everything had to be done on the fly. Things like market research would be nigh impossible to do when no one’s of the same species anymore.
Then, the doorbell rang.
Vignette looked that way, heard a few gasps and whispers but nothing more.
It was Countess Coloratura, smiling sheepishly as she trotted about. She kept her eyes straight ahead, unwilling to entertain anyone else’s shocked expressions.
She’d seen pictures of the singer before, but seeing Coloratura as a pony up close and personal gave off that same feeling of familiar awkwardness or awkward familiarity: This pony was definitely Coloratura, with matching coat and mane, but her pony form made her appearance very uncanny.
Everyone looked uncanny, really, but then again, she didn’t grow up in a world of magical talking ponies.
Then, Coloratura strode to Vignette’s table, expectant eyes now on that other celebrity.
“Oh, I wasn’t expecting you to be this early!” Vignette blurted out, lifting her head up.
“Well, it’s these,” and Coloratura raised a hoof for her to see more clearly. “Still getting used to them. Almost tripped up a couple times thanks to sidewalk cracks.”
“It’s been weeks!” exclaimed Vignette, putting a hoof to her mouth in confusion. “You should’ve gotten used to it by now, F-Y-I!”
Coloratura laughed it off. “Really? Get used to this? I’m trying, but that’s a tall order for me. I’m surprised you adapted so quickly.”
In response, Vignette also laughed it off, or she tried to. She knew it was a good way of relieving pent-up stress alongside eating healthy. That’s what the salad was for, after all.
Then, when the giggling was done, Vignette asked her, “So, what exactly do you want to talk about? I-M-H-O, I assume it must be about that concert you were supposed to have in the park.”
Coloratura nodded, looking outside through the window. She saw everyone walking down the streets, but saw no humans there. It’s just confirmation, repetition of reality to her. “Yeah. Well, I’ve had a lot of changes since the disaster...other than being a pony, of course,” to which she added another sheepish smile. Almost blushed, too.
Vignette rubbed her hooves; no stranger to gossip she was.“What would they be, exactly?”
Coloratura gulped. “I met myself—” eyes still looking further outside “—m-my other self.”
Valencia kicked back her head in thought. “Oh. That’s been a thing I’ve been hearing a lot lately, I-I-R-C.” Twirling her hoof about in exaggerated gesture, “Having versions of ourselves in the other world, the other universe...whatevs you call the other place. Haven’t seen me there, though.” Frowned at that. “I even T-M-T over there, and she wasn’t even there in the time I took! I’m worried about myself and...myself.”
Coloratura chuckled at how narcissistic that sounded. “Maybe she’s not as popular as you.”
Vignette stared down at her salad in reflection.
“I-I’m sorry if I sounded bad,” continued Coloratura, going to apology mode… “it’s just...you know how, say, Rari—I mean, Twilight here is a high school student but Twilight there is some big royal princess everyone knows about.”
Vignette leaned in, listening with a bent pony ear, yet her mind had already wandered off. Maybe she was the opposite of Twilight in that sense: that she was this famous personality in this world but some average nobody in the other. Probably farming oranges with a bit of flair.
“So...we talked,” Coloratura went on, perking Vignette’s ears back to full listening levels. “It was a weird talk, hearing ourselves speak to...ourselves.” here, her blush fully bloomed. “But, I found out she fired her old boss who turned out to be her Svengallop. He’d been using her as his meal ticket, his way to get everything he wants just by being her manager.”
She was scratching her mane now. “I...I began having suspicions, a-and, after we parted ways, I decided to find out on my own about my Svengallop.”
Vignette lowered a brow, inching her head closer at this juicy tale. “So, was it true?”
“It was true to some extent,” the singer answered, more solemn this time. “Turns out, he was using me as a meal ticket, too.”
That’s when the sniffling began.
It hit Vignette to see this renowned performer show the cracks, the chinks, in her armor. The facade hadn’t been thick at all: a sheen of sincerity had emanated from Coloratura ever since her rise to fame. Even then, Vignette herself was a celebrity; she knew a thing or two about keeping up faces here and there. Still, it was both haunting and comforting to see her open up.
Not fully, though. She swallowed and gulped, closing her eyes tight to wash the tears back into her system.
Then took a swig of Vignette’s milkshake.
The pony who bought the milkshake felt annoyed at this rudeness, but she just placed a hoof on her own cheek. She didn’t want to think about her wasted bits. So, moving back to the subject: “That sounds like you’re jumping to conclusions.”
Coloratura hid a wry smirk, also assuming that Vignette, too, had jumped to many conclusions before. How else would it explain Vignette’s excess of confidence in her awful singing? Then again—she wiped her mouth, taking away her milk mustache with it. “Yeah, I...I admit I did. I had him forced out of the troupe, and it was the right thing to do...but, it doesn’t feel right,” shaking her head, “to just tell him that and let everything come apart for him l-like that.”
Vignette sighed, turning her glass around. “Yeah. How do you feel about that?”
The singer put more of her head’s weight on her hoof. “It feels like cheating, except you’re not sure it’s the right answer because it’s another world’s version of you and your boss.”
“So, that complicates things,” Vignette quickly replied. “You at least have a temporary boss? Or are you your own mare?”
“Not yet,” she said, silently noting the usage of mare over woman. Coloratura didn’t want to bring that up in front of her; not now. “No one here wants to take the job because the changes messed up everything. No one there wants to either because they’re still assessing Earth.”
Vignette bit her hoof. “Ow. I can’t believe we’ve gone this deep. Our P.O.V.’s have gotten so deep!”
“Everyone’s gone deep,” Coloratura said, tapping her hoof on the table. “I think it’s the only way we can cope with this, though.” Her eyes took on wistful appearances as they glittered under both sunlight and dinerlights. “Humanity’s done, and we have to survive as whoever we are now.”
“True, true,” Vignette absently blathered in her posh valley girl accent before she sipped on her milkshake, careful not to give herself a milk mustache.
Then, Pinkie Pie, in full pony waiter uniform, rolled her way to them and dropped glasses of orange juice onto the table. “On the house, my little ponies!” she yelled cheerfully before rolling away to the adjacent table.
Coloratura let out a long sigh as she wrapped her hoof around the chilly drink. “Well, at least some of us are taking it better than me.”
Vignette nodded, silently agreeing with her there. She then took a difficult bite of her salad, holding her fork with both hooves to accomplish this feat. She didn’t mind Coloratura watching her like that; she rationalized to herself that Coloratura was an Earth pony just like her, so she had no wings or horn to help her.
The next thing Vignette said was, “So...B-T-T: What do you want to do with the concert? Any updates?”
Coloratura lowered a brow, ready to tell. “I-I managed to talk to my other self again. Turns out she crosses the barrier once in a while to help everyone out, volunteering to assist us ponies.” Putting a hoof on her cheek, “It’s unusual to receive your own kindness...know what I mean?”
Tapping her chin, Vignette said, “And, what did she offer you? A duet or what?”
The singer gulped, eyes shrinking at that last part. “Um...yeah. She offered to duet with me.”
That finally got Miss Valencia to burst out laughing, causing heads to turn at her elegant yet out-of-place cackling. It’s warming to see such an elevated figure laugh like the rest of them.
Coloratura blushed even more, embarrassed about the concept of singing a duet with herself except that self wasn’t exactly herself.
“Really?!” Vignette huffed as her bout of laughter died down. “That’s...that’s gold! M-M-W, that petit somme of yours...no, the both of yours—”
“Alright, alright, that’s enough,” Coloratura said, raising both of her hooves to catch her attention.
So, she calmed down by flapping her hooves in front of the face to fan her into a more tranquil, more humble train of thought.
With that, everyone went back to their meals and their own conversations. The noise of utensils and plates clanging returned, too.
Vignette sighed, rubbing her eyes clear of joyful tears. “So...sorry, but...that sounds like a desperate move on your part! S-C-N-R...really couldn’t resist!”
“It’s OK,” Coloratura said, doing her best to not hold any ill will against her. “What we’re all doing is strange, anyway.”
Vignette nodded. “Yes, yes—that ‘neighsayers gonna neigh’ saying is going to be a lot more literal.” Now her turn to put her hoof on her cheek, “So, what do you want? You want me to relate this self-duet to my manager? I mean, if you can, we can make that concert the opening act of our re-opening!”
“Uh….”
“Go and T-Y-T, Coli-turi!” Vignette said. Then, smiling that photogenic smile she’s always had, “Getting what I want is what I do best, and when I want you to have a smooth time performing with your other self, you will have it.”
Coloratura matched Valencia with a smile of her own. “Well, let’s see....”
One sunset months later, Equestria Land found itself with its gates about to re-open.
The lines were long, but not for the park itself. Truth be told, an amusement park looked less fun when magic’s real. Why go on a rollercoaster when one could fly? Why observe a rodeo when everyone could participate themselves? Why square up against fake wizards when real ones could do despite how bad of an idea that was?
Posters were everywhere touting this marquee performance of two Coloraturas singing together. It’s advertised as A duet that’s out of this world! That was no exaggeration; that was a fact.
Among those packed in line were Sunset, Twilight, and Juniper, the latter two wearing Daring Do hats and holding copies of Daring Do books. Since the books’ labels on the back conveyed that they’d been printed in Canterlot, Equestria, one thing could be concluded from these two fans:
They were very impatient fans. Why wait for one’s Yearling to write the next book when the other Yearling was at least five books ahead of her?
Among other creatures were the Canterlot Movie Club super excited to see Coloratura: they were craning their heads around to see if there was a break in the line, if the gates were still open, if one of the Coloraturas was in sight.
Octavia and Vinyl Scratch were in front of them, the cellist wearing a hopeful smile for the night; indeed, inspiration was one way of getting her cello-playing confidence back on track. If Coloratura could play the piano with those hooves, then anypony could use any instrument. It also helped her that she’d heard of her Equestrian self being part of the concert’s ensemble.
The Shadowbolts, too, were waiting in full force. Lemon Zest appeared quite joyful to attend this performance if her mouthing the lyrics to Coloratura songs through her headphones wasn’t any indication, much to the irritation of the other four.
Twilight Velvet had also joined in the fray, all jumpy and jittery to ride the Neighagara Falls Barrel Flume. The only ones keeping her sane and not whining over the incredibly long line were Night Light and Shining Armor who were holding this wife and mother on the ground.
It took a few more minutes of waiting and patience as the ticket booth ponies did their final checks and setup.
Then, the gates opened.
The crowd of ponies and more swarmed in unorderly fashion into the park, entering into the loud array of rings and bells and other noises and bright lights and colorful fast things everywhere—for such was the nature of a typical amusement park.
A loud voice blared through the speakers. It was Vignette, who was greeting all visitors: “Welcome to the grand re-opening of Equestria Land! We hope you enjoy your stay here in this literally magique place, and don’t forget tonight’s main event: The Coloratura-Coloratura concert! Or, as I’d like to call it, The Col-Col Duo! #Coloratura, everypony—and don’t you forget that hashtag!”
So, with the concert in mind, most everyone went up to the big stage at the end of the road, that save pavement where the Rainbooms’ light parade had taken place. Instead of a band playing songs on a moving float, though, there’d be something more manageable. Now, no one expected the stage to wheel around; it’d be grating to the neck to turn here and there just to get a proper angle on the stars.
Beside the stage, however, was a peculiar sight: colts, fillies, and other young creatures were lined up, the queue leading to the back of the stage.
There, behind the stage and away from the spotlight of hundreds if not thousands, were two Coloraturas meeting with the schoolponies, schoolgriffons, schoolchangelings, and other schoolcreatures. The pop stars entertained the children in various ways, from asking them simple questions to accepting short singing requests. It did confuse the schoolcreatures at first, seeing two ponies with the same voice and the same name, but that’s why Equestria’s Coloratura, Rara, wore her simple long curls on her mane while this world’s Coloratura, just Coloratura, had short pigtails hanging from behind and then below her ears.
In the hubbub of star-studded excitement, a smaller Apple Bloom came over, stringing along Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle. “Hi, agi’n!”
Rara smiled, trotting closer to the fillies. “Aww! The Cutie Mark Crusaders! So good to see you!” She ruffled Apple Bloom’s hair, careful not to undo the Apple pony’s big bow. “How’ve you been?”
Meanwhile, Coloratura witnessed this exchange, confusingly amused at how she saw herself (but not exactly herself) talk to her own fans (which weren’t really hers, and it still made her feel strange).
“We’re doin’ fine!” Apple Bloom yelled. “This is our firs’ time crossin’ the portal, and wowee!” She raised a hoof over her head like she was putting up a rainbow. “It’s a different kind o’ world out here!”
“It’s not really that different now,” Sweetie Belle remarked, her smile having given way to a smug expression.
“It’s still different!” Apple Bloom countered. She then nudged Scootaloo on the shoulder. “Right, Scootaloo?”
She was getting no response.
“Uh...right, Scootaloo?”
Scootaloo wasn’t paying attention to her or Sweetie Belle. Instead, she was paying attention to herself.
Her other, older, taller teenager self along with her other, older, taller teenager friends in Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle, all three of them having just trotted into the area.
The Canterlot Movie Club and the Cutie Mark Crusaders looked at each other in bewilderment.
Everyone stopped talking. A sense of foreboding came over all these observers, all these spectators of an inter-dimensional meeting no one was quite sure about.
The two CMC’s had their mouths hanging open, staring at each other in awe. Three looked down at their younger grade school Equestrian selves, three looked up at their older high school CHS selves.
“A-Are you…?” stammered all six in unison, pointing at their counterparts on the other side of this standoff.
The two Coloraturas were worried about the outcome. They whispered to each other’s ears, and Rara related how rambunctious the Cutie Mark Crusaders were as troublemakers even after getting their cutie marks.
Coloratura only hoped they wouldn’t start a contest or something like that.
. Since the CMC’s fell to the ground laughing at and with each other, Coloratura breathed a sigh of relief. Confused relief, but relief nonetheless.
Everyone else ended up laughing, too. Laughter was the best medicine, and it’s good to share it around.
“Out of the way!” came the disgruntled voice of Applejack as she rushed to the stage’s back, Rarity and Dash galloping behind her. “I need to know where our sisters went to and—”
Everyone stopped again, now with this sudden arrival of those three mares.
They looked at their sisters (or pseudo-sister in Dash’s case), and then their Equestrian counterparts.
Silent blinks were swapped in this short while.
“Okie-dokie, then,” said Applejack, scratching her baffled head. “This is gonna be mighty awkward.”
“I don’t think it’ll be so awkward, AJ,” Rara said with that hint of familiarity, only to realize this wasn’t the Applejack she’d spent at camp all those years ago. Clearing her throat: “I think they should get to know each other and enjoy the concert together. Now, isn’t that a good idea, Coloratura?”
Coloratura nodded, receiving her other self’s glance. “It certainly is, Rara.”
Applejack smiled a sheepish smile, unnerved by this somewhat same-sided interaction. “O...K?”
And everyone laughed at that, too.