When Twilight woke up, the room was sweltering and she felt like she was choking. She took deep, desperate breaths. She needed to get more air in the lungs. But this air was hot and stale. She knew she'd had nightmares again, but couldn't remember the specifics. But it had been about music, she knew it had been about music. And she was drenched in sweat, her duvet clung to her and wouldn't let go. She thrashed around to get it off, it was smothering her.
Her heart was hammering in her chest. It was boiling hot. She was covered in sweat. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't get the bedclothes off. She couldn't escape. She couldn't escape. She couldn't escape.
"TWILIGHT!" Spike yelled as he pulled the duvet off, "What's wrong?!"
She was in her room, she was with Spike. It was so hot, just like it had been the first time she ever set hoof in the town. She wasn't in her lifeboat anymore, but she wasn't on the mainland. She was in Golden Oaks, her island. It didn't matter if it was cursed. She was okay here, at least for the time being. Twilight caught her breath and got her bearings.
"It's nothing Spike, I'm sorry for worrying you. I just had some bad dreams," she rasped.
"I'll say," he replied, "You were talking in your sleep all night."
"What did I say?"
"Oh... nothing really. You were just sort of mumbling. You sounded terrified though! I couldn't wake you up at all!"
"Mumbling what?" Twilight pressed.
"Nothing! Just like, random words and stuff. I couldn't make sense of any of it and I was tired and-"
"Well why bring it up then?" she snapped, then immediately regretted it when Spike looked hurt. Of course he would be, he didn't understand. Not even Twilight understood.
"Spike... I'm sorry. I'm just stressed at the moment," It wasn't a lie either. He smiled, though she could tell it wasn't genuine. He reminded her so much of herself in that moment, every time she had put a brave face on the hurt of exclusion came rushing back in startling clarity.
"It's fine!" Liar. "I... Twilight can you tell me what's wrong?"
"I just told you Spike," she insisted, "I'm just stressed."
Liar.
"Well, just try to relax then, yeah?" he said, smiling kindly, "I've made breakfast so come down whenever you're ready."
"Okay Spike," he started towards the door, but Twilight called out, "Spike... I don't thank you enough for everything you do. I hope you know I appreciate it."
"Haha come on Twi', it's just some breakfast," he laughed, and she laughed with him. It wouldn't do to worry him anymore.
She rose from the bed, cringing at the sodden mess she'd left behind. It was so hot, so hot and there was nothing to be seen outside. Save for rows of cottages shimmering in the heat, separated by a sea of grass. She'd get up tomorrow and it would be the same.
Making her way to the shower, she recalled the events of last night. While Applejack's offer of 'help' had been indeed incredibly patronising, it may have not been as out of the ordinary as she'd thought at the time. Twilight had been drunk. Not blackout drunk, but certainly drunk enough to attempt the outright insanity of directly accusing Rarity of lying.
Once in the bathroom, safely behind a locked door, she turned the knobs and sighed as the water cleansed her coat. Rivulets of water washed congealed sweat from lavender fur, and Twilight felt like she'd regained some semblance of control and normality. She should feel happier than this. She'd found out Snowdrop was okay, and had something approaching a genuine conversation. A conversation that implied Snowdrop wasn't too happy here either.
But she'd been drunk, and if she was right...
Until last night, she hadn't really engaged properly with the idea that everyone in the town could be actively working against her. And last night she had been intoxicated, unable to genuinely consider the implications of her suspicions. Suddenly, she was falling back against the tiles in an effort to steady herself. She was trapped, between living in a place that hated her, having lost her mind or the big secret being nothing.
And it didn't feel like there was a way out. Because it couldn't be nothing, but she really didn't want to be insane, yet she hated the stares. Where could she go? What could she do? It dawned then, on Twilight as she showered, what couldn't sink in last night. That she was utterly, totally alone, with no way out and no way forward. She at least had enough time to stumble out of the shower and toward the toilet before she vomited.
She grasped out for the sink, then pulled herself up when she'd got a hold. Looking at herself in the mirror was a shock. She looked thin, stretched out, her eyes had dark circles underneath. Last night, when she'd come in and stumbled to bed, Twilight had decided to commit to the idea that she wasn't insane. Push forward, forge a hypothesis to investigate and stop changing your research question. But scholars did not make conclusions from incomplete data sets, and that was all she had.
It seemed like a joke now, as she finally realised how the town did it. It bombarded you with such unrelenting confusion and anguish that you have no choice but to shut down entirely. Every time she made some headway and got a step forward, she'd be beaten two steps back. So, the simplest solution seemed to be to stop caring all together. And when you didn't care, you didn't need to change or evolve. That was the story of Ponyville, and it was looking like that would be the story of Twilight. Because anything was better than this.
And for a while she stayed, peering into the mirror. Neither her nor her reflection dared make the first move. As if these were the last few moments of being truly herself before the protective apathy claimed her. As if there was still anything of herself to lose. But it didn't really matter in the end. The shower continued, and its mist eventually fogged the glass. Until she couldn't see herself at all.
Twilight sat reading, listening to the clock. She'd buy a new one when she next visited Canterlot. She'd go to Canterlot soon. Definitely.
Breakfast had been eaten in a strained silence. Twilight was sullen and withdrawn, and Spike had clearly wanted to reach out and ask her what was wrong. But, no matter how smart he was, Spike was still very young. He clearly lacked the ability to sort out a problem this serious. He was used to dealing with the smaller anxieties in life. Twilight didn't even know how she'd be able to describe this problem to him.
So she'd not said and he hadn't asked. Now they sat there back in their routine, the same one they'd always had. She read her books on her studies, he read his comic. For hours. They'd done nothing but sat here and read for hours and hours interspersed with occasional trips to the kitchen. It was so hot, she was still sweating. The shower had been pointless. So much of it was pointless actually. She showered this morning, and was sweating now regardless. It had been like this since the moment she'd arrived here.
"Coming up to half one Twi'," Spike blurted out. She could hear the sting of worry in his voice.
"...Okay?"
"Mrs Candlewax should be by soon, should we get everything put away and ready?"
Of course, how could she have forgotten? Life went on regardless of her problems, and now she'd face the next few hours having to endure the conversation of ponies who clearly didn't like her but had no better option. Spike set away his comic and began to check over the shelves. As if any of the would actually take any books out. After a few moments there was a knock on the door.
It was a public library, she didn't need to knock. Why did she always knock. She wasn't popping round to visit her friends. She stared at Twilight as much as the others when it suited. She was not Twilight's friend. Her heart was hammering away in her chest. The same feeling she'd had in the shower was back. The feeling of being trapped like a rat in a room rapidly filling up with water.
"Hey Spike," Twilight called out with a forced smile, "What do you think would happen if we just didn't answer it?"
"Haha, I think she'd keep knocking until we did," he laughed in reply, before moving to answer the door.
"Spike. Don't answer it."
"What? Twilight we can't just refuse to open up. We're the town's library. Don't get me wrong yesterday was fun but you know, duty calls and all that."
He carried on stepping to the door. He wasn't listening to her. No-one was listening to her anymore. They all thought she was stupid or hysterical or insane. And it was so hot. How could it still be this hot? The summer was over now, why wouldn't it cool down? Why wouldn't anything change?
"Spike, please don't," she begged, her voice starting to crack.
"Twilight, what's wrong with you? I can't help you if you don't tell me. Is it still the ponies treating you strangely? I told you, it'll come around in time. We've not been here all that long. You can't expect everything to change so soon."
It was like nails down a chalkboard, like he'd picked the worst possible thing to say. To taunt her with the preposterous idea that anything could change in a place like this. But she was so hot and so angry and so scared that she didn't say anything, and for a moment it looked like he might cry. In frustration or in anguish, who could say? She gave him nothing, and as such he shook his head started towards the door again.
She still fought even though she knew it would be so much easier to just stop caring. She wished she could stop caring. But it was so hot, and she was drenched in sweat and felt like she was being dragged from her lifeboat, off the mainland and pushed beneath the waves. When he reached that door and opened it, it was like everything began to play out in slow motion for Twilight.
From behind it, the sun rushed in. The sky was piercingly blue, not a cloud was visible. And there was Mrs Candlewax with her insincere grin that said she considered this place beneath her. And behind her was a sea of grass. And behind that was Ponyville. Rows and rows of cottages that she couldn't tell apart.
Why the thought of putting up with her usual bout of listening to pensioners moan about their trivial problems nearly made Twilight vomit, she couldn't be sure. Maybe it was something to do with knowing that all day, as she smiled and nodded, she'd be wondering whether they hated her, or thought she was cursed, or thought she was insane.
Three months. It had taken three months total. Three months of stolen glances and blatant stares and whispers and grins and sweltering, never-ending heat for her to finally not be able to do it anymore.
Mrs Candlewax was sweating in the heat. She busied herself with liberal waving of a small hoof-fan, as if that would actually cool her down. Her gaze was focused on Twilight. It was a snide look of opportunistic glee, clearly Twilight was good enough to rant at if not to actually allow to be a member of the town. But then that look was changing to one of shock. Twilight didn't see the process complete, she slammed the door in the old mare's face and then bolted it shut for good measure.
"Spike!" she wailed through sudden tears, "I said NO."
Twilight didn't wait for the inevitable fallout. Instead she rocketed up the stairs, failing to fully understand or stop herself from crying. She got into her room and shut the door before collapsing against it. It was like this morning only so much worse. She couldn't breathe, she was choking to death. She was pouring with sweat, the air was poisoning her.
While she gasped for breath, she also couldn't stop herself from crying, leading an increasingly severe feedback loop of unbridled panic. All Twilight could do was curl into a ball and try to focus on anything other than how much she felt like she was dying. She thought instead of her breaths, wild and rasping and incomplete. After a while she managed to fall into some semblance of sleep, but it wasn't restful.
The whole time, she dreamt about music.
"Darling?"
Twilight jolted awake, painfully smacking her head on the door in the process. There was a few seconds' confusion as she recalled why she was on the floor of her bedroom. When the penny dropped she slumped in embarrassment and sorrow. It always came back to Twilight. Of course a gossip like Mrs Candlewax would have ensured the whole town had heard about her little outburst by now.
"Twilight, it's Rarity. Can I come in?" called a voice from behind the door.
Ah. So that was what had woken Twilight. That was everything she needed, Rarity seeing her lose control yet again.
"Oh, hi Rarity," Twilight called out, "Is there anything I can help you with?"
Pathetic.
"Darling I want to help you," Rarity replied, "Please just let me in so we can talk."
Cornered. Twilight could either let Rarity in to see what an absolute wreck she was. Or, she could decline and look even more unstable for it. With a sigh, she opened the door to find a very concerned looking unicorn staring back at her. But Twilight had already plastered a wide grin on her face.
"I'm not sure what you mean Rarity, I'm totally fine!" she assured. But Twilight wasn't able to keep the break out of her voice for even one sentence. And she might have fully held it together, were it not for Rarity stepping forward and pulling her into a soft hug. That was when Twilight's body vetoed her wishes, and she slumped into the embrace and began to openly cry.
And even though Rarity was the pony Twilight might have been the most upset with, it didn't change the fact that she was sad, and scared, and she needed a hug. Sometimes things didn't have to be more complex than that. She tried to say something, anything. She tried to say she was sorry, to tell Rarity to leave, to plead with her for honestly, to ask Rarity to tell her she wasn't insane.
"And where is he now?"
"I gave him some bits and sent him to that arcade."
"Hmm," Twilight replied, pausing to take a sip of her tea, "He shouldn't have come to get you."
Once Twilight had managed to calm down the two of them had gone downstairs. The sun was already dipping below the horizon outside. Twilight had slept and cried longer than she thought possible. Rarity had made her and Twilight both a peppermint tea, which they each sipped awkwardly. Whichever versions of themselves had bantered so effortlessly at Sunny Pastures Cafe were totally absent now. Twilight wondered faintly how much else of herself she'd lost since moving here.
"Darling, he had the fright of his life! He said after he talked to Mrs Candlewax and closed the library he went up to talk to you, but that you weren't replying. He tried for hours before coming to me."
"I know what happened Rarity, I was there for a lot of it," she lied. She had barely been aware of anything in there, "Did he say why he came to get you in particular? I mean, Pinkie is the closest to the library."
If Rarity was offended, she didn't outright show it. She took a measured sip of her tea. She knew exactly why he had fetched Rarity. They both did. Twilight imagined she'd muttered a lot more in her sleep than he had let on. Because through the flashes of music, Twilight remembered flashes of those blue eyes in her nightmares.
"I think he might have just been a little frazzled dear. He's worried about you. I am as well, I know you're not feeling great at the moment."
"Rarity, I'm not-"
"Smarter than I look, remember Twilight?" Rarity interrupted. She leant forward and took Twilight's forehooves in her own, "I'm not asking you a question, I'm telling you that I know."
"What makes you think I'm not doing too well?"
"I've seen it for weeks now, all the girls have." Rarity nearly pleaded, it looked like she was on the verge of grabbing Twilight with both hooves and shaking her, "You're getting quieter every day. You don't get excited like you did when you came here... and then there was yesterday. Please, be honest with me darling."
"And why should I?" Twilight snapped, pulling her hooves back.
"Because I'm your friend, Twilight, and I'm trying to help."
"That's as maybe, but what I want to know is why I should be honest with you when you're not honest with me?"
Rarity looked at her and sighed.
"What do you think I'm not honest about?"
"Don't do that. Don't act like I'm being ridiculous. You know they stare at me, you stare with them."
"Twilight, I told you last night," Rarity urged, frustratedly pressing the bridge of her muzzle with a forehoof, "It's just some superstition! I know it's silly but small towns are like that. There's local traditions and legends which go back farther than even Granny Smith can remember. But we respect them anyway."
"So that's it then. That's why you, my friend, stare with them?"
"Wha-,"
"I couldn't care less about the ponies in this town thinking I'm some interloper Rarity," it was a lie, something Rarity would have doubtless been able to tell, but she persevered anyway, "But you do it too. You look at me like I'm a moron and this is all just some game."
Rarity bowed her head. She picked up her tea and stared into it for a moment.
"I know," Rarity began, "And I owe you an apology."
That was unexpected. Over the last few days, Rarity's demeanour had always been one of self-assurance and mild amusement. Now, she seemed a shadow of that at best.
"I honestly didn't realise, not until last night, how much you've been struggling dear. I suppose you arrived from a place I always dreamed before... all this. Canterlot, a lady of the court, personal student of Princess Celestia."
"It's really not all that Rarity." Twilight mumbled, not liking the dreamy way Rarity referred to it all.
"I never once claimed to be coveting or jealous, Twilight. I love it in Ponyville, my place and purpose is here, and I thank our God I was born here but I still sometimes imagine what could have been. We all do, don't we? I was, and am, fascinated."
Twilight nodded, but didn't try to interject.
"So suddenly a mare from Canterlot arrives, and she's smart and witty and provides conversation I can really get my teeth into. I'm competitive, Twilight, and there's not much in the way of exchanges one can really win around here. You gave me that, and I let the idea that all of our conversations were contests to win blind me to the truth that you were, are, suffering here.
"I shouldn't have done that. It was selfish of me to not see how bad you felt. I didn't know ponies were staring at you as much as you say they are. I should have paid more attention," the seamstress sounded close to tears herself at this point. And Twilight thought again that it must be the truth. No-one could lie that well, "And I should have told you about the rumours about the library before. I honestly didn't know it was bothering you this much... I'm so, so sorry."
Twilight had read a story when she was younger, about a stallion who started developing paranoia and lost his mind. He started to think the authorities were spying on him, reading his post and watching him sleep and recording his dreams. And throughout the whole story, his friends and family thought he was just insane. They'd plead with him to see sense, to go get help, but he wouldn't have it. And Twilight read this story assuming the stallion was insane as well.
But then, at the climax, he found the secret room in his house, and they really were spying on him. So Twilight assumed he'd be more terrified than ever. But instead, he began to laugh and laugh. Not because he wanted to be spied on. But because the worst thing of all had been that ponies didn't believe him. So when he found his worst fear he felt only joy, because he was right.
Twilight tried to push this memory out of her mind as Rarity apologised, as she found herself feeling more and more desperate. Because it couldn't be that, it couldn't be just be superstition and a bored unicorn looking for good conversation. But she was not the character from the book. She was not insane.
"Rarity, last night you took me out to show me the bushes. It seemed like you were threatening me. Why?"
Please, just give me something, anything.
"Darling I... I'm sorry for that. I let myself get upset and I shouldn't have."
"Upset at what?"
Rarity looked at her in mild surprise, tinged with a nauseating streak of pity.
"Twilight... I realise I overstepped the mark slightly and that you must have had a few drinks, but can't you see why I would have been upset?"
"Upset at what?" Twilight demanded, despite being fairly sure she knew exactly what Rarity was going to say, "I don't know what you're talking about Rarity."
She made no move to respond, and Twilight was left with only a gnawing feeling of dread in her stomach as it dawned on her that she was going to have to say it herself.
"You think you saw me looking through your windows? Is that it?"
"...It was a neighbour who saw you, not me." Rarity admitted with a grimace.
"Oh Celestia," Twilight moaned and buried her head in her hooves. While she'd suspected this had been the case, at least up until now there'd been the plausible deniability of it not being outright stated, coupled with her distrust of the town. Now though, she just wanted to crawl into a hole and die, her anger quickly discarded and replaced by hot-faced embarrassment.
"Dear it's already forgotten," Rarity said hastily, "I came here to apologise to you, not admonish you. I shouldn't have had such a kneejerk reaction, it's clear you weren't in the best frame of mind. I should have asked you if you were okay, not gotten mad."
"What was happening that night Rarity? What were you doing?"
"Twilight-"
"I'm not the sort of pony who would just peer through their friend's windows. Something had to be going on. I'm not gonna get mad, Rarity. I don't care what you were doing, I don't care if there was a party for everyone in Ponyville but me, but it had to be something." Rarity looked increasingly despondent, and made to interrupt before Twilight carried on anyway.
"You think I'm not doing good? Well, you're right. I'm not doing well at all. All I see are ponies staring and whispering at me, but nothing ever happens. There's no crescendo or catharsis. I'd almost prefer it if the town just turned out to all be in on some terrible secret and came to sacrifice me at some point, because it would be something. But no, it's just the same day in and day out. So either it's the town, or it's me. And the idea that it's all some stupid superstition... no. That doesn't work. The things I've seen and felt, it cannot be that. I won't accept it.
"But either way, I can't take it anymore. I need to know. Me, or all of you. I've done what you asked Rarity, I've been honest with you. So please be honest with me. What happened that night. Why was I looking through your window?"
So there it was, cards on the table. Every nasty and crazy and pathetic little thought out in the air. For a second, it looked like it could have worked. Rarity wasn't recoiling or laughing. She looked conflicted, looked like she was torn. And she would be, wouldn't she? If she was being asked by a close friend to finally come clean on whatever was going on, she'd been torn between loyalties. Sometimes, though, ponies could be brave. Brave enough to do the right thing. To lean forward, stare at Twilight with beautiful blue eyes and finally tell her...
"Twilight, I'm so, so sorry." No. "I wasn't doing anything that night. Ponies stare because you're new and they're curious, and because there were some rumours about your predecessor. I wish there was something bigger to tell you. I really do but... there's not."
Twilight stared blankly at her tea, watching as little drops of water made ripples on its surface.
"I think I might have cracked." Twilight muttered.
"Oh sweetheart." Rarity walked up to Twilight and pulled her in for another hug. She was so soft.
"I'm so, so sorry Rarity," she said through sobs, "I can't believe I did that."
And she did, didn't she? Because no-one could be that good at lying. It would have been more insane than any of this.
"You've got nothing to apologise for," the older unicorn soothed.
"I think... I think I might need to go back to Canterlot. I've lost myself here. I need to talk to the princess."
"No Twilight," Rarity urged, she pulled away from the hug and Twilight saw the fire in her eyes, "You don't need to go anywhere. You don't need to talk to anyone."
"But she-"
"Twilight listen, you've gone through worse than this. Nightmare Moon was worse than this. A dragon larger than town hall is worse than this. You don't need the princess to solve your problems for you. You can do it yourself."
"You don't understand!" Twilight wailed, "The problem is me, I don't know how to beat that."
"The problem isn't you or them Twilight. This is good news! You know that it's not you, and you know the town. It's solved! The only problem you've got is how to go on now, and the Twilight I've gotten to know doesn't run away from a problem!"
And the more Twilight listened, the more she knew Rarity was right. Finally hearing it in a setting devoid of eyes to stare or conversation to die was the final nail in the coffin. Even if something was actually happening, how would she ever find out if crying her eyes out in front of Rarity wasn't enough? Yet, as Rarity said, there was something freeing in that.
Maybe now, she could get back on track? Maybe the stares wouldn't bother her anymore, maybe they'd even begin to stop. Because she'd finally had a conversation with Rarity devoid of playful one-upsmanship or subterfuge. That had changed, so maybe other things could as well. To think she had allowed herself to become this deluded really, really hurt. Twilight relied on her mind. However, it was grounding to know that even she had limits. Maybe instead of catastrophising and telling herself she'd lost her mind, she was allowed to be a pony who just got too stressed.
When a friendship starts to move past its initial phases, ponies don't tend to report one single event that was the turning point. Relationships are more fluid than that. Instead, friendships are made significant by so many little moments in time, that one day a pony may turn around and wonder how things seemed to change so quickly, and how they ended up with someone so close to them - A Meditation on Love by Sunbather
"Rarity, I-"
The door burst open to reveal Spike. He scanned the scene, looking quite uncomfortable at having interrupted.
"Oh hey! I just... um..."
"Spike it's okay," Twilight interjected, forcing her voice to regain some stability, "I was just going to show Rarity out."
Rarity whipped her head around and looked at her in confusion, but Twilight just flicked her eyes to the door.
"Oh, yes, absolutely! I hope you had a nice day at the arcade Spikey! I'll see you soon."
Twilight was relieved Rarity hadn't argued with her. They quickly finished off what was left of their tea while Spike got to work tidying up the library. It had been left in a bit of a state earlier. Both unicorns stood and made their way to the door, and the second they got out into the humid night air Rarity spoke up.
"Darling, please let me stay with you tonight! I don't think you should be alone right now."
"Rarity it's fine," Twilight replied, "I'm not going to run off in the night back to Canterlot."
"But are you-"
"No, I'm not okay, Rarity. This is really hard," Rarity moved back as if hurt, her ears pinned back, "These last few days have been so up and down and barely even know what's going on anymore. But I'm better now than I was before. This has taken its toll though. I just need to think some things through."
"But I don't mind staying Twilight!" Rarity insisted.
"I know you don't, but I do. You have your own life to live, Rarity. And I know you're happy to stay because we're friends, but let me do something for you. It's the least I can do after... what I did."
"Don't you think immediately taking all this on yourself is just going to make you feel worse darling?" Rarity said, nearly on the edge of pleading now.
"I just need to think some things through Rarity. I'll be okay tonight," she said with a smile. It was a small and tired one, not at all bereft of pain, but at the least this one was honest. And it was, though she was embellishing the truth a little. She sincerely didn't want to burden her friends any more right now, but she didn't want to think things through at all. Tonight, she wanted to read her books with Spike, for them to eat some junk food and laugh.
Because she was in the eye of the storm at the moment, and she knew the pain was coming. When she woke up the next morning, sweltering and damp with sweat, she'd have to wake up in a Ponyville that still didn't feel like home, in a mind that still felt broken, with no theories of deep secrets for anaesthetic. And she'd deal with it, even though it might be hard. But she could at least deal with it then, not now.
Twilight waved at a still concerned looking Rarity as she took off into the night. When she disappeared from view, Twilight turned back to Golden Oaks, her own little island. But instead of heading back inside, she found her attention was caught by the window. She forced herself to walk right up to it, trampling her own bushes in the process, and peer through at Spike. She cringed. It wasn't a pleasant thought. To imagine herself doing this at Carousel Boutique.
But she focused on the dragon, her nearest and dearest friend, as he walked around tidying up. Carried on stubby legs, his gait closer to a waddle than she'd ever admit or he'd ever accept. She hadn't been very good to him today, but she would in the future. She'd make sure she was.
Twilight turned around to head back indoors, but found the act quite difficult now she was in the bushes. Without a place to put her hooves that wasn't covered in foliage, she stumbled around then eventually lost balance and toppled over. It was good that the cottages were far away from the library. It would have been pretty embarrassing for someone to see her like this. Crouched in bushes, almost like she was hiding, and staring out into the night. And then it hit her.
For the first time in months, Twilight felt cold.
It didn't matter how long, days or weeks, but it came back to Twilight. It always came back to her. And suddenly it all made sense, the trampled bushes, the flash of her hoof in chalk. Her nightmares, always about music she couldn't remember. Because without fail, it always came back to Twilight. And as she was sat in those bushes, every moment from after she left the Royal Cross came back. She remembered being huddled in Rarity's bushes. But worse than that, she remembered why she'd been huddled there, and why she'd drowned herself in wine like a mare dying of thirst.
She should have known, really. Change was in short supply in Ponyville, and the idea that Rarity could come around and fix everything was absurd when scrutinised. Any calm she'd arrived at after talking to Rarity, any feeling of turning a page and actually moving on was a distant memory now. Things didn't change here. They might fluctuate briefly, but they always returned to the zero state and that was where Twilight was now.
As she huddled there, too shocked to move, Twilight felt scared again.