//------------------------------// // Roseluck // Story: Affection Therapy // by Blazewing //------------------------------// 5 minutes after leaving home, you arrive at Rose’s house. All the lights are on, which tells you that she’s still up and about. Then again, there’s little to doubt about that. You don’t know anyone who goes to bed at only 6:30, unless they’re seriously ill. This gives you confidence that she really has made a full recovery. You only have to wait a few seconds after knocking. The door opens, and there stands Rose, looking hale and hearty, as though she had never been sick at all. She beams at the sight of you, and practically tackles you to the ground, so forceful is the hug she gives you. Laughing, you return her embrace with matching vigor. “I was just thinking of coming to see you!” she squeals excitedly. “How did you know?” “I didn’t,” you say. “Call it a lucky chance.” Rose giggles and nuzzles your cheek, while you just stand there with your arms about her, soaking in the warmth of the embrace. “I’ve missed you, Rosie,” you say as you ease apart. “And I’ve missed you,” says Rose. “Can you imagine what it was like being cooped up at home, sneezing and coughing for days, not able to see anypony else?” “I’ve had colds like that,” you say, grimly. “They’re no fun. I wish there was more I could’ve done for you.” “Oh, don’t worry about it,” says Rose. “Getting my dress from Rarity’s was a huge relief for me. Thank you so much for doing that.” “You’re welcome,” you say. “I’ve got a lot to tell you about what I’ve been up to since you got sick.” “Oh? Find yourself some new clients?” Rose asks, interested. “A lot more than that,” you say, grinning. “But first, I thought maybe it’d be a nice treat to take you somewhere for dinner, to celebrate your recovery.” “Aww, you’re such a sweetheart,” says Rose, modestly. “You don’t have to do that.” “I know, but I wanted to,” you say, humbly. “Well, then, I’d be honored,” says Rose, giving a stately and playful bow. “Lead the way.” “Delighted to, my lady,” you say, bowing back. Giggling, Rose trots by your side as the two of you make your way down the street, the lamplights casting their glow about as the sky grows ever-darker. *** You’ve decided to treat Rose to dinner at a modest Neightalian restaurant with outdoor seating, so you could watch the sun set and the moon rise. It’s one of your favorite spots to visit when you feel like treating yourself, to just sit and enjoy the atmosphere while eating good food. It had been a good place to contemplate your situation after just moving to Ponyville, before you and Rose first discovered affection therapy, when you were still unsure of what you would do now that you had left Manehattan behind. Well, just look at how far you’ve come since those days. In fact, at that very moment, you’re just finishing telling Rose about what you had been up to. You’ve both ordered hearty bowls of salad with refillable breadsticks, one of the staples of this restaurant, and between bites, you related how you had given affection therapy to Rarity, Pinkie, and Fluttershy, leaving out your meeting with Rainbow Dash, of course. Now, you were coming to the big news, and you had been careful to remain vague about the subject until you came to it. “...And so, thanks to Twilight,” you say, grinning, and with a half a breadstick in your hand, “I’m gonna be bringing affection therapy to the Ponyville spa!” “The spa?!” Rose claps a hoof to her mouth, her cheeks bulging slightly from the food still in her mouth. She clearly didn’t mean to shout so loud, especially as it draws the eyes of ponies sitting nearby, and it had even made you wince from how sudden it was. Blushing, she swallows, wiping her lips hurriedly with a napkin. You feel like laughing from how adorable she’s acting, but you try to keep a straight face, at risk of offending her. “Sorry about that,” Rose says at last, still looking a little embarrassed. “It’s all right,” you say. “It’s a surprising bit of news to take in, I know.” “You’re telling me,” says Rose. “I mean, the spa? You’re seriously going to be working at the spa?” “That’s right,” you say. “Starting next week.” “And you said it was Rarity’s idea?” “Yep,” you say, polishing the breadstick off at last. “She thought affection therapy would make for a perfect spa treatment, with how well it relaxes ponies. I mean, you’d know from experience, right?” Rose nods. “I mulled it over for a while,” you go on, “giving it a lot of thought, and I decided to go through with it, with Twilight’s help, of course. I just didn’t feel confident marching into the spa all by myself, without her professional testimony. She’s been a massive source of support for me since this whole thing started. I’d hardly even know where to begin if she hadn’t worked her princess magic, so to speak. And of course,” you add, fondly, “I would never even have gotten this far without you, my dear friend. I know I say it often enough, but you’re the one who helped me develop this practice in the first place, and I’ll always be grateful for that.” You smile at Rose, but your smile fades at the expression on her face. You’d expected her to look excited, happy at the news, perhaps a little bashful at being praised. Instead, her eyes are averted from you, and she’s wearing a slight frown, as though she herself is mulling things over, and they’re not entirely to her liking. She’s also poking at her salad, as though she had lost her appetite. What had happened? Was it something you said?  “Rose?” Rose looks up. “Hmm?” “Is something wrong?” “Wrong?” she repeats, casually. “No, nothing’s wrong. I’m very happy for you, and proud.” She smiles. However, it doesn’t feel like the right kind of smile. There’s something forced, something unnatural to it, and in her tone. “Are you sure?” you ask. “Absolutely,” says Rose, a little too cheerfully. “I guess I’m just still feeling a little sluggish from getting over the flu, but I’m fine, really. It’s so good to hear how well you’ve been getting on. I really missed out on a lot while I was sick.” As if to prevent further discussion on the topic, she stuffs another forkful of salad into her mouth, making her cheeks bulge as she chews. You stare at her, puzzled, but she doesn’t say anything else, and just crunches away. It’s not quite the reaction you expected, but it would perhaps be best to change topics for now. “If you say so,” you say. “By the way, did you hear about what happened with Starlight Glimmer earlier this week?” The change of topic seems to be what Rose wanted, as she perks back up at once, in earnest. “I don’t think so,” she says. “Why, what happened?” “Apparently, she got a letter from her friend Trixie, saying she was going to be back in town soon. Next thing, I see her popping up all over town, teleporting from here to there, shouting ‘Trixie’s coming back! Trixie’s coming back!’ She looked as giddy as a foal on Hearth’s Warming Day!” you add, chuckling. “Oh, that!” Rose says, giggling. “I thought I recognized her voice outside my window, but I could barely make out what she was saying. My ears felt all clogged up from being sick. I can only imagine how it must’ve looked.” “Oh, it was quite a sight,” you say. “And then Pinkie joined in, because of course; she hardly needs a reason to celebrate anything, and she even brought out the party cannon!” “Of course she would,” Rose chuckles. From there, the rest of dinner passes amicably and cheerfully, as though nothing had happened to interrupt it or dampen the mood. However, while you had decided to change the subject away from your new alteration in employment, you by no means intend to let it stay dropped, and you determine to talk to Rose about it when you get back to her house. *** Night has fully settled in, and Luna’s moon hangs crisp and clear in the sky as you and Rose make your way back to her house. Your progress is slowed a bit by Rose’s lethargic walk, bringing you to not quite a snail’s pace, nor even a tortoise’s, but perhaps the nearest thing after.  “Ooh, boy, am I stuffed!” Rose moans, putting a hoof to her stomach. “I was really hungry after eating nothing but soup for the past few days, but I think I overdid it.” “Would it help if I carried you the rest of the way back?” you ask. Rose snorts, amused. “You’re joking, right?” she asks. “Maybe, maybe not,” you say, shrugging and smirking. Rose chuckles. “Nah, I wouldn’t make you do that,” she says. “I’d probably crush you if I made you carry me.” “A dainty mare like you?” you say. “Not likely.” “Oh, hush, you flatterer, you,” Rose says, her cheeks going faintly pink. Your pony pal had certainly eaten much more than you had at dinner, though to look at her slender frame, even after such a hearty meal, one wouldn’t guess it. She was one of those lucky ponies who, despite still looking adorable and cuddly, managed to remain slim and fit no matter how much they ate. Despite how much you and Rose had enjoyed yourself, however, you’re still determined to find out what’s truly bothering her, and why the news about your new job didn’t seem to sit well with her. She might have tried to deny it, but you weren’t fooled. More than that, though, you can’t help but wonder why she should feel the need to lie about it to you, when she was your best friend. Surely there was no reason to keep secrets from each other. At last, the two of you reach Rose’s house. Rose fumbles a bit in her saddlebag, but soon brings out the key and unlocks the door. “Would you like to come in for a bit?” she asks. “It’s still a little messy inside, but I mostly got everything cleaned up once I started feeling better. I didn’t want to sit around in a pigsty any longer.” “Certainly,” you say. “I’d be delighted.” The two of you step inside, and really, apart from a couple books sitting out here and there, and a box of tissues in plain sight, the interior looks relatively tidy. That’s just like Rose: fretting about the house being a mess for guests when there’s not that much wrong with it. You appreciate her consideration for her guests’ comfort, all the same. “I’ll get some tea started,” says Rose. “I need something soothing for my stomach, anyway.” She disappears into the kitchen, and you settle on her favorite couch. As you sit and wait for her, you ponder over how to approach the topic. You don’t want to spring it on her out of nowhere, accusing her of not being honest about how she felt. You also don’t want to sound ungrateful for not getting the reaction you hoped for; that’d make you come off as rather petty. You decide to just wait and see, and hope the opportunity presents itself. Rose soon returns with a tray bearing two cups, and you can already tell, from the aroma wafting even from such a distance, that they contain her specialty rosehip green tea. She sets the tray down, hands you a cup, then settles herself beside you before grabbing her own cup. Almost simultaneously, you both take a sip, and let out identical sighs of contentment as the soothing aroma and taste of the tea wash over you. “Ooh, that really hits the spot,” Rose murmurs, “especially for an upset tummy like mine.” “No kidding,” you say. “Even if there’s nothing in particular bothering you, a good cup of tea just makes you feel...complete.” Rose smiles. “That sounds like something Jasmine Leaf would say,” she says, referring to the pony who ran Ponyville’s tea shop. “I’m sure she’d be delighted to hear that from you.” “Aww, shucks,” you say, modestly. For a little while, the two of you simply sit there, side by side, letting the tea fill your body with a feeling of comfort and relaxation. You still don’t see an opportunity to breach the topic yet, but you resolve to remain patient and wait for it to come. For now, you can just enjoy the company of your dear pony friend. At last, Rose sets her cup down and sighs again. “I really needed that,” she says, “but my stomach’s still feeling a little sour. Do you know what would help it feel better?” With her hooves curled to her chest, she looks up at you with big, beseeching eyes, her lips formed into a little pout. You can’t help but smile at this. She’s done this to you before, and she knows it, but it’s become something of a bantering playfulness between the two of you when she wanted some affection therapy of her own, something you can never help but humor. And now that you came to think on it, this might just be the chance you were waiting for. “Why, I’m only a therapist, and not a doctor,” you say, wryly, “but if you wanted my opinion, I’d say a good belly rub might do your poor tummy some good.” Rose sticks her tongue out playfully. “You think so?” she asks. “We can see,” you say, and then, adopting a more sober tone, you continue, “but before that, I’d like to ask you something serious.” Rose’s ears droop, and her smile fades. The fact that she doesn’t look puzzled or even dismayed tells you that she knows what you want to talk about, and she’s been dreading it coming up. “I know you do,” she says, “and I know what it’s about. I can’t hide anything from you, can I?” “I’m afraid not,” you say. You reach out and put a hand to her hoof. She doesn’t draw it away, which is a good sign, and her green eyes meet yours. “Rose,” you say, “what’s bothering you? Is it about me taking on a job at the spa? Talking about that seemed to be what made you start acting weird, at least until I changed the subject. You know you don’t have to hide anything from me. I’m your friend, Rosie, and I’ll hear you out no matter what.” You can see a faint glimmer in those green eyes of Rose’s, like the beginning of tears. Her lip quivers, and she closes her eyes, as though afraid your gaze will overpower her. When she speaks, it’s with a lot of deliberation, as though she’s fighting to keep her emotions in check. “It’s...it’s not that I’m not happy for you. I’m very happy for you. I think it’s wonderful that you’ve managed to advance so far with affection therapy, and it makes me proud to have been able to help you discover it. As your friend, I feel nothing but pride and admiration for where you are now.” You feel your heart swell at this, and yet not without a sense of foreboding. Touched as you are by her honest praise for your achievement, it makes you wonder what could be so wrong as to eclipse that happy feeling. Rose pauses, then, opening her eyes, which are now undeniably wet with tears, she continues, “But...if you’re working at the spa, does this mean you won’t be able to do what you’ve been doing before?” You blink, puzzled. “What do you mean?” you ask. Rose swallows. “I mean, just giving affection therapy to ponies who come to call,” she says. “Part of what I enjoy about you becoming an affection therapist in the first place is how you’re always available for ponies whenever they need someone to talk to and help them. You’ve always made them feel welcome, like they have a place they can come to when they need guidance and reassurance. If you’re working at the spa now, are you going to be too busy for all of that? Will ponies have to make an appointment there just to see you and get therapy? ...Will I?” A tear rolls down Rose’s cheek as she asks this last question, her voice breaking as she does so. And now you understand. It’s as if a bolt of lightning had struck you right in the brain, and plunged straight down into your heart. Rose was worried about losing what had made affection therapy special in the first place, and afraid of losing the time you two have together, because of this new job. You feel like such an idiot. You had been so sure that she would be proud of what you’d accomplished in bringing affection therapy to the spa, that you never even entertained the idea that she might be worried over how this would affect how much time you’d be able to spend with her, or other ponies who might not want to book a spa appointment just for a session. How could you have been so thoughtless as to not consider this? What kind of friend are you?... … I’ll tell you what kind of friend… The kind who cares more about making it big than playing it safe. The kind who wants to make a lot of money, no matter how much you say you’re not doing it to get rich. That’s why you weren’t cut out for Manehattan: it’s every pony for themselves in that town, and you were too naive to see it… … No! That’s not who you are! Who you are is someone who isn’t about to let a pony you care about stay in misery and gloom! In an instant, you pull Rose close so that she’s nestled against you. You take it as a good sign that she doesn’t try to break away. In fact, she snuggles up against your chest, as though seeking the comfort you’re more than ready to give her. “Rosie, don’t think that,” you say, stroking her back gently. “You don’t need to worry about that. I’m not gonna stop doing what I’ve been doing just because of this new job.” Rose doesn’t answer, but merely sniffles again. It sounds like hollow reassurance at first, but as you sit there, holding her close, you start to rationalize the position you’re in.  Sure, taking on a new job might reduce the time you’ve otherwise had for other things, and especially for unscheduled meetings with ponies in need of therapy. It might also cut into the time you had with Rose, which seemed to be her chief fear. However, as you consider what happened when you first set out to apply at the spa, you can’t recall a matter of a schedule or hours ever being brought up. All Aloe and Lotus said was that you could start on Monday, and presumably, the finer points of employment would be elaborated on there. That’s it! “I haven’t ironed out all the details yet, and some things still need to be finalized as I’m going forward,” you say. “All that was decided on was that I’d be starting next Monday. We never discussed a schedule.” Rose says nothing. You hug her just a little tighter as you continue, speaking earnestly. “Rest assured, though: I’m not giving up the house calls or the impromptu appointments, and certainly not our own sessions, not by a long shot. I would never have agreed to it if I intended on giving up what made me appreciate doing it in the first place. No matter what, I’ll always find a way to find time for ponies who need me.” And that was true enough. Not once have you ever entertained the possibility of anything preventing you from carrying out your duty as an affection therapist. You just needed Rose to remind you of what might change when you went further with it professionally, it seems. At last, Rose looks up at you. Her eyes are still damp, but she’s no longer crying. She looks more hopeful, even reassured. “...You mean that?” she asks, in a small voice. “Every word,” you say, stoutly. “Cross my heart, hope to fly, stick a cupcake in my eye.” Rose wipes at her eyes, giggling a little at your use of Pinkie’s oft-repeated promise, and smiles up at you. Seeing her genuinely smile and hear her laugh again warms your heart to the core. “There’s my happy pony pal,” you say, tenderly, giving her mane a gentle stroke. “I’m sorry,” Rose says. “I was being silly, I know.” “Not at all,” you say. “I’m the one who should be apologizing. I guess I just got so excited about taking affection therapy to the next step, I took for granted how it might affect my schedule, especially when it comes to my friends. I wasn’t being very sensitive about how it’d impact you at first. Can you forgive me?” Rose smiles sweetly, puts her hooves around you, and hugs you close, nestling under your chin. “Of course,” she says. Smiling, you return her hug. Now that the mystery had been cleared up, and everything’s out in the open, you feel much better, and you know Rose does, too. You could’ve sat there with her in your arms all night, if that’s what she wanted, but you remember something that’s sure to improve her mood even more. “You still feel up for that belly rub?” you ask. She gently pulls away, looking up at you with that same peaceful smile on her face. “Always,” she says. You gently release her, and she settles herself across your knees, on her back, hooves curled to her chest and her eyes closed. You lay a hand on her smooth, soft middle and start gently rubbing away, up and down. Her smile widens ever so slightly, and she sighs deeply as she nestles against you.  It’s the reaction you come to expect every time you perform it on anypony, but some ponies add a whole level of preciousness to it. Some simply lie there and drift off in pure bliss. Some, like Rose, actually cuddle up closer to you, as though desiring deeper comfort. It’s adorable how ponies could behave in a foal-like way when shown such attention and care. As you continue to rub away with one hand, you use your other hand to scratch behind Rose’s ear. It causes her other ear to twitch like a cat’s, and her contented smile becomes even more pronounced. Her head tilts slightly, until her soft cheek is resting against your palm, her boyishly-cut locks tickling your fingers. This was another nuance in reactions that you’ve noticed. Some ponies simply sit there and marvel at the sensation. Some again, like Rose, seem to seek further reassurance and comfort in nuzzling into your hand. Suddenly, Rose’s left hoof twitches, and it lays itself across your belly rubbing arm, gripping it tenderly, as though she were holding a stuffed animal. It doesn’t obstruct your movement, but it’s such a sudden and sweet gesture that it makes you stop for a moment or two. You’ve had this reaction before as well, but not quite as often, and it once again bespeaks a pony’s desire for closeness and comfort.  Your heart melts anew, and you use your other hand to softly stroke her mane as you continue to rub her stomach. She sighs again, looking utterly at peace, all traces of her previous worries vanished completely. Rose was such a pure and sweet soul, so it pains you to ever think of her being sad, hurt, or distressed, but it also makes you feel warm inside to see her happy, content, and blissful. You feel lucky to have such a wonderful friend as her, and you wonder how you could ever be so fortunate as to have deserved her friendship. *** Time passes gradually on. The house is completely silent, except for the ticking of the clock and Rose’s gentle breathing. You’ve stopped rubbing after a while, and simply sit with your hand resting on her barrel, her hoof still clasped around your arm, and your other hand cradling her cheek. You can feel her heart gently beating beneath your palm, and her tail gently moves every now and then, along with a flicker of the ear or a twitch of the hind hoof. She must be having a very sweet dream, and you have no intention of disrupting it. That at least saves Princess Luna one less nightmare to deal with in her nightly vigils. All of a sudden, the clock chimes, startling you. The quiet atmosphere inside makes the noise much louder and more alarming. Rose stirs, shifting about slightly, then yawns squeakily, removing her hoof from your arm, and you draw it gently away. She opens her eyes and blinks sleepily up at you. Smiling, you give her a tickle in the side, making her giggle. “How are you feeling, Rosie?” you ask. “Wonderful,” she says. “Thank you.” “Anytime, my dear friend,” you say. Rose eases herself into a sitting posture, stretching. Then she turns to face you, her expression full of warmth and tenderness. “In all seriousness,” she says, “thank you. Not just for the session, but for helping me earlier. I didn’t mean to put a damper on your news, and I’m sorry for that.” She clasps your hand between her hooves, looking you full in the face. “I truly am happy for you, and very proud of you. I can still remember when you first arrived in Ponyville: alone, nervous, not sure how you were going to get by. And now, here you are: a full-fledged affection therapist, about to make your practice public. I know you’re going to make a lot of ponies happy in the spa, the way you’ve made so many ponies happy outside of it already, and you can count on me to support you every step of the way. I’m so lucky to have a kind and compassionate friend like you.” She leans forward and gives you a quick kiss on the cheek. You feel that spot grow warm, as it always does when a mare’s given you a platonic kiss out of gratitude for your help. It’s rare and a little embarrassing, but not unwelcome. “Shucks, Rose,” you mutter. “I’m the one who’s lucky. You made me feel welcome ever since I first came to Ponyville. You’ve stood by my side through everything, and even helped me discover my calling. I’ll always be grateful for everything you’ve done for me, and will always be your friend.” Rose’s eyes gleam, as though fresh tears are starting, but she simply puts her hooves about you in a close, warm hug, and you return it gladly. “How did I ever get so lucky as to have a friend like you?” you murmur. “I was asking myself that same question,” Rose says, chuckling. Eventually, you ease apart, still smiling, and you both look up at the clock. “It’s gotten pretty late,” Rose says. “Was I out for that long?” “Pretty long, yeah,” you say. “You looked so peaceful, though, so I didn’t want to disturb you.” “Aww,” murmurs Rose, touched. “Well, I shouldn’t keep you too much longer, then. You’ll probably want some sleep yourself, after spoiling me all night.” She sticks her tongue out cheekily, and you chuckle and ruffle her mane. You both stand up and walk to the front door. “I’ll update you as soon as I find out what my new hours will look like,” you say, “though of course I’ll see you around before next Monday.” “Sounds good,” says Rose, cheerily. “Good night!” “Good night!” Rose sees you out the door, still smiling brightly, and softly closes it behind you as you start off down the street, your heart all aglow, feeling as bright as the moon above. It’s always a good feeling making ponies smile, even more so when the pony is a close friend. Whatever happens with your new post at the spa, you’re confident that you’ll still be able to do what you’ve been doing for the ponies of Ponyville, because good friends always find a way to make time for each other. “Good friends always find a way to make time for each other,” you mutter to yourself as you walk along. “That almost sounds like something Princess Twilight would say.” A rattling noise draws your attention ahead. A pony is approaching down the empty street, drawing a large wagon behind them. As you step out of the way to let them pass, you see that the pony is a unicorn mare of an average build, with a blue coat, a silvery mane and tail, purple eyes, and a cutie mark resembling a magic wand. She looks up at you as she draws near, then stops, looking more than a little surprised. “Good evening,” you say, pleasantly. “Good evening,” she returns, still looking a little agog. “So there really is a human living here! I thought Starlight had just caught my flair for the astounding when she wrote to me about it. Imagine that!” Taking in her appearance, the wagon, and her mention of Starlight, it doesn’t take long for you to piece together who she is. “You wouldn’t happen to be the Great and Powerful Trixie, would you?” The unicorn gives her mane a prim toss, smirking. “Your eyes do not deceive you,” she says. “It is indeed I, the Grrreat and Powerful Trrrixie, who graces you with her presence!” It’s amazing how her tone could switch from casual to grand so quickly, and you notice that she seems to like rolling the ‘R’s of her title, to add a little flair, you suppose. “Well, I’m very honored to meet you,” you say. “I’m-” “Oh, no need,” says Trixie, interrupting you with a raised hoof. “I’ve heard about you from my dear friend, Starlight Glimmer. You helped her when she was having a bad case of the blues, with some kind of ‘affection therapy’, I think she wrote.” “That’s right,” you say, grinning. “Well, I only know about it from what she said,” Trixie continues, before adopting a much kinder tone, “but I’m still very grateful that you were there for her. Being a traveling performer is a very rewarding career, allowing me to see many new sights and towns, and meet and astound many fans, but it unfortunately involves being away for a long period of time, which can be hard on those closest to you. Starlight’s the first real friend I’ve made in my wanderings, you see. She and I share a lot in common, and I was worried she might pine away for me once I was back on the road, so it means a lot that she has friends to look out for her, even if they aren’t as great and powerful as yours truly.” You hardly know what to say. For somepony as grand and important as Trixie undoubtedly is, and in spite of the traces of ego and smugness in her speech, she’s equally devoted to those she cares about. The way she talks about Starlight is proof enough of that. This mare is something else. “Your gratitude means a lot, Trixie,” you say, humbly. “I’m glad to have been able to help Starlight out of her funk, for her sake and her friends’. Are you on your way to see her now? It’s pretty late.” “I know,” says Trixie. “I had actually written to Starlight that I’d be arriving later, and didn’t know I’d make such good time. I think it’ll be a nice surprise for me to drop in early, don’t you think?” “I’m sure it will be,” you say. “I won’t keep you, then.” “Thank you,” says Trixie, inclining her head in a polite bow. “And if you haven’t yet, you really should come see me when I’m back on the stage. A show by the Great and Powerful Trixie is not to be missed.” “I’ll be sure to be there when it happens,” you say. “Good night, Trixie.” “Adieu,” says Trixie. She starts back off down the street, the wagon rattling behind her. You watch her as she makes her way towards Twilight’s castle, still very visible from a distance, even at night. Then, you turn back around and make for home again, still a bit amazed that you had gotten a chance to meet the same Trixie that Starlight had been missing, and feeling certain that she, Starlight, was going to be in for a very pleasant surprise soon.