//------------------------------// // Don't let the bells end // Story: Johns // by Cackling Moron //------------------------------// What turned out to be a pleasant distraction from...basically everything that had happened to me recently...was that it had all happened just in time for me to stumble, memory-restored, legs-working, hand-not-shaking into the festive season. What clued me in to this being the case was the sudden appearance of a whole lot of sparkly accoutrement popping up basically everywhere, stuffed into every orifice of every place I happened to be in. Figuring out that this was probably a big deal, I asked Celestia about it, asked her what was going down, and asked what tended to happen in horseland around Christmastime. Turns out no, not Christmas, Hearth’s Warming. Celestia tells me it isn’t Christmas, but it so is. There’s a lot of familial latitude with the traditions from what little I’ve heard but, hell, that ain’t so unusual. Everyone’s got their own way of doing things back home after all. Point is it’s basically Christmas. But with horses! She was actually pretty excited to hear about the synchronicity of the whole thing, and I was more than happy to oblige her in outline all of my Crimbo knowledge, pouring forth in great ramblings streams regularly punctured by her interruptions, like so: “-you know, and you get a tree and-” “Decorate it?” She’d asked, practically bouncing in place with the need to know. “Yes!” I’d say. And she’d clop her hooves together in delight at yet another point where the two seemed to inexplicably match up. It was actually pretty cute just how, uh, happy she gets? Just the glee on her face when I talk about home, I suppose, and in hearing about what sort of things I used to do back there. Doesn’t mean a whole lot to me, feels pretty damn mundane to me but whatever, I’m the alien, what do I know?  How is it that horses would even end up on deciding to decorate trees anyway? But then I suppose how did we?  And I didn’t get into the actual, you know, reasons for why Christmas was a thing beyond the merest lightest touching upon it in the vaguest of terms because I did not have the energy to start getting into any of that, and really I was so blinded by the coincidence of the motions matching up that I wasn’t so concerned about the motivations. Tinsil? Really? Bah. Not that nitpicking is going to get me anywhere, and not that I should be wasting my time doing it. And I’m not, not really - or at least I’m trying not to. Instead, I’m trying to enjoy myself. Decorations! Weird games in the lead up to the big day! Treats! A market! Yes indeed a market. Lots of markets, in fact, but the local, fancy-pants Canterlot market - the one with royal blessing, no less - was the one that was my primary focus. Big fan of that when I heard about it. Cunt for a Christmas market, me. Or Hearth’s Whatever market. I’m down for it all, son, I’ll take it all and come back for more. I’m just easy like that. Celestia was expected to go, it being a thing and, of course, I was sure as shit going with her. No sir! Couldn’t drag me away! And a benefit of it being some fancy-pants Canterlot royal-sponsored shindig thing was that having Celestia (and Luna, somewhere, apparently, though I hadn’t seen her) just wander around from stall to stall was not that big of a deal.  Had we just, say, rocked up to some out-the-way place to do the same thing one imagines the logistics involved would rather have taken the fun out. Here? From the ground up done with royal mingling in mind. It was still a deal, obviously. Ponies still fell over themselves and bowed and scraped and all that, but it wasn’t like they had to lock the place down or anything. Because it was already locked down to start with, and had been put together like that. Guards weren’t tailing us, they were just infesting the market by design. Which gave us space, after a fashion. And what also gave us space was the wide berth the regular attendees were giving us. Well, more of a respectful distance, I suppose. Very nice of them, as otherwise the place was rammed. Popular! Unsurprising. I was mostly just tagging along with Celestia and soaking up the atmosphere while she meandered about congratulating stallholders on what wonderful stuff they’d turned out, wishing them the best for the season, dispensing a little regal wisdom and just generally making everyone’s day better just by appearing for a moment. That could be bias on my part, but I’d fight anyone on it. Fuck, she could pass by in the distance and smile my way and I’d probably say my day improved I still don’t care, I’ll defend this position. By this point my presence in the world and specifically my presence basically as Celestia’s shadow had lost most of the novelty it might have once had. I still got looks, but no-one seemed to care. Indeed, everyone tended to care more about Celestia showing up, usually to the complete exclusion of me.  No skin off my back. I don’t even just work here, I’m just here with mah girlfriend, in the Christmas market, don’t pay attention to me. Well, Hearth’s Warming market or whatever.  I’m sorry! I can’t get over it! End up in a whole different universe and I’m running into this sort of thing? That’s some weird synergistic evolution...stuff...going on there, let me tell you. Snowy gift-giving festival with a lot of festive treats that look awfully familiar? The mind boggles. Heh, always with the snow though. No-one ever has a Christmas-themed ersatz festival holiday thing in the summer, do they? Take that, Australia! I should probably just let it go. Fairly predictably Celestia’s circuit of the market took us through the crafty part and thence onto what I shall call treat alley, and once in treat alley we somehow very quickly ended up at a stall that sold cake and, with Celestia appearing, sold some more cake not long after that. Kind of a struggle getting the guy not to just give it to her but she can be real insistent when she wants to be, and she wasn’t taking it for free. She ate it. She was very happy. I never get tired of seeing that happen... For my part though I wasn’t feeling cake. I have nothing against cake - any other day I’d be all over it - but it just didn’t seem to gel with the festive mood for me, no matter how trussed-up for Hearth’s Warming it was. Just not quite there for me.  There had to be something else, something more fitting, something seasonally appropriate. I cast an eye around. Many treats jumped out at me, but one in particular caught my attention. The lumpiness drew me in. It suggested something to me that my subconscious knew immediately, my thoughts themselves following close behind,. There was no mistaking it, there was only one thing it could be! “Stollen? Stollen!” Oh joy! Joy unbounded! Holidays are coming! I immediately and frantically started poking Celestia in the side to get her attention.  “Celestia, Celestia! Hey, Celly, hey, hey,” I said, for good measure. She took her time in turning my way. Sloooowwwllllyyyy pretending to finnaaalllyy noticing me poking her before proceeding to slllooowwwwlllyyy bring her head around and stuff her face right into the crook of my neck. Saw that move coming but it still made me shiver when she did it. “If I didn’t know any better I’d say you were trying to get my attention,” she said, quietly, voice right by my ear. Gah. She always does that. Real hard not to shiver. Even with my legs working now kinda went close to buckling. Reckon she did that on purpose. “We are in full view of everyone, you know,” I reminded her, also quietly, though I never usually got the same reaction out of her that she tended to get out of me. Will never stop me trying, though! She giggled, too, which was just great. “Think they suspect anything?” She asked. I looked around. Anyone who’s eyes I caught immediately looked away again. Which meant they were looking and had seen, but were all pretending not to and that they hadn’t. “Nope,” I said. “That’s because I’m so subtle,” she said, having the gall then to plant the teeniest, tiniest of pecks right on my neck just as she pulled back. That’s the kind of thing that‘d get people talking, surely. Only! No-one bloody saw it! Because of the way her mane had been and just how fleetingly she’d planted it there was no way anyone could have seen it, making it actually, legitimately subtle. Damn she’s good. And from the look on her face she knows it, too. That smile. That smile! “I’m blushing, aren’t I?” I asked. “You always look that flushed to me. Or maybe that’s only because I’m around,” she said. Funny lady. “Hah,” I said. Another giggle. God I love that sound. “What were you poking me for anyway?” She then asked. I’d actually forgotten, she’d actually made me forget. Took me a second to bring it back. I had to look around again and when I did I saw what it was that had got me so fired up. “Stollen!” I said, grabbing Celestia by both cheeks and pulling her face in to mine. She raised an eyebrow. “Stollen?” “Stollen! Over there! It’s very important we go there,” I said, pointing with one hand, the other staying holding her face. Celestia gasped. “Important? Why didn’t you say so? Lead the way!” I swivelled a little so I could drape an arm over her neck and give her a pat on the shoulder - do horses have shoulders? Always been too embarrassed to ask - continuing to point in an overly-dramatic way, just for the sheer hell of it. “Stick close, I’ll limp my way over - wait, no, that was the old John - new John strides over!” Stand aside, everyone! I take large steps! I did lead the way and Celestia kept pace, trotting alongside and laughing, the crowds aparting ahead of us in either awe or alarm, take your pick. Kind of overblown sure but it was fun so hell.  The pony manning (ponying?) the stollen stall saw us coming a mile off and was plainly torn between joy at having the Princess approaching and concern at having both her and me, the weirdo alien, both coming at him with such fierce determination. “Hello there. Lovely looking stuff you got here. All of this, please, all of the stollen,” I said, pointing to all of the stollen. This seemed to unsettle the stallholder, who stammered briefly and then looked to Celestia for help. “Which would you recommend, my little pony?” Celestia asked in that immediately, instantly, overwhelming soothing tone she could apparently just turn on at a whim. It was like being wrapped in a snuggly blanket, only with words. Hell, I’m not even a pony and I liked it. “Well! That would depend on what you were in the mood for! Here we have what you might call your ‘classic’ variety - all local ingredients, all locally sourced! - and then just to the side of that you’ve got-” And on he went. I kind of zoned out. Sales-patter always did that to me, and I’m a simple and straightforward enough guy that I’d already settled on what it was I wanted, which was the basic stuff. Celestia though listened politely, nodding along and going ‘Ooh’ and ‘I see’ in all the right places. Mostly I just watched her until he wrapped up. “So what’ll it be, Princess Celestia?” The stallholder asked at length once he was done, looking to her. “John here is the one you should be asking, really,” she said, smiling, tilting her head my way. “Oh! Uh, yes, I - heh - I see. Well then, uh, ‘John’, anything take your fancy?” He asked, clearly finding my name odd but also knowing it would be rude to point that out. I got that. “One of these, please,” I said without hesitation, pointing down at one of the nice, big chunks of stollen in front of me, one of the bog-standard ones. “There’s a lot of choices here, are you sure you wouldn’t prefer to maybe think about it?” Celestia asked, gently, in the way that someone asks when they are aware that there is one correct answer to the question and they’re hoping you’ll also realise this. Not so, Celestia! “I’m a man who makes snap decisions, whatever gets put in front of me first, pow,” I said, pointing down at the stollen I’d selected. Celestia frowned, but only a low-grade frown, the type lightly dusted with concern. “That’s not really a good thing,” she said. “Not necessarily bad, either,” I pointed out. Big clever man, me. She looked at me sideways. I could feel it even if I wasn’t looking. “...we may have to agree to disagree.” When the lady who’s somewhere in the region of a hell of a lot older than you says that she’ll agree to disagree it probably means you’re wrong in a way she’s seen dozens of times already but that she would prefer to let you down gently. I can appreciate that. “So you’ll be taking this or…?” The stallholder asked, utterly left in the dust by me and Celestia’s gay banter and entirely unsure of what it was he was actually supposed to be doing. “Yep yep, this one right here. How much do I owe you?” “Ah,” said the Stallholder, eyeing Celestia. “I’ll-” started Celestia, though I already knew where it was going. It was now a horrendous three-way struggle between the stallholder wanting to give his stuff away for free, Celestia wanting to pay for it and then me, the one actually trying to buy it fighting tooth-and-nail to hand over my own money for the stuff.  How does this sort of thing happen? In the end I snatched victory by expertly distracting the stallholder (by pointing behind him and saying something was about to fall over) and pinching Celestia on the bottom, which made her squeak and then go very quiet and very pink. Don’t think anyone else saw anything… “Much obliged,” I said, nodding my thanks to the pony and taking my (surprisingly hard-won) stollen and feeling pretty damn good about myself as we walked back into the bustle of things.  My purchase was hefty, which was always a good sign. You know you’re onto a good treat when it’s weighty enough to be used as a weapon if anyone tried to get it off you. It was like I was carrying a delicious paving slab. “I need to eat this immediately,” I said, cradling it like a child because, in many ways, it was my new child. I would protect it and keep it safe from a hostile world. Up until consuming it, obviously. I was a loving parent in the way Cronus was. “There’s a quiet spot we can go,” Celestia said as I had to lift a leg so as not to be bowled over by a sprinting, cheering gaggle of kids who went careening past without a care in the world. Good on them, even if they were a menace - they looked like they were having a good time. “Around here? You must know some important people,” I then said. Celestia gave me a bump with her hip. “You probably haven’t heard of them.” I gave her a bump right back, even though I didn’t have quite as much hip to work with as she did. “Probably not,” I said. Celestia then demonstrated a frankly preternatural level of understanding of the layout of the market and took us both a brief zig-zag route through the goings on - pausing only briefly now and then to say hello and shower praise on the deserving (which was everyone, honestly) - and into a guard-flanked, VIP-seeming stop towards the back. And in this back area there was a cordoned-off, tucked-away tent of moderate size apparently specifically set up just to be a place the princesses could go to not be in the middle of things. There was a table, cushions, etcetera. A very little quiet spot, and I was in it. Royal perks! Kind of makes me feel like a pariah but, eh, there’s honestly not a whole lot to be done about it. At least it was just us two now, noise of the crowd outside surprisingly muffled once the tent flaps were pulled to. “This is very fancy,” I said, kneeling on a cushion and laying my stollen down. Celestia just hummed and nodded. I briefly wondered what, if anything, was on her mind at that exact moment but if she wasn’t sharing it she presumably had her reasons, and now was not the time to pry. Instead, stollen time. I opened up the bag it had got wrapped in and crudely wrenched free a chunk or two with my bare hands - fear me, stollen, I need not knives! I passed the first, larger chunk to Celestia, she having settled herself the opposite side of the little table to me, and who took it and hovered it in front of her, turning it about and looking it over. “I haven’t eaten stollen in years,” she said before giving it a nibble. Seemed to go down well. “I could eat stollen until I died. It’d be really easy. I could start right now,” I said, holding up my own chunk. It would not be getting nibbled. It would be getting devoured. And that would only be the start. “Please don’t,” Celestia said, with just enough actual honesty and earnestness behind the casual to very nearly take me out at the knees had I not already been kneeling. Does she...worry about me dying? Me, the one who can die against her, the one who, as far as I know, can’t? Or won’t? Is that a concern of hers? The inevitable first day, some time away from now, of me not being around anymore? Kind of a heavy line of thought for Christmas - leave that for now! Come back later. For now, more jokes, continued flippancy: “Alright, you make a strong case. Compromise: I eat enough stollen to become horribly nauseous instead and spend an evening groaning, clutching my stomach and feeling sorry for myself.” Seemed like a reasonable enough midway point between dying and not eating stollen at all. Certainly I couldn’t imagine any other ways of coming at the issue. Celestia tapped her chin thoughtfully, face set, very serious. “Hmm, if you make yourself sick then that would be a good excuse to look after you again…” She said. “Exactly! It’d be like how, you know, couples do that thing where they, uh, recreate their first dates? Only, uh…” I’d kind of lost where I was going with that, almost as soon as I’d started going anywhere with it in the first place. I stopped, gawping into space, struggling for what came next. “When is our anniversary anyway? Do we have one? Crap, I should have been making notes.” Celestia gave me a wonderfully indulgent smile before getting up and moving around my side to table, plonking herself back again close enough she could cuddle into me and, thanks to me kneeling, just rest her head on my shoulder. “I think we mark it from that time I pushed you down a corridor in a wheelchair,” she said. I blinked. “Didn’t I fall out?” I distinctly remembered falling out. “You might have done…” Celestia said nonchalantly, bringing over her lump to stollen to nibble some more. I realised belatedly that I hadn’t even touched mine yet - after all that fuss! Still just thinking about going arse-over-tit. Heh, that had been fun. “That’s a very specific point, I like it. Definitely the moment I realised I loved you, when I was sailing through the air. Might have fully realised it when I hit the ground. I do have to ask why though. Why?” I asked. “Because - because I remembered it and it’s still funny,” she said. “Well you’re not wrong.” It had been pretty damn funny. We’d had some interesting times. I gave her a kiss on top of the head - avoiding that damn horn - and she laughed, staying resting on my shoulder, staying snuggled up. Now that I’m wholly compos mentis you’d think being in a touchy-feely lovey-dovey relationship with a MAGICAL HORSE GODDESS would weird me out more but oddly enough it’s kind of circled around all the way to end up at just being reassuringly familiar and nice. Kind of helps that I’m, ah, a touch fond of her. And, you know, life experience. Also helps I suppose. “Hey, Celestia,” I said and she turned more fully my way. “Hmm?” And smooch, when she least expected it! A secret smooch in the secret tent. Life’s pretty good. “You had something on your face,” I said and she giggled quietly and her head went back to where it had been before. My turn to hmm, only this time internally. Hmm. She seemed a touch out of sorts. Not, like, upset or anything, but not as enthusiastic or energetic as she had been before. I can pick up on things like that because I’m attuned. And because it was obvious too, which helped. “You alright?” I asked. “Yes, just a bit tired, that’s all,” she said. “You have had kind of a busy morning. I think if I stopped to talk to everyone like you did I would have keeled over by now. Or run away screaming. I have no idea how you manage it.” Not hyperbole. I ain’t a people person, and small-talk ain’t really my area of expertise. That I managed as well as I did here was, I liked to think, more a result of luck than anything else, coupled with the innate friendliness of the locals. “I love my little ponies and I’m always so proud of everything they do and so happy to hear about their plans for the holidays. It’s always wonderful, every year wonderful. How excited everypony is to see family, gifts, it’s all just so...wonderful,” she said, clearly unable to find a more fitting word. To be fair, I couldn’t either.  “When you put it like that it does sound rather nice…” I said. Mention of family got me thinking though, something I’d been trying to avoid. Just couldn’t help it! If I got here then it’d stand to reason that there was a way to get back, wouldn’t it? And even if there wasn’t, trying to get back would at least show up whether it was a possible one way or another, right?  And not doing anything would kind of just be abdicating responsibility for the whole thing - something that’s bad exclusively because, right at this moment, there exists the possibility that dad is back home going nuts because I’ve dropped off the face of the earth. Literally.  And if I don’t do anything about that then I’m basically saying I’m okay with that, and that him having his son vanish is fine as long as I get to chill and eat stollen with a pretty horse. I’m bad but I’m not that bad. I really should do something about it. Assuming he’s even noticed. Hoping that he’d even care (I know he would, but you must be open to possibilities). Or that there’s a one-to-one time difference between here and home anyway, and that it’s not the case that while I’ve been here millions and years have passed at home and everyone and everything I know is dead anyway. Jesus, where do I even start with this? I mean it’s kind of beholden to me to start somewhere but man, pick a spot, right? Flip a coin. Fuck me. “John?” “Hmm? Oh, sorry. Miles away,” I said, landing back in the moment with a bump, finding Celestia looking at me. Presumably one day I might stop feeling the tiniest of tiny lurches in my gut when I see those eyes of hers, but that ain’t today. Hopefully that day’s a long way off.  “What was it?” She asked. “It was - we’ll talk about it later, don’t worry about it. Nothing to do about it right now. Let’s just have a good time. It’s Chri- Hearth’s Warming after all, right? Comes but once a year!” I could tell she wasn’t entirely convinced but she seemed to accept that now wasn’t the moment to press the issue. Wasn’t like I was going anywhere anyway, so we would be picking this up later. “Okay, if you’re sure. Have some stollen,” she said. The chunk I’d taken for myself and had since just set on the table  floated at me aggressively and I nabbed it out the air twixt forefinger and thumb. “It’s like you know me,” I said, popping it into my mouth. All at once, all negative thoughts banished! Replaced with fruit, marzipan and icing sugar! “Oh God it’s good!” I said, reaching for more. It begins! Celestia chuckled and watched me have another bit. And then another. And then she stopped chuckling. “Um, I know I said before that getting sick would be - maybe slow down a bit, John?” She said with mounting alarm. “I chan’t shtop,” I said, mouth full. The stollen was promptly and magically yanked out of my reach. “Shpoilshport,” I said. “It’s for your own good,” Celestia said, sticking her tongue out at me as I swallowed and sulked, theatrically. “That’s what they always say…” The tent flaps then opened and both of us then jumped. There, resplendent, was Luna. She was looking good, I suppose? “Sister, I have found you,” she said, entering, tent flapping back closed again behind her. No pulling the wool over her eyes. “You were looking for me?” Celestia asked. Luna nodded. “I was. It is time for the ice sculpting competition. It requires adjudication and judging.” I had no idea there’d be ice sculpting! No-one told me! Celestia seemed nonplussed though. “Already? Couldn’t you do it?” She asked. “I judged it last year, tradition dictates-” Luna started, but Celestia cut across her: “Yes yes, rotating duties. Okay, alright, only fair,” she said, sighing, rising. Hadn’t Luna not been back that long? I guess this might be a ‘It is a recent tradition but a tradition nonetheless’ situation. Or maybe not. Probably not worth getting caught up on it, honestly. I stayed on my cushion, feeling a bit like a lemon. “You want me to come with you or anything?” I asked Celestia. Couldn’t quite see why I should. I’d probably just be getting in the way, honestly, as this wasn’t like aimless wandering, this was her actually going somewhere to do something. I’d be extraneous! But still, you had to ask. “No no, don’t worry. This shouldn’t take long, and I wouldn’t want you to just be standing around with nothing to do. You wait here, I’ll be back.” I figured, but it pays to check these things. And as much low-level interest as I had in watching ponies sculpt ice - or seeing the results of them having done so beforehand, if that’s how this thing worked - it was countered by my desire not to get under anyone’s feet. Or hooves. I took up more space than I looked like I should, this I knew, so in the tent I’d stay. For now. “Can probably manage that,” I said. She smiled. I smiled. We had a thing. Celestia then turned to Luna. “Are they ready now”? She asked. “Yes, they are.” “Alright. Does it look as good as or better than last year, do you think?” She asked Luna as a followup. Luna considered this question with some considerable gravity. “There are more entrants, and I think the fashion of the entries has changed,” she said, at length. Whatever that meant in practise. “Suppose I’ll see. Okay, I’ll be back,” Celestia said, pausing briefly enough to give me a farewell nuzzle and also giving one to Luna, too, on her way out, leaving just me and Luna behind in the dimness and quiet of the tent. To my surprise, Luna didn’t also immediately leave. Guess she wanted a little break from it all too. Fair play. She went and settled herself down on the cushions on the opposite side of the table, turning in place and getting comfy, tossing back that sparkly mane of hers. So sparkly… “Having a nice time, Luna?” I asked once she was done adjusting her position. “I enjoy this time of year. It is pleasant,” she said. Whoa steady on there Luna, you might want to dial that back a notch. “Well I know what’d bump that up to ‘quite pleasant’ - fancy some stollen?” “Stollen?” She asked, perplexed. Gasp. Unfamiliarity with stollen? Inconceivable! “It is only the best thing. I cannot express to you my delight at finding it here. We have it back home, see, so I’m feeling all rather happy at having found some. It is also delicious. Delicious fruit bread stuff. Very German or whatever weirdo horse-country it comes from over here. Ger-mane, maybe, I don’t know. Can’t believe you haven’t heard of it!” Her being another MAGICAL HORSE PRINCESS and all, you’d think she’d be at least passingly familiar. Surely it would have come up once or twice, surely! “It may have been invented while I was indisposed.” Alright fair play, I can buy that. You get banished for a thousand years or so, baking moves on, you come back and then you can’t be expected to just learn what new delicious treats have been concocted in your absence - that’s fair. There’s a lot she’d needed to catch up on. “Ah. Well. Would you like to try some anyway?” I asked, leaning over to grab it from where Celestia had left it, breaking off another chunk and then holding the chunk out for Luna, who levitated it right out of my hand and brought it over for inspection. She looked at it very intently and suspiciously for a moment or two. “...thank you,” she said after a moment, apparently only just remembering that part. I wouldn’t have minded either way, I can take it. She then very, very experimentally took the tiniest bite I think I’d ever seen in my life, followed by the most cautious chewing one could conceive of. Apparently the conclusions were favourable though as following that she proceeded to immediately polish off the rest of the chunk in one go. Girl after my own heart. “That was also pleasant,” she said. “I know, right? I was trying to eat enough to get horribly sick but Celestia stopped me.” “...that may have been wise of her,” Luna said, clearly unsure if I was joking or not. I wasn’t sure either, honestly. My insides told me no, but certain other parts really seemed to think yes. Sense - and the very judging state that Luna was giving me - won out, and I tucked the stollen back into its bag and wrapped it up for later. Damn being sensible, I thought adults could do what they liked! “Are you also having a nice time, John?” Luna asked, I think more out of politeness than any actual desire to get an answer. Was this the awkward conversation the sibling has with the partner? Ah, Luna and I vaguely know each other, it’s fine. Suppose this is just our first proper conversation since I, you know, become complete. “Whale of a time. We kind of have a thing like this back home, kind of. Fun how it lines up.” “Back home?” She asked, the tiniest glimmer of interest just fringing the edges of the question. “Yeah. Mean it’s not the same, you know? It happens for a different reason, but if you saw them both from the outside without context you could think one was based on the other. Trees, shiny things, games, festive treats, snow - lines up pretty well, like I say.” “I see,” Luna said, thinking to herself a moment before adding: “Does it make you think of your home?” Goddamnit woman, I quite specifically am trying not to think of that, at least not right now. I can’t do anything about it right now! I might not be able to do anything about it at all. And I don’t even know how I’m meant to go about confirming that either way. I’m going to work on it, just - just not right now. Right now just trying to have a good time. ‘Tis the season. “Yes,” I said. Best be honest. “But whatever, you know? This is way better. My Christmas is usually just me, so this is already bounds ahead.” “You do not spend the season with your family?” Goddamnit, woman. I rubbed my temples. “No, no not really - did Celestia pass on any of what I said about what I remember now to you?” I asked. “She did not.” Could have gone either way on that one, honestly. I did sometimes wonder if Celestia spoke about me to anyone else, and Luna had in the past demonstrated an uncanny ability to know more about things she had no reason to know about. Guess just not this time. “Figures. It’s fine, honestly. This is great, this place is great, I’m having fun, we’re all having fun. There’s ice sculpting going on - or already happened and they brought them here like I already said to myself I don’t know how it’s set up - there’s treats there’s cool knick knacks, everything’s golden.” “As you say, John,” Luna said, as someone who isn’t buying what you’re selling might say. “Odd line of questioning anyway…” I mumbled. Luna fixed me a right good stare. “Before you had no real memory of where it was you came from and so couldn’t miss it. Now that you have and you can, I am...concerned for your wellbeing,” she said. “Concerned?” “We are friends, John, in our own way, and your wellbeing is important. That it also affects the mood of my sister is incidental.” Suppose Luna woulda got a lot of that when I’d been missing. Yeesh, that can’t have been fun… Luna continued as I winced: “It must be difficult to be taken away from everything that was familiar to you.” “Eh, kind of. I lucked out in that I got to mooch around here with no context or real expectations for a bit first, so this place is pretty familiar to me anyway. I get what you mean though. Now that I can remember, uh, home this place does seem just that tiniest bit different by contrast. But I’m fine, honestly,” I said. Mostly. And also real talk a frankly staggering amount of stuff in horse-land is uncannily familiar to me anyway. I saw one pony the other day just using a jackhammer. With handles. Why would anyone make that here?! That doesn’t add up. “If you are sure,” Luna said, and I noticed her eyeing the stollen bag. I knew the score. I opened it up and took off another chunk for her, which she took and ate far more demurely than I ever would have. “Thank you,” she said. “Sharing is caring,” I said, feeling immediately dumber for it. We then sat in silence for a bit. There was a burst of cheering that penetrated the tent at one point that I assumed might have had something to do with the ice sculpting, but really who could say? “I saw you pinch my sister,” Luna eventually said, out of fucking nowhere. I looked over at her and she was looking right back at me in the kind of way that made it impossible to tell where she was going to go from there. Down, I assumed. Ah poop. “It’s a...human...tradition…?” I ventured. Luna has a favourite of unimpressed expressions available to her - this I know - and she broke out a particularly high-grade one after hearing me say this. “Did you honestly think I would believe that?” She asked. I was going to say yes but the unimpressed-ness ratched up a few notches and the word died in my throat. “...no,” I said instead, shrinking a little. Hey it was worth a shot.