"Two tickets please," Twilight nervously requested of the train station attendant. "Don't suppose you have any half-off specials today, do you?" It was an extremely weak joke that only she and her stoic, off-white companion understood. And neither of them were laughing anyway.
The weirdness of witnessing her de facto mentor undergo violent, potion-induced mitosis was still fairly raw in Twilight's mind, and Wecora (as Apple Bloom had suggested calling her before they departed) had a sort of distant, inequine aura surrounding her. Not that Twilight distrusted the homunculus of course; She knew Zecora didn't have a bad bone in her body. (Or… either body, Twilight supposed was the most accurate way of thinking about it now). Still, Wecora didn't exactly have the matronly warmth Twilight had been hoping to have by her side when she faced down the newsponies. She really hoped it was just her apprehension about the impending press conference that was coloring her perceptions. After all, Zecora was ten times as cool and collected as any other pony Twilight knew, so having a wingmare that was theoretically operating at a five-times-as-cool-and-collected deficit would still be enough to coach her through this, right?
Right?
Twilight hadn't even noticed she'd rubbernecked to study Wecora standing behind her until the latter reciprocated her anxious stare with a spacy one and droned out a pithy couplet.
"Gaze ahead, away from fears. Worry clogs the eyes and ears."
"Um.. right," Twilight said as she cloyed to wring meaning from Wecora's advice. "Eyes and ears ahead. Always keep… um… s-something spiritual…"
"I think what your grandma meant to say is stop gawking and take your tickets," the attendant grunted. He slid the stubs in question across the desk and an embarrassed Twilight levitated them up. "First class," the bored attendant continued. "Free of charge, of course. You don't gotta tell me how it goes with you royalty types. What's the point of me askin' for pay if the tax just goes right back to your Canterlot coffers anyway?"
"I… I…" Twilight fumbled for her coin purse. "No, I'm sorry for what I said earlier. That quip about discounts was because my… Well, first of all, I guess I should clarify that Zec—that Wecora isn't my grandmother, and also… she…" Twilight exhaled. It felt like it was the first time she'd done so all afternoon. "Here's twenty bits," she mumbled. "Keep the change. It's the least I can do."
The attendant itched his stubble thoughtfully before accepting the pile of coins. "I'd say the actual 'least you can do' is clean up all those magical hooeys plaguin' the capital at the moment," he replied caustically. "Ya know, instead of takin' your geriatric relative on some sightseeing train trip. But hey, what does a commoner like me know about the best use of a Princess's time? I just punch in passengers." His eyes narrowed. "Ya know. Cuz it's what ponies expect outta me."
Twilight was sweating. Did everypony in Equestria know about the collegiate scandals? And were all of them so… resentful that she was failing to address the problem quickly enough? Twilight was doing the best she could under the circumstances, but the words to explain herself just weren't coming out.
At last, Wecora chimed in.
"The wheels on the train go round and round, to take us up to Canterlot town. Seeds of doubt are freely sown, and fed by trials not yet known."
Both Twilight and the attendant wore the same expression of obvious confusion, but Wecora didn't seem to notice. She did however, affix the attendant in her vacant stare and address him directly.
"The School For Gifted Unicorns… it boards your first and second borns."
"My uh… " the attendant looked uneasy. "My girls… twins, they are. And they live in the dorms. Been getting letters from 'em every day this week about some new crazy happening up there or another. Has me worried sick, to be honest. But how'd… how'd you know about that?"
"We'll be boarding now!" Twilight announced shrilly. "A wise mare once said standing around and talking isn't gonna get me any closer to solving any mysteries, and she sure was right! Ha ha ha!"
Wecora opened her mouth to spout another cryptic koan, but Twilight not-very-subtly zipped around behind to begin shoving her travel companion up the entry ramp. And she didn't stop shoving until the two of them- until the one and a half of them were securely inside the mercifully empty first class car. The onboarding door slammed shut and Twilight collapsed onto a heavily cushioned seat to bury her face in her hooves. Wecora remained standing, still and silent. The only movement in the car as the Friendship Express began chugging out of the station was Twilight's heaving shoulders.
And the only sound was her stifled sniffles.
"This is going to be a disaster," she lamented. "It's past midday and I've accomplished nothing. Except for making a fool of myself in front of a concerned father and before that I distracted you so you accidently… did whatever it was you did to yourself." Twilight rubbed her nose despairingly. "I just want to start today over. Not even leave Canterlot to begin with. Just face down whatever it is that's happening up there and get it over with. Because now we're stuck on this dumb train for the next hour and I… I… " Twilight Sparkle pounded the seat next to her in impotent anger. "I'm in charge of all of Equestria now, so why do I feel so Gods-damned helpless?!"
Wecora frowned, easing into the seat across the aisle from the heaving princess while she searched her incomplete feelings for the correct couplet to say. It was a difficult thing, digging through thoughts that the thinker knew were only half present. It was like turning one's head to the right while at the same time straining one's eyes to look at something off to the left.
Wecora wondered if her black counterpart was as painfully aware of her missing part as she was. Probably not, given Becora was the missing part in question. If Wecora's feelings towards being split were ones of doubt and concern, dauntlessness was most likely the biggest motivator in her other's mind.
"Some days are good and some are rotten, others still are best forgotten." Wecora hadn't primed that one. It just bubbled up out of her unbidden, and she felt like it was a very empty platitude. Twilight apparently didn't though.
"One for the riddle books, Zecora. You always know just what to say." The princess forced out a laugh. "That's why you agreed to come along with me instead of staying back to work on getting un-split, right? Even if you're half the mare you used to be, you're still able to use that silver tongue of yours to bail me out at any second. So I…" There were still tears in Twilight's eyes, but a huge and hopeful grin was spreading across her face. "I have nothing to fear with you around."
Wecora stared ahead, tightlipped and pale. Sure, she was the half who'd gotten access to Zecora's grab bag of verbal panaceas, but that didn't mean she was the half who knew where any of them came from or what they meant. She was a stern aphasic being misinterpreted as a sage, though it was probably best she didn't admit that to Twilight right now. Wecora dimly wondered if she even could admit that to Twilight even if she tried.
She also wondered how Becora was doing.
"…and the last reform proposal I signed was a go-ahead to replace all the doorknobs around the school with handles that could be operated by hoof. I mean, yes it's the School For Gifted Unicorns, but just because all the students have magic doesn't mean the staff all do as well. Doctor Whooves, a senior Earth Pony lecturer, even drafted up a blueprint for the new handle designs to go with the appeal letter. I mean, the proposal did gently insist that knobbed doors might as well be locked ones to ponies who don't have wings or horns to manipulate them, so I went ahead and okayed the schoolwide replacement project, but the student union pushed back saying letting anycreature have easy access to any section of the school through doors like that was a massive safety hazard and and sure enough someone got in after hours and let all the test Parasprites out of their alchemy lab terrariums, and even though I have strong suspicions that it was a staged disaster done by those same overly concerned students trying to make a point but I don't have any evidence to make any disciplinary moves…"
Twilight had been yammering nonstop for nearly an hour and a half while Wecora stared back in what Twilight hoped was steely attention. In actuality, the half-zebra had given up consciously listening less than ten minutes into the monologue and was presently staring blankly as Twilight's mouth moved. Open and shut, open and shut (brief pause to lick lips nervously), open and shut, open and shut.
Wecora sincerely hoped her subconscious wit or her instinctive wisdom or whatever spiritual software kept her artificial brain running was somehow processing the avalanche of information with which it was being bombarded. Wecora had access to her full form's memories and recalled that as a complete zebra she'd been a very attentive and quick witted conversation partner, able to formulate a worthwhile response to almost anything. And while that exchange with the train station employee was evidence that her innate eloquence was still there, being a bystander to her own speaking process was still a bit unnerving. It was a reminder to Wecora that half of her consciousness had been carved out to pilot another, probably equally off-kilter creature. And yet… why didn't Wecora feel any strong desire to fuse back into a single zebra? Why did she… why did she enjoy this thrill of social uncertainty?
"So that oughta cover it," Twilight concluded. "That's every incident that's happened at the School in the past week and a half. Everything I'm expecting the press to grill us on. So now that I've laid it all out there, what do you think?" A few of her bangs were obscuring Twilight's vision and she nervously swept them away as she waited for Wecora's feedback.
The homunculus inhaled sharply through her nostrils, less nervous than Twilight to hear what this response would be, but much more excited.
"Cinnamon and sugary and softly spoken lies. We never know quite how we look through other ponies' eyes."
Twilight's lower lip quivered for a moment before she broke into a huge defensive smile. "Right," she agreed breathily. "Absolutely right. You're saying… you're saying that nopony is the bad guy here. Me, the student union, Doctor Whooves… we're all on the same side and acting in good faith. You… you get it. Those of us on the ground don't, but you do." Twilight took a deep breath as she leaned back in her seat to gaze out the window at the rolling countryside. "It's all manufactured conflict, caused by ponies interpreting other ponies incorrectly. Bad things happen when you read too much into intentions that aren't really there. Thank you for laying it all out like that. Thank you, Zecora."
Wecora felt something akin to pride surge in her stoic soul. Pride she probably hadn't earned, but she valued it all the same. For the first time all day, Twilight actually looked optimistic. Then the train turned a corner and Canterlot came into view.
"Gods above and below, the university district is on fire!!"
Wecora stiffened her posture and peered in the direction Twilight was looking. Very clearly above the approaching city skyline, a prismatic plume of smoke filled the sky. Wecora retained enough apothecary knowledge to recognize magic flames by just the colors of the resulting smog. She also recognized the blue pegasus hastily bucking clouds as she tried to contain the blaze. And to Rainbow Dash's credit, she was doing a pretty good job of it.
"How did this happen? Where are the others?!" Twilight was demanding answers of nopony in particular as the train was slowed down during its approach to the platform. And as wild and panicked as she'd become at the sight of the burning university, her eyes reached balloonlike levels of bulging and her pupils shrank to pinpricks when she saw a certain somepony in the concerned looking gaggle of ponies on the platform.
The gaggle in question were an eclectic group, clearly common passengers on their way out of the Capital. Most were watching the approaching train and only occasionally stealing reserved glances at the smoke pillar, giving Wecora a twinge of amusement. The past nine years had seen more random disasters hit Equestria than any other point in history, (and that went double for the Capital), so naturally the populace at large was a bit numb at this point. Too bad the same couldn't be said for its newly crowned Princess.
"Is that Eff Stop on the end there?? Oh, no it is. I'm not ready for this yet. We can't get interviewed while the school is up in flames. We can't!"
Wecora peered to the far left of the gathered platform crowd and saw a trilby-sporting pegasus. He had a polaroid camera around his neck and a politely reticent look on his face. Eff Stop was the most innocuous looking pony Wecora had ever seen, but given Twilight's reaction one would almost mistake him for Typhon reborn.
The train halted and the doors slid open.
Her memory of being awkwardly shoved along the onboard ramp like a plow through a field loomed in Wecora's mind, so she hurried to trot out to the platform before Twilight repeated the action for the offboarding. Deciding not to delay the inevitable, the homunculus marched right up to Eff Stop and looked him mutely in the eye. He shrank back slightly, more out of annoyance than intimidation, but in a flurry of purple feathers, Twilight was beside the two of them.
"This is my press liaison!" the Princess announced, loud enough that several other passengers who were already boarding turned to look at her. "Please direct all questions to her and not to me. You're all wonderful ponies and I value all your continued confidence in these hectic times."
A noticeable number of heads pivoted to look at the still growing plume of smoke issuing from the university district.
"We're working on it, okay?!" Twilight visibly shrank from cringing so hard, but with a panic-powered bolt that couldn't have been more than a hair away from the Sonic Rainboom threshold, she took to the air and sped off in the direction of the unknown disaster. The hitherto silent train platform resumed its uncaring murmurs as everypony present resumed their previous activities. Everypony except Eff Stop, that is.
"Well," he chuffed in a noticeable Manehatten accent. "I was actually on my way to take pics of the Equestrian countryside for muh travel newsletter. But if da Princess insists I chat with you 'bout all those strange happenin's plaguing da School For Gifted Unicorns, who am I to argue with direct royal orders, eh?" He gave an inviting chuckle which Wecora tried to reciprocate. Curiously, she found her expression staying neutral and muzzle staying shut. Was she not the half of Zecora who was capable of laughter? Curious. Very curious.
"Eff Stop," the reporter introduced himself. "Professional jouro, though ya probably guessed dat already. Princess Twi said you were her spokesmare?"
"From quack to spokesmare, I'm relabeled. I shall speak as best am abled."
The reporter tilted his head quizzically. "Quack, ya say?" Then his eyes lit up with understanding. "Wait a sec, are you dat foreign apothecary who settled in Ponyville? Heard from a junior coworker that you talk in rhymes and're always plenty polite to ponies ya meet. Then again he also said you had stripes, so maybe I need to sit Featherweight down an' give him another tongue lashing about journalistic integrity. But agh, I'm rambling. My bad. You mind if…" Eff Stop raised his polaroid imploringly and Wecora nodded her consent to having her picture taken. The ensuing flash was so bright she wondered if her white coat would be washed out in the finished image. Oh well, the reporter was likely a professional who knew what he was doing.
"S'pose we get to the stalk of it then," Eff Stop continued as he swapped his camera for a notepad. "Tell the readers your name and relation to the Princess. If ya please."
"I am half her mentor's mind: the part linguistically aligned. Zecora's what my name can be, despite it meaning more than me."
Eff Stop looked unsure again, but he gripped a pen in his teeth and jotted down the middle-aged mare's words verbatim. He had at least gleaned her name, and the rest of her speech could be decoded later, while the story was going to print. "Alright then Zecora, you say you're parta the Princess's advisory board? Have I got that right?"
"Potions, salves, and life advice. They're what I give, and they suffice." Wecora's heart rate was up. After spending the entire afternoon as Twilight Sparkle's brick wall to bounce words off of, she herself finally had the mic. And as far as she could tell, she was rocking it.
"Okay… so, as da Princess's appointed public relations voice, what is her comment on, well, everything going on at da School For Gifted Unicorns? Us common folks are in the dark after all. The only things we know are, well, what can be seen from across town." Wecora didn't need to turn around to know the fire was still burning behind her.
Focus. The homunculus silently demanded of itself. Twilight is doing her job. You do yours. Never mind that Wecora herself was as clueless as Eff Stop. Not a word of Twilight's lengthy debriefing on the ride over had stuck in Wecora's conscious mind, so she decided to just open her mouth and talk. That had worked on the ticket seller back at the Ponyville station, so Wecora was confident her sixth sense or intuition or whatever would get her through this exchange too.
"No staff nor students need be scolded. From barns of blame, the horse has bolted. Actions caused by malcontents disguised as pains that karma sent. While princess Twilight and her friends chase endless odds of odds and ends, I split my efforts (literally) 'twixt helping foals and royalty." Eff Stop's pencil was on the verge of trailing smoke as he struggled to keep up with what he was hearing. His helpless scritching only intensified as Wecora's pontificating picked up in pace.
"Amid my verbal pirouettes, light shines on story silhouettes. The fire here you see and know, but what of Hippogriffia's snow? An avalanche from far away won't chill your papers here today. Dimestore pennies on the dollar make head (and bottom) lines stand taller, but even so, odd means are maxed-"
"Hold up now!" Eff Stop finally barked. "I gotta ask, is talkin' the way you do really necessary? I'm not da most well spoken of ponies, so maybe it's not my place to say this, but on behalf of my future readers, can you please drop the purple prose and just speak plainly? Please??"
The eccentric pale mare regarded Eff Stop with a completely blank expression and for a moment he was sorely afraid he'd offended her. Then, very earnestly, Wecora reached up and laid a conciliatory hoof on the side of his muzzle. She looked hard at Eff Stop and even though it was probably emotional projection, the reporter thought he saw something similar to sympathy in those spacy eyes. Finally, she spoke one last lyric.
"There once was a mare from Sudan, whose limericks could never quite scan. When asked why this was, she replied 'it's because… I always try to fit as many syllables into the closing line as I possibly can.'"
Eff Stop didn't even bother writing down that one. He just nodded as politely as he could. Apparently satisfied, the white pony that called itself Zecora turned and trotted up the ramp to the train just as the last call whistle sounded, leaving a very exhausted reporter alone to try spinning a comprehensible story out of her words.
As the train departed and began its speedy return to Ponyville, Wecora gazed dreamily out of her lonely window seat. She felt lighter than air. All that wisdom she hadn't even known was inside of her had just spilled out in all its enlightened glory to be transcribed by a writer who would publish it far and wide. Was it foalish to feel proud of herself? Perhaps, but Wecora didn't care. And she was technically less than a day old, was she not? Surely a small degree of foalishness was allowable. She couldn't wait to report the day's successes to her black half. The ride to Canterlot had featured Wecora afraid she had neither the tact nor social awareness necessary to function independently. Her returning ride home had those apprehensions completely soothed. If Becora's mission report was as positive as her own, perhaps the two of them need not work on a cure for their division and just remain separate ponies permanently. As far as Wecora could discern, her own first six hours of independence had gone remarkably well.