//------------------------------// // 6. We Give You the Whole Seat but You'll Only Need the Edge // Story: Empathy for the Devil // by MarvelandPonder //------------------------------// Sunset Shimmer could confirm the universe had it out for her now. In some genie’s wish sort of twisted logic, she’d ended up inside her girlfriend’s body and not at all in the fun way. In some respects, it was better than being stuck as Timber Spruce. But in another more real way, it was worse because now that she and the girls had already tried using their magic to fix it, she’d lost her lead on what to do and made things difficult for all of her friends. All in one go, to boot! A very productive Thursday for Sunset indeed. None of them looked like they knew how to react. Instruments still in hand, maybe waiting to see if there’d be some delayed effects, but Sunset could feel the unsettling certainty settling over the room. We’re stuck like this. “Should we… try to activate Flash’s power again?” Twilight asked. Her voice picked up over the microphone, and it lent her words too much weight. Cringing, she leaned away from it to say, “He was definitely involved in the switch. Maybe we need him to put everybody back.” “That’s a thought.” Applejack considered the idea, plucking her bass as if she wished it would turn into her mother’s old acoustic guitar that she only ever broke out for special occasions. Sunset had only seen the thing once, on the anniversary. It was the sweetest song she’d ever heard Applejack play. “But how do we know he ain’t gonna randomize us up all over again?” Pinkie Pie poked her head up over her Rainbooms’ official drum set. “I wouldn’t mind a turn as Rarity.” Rarity raised an eyebrow. “Whatever for, dear?” Pinkie leaned into her own hand, smushing the freckles of Applejack’s cheek. “I just think you’re neat.” A flowery pink overcame Rarity’s cheeks. “Yes, well, I do hope I get the chance to be Rarity again myself, so I’m willing to take the risk. Flash, love, do... whatever the thing is that you do!” In proclaiming that across the band room, it struck Sunset as noticeably trippy to hear Timber’s voice attempt and even pull off that accent.  Applejack made Pinkie Pie sound like a debutant southern belle, but Pinkie was Pinkie, so weird didn’t sound so weird coming from her. But Timber wasn’t allowed to have abs and have the capability of doing a decent Mid-Atlantic accent. He had to pick one.  Flash also didn’t look like he knew what to do with this. He sank into his shoulders in a prolonged shrug. “I don’t know how it works if I’m honest, but I can always try if you want me to.” He stuck his hand in Timber’s and scrunched up his face as though lifting a barbell over his head.  “Are you okay?” Timber asked, genuinely sounding alarmed. Flash opened his eyes. “Uh, yeah. Is it working yet? Did I save the day?” “Not yet, but you look like you’re in pain.” Flash deflated. “Oh. That’s my concentration face? It’s… not heroic, huh?” Sunset grimaced. “Well, we’re just going to have to figure it out, then. It’s our best bet.” She did her best to coach him through it, but Flash didn’t seem to understand what made him Flash. Or at least, not what was at his core that gave him the power to amplify. The best Sunset could do was let him take a spin on her guitar, and while he played marvellously, it had no real effect in terms of who occupied who. The end of lunch came fast, throwing all of them into each other’s lives. Before leaving, Applejack raised a good point that was unfortunately too logical to work out in their favour. “Hang on a tick. Why don’t we just tell everybody about the swap? It’s not like our teachers and classmates don’t know what magic is. We’re us. At this point, they probably won’t even bat an eye.” Twilight twiddled with Flash’s hoodie drawstrings in the place of twirling her hair around her finger. “Also, I think it’s an academic offence to take a test or do an assignment as someone else.” “You’re not wrong that it’s probably cheating, but that can’t possibly be in the rule book,” Timber commented, eyebrow raised. “Exactly! We’d be breaking a rule before Principal Celestia even had the chance to make it!” She held her cheeks, and between that and the pigeon toed stance it was starting to get really easy to tell that that was Twilight. “That’s a whole new level of rule-breaking! Rule break-making!” Rainbow Dash grinned a terrible grin entirely too sinister for Fluttershy’s face. Sunset pitied the woodland creatures that ever fell victim to that smile. “I call that making history!” Sunset was about to agree with Applejack when a thought struck her. “We could tell everyone about all this, but how much you want to bet that would land us all in the new counsellor’s office? Magical mishap and nine panicking teens? From the sounds of it, that’s right up his alley.” “Right now, that doesn’t sound like a bad thing,” Flash said, presumably to her although his wide eyes appeared superglued to Twilight. Granted, Sunset suspected all of them had every right to be freaked out, but Flash in particular wouldn’t stop staring at his body. He looked like he needed the nurse’s office more than a guidance counsellor’s. “Yeah, well, I don’t want to test our luck. Maybe we shouldn’t mess with this new ‘counsellor’—” Sunset emphasized, using air quotes. A counsellor was the last thing she needed right now. “—until we know how deep his anti-magic stance really goes or who he even is. Let me do some recon on him first just to be safe.” Fluttershy held a hand over her mouth. “Oh gosh. You don’t think he’s really a threat, do you?” Applejack leaned against the back wall. “Well, one thing’s for sure: I don’t think one of us would be shocked stiff to find out we have a new evil-magic-sportin’ baddie on our hands. That whole anti-magic spiel could be a cover, iffin’ you ask me. Heck, we still don’t know for true who attacked us in the park a few weeks back⁠—that King Sombra guy?⁠—could easily be this new fella showing up in our lives.” Pinkie gasped as she tip-tapped out a little rhythm on the drums. “And he would’ve gotten away with it if it weren’t for us meddling teens!” “‘Xactly,” Applejack said, firing a finger-gun. “I wouldn’t put it past our luck for the next person we end up saving from some stolen Equestrian magic to wind up being the new guy we don’t know nothing about. Introducing yourself to us is gettin’ to be a tell.” The others, while uncomfortable, murmured in some semblance of agreement, Twilight saying, “Cynical, but not wrong…” Even Dash kicked the carpet, scuffing her sneaker.  Rarity frowned, placing a hand beneath her chin as she thought. “Yes, you do make a point. But assuming everyone new to us is guilty until proven innocent? I can’t say I enjoy the idea. I should hope we’re better friendship experts than that. Really, I’d rather we not resort to witch hunts⁠—or Equestrian magic/demon hunts, as the case may be.”  Fluttershy nodded, making Rarity look quite peeved. “I really don’t think developing trust issues is going to help anyone, but a new counsellor is. I’m starting to think some of us might benefit from an appointment.” Eyes flaring, Sunset waved her hands. “Whoa, h-hey, let’s not get too hasty here. I’m not saying he’s evil, but AJ’s right. I didn’t think a girl like Wallflower Blush was capable of erasing all of our memories of high school, but she taught me not to underestimate people. Or take them for granted. If this Solstice guy isn’t against us, then I won’t take him for granted. If he is, I’m not letting him make the first move.”  Sunset hoped she looked convincing with Twilight’s hands planted on her hips, if for no other reason than to demonstrate to her girlfriend that she could look this leaderly if she wanted. She seemed to notice, at least. “Everybody just play your parts for now while I check out the new counsellor in the Principal’s office.” Twilight harboured a guilty look, sending it toward Sunset. “Funny you should mention that really, because, um, you have to go there either way. I have my regular appointment with Principal Celestia—” “Thursdays at noon,” Sunset groaned, grappling her forehead beneath the bangs. The last time she sunk her fingers into Twilight’s hair she’d been having far more fun. Her girlfriend gave her a guilty smile as they left the band room for the flooded halls. “Guess I’m going to counselling, then.” Would it be hypocritical to tell Principal Celestia who I really am to get out of this? Then again, Sunset had historically been an effortless liar, so given enough time and/or enough of a time limit, she figured she could probably come up with something convincing to get “Twilight” out of a counselling session.  The halls emptied out. Everyone else found their classes, and only the seniors with a free study period were left to roam the halls. Frankly, Sunset was astonished Twilight sacrificed an excuse to study for these weekly one-on-ones. What did they even talk about? As far as Sunset was concerned, Twilight was already perfect.  But then, Twilight making friends with their Principal? That checked out.  The sun-shaped design in the fogged glass of the door to the Principal’s office stood diametrically opposed to the crescent moon of the Vice Principal’s office. It was no eternally aflame wall sconces shimmering on the pure golden armour of royal guards, or wooden doors leading to the royal chambers and towering to dizzying heights—but what was in this dimension? Ponies knew how to do overdramatic right in Sunset’s opinion.  Meanwhile, Sunset still didn’t know how to cope with seeing the name of the leader of the free world printed on a tiny office plaque beside the door. Nothing matched the headtrip that she had when she first realized there was a Celestia here, too, but even after a few years of living in the human world, there were some things that were harder to come to terms with than others. Her high school principal was one of them. At this point, Sunset was stalling and she knew it. She isn’t my Celestia, she reminded herself and felt properly stupid for needing a reminder in the first place. Be a big filly and go… talk about feelings. They don’t even have to be yours! Sunset sighed and started on her way to grabbing the doorknob as if the false-gold would transform into a steaming cast iron upon her touch. She hesitated before she could, turning away on stiff legs and mentally swore her heart out for pounding on her chest like a drama queen. She was very glad no one was there to see her embark on this facial journey as she mimed wringing her own neck.  From an outside perspective, it may have appeared Sunset had a very intense shouting match with the empty hall on mute.  Sunset took a breath. Wiped her hands on her skirt. And so with all the wherewithal and love for her friends she could muster, she reignited her heroic charge to the principal’s door. This time only stopping because of the delighted laugh she heard on the other side.  Is that… Celestia?  Sunset listened carefully to the occupants of the office to find Principal Celestia breathing a sigh from a long-winded laugh and a deep chuckle stuttering to a stop alongside her. Sunset didn’t know if she’d ever heard any Celestia sound so carefree.  With an ear to the door, Sunset focused: it was a bit muffled but still easy enough to make out roughly what they were saying.   “I have to give them credit, though, they truly are remarkable,” the deeper voice said, adding, “when I was their age, I could barely function. The drama department was my only safe harbour, and even then,” he paused to conspiratorially whisper, “what a drama queen. No, it’s true! I wore eyeliner and called myself the Lord of Shadows for more time than I’d like to admit when I played the lead in Shadow of the Symphony. Critics raved that I redefined melodrama.” “Don’t be so hard on yourself. We all go through our phases. When I was a teenager,” Principal Celestia was saying, “I was a complete disaster. Punk music, dark clothes and an attitude to match—I’m entirely convinced every embarrassing photo I’ve ever taken comes from that time period. But that’s how teenagers are. Or how I was, at least. Mostly, it was to rage against the machine and all that, but also, well, you know how other school age kids can be. I wasn’t going to let anyone treat my sister as if she were second rate.” “How noble,” Solstice told her, resting on the sharpened edge of sardonic and genuine. “If only all goth phases were as well-intentioned as yours.” “I know! I was a nightmare!” The sound of paper flipping later, and the 20,000 leagues deep voice that Sunset had heard over the P.A. system sounded impressed. Still calm and lowkey but noticeably lighter for such a naturally somber voice. “You say that, but I’m positively certain I out-disastered you.” “Oh?” Celestia giggled. “That sounds like a challenge, Sol.” Sol? Sunset wrinkled her nose. Were they... flirting in there? Sol’s voice dripped with amusement. “But you can’t possibly out teenage angst the Lord of Shadows.” He used a booming voice to convey just how patently ridiculous he was. And it worked, earning another laugh from Celestia which he shared in kind this time. Before she could gag, Sunset took it upon herself to put a stop to that. At the very least, something got her through the door.  She entered the room and got a look at the self-titled Lord of Shadows. There, in the plain office light, stood a broad-shouldered shadow of a man with vampiric skin that hadn’t seen enough sun and hair so devoid of light, apart from a few grey streaks, that Sunset thought either must’ve been dyed that way or it was definitely dyed that way. Or, okay, at least Sunset suspected as much. In her more rebellious years (keyword: more), she’d briefly debated dying her own hair just to see the Princess’s reaction when she finally returned home to Equestria but thankfully thought against it (since the good dye had been too expensive for her micro-budget at the time). Principal Celestia was leaning back in her chair, smirking to him over the tea in her sun-themed mug. He stood over some file folders with a mug of black coffee of his own in hand. Sunset raised an eyebrow. Did she just interrupt a coffee date? She cleared her throat. Counsellor Solstice and Principal Celestia both turned their eyes to the door as she did as if embarrassed to be interrupted. But even if that was the case, Principal Celestia recovered well with a smile as light as daybreak. “Oh, there you are, Twilight. I didn’t see you come in! I’m sorry if you were kept waiting at all. Solstice Shiver and I were just going over your case file, and I was hoping to introduce you.” Sunset frowned. “My case file?” She realized she’d spoken with her own inflections, and it sounded a little too sardonic for Twilight speaking to a figure of authority. Sparing a single look towards Solstice, Sunset attempted to play her part: she twirled her hair around her finger and mixed a hint of nervousness into her voice. “I thought our sessions were just between us.” Good job, Sunset, she thought. You’re just as good at lying and manipulating as you used to be. Congratulations.  She would’ve felt worse if it didn’t have the intended effect. Principal Celestia’s eyes widened and she softened. “Of course they are. I promise I didn’t provide him with any details you wouldn’t tell your friends.” That pinged on Sunset’s radar. There were things Twilight said in here she didn’t tell their friends? What could Twilight possibly have to say to Celestia that she didn’t already tell Sunset? “However, I wanted to ask your permission to share more. For this next session, I’d like you to try seeing Counsellor Solstice.” Solstice attempted a smile, and it was a little on the awkward side, but Sunset had seen worse. Back in the day, after the She-Demon incident when she was still just getting to know her new best friends, Sunset needed a little guidance on how to smile genuinely. It... It had been a while.  This smile struck her the same way, albeit a little more practiced than Sunset’s used to be.  He offered his hand across the desk with leisure as if the coffee hadn’t yet kicked in. “It’s a pleasure to meet one of Canterlot High’s best and brightest. I’m Solstice Shiver, your school’s new guidance counsellor and coffee disposal.” Taking the firm grip, Sunset raised a game eyebrow. “Not ‘the Lord of Shadows?’” A slight pink broke through the stormcloud grey of his skin. “I tend to prefer Solstice these days.” “Before you say no, I promise this doesn’t have to mean the end of our appointments together,” the Principal assured. Imagining how Twilight would freak out over losing her support made Sunset almost glad she was here to hear the news in Twilight’s place. “But our new counsellor is far more qualified to help than I am, and if anyone could benefit from his mindfulness expertise, I thought it might be you.” Sunset bit her lip, hoping to evoke a hesitant Twilight. “Does mindfulness help with magic?” Solstice nodded without missing a beat. “Very much so. I swear by it for myself. That, and Cognitive Behavioural Therapy. From what your principal has told me, you’ve dealt with quite a lot on your own from the time you transferred here and that’s very admirable. It must’ve been so hard to go from, well, magically enhanced at the Friendship Games to going to school here. I’d even say it’s brave.”  If she was herself, Sunset would have said so too. She’d watched Twilight deal with the aftermath of Midnight Sparkle: the fear, the shame, fighting back the desire to have all that power again—all on top of math class and sleepovers. Learning what a normal teenage life was like.  Sunset had to fight down a smile. The first sleepover they’d ever had with Twilight, a week or so after the Friendship Games, Twilight didn’t have a clue what the protocol was. How this was supposed to go, what her friends must think of her. Wiping Twilight’s tears away, Sunset admitted to her she’d been in the same boat not too long ago and even shared what happened at the Fall Formal and Battle of the Bands to make her feel better. And it worked. Twilight stuck by Sunset the rest of the night and had a great, normal teenage experience.  The idea that maybe Twilight was still struggling the same way she was at Camp Everfree and hadn’t told Sunset or the girls, or that Sunset and her Equestrian magic somehow contributed to it? It was like plunking ice cubes into her stomach.  Solstice Shiver’s calm exterior lent itself well to gentle smiles. Enthusiastic grins, he didn’t seem to have the energy for, but the understanding in his expression made Sunset want to open up to him. Almost. Solstice clasped his hands behind his back. “If you’d like, we could talk about how to cope with your magic together, the same way you’ve quite admirably been learning to cope with your anxiety. But it’s up to you, Twilight.” Sunset hugged her arms. So maybe he’s not outright against magic? It was hard for her to really tell. She expected more anger, more theatrics (especially from Mr. Eyeliner) to be evident in his tone, but she really didn’t get that sense from him. It kind of sounds like Rainbow Dash was right. Weird.  She tried her best to keep in character, even going so far as to make sure her toes were pointed inward to make the unsure stance complete. “Well… thank you for offering. I need some time to think about it—um, if that’s okay with you?” Sunset mentally high-fived herself for peppering in that uncertainty. Yeah, hooray, her conscious said. You’re a fraud and a liar! Whipee!  “Alright then. My door is always open if you change your mind.” After a polite smile, his tired green eyes took to his coffee as he gave it a little blow, rippling the depths of his mug. He looked like he needed it.  Principal Celestia nodded. “And if Mr. Shiver is busy, you can always come to me, I hope you know that.” “I do,” Sunset lied, like a lying liar. “Thank you, Principal Celestia.” It didn’t take too many more platitudes to get out of seeing Principal Celestia in Twilight’s place. Sunset made up a line about studying for the SATs, and it was hard to dispute that Twilight would be worried about that. In fact, Sunset made a mental note to ask if Twilight was worried about the SATs (in a way that wouldn’t make her start worrying about them if she wasn’t already). She scurried out of the Principal’s office and down the hall before she could overhear anymore bits of flirting. As she was sneaking out, though, Trixie was headed straight for the Principal’s office. Not an unusual sight, really. Sunset smirked. “Hey, Trixie. Smoke-bomb accidentally exploded in the girls bathroom again? Just let me know which floor.” Trixie waved the notion away like so much faulty stagemagic. “Oh no, Trixie has a holster now. Trixie’s here to see if this new ‘coun-sell-or’,” she enunciated as if reading the name from an official Ogres and Oubliettes guidebook, “is up to the standards of her school. Does Trixie need an appointment?” Sunset could admire the protectiveness but she’d never known Trixie to be self-sacrificing without good reason. She frowned. “Why would you want one?” “Not because Trixie is ‘damaged goods’ or anything. Don’t go telling the school Trixie has feelings! But... sometimes?” Her lilac eyes roamed the halls for anyone else on their free period, just in case. “It takes a lot out of me to be the magical savior of the school.” Sunset jerked her head back, blinking. The what? Brain short-circuiting, she elected to go with the much kinder option of saying, “Oh, does it really?” “Very much so,” Trixie confessed, looking scandalized that she’d so much as admitted it. “Having the weight of the whole school on Trixie’s great and powerful shoulders is exhausting! And now the sky is broken? What’s going to come out of that? Sometimes this magic stuff is all too much—and Trixie is a magician!”  Trixie drank in air like a refreshing taste of stream water on a long mountainside hike and pointed an accusatory finger toward Sunset. “Wow. You’re a good listener. But, you know, don’t tell Sunset Shimmer I have any complaints about magic. That girl’s got enough going on as it is with whatever happened during the fire drill, and she hasn’t even reached out to her best friend Trixie to talk about it! Between you and me, I think your girlfriend could use some counselling, too.” Sunset’s shoulders bunched up by her neck. “Sunset’s fine! Why does the whole world want her to go to therapy all of the sudden?” She noticed the raised eyebrow on the magician and remembered to Twilight up her voice. “Uh. That is to say, I disagree.” Trixie shrugged. “If you say so. Oh, and no offence.” “None taken,” Sunset sighed automatically. At least this is a new way of people dissing me to my face.  Sunset watched Trixie duck into Solstice Shiver’s new office beside the principal’s and decided if Solstice was anti-magic, he didn’t seem malicious about it. That was enough for her not to accuse him, at least, but she thought better of letting her guard down completely. As an ex-demon herself, Sunset couldn’t condone the idea of eternally condemning someone for their past (which, after all, wasn’t today), but she also couldn’t put her friends in any more jeopardy than she already had. She decided they’d have to maintain their low profile as each other until she could be sure. She also decided to get as far away from these offices as possible before anybody else could tell her she must be dealing with a lot right now because she was dealing with too much to have to hear about it.  The soccer field got an upgrade senior year thanks in large part to Rainbow Dash. Or that’s at least what Dash told everyone in a three mile radius and not that her friends would say it out loud, but she had a point. The soccer team had only made it to nationals once before Rainbow Dash joined in freshman year, and ever since she’d brought out the best in everyone to the point that they at least placed every year. CHS was practically the sports school these days. As such, the school board or the principals or whoever decided funding saw it fit to give the school almost too much money for this one specific thing. Industrial grade field lights⁠—the kind typically reserved for a big city football stadium—beamed down like the tractor beams from alien spaceships in the sci-fi movies Twilight liked.  They also got a sound system, which Vinyl Scratch was now operating to play pump-up music to get the crowd warmed up.  Even the bleachers got a makeover. The dinky set of seats they used to have went curbside as soon as they got the fifteen-level deep stands stretching the full length of the field for home games like the one going on tonight. No one could say Canterlot High didn’t take soccer seriously: even as flakes of snow continued to pour down and land on the field, the final game of the fall season against Hollow Shades High ploughed on. Players’ breaths could be seen in the air. The electricity of their competitive spirit (and extra layers of jerseys) kept them warm.  Still operating Fluttershy’s body, Rainbow Dash paced in front of the closest seats to the field with both hands over her head as if they were bound. Clad in winter gear, most of the other girls and Flash hung around in the stands directly behind her, watching her pace. Twilight sat next to Sunset automatically, but those must’ve been weird optics for anyone out of the know. And even for those in the know, apparently. Flash kept staring every chance he could. Something sunk in Sunset when she realized the obvious. Oh, pony feathers. He used to have a thing for Twilight. Not this Twilight, but I mean, kind of? Twilights in general? This probably isn’t helping him feel over all that.  Watching Rainbow Dash circle a pylon, Fluttershy tapped her pale fingers together. “I’m sure it’ll be fine, Rainbow. He can’t be... that bad, right?” “Oh god,” Rainbow Dash said, pacing faster. Since Rarity was late to arrive, the person who currently had Timber’s body (still not any easier to parse in Sunset’s mind), Sunset took it upon herself to speak up on Timber’s behalf. “You probably don’t have anything to worry about, Dash. Timber’s in pretty good shape.” Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Flash squirming in his seat, as if he hadn’t gotten a handle on how to sit with a skirt yet. “Any teenage boy with anything resembling abs knows what a sport is.” “And he’s in your body, so he’s got all your super cool moves now!” Pinkie Pie chirped, kicking out her legs. It still didn’t look natural to see Applejack with so much (possibly boundless) energy. “That’s how that works, right?” Or for that matter, to see Pinkie still and sturdy as an oak, arms crossed. “Pretty sure Rainbow’s the one who learned any of those ‘moves’, but I reckon her body’s got the stamina and strength, so he should be fine, sugarcube.” As soon as she saw Timber hustling out from the gym, Rainbow threw down her hands and barked, “Dude!” “Present and accounted for?” Timber raised his hand.  “You’re not wearing my varsity jacket!” Rainbow squeezed her temples between her hands. While it wasn’t accurate to say Fluttershy had never looked so stressed, it wasn’t usually over sports. “I always wear my jacket before a game for good luck!”  “You’re also usually yourself for good luck and I’d say that tends to matter more.” He seemed to catch on that it didn’t help. “But I’ve totally got this! I’ve kicked a ball or two in my time.” She made a face like a fussy toddler. “Were any of them soccer balls?” “You know, I never asked them. I’d say there’s a high chance of probably.” He angled his hand in a vaguely comme-ci-comme-ca motion. “I’ve seen it played before, if that helps. Is the most important part reacting to injuries? I don’t want to toot my own horn, but I’m a master over-reactor. Referees love that, right?” Rainbow Dash buried her face in her hands. “I’m never going to college. Goodbye degree.” “Whoa wait, there aren’t actual recruiters here, are there?” He turned to look towards the audience which was when Rainbow Dash twisted him back, blocking her own eyes like the blinders on a racehorse. “You don’t just know if there are recruiters at a game!” she whisper-shouted, which for Fluttershy’s voice, sounded suspiciously like talking. “I mean, you can. The coach can usually tell. But it’s supposed to be anonymous, so they can see you playing your best at any game they show up at! Plus, it’s the final game of the regular season! Everything is riding on this!” Timber frowned. “That’s kind of unfair. They really don’t tell you? I guess it takes pressure off of one game, but then that distributes it over the whole season. More pressure per game probably worsens performance overall proportionally. I bet there’s an equation for that…” Sunset saw why he and Twilight had dated.  It wouldn’t be fair to say she hadn’t seen it before. The two of them made a good couple for a while there, and she wouldn’t just say that to avoid sounding like the jealous girlfriend (even if that was an added benefit). Sunset watched the whole relationship start to finish, and the fact that she could stand to be around Timber at all should have spoken volumes to how well he treated her. Even if Sunset did it better.  A whistle blew and Coach Hothoof sent Timber out onto the field with a whooping cheer. Since Rainbow Dash’s father discovered he could volunteer as the school’s soccer coach, he found ways to cheer for his daughter in somewhat less biased ways. A tiny bit. A smidge. Telling Dash’s dad about the volunteer position had been the best possible practical joke revenge Sunset could ever think of. Not too mean, but endlessly entertaining.  Rainbow Dash quivered, adopting Fluttershy’s mannerisms quite well. “I didn’t tell him he needs to kick and run. Kick and run! Kick and run!” “Yeah! Woo! Way to sports!” Twilight added cheerfully, clapping. Other audience members joined in to root for the team. It endeared Sunset to her to no end that Twilight had so far been to all of Rainbow Dash’s various games and hadn’t picked up on a single sport-related concept other than statistics.  Timber lost the ball in the kick off, and it brought Rainbow Dash screaming to her knees. Flash hummed. “She’s taking this better than I thought.” “Yeah, she hasn’t even noticed that Rarity’s not here to cheer her on yet,” Applejack commented then looked to the others. “Speakin’ of, anybody know where Rarity is? Ain’t like her to be late for supportin’ her friends.” Most of the others shrugged, Fluttershy among them. “I hope she didn’t have as much trouble as I did. Rarity was supposed to practice a monologue in drama class today, but when the spotlight shined on me, I may have hid behind the curtains.” “I wish I could’ve turned tail,” Applejack admitted. “Pinkie must be signed up for every club or activity in the yearbook!” Shrugging, Pinkie grinned guiltily. “They’re all fun!”  Applejack pushed her jaw to the side. “Oh, I’m sure they are. One at a time. Everybody came gabbin’ at me like I knew when the TableTop Games club games or the Fencing club fences and how all of ‘em go together for the LARP club. I don’t even know what a LARP is!” She aimed an eyebrow toward Pinkie. “Do I wanna know?” “Hmmm,” Pinkie thought aloud (Sunset wouldn’t be surprised in the least to know Pinkie genuinely thought in thinking noises). “Well, I guess right now I’m you, and I already know, so the answer is nope!” Applejack’s eyelids fell to half-mast. “Sounds about right.” Down on the field in front of them, Rainbow Dash shouted, “Follow the ball! Don’t look at me, follow the ball!” “Yeah, it’s still all pretty freaky,” Flash said, trying to laugh while his magnetized eyes kept darting back to Twilight. “You think maybe we can try switching back again? Soon? Like, just, y’know, an example but—before the boys gym class tomorrow morning?” Twilight raised an eyebrow. “Why specifically then?” “Very very random example,” he sputtered out. “Don’t worry about it. I just mean soonish. Any time now. When you’re ready.” Stiff-arming it, he slapped his hands down to grip his knees, and it made a smackingly wet noise. “We’ll figure it out soon,” Twilight assured, leaning over to pat his highly tense shoulder, but afterwards she wrung her hands. “Although I must admit, it’s been an extremely confounding day being you, because, well, am I you? Or are you you? We’ve sort of just decided to say you’re Flash and I’m Twilight for simplicity, but what constitutes Flash Sentry or Twilight Sparkle, anyway? The other me in the pony world looks exactly like me, but she’s had different experiences, a whole other life, and she’s a princess but we still call her Twilight! So then which is it?! The body or the mind?” Sunset’s eyebrows pushed together, but she tried to keep a gentle smile. “Babe, I think you’re overthinking things a tiny bit. You want me to steal you some hot chocolate from the soccer team?”  The coach wouldn’t notice a styrofoam cup or two missing from the stack. Coach Hothoof stood down by the benches and hollered like his daughter had won the World Series. “Ha! Way to go, Dasher! Let ‘em take the lead! It’s even more impressive to come back from behind!” The real Rainbow Dash all but sobbed into the snow. Sunset took her girlfriend’s hand, going the tried and true route of calming Twilight down, but even Sunset had to admit it felt wrong: what would normally be Twilight’s slender hand in what was usually Flash’s.  Mewling, Twilight raised their hands. “But even this is baffling! Am I holding your hand or my own? And by extension, who here is dating who? Who is who?! Are any of us ever ourselves?!” Sunset frowned. If they were themselves, she could put an arm around her girlfriend, but anything she did now would probably freak Twilight out more. “I know it’s weird, but it’s not that weird, is it?” Twilight looked like she wanted to say something to her then, but she didn’t get the chance. A deep, cultured voice stole their attention away, calling out to them, “Hello, darlings!” Applejack murmured, “What in the ever-lovin’…?” Sunset’s brain refused on principle to process what she was seeing: Timber Spruce with class. The kind of scotch-swirling, diamond-owning, tailored-suit-wearing class Sunset herself used to have when she lived in the Canterlot palace. It took her a full half a minute to remember that that was Rarity in there, and suddenly, it all made too much sense.  Rarity strut through the snow in shoes so nice it was a shame to walk in them. She’d managed to tame Timber’s wild curls into a coif, dressed his body up in a pine green button-up and hickory slacks, and twirled an overcoat over her shoulder as she sashayed across the field toward them. She first waltzed her way to Rainbow Dash, who remained knelt in the snow as snowflakes continued to pour. “Sorry I’m late, darling. What’s the score?” “Devastation,” Rainbow Dash murmured, staring ahead, her breath in the air. “How awful!” She chanced a glance at the scoreboard and raised an eyebrow. “Oh. But it looks like we’re winning.” “By only one point! Timber’s going to give me a heart attack!” She grasped at her chest, looking distantly confused. “Or, wait, would it be giving Fluttershy a heart attack…?” Rarity left her to her conundrum to do a model walk for the rest of their friends. “Well? What do we think? Is it Rarity enough for you all? Does it bring out my inner me or what?” Looking too sour for it to be the real Pinkie Pie, Applejack watched her do a little turn on her imaginary catwalk on the field in front of them. “Rarity, what in got dang tarnation did you go and get all gussied up for?” “Oh, psshaw, Applejack, really. You know me by now, don’t you? I thought while we’re all stuck as each other, there’s nothing saying we can't show our true selves. That’s what fashion is for! It’s as I always say,” she began, striking a pose. “Accessories make the girl! Or I suppose in this case, the woodsy dreamboat!” Both Twilight and Flash gawked without a word. Sunset stayed on standby just in case either of them passed out since they’d done the same for her not long ago. Fluttershy, meanwhile, clapped. “Oh, that’s lovely, Rarity! How stylish! And much less confusing.” “I beg to differ,” Flash muttered, though not loud enough for Rarity to hear. Sunset hadn’t known what it looked like to everyone else when she blushed before; it was a pretty colour, if nothing else.  Sunset sighed to Twilight. “Okay, yeah. It’s that weird now. Resume freakout.” Twilight bit her lip. “Actually, can we talk? With Flash and Timber?” Beneath the bleachers, Sunset waited with Twilight as Flash saved Timber from the halftime pep-talk he was getting from Rainbow Dash. A little light on breath, Timber ducked on the way in. “Hey. What’s up? Secret magic meeting?” Flash brightened. Sunset had never experienced wanting to protect someone who looked so much like herself. “Did you figure out how to switch us all back?” “Not exactly,” Twilight said, hugging her arms over her chest in the shadows of the snow-covered bleachers hanging over her. “But... I have a theory.” Grins rocketed up on the boys faces and Timber chuckled. “That sounds like our girl!” Sunset would’ve joined them, but something in her girlfriend’s tone snagged like a sickle down her throat. Her eyebrows lodged together. “What’s your theory?” “Well, whatever’s going on with our magic has something to do with the four of us. That much is obvious. But until now, I couldn’t understand the connection. Are we not demonstrating our true selves? Are our geodes malfunctioning because of the rift in the atmosphere? If so, why not the others? I could come up with plausible explanations, but then, when I saw Rarity back there I realized—” She took in a breath, shaking her head. She looked up to them with flushed cheeks. “—it’s us. Our shared histories.” “Like… fun times at camp?” Timber hoped aloud. The discomfort weighed down his smile.  Twilight shook her head.  “Gotcha. That history,” Timber muttered.  Call it intuition, call it empathy magic, but Sunset sensed the mood pressing down on all four of them, and she didn’t like where this was headed. She gestured toward Flash and even put an arm around him as she told them, “Flash and I are all good. We made amends and we’re total bros now. Back me up, Flash.” Flash nodded. “It’s true.” Timber’s eyes widened, and he looked to Twilight. “So, wait, does that mean it’s you and me doing this? I thought we were on good terms.” “We are! We absolutely are! The best terms!” Twilight waved her hands frantically. “I mean, I think we are. I don’t think it’s necessarily just those of us who used to date, but I don’t know.” She shut her eyes and tried again, calmer. “What I’m trying to say is, I think there’s things we haven’t talked about and that could be manifesting in other ways. So, we should. And, um… I think…”  Her eyes reached for Sunset’s in the dark of the bleachers, the sounds of the game starting up again behind them. “I think until we’re back in the bodies we belong in, we should put things on pause.” Sunset breathed in. Twilight must’ve seen the look in her eyes, the one she no doubt had when all the world around them and their friends might not last the night. Twilight lurched forward and rushed out, “Only until then! A-and it wouldn’t be a break! No one has to go on break!” She shot a look toward Timber and Flash then looked up at Sunset despite being taller than her in Flash Sentry’s body. “Just... pause.” Flash and Timber hovered on the edge of this conversation, locked in a look with each other that they didn’t seem to want to end. Timber winced, and his voice came out much quieter than Sunset was used to. “It… probably makes sense. Would kind of be false advertising to start dating Timber and wind up with ‘Rainbow Dash’...” “Yeah,” Flash said. His voice rumbled. “I guess it would be.” Dammit. Sunset rubbed her face and managed to stall any welling behind her eyes before it could start. She couldn’t even get a proper kiss first. She breathed out. “You’re right. It sucks, but okay. Pause. What’s our next move?” That at least got Twilight to smile. “We do what we do best: we make friends.”