Of the two mares, one was an acquaintance while the other was a stranger. But what a stranger she was, a perfect, beautiful stranger. Still in a punch-drunk state, Sundance could not help himself and unabashedly gawped at her in just the sort of way that his mother would not approve of. While Bourgogne Blintz was attractive—being of a stout, stocky earth pony build—Parsnip Parfait was pony perfection. A unicorn with the body of an earth pony, Parsnip had the sort of body that came with a lifetime of hard work and exercise. Her legs had to be at least as thick as his neck, and a discombobulated part of his mind fantasised that she could crack coconuts betwixt her taut fuzzy thighs.
Even better, she wore glasses, horn rims with thick soda bottle lenses.
"You seem distracted," Bourgogne Blintz said to him.
"Oh, I am," he replied with his eyes still locked on the cause of his distraction.
Beside him, Hornet seemed somewhat amused, but she came to his defense. "His Owlishness had a rough morning. Training. Hero training. Megara exercised him right into the ground and almost into his grave."
"Oh… that'll add some spice to his curated public image. He comes across as a bit of a bore." Eyes narrowed, Bourgogne turned her head to examine whatever it was that Sundance stared at. After a moment of silent concentration, she smiled as her head swung back around so that she might look at him once more. "I see that you've taken notice of my assistant."
"Oh, I have," he replied.
"Miss Parfait, why don't you tell Sundance more about yourself?"
The young bespectacled mare turned about, was distracted by the hooting of an owl up in the belltower, and she smiled whilst she cleared her throat. One hoof was raised—her left front one—and she rested it upon the heavy trunk on the ground before her. It was a perfect pose, a bit too perfect of a pose, and it unleashed a series of feverish fantasies in Sundance's grey matter theatre.
"Uh, what's relevant?" she asked. "I'm just a camera pony."
"Tell Sundance about your camera work. Just what is it that you do, Miss Parfait."
"Well, I'm a food photographer," the zaftig unicorn replied. "I do stills and motion pictures. Also do side jobs, which is why I'm here. When the bills come due, I also shoot food porn."
"Food porn?" asked Hornet. "Like… erotic pictures of food?"
"Ponies are food," Parsnip replied. "Stuff an apple in one end, a carrot up the other, and then pose them on a platter. For artful shots, you focus on the apple. But for good ol' fashioned get-yer-rocks-off porn, you focus on the carrot. Those are the stills that pay the bills."
Sundance suddenly found it exceedingly difficult to draw breath.
"Excellent, Miss Parfait. I think you've earned yourself a devoted fan. You might have to share your portfolio that I know that you keep in the bottom of your trunk." Grinning with her eyes, but not with her mouth, Bourgogne Blintz struggled to contain her obvious amusement. "Miss Parfait will be filming the documentary that Twilight has planned and—"
"Documentary?" asked Sundance before Bourgogne could finish. "What documentary?"
"Why, what might just be the most important documentary of our era," she replied. "Twilight wishes to document the friendship that will change the very future of Equestria. The friendship built on trust and mutual respect with Argyle Ascot and Sundance of the Sunfire Barony. Two great ponies from vastly different walks of life… one born into privilege and prosperity, the other into poverty and privation. But they put aside their differences for the sake of duty and to—"
"I wasn't told about this," he said whilst he shook his head from side to side.
"Well, you're being told about it now," Bourgogne said to him in a flat deadpan. "It'll be in every theatre from coast to coast. We're going for a low cost artsy documentary approach. Miss Parfait is going to follow you around with her camera rig. She'll be around when you and Mister Ascot have meetings and discuss Equestria's future."
"That sounds—"
"Wonderful, I know. Parsnip and I will need a place to live. We're going to be here for a while. Not just to finish the documentary, but also so things can cool down."
"Cool down?" asked Sundance.
"I have a less than perfect past. A controversial, troubled past. I recently said something that got twisted by the opposition pretty badly, and misconstrued, but it seemed believable because of my past."
"Oh, that sounds harsh."
"You have no idea, Sundance. But it pushed me to a tipping point. To clear my name and to protect Twilight from more trouble, because she constantly has to defend me, I publicly renounced a certain earth pony supremacy movement and gave a speech about my loyalty to Twilight's unification efforts. It got thunderous applause."
"So, that made things better?" he asked.
"Oh no," she replied with an emphatic nod of her head. "Made everything so much worse. I almost got assassinated. Twice. Things got hot. Too hot. I became a detriment to Twilight's efforts and now I'm here. Until things cool off. So… about that place to stay that might become a permanent residence…"
"Pick an empty house or ask somepony to move in with them if you want company." A little worried, Sundance wondered what might have to be done if somepony came out this way with a mind for trouble.
"I'm pretty sure that if somepony comes out this way to do you harm that Megara will unscrew their head." This was said with the sort of casual cheerfulness that only Hornet possessed.
"Unscrew… their… head?"
"She unscrewed an ogre's head." Blinking, Hornet smirked while her feathered wings fluttered against her sides. "I find it odd that you haven't said anything about our glow."
"I've lived in Twilight's castle for a time," Bourgogne said to Hornet. "There are things far stranger than glowing ponies. Unscrewing the heads off of ogres… just what goes on out here? What is it that you wilderness-dwellers do for hobbies?"
"I'd like to get that on film," Parsnip Parfait remarked.
Shrugging, Hornet shook her head. "There's scary things out in the wilderness. Megara and River Raider are scarier."
"Huh." A somewhat worried expression marred Bourgogne's face. "Miss Parfait, do you know any offensive spells?"
"Not a one," the distracting and desirable unicorn replied.
"You're safe," Sundance said. "Just don't go wandering off."
"Yeah, it's probably for the best if I stick around so you can keep an eye on me," Parsnip replied.
Though he had no response, Sundance could not help but to agree.
Argyle Ascot looked exactly how Sundance felt. There was a sort of befuddled determination to be seen upon the earth pony's face, the sort of expression found on those who hadn't slept for quite some time. He was also quite disheveled, unkempt, and in need of a good grooming. These were just the easily observable things, surface things, things that ultimately didn't matter. A little mane pommade, a bit of grooming, a little care and anything that was wrong with Argyle could be hidden.
What concerned Sundance was how Argyle looked at Bourgogne Blintz—and how she completely ignored him in return. Was there a history here? There were clearly feelings, strong emotions. Perhaps it had something to do with her past. Argyle Ascot cast his judgmental stare and Bourgogne Blintz acted as though nothing was wrong. Or maybe he just didn't take the news that there would be a documentary very well. It was just one more thing along with everything else.
"Sundance…"
"Yes, Argyle?"
"I wanted to thank you for keeping Fudge safe."
"She was never in any danger."
"We seem to have wildly differing opinions on what adventure is, Sundance."
"No, really… Fudge was never in any danger."
"This is said by a pony that now has a peculiar glow. A glow, I might mention, that causes him to stand out from other ponies. Makes him different. A mark… a brand… a consequence for inquisitive investigation. It is, at best, a distraction during diplomacy, and at worst, a cause for mistrust among the small-minded and the superstitious."
This gave Sundance pause, and after a moment spent considering these words, he found that he did not have a good response. If Fudge had come home with a glow—Sundance was too fatigued to think of the outcome. Was his radiance a detriment? Time would tell. While some seemed unconcerned about it—such as Bourgogne Blintz's reaction—others might be a bit more nonplussed about his unexpected illumination. While Sundance very much wanted to have a good think about all of this, his brain ached almost as much as his back, and Argyle's state of disheveled distraughtness demanded some manner of action.
A pegasus was a creature of action, and that's exactly what Sundance did. Trotting, limping on all four legs, but especially on his throwing leg, he went to Argyle's side, sidled up alongside him until their bodies were paralel, and before the earth pony could shy away or escape, Sundance extended one wing and slipped it around Argyle's neck. Perhaps a hug might put things in order. It helped other ponies, with Hollyhock and Sparrowhawk being two easily recalled examples in Sundance's mind.
"You are as warm and fuzzy as a sun-kissed peach, Sundance. Just what happened to you?" Standing stoically beside Sundance, Argyle endured the awkward embrace with all the aplomb and good grace that could be mustered for the situation. "Alright, alright. That's enough of that. If this gets filmed, ponies will talk."
After a few seconds of hesitation, uncertain of what was right, Sundance pulled away.
"So… I am to live out here in the wilderness until such a time that Fillydelphia has been pacified. Is that correct, Miss Blintz?"
"That is correct," she replied. "Twilight has issued an ultimatum and will be acting on it soon. She is going to withdraw the troops and give the city time to sort itself out and if it fails to do so by the deadline…" Her words trailed off unsaid.
Argyle leaned forwards, ears erect. "Well?"
"Twilight does not wish to put the lives of the guardsponies at risk. We're in a war and every life matters. Too many have been lost in foreign conflicts and she's grown weary of casualties at home. If the city continues its tantrum, Twilight Sparkle, Princess of Friendship, along with Shining Armor, Emperor of the Crystal Empire, and Dim, the Lord of Nightmares will pacify the city by any means necessary."
Argyle's face hardened into an expressionless mask.
Meanwhile, Sundance felt his heart sink into his guts, which were already knotted.
"No one is more upset about this than Twilight. Please, you must understand… this is not a decision she wanted to make. She's lost sleep over this. There must be order at home. We stand upon the precipice of great loss and dire consequences."
"It's the right thing to do." Strained almost to the point of breaking, Argyle's voice cracked several times during his short sentence. "But I don't have to like it, even if I agree with it. You never did mention when I am going home."
"Spring, probably. Next spring. Twilight wants plenty of time for tempers to cool. You are to stay here, with Sundance, and make plans for your respective regions. That way, when you do return, you can hit the ground running. Maybe have a little momentum on your side."
"Twilight"—a long pause interrupted Argyle's response—"is a competent and canny ruler. While I do not like what is happening, I can see the wisdom in what she's doing. Plus, I have no desire to return home and to be immediately overrun by an angry mob."
"We have a lot of work to do and a whole winter to do it," Sundance said to Argyle.
"And we'll do it on film, no less. How long does it take to film a documentary, anyhow?"
Bourgogne shrugged and offered nothing to say in return.
"I do declare… I find the entire whole of this situation contemptible!"
A creeping sort of euphoria elevated Sundance and left his head in the clouds. Pain wracked his body, but he was fine, mostly, and could deal with that. But it had an effect on his mind. There was also a certain sense of dread about the documentary, but that cause for alarm was almost smothered by a newfound sense of giddiness that left him completely wasted. Utterly distracted. Totally smitten.
He stood on top of the gatehouse looking down at what had become the courtyard below. Down there amongst the ponies and other creatures was the source of his confuddlement, his woozy sense of unrestrained desire. She stood out, she did. Neutral off-white—some might even say boring beige. Her coat stood out because it was so very plain compared to the pastel rainbows that so saturated little ponies. And then there was her mane and tail, a pale suggestion of what might be purple if only it had but a bit more colour. She was faded. One might even say bleached. As for the eyes behind the thick lenses and horn rimmed frames, they were neither blue nor purple, but some subdued hue that refused to be identified, like a mysterious stain of unknown origins left on unremarkable white fabric.
She was playing with the foals.
The sometimes-pornographer was playing with the foals.
His back burned like a live coal, his hind legs cramped with hidden heat, and he had a terrible crick in his spine just between his wing joints. Yet, he hardly noticed, for such was his fascination with Parsnip Parfait. It was a crush; he was old enough and wise enough to understand exactly what it was, but still young enough and immature enough to be completely overtaken by it. Something about her—everything about her—tickled his imagination.
"What makes a pony pretty, Sundance?"
Startled by the sudden question, he snapped out of his state of reverie and tried to make sense of his surroundings. When he looked down at Hornet, he found her staring up at him. Not as a pegasus, but in her true form. Alien. Insectoid, but with a touch of floral oddity. Unable to answer, he stood there with his mouth open while his brain struggled to make all the pieces of his current state of reality fit together.
"Gotta be honest, Sundance… she's homely by your species standards. Maybe even what others might call ugly. Yet, you seem to find her attractive. Irresistible. I know exactly what you want to do with her. You're trying to subdue your physical compulsion by imagining scenarios of social compatibility. While all of that is interesting to sense and observe, I am far more curious as to why you find her attractive. So, Sundance… what makes a pony pretty?"
"I haven't figured that out. Why do you ask?"
"Because I want acceptance. I don't wanna be an ugly bug. I know what others think when they look at me when I'm like this." Reaching up, she tapped three times on her armored carapace with her foreleg and it made a thonk-thonk-thonk sound. "Ever since my pupate-puberty and putting my grubhood behind me, I've tried to figure out what your kind considers pretty. But then ponies like you come along and mess up everything I think I know."
Suddenly self-conscious, Sundance shook himself while engaging in a mental retreat. A whole lot of things occurred to him all at once and he lacked the mental wherewithal to sort them out. The things that floated up to the surface were less then pleasant; of course Hornet would want to perfect her pony form, because it would make her a better infiltrator. But if that was coupled with the desire to be a pony, and to covet the pony form—his brain balked and was unable to process such a complex thought.
"Maybe it is psychology," Hornet said, saying his thoughts aloud. "Maybe some part of the survival instincts that drives my species has hijacked my desires and now exploits them. But that doesn't change the fact that I want to be pretty. I want others to look at me and feel all the same sorts of things that you feel for Parsnip. I don't like being a bug. Sometimes. I'm sure there are things I'm doing wrong. Little wrinkles in my illusion. The others… the others are fine with borrowing the forms of those around them. But I don't want to borrow. I want my own image. One that is me. One not stolen."
"You picked the wrong pony to ask," he replied. "I still haven't figured all of this out for myself. I don't know what makes me attractive or makes me attracted to others. This… this… this has been a thorn in my frog all my life, Hornet."
"With other ponies, it is so straightforward. There is attractive and there is not-attractive. When I read into their minds, it all feels so samey and kind of stupid. But with you… everything is weird."
"Thanks, Hornet."
"I meant that in the nicest way possible. Maybe if I was exposed to more ponies like you, I might be happier. Growing up in the lab, my exposure to ponies was limited. Scientists, mostly. Some guards. And the custodians. They were the most interesting. The janitors. The cleaners. They had simple minds that were easy to pick apart, and what they considered beautiful was easy to catalogue. I was none of those things… but I wanted to be."
"I think we all want to be beautiful," Sundance remarked. "But we're barraged by what beauty is. The billboards on the sides of tenement towers tell us that a particular brand of toothpaste or some goopy mane pomade will make us beautiful… and let's be honest. Ponies are kind of dumb. We're herd animals, so if a couple of us believe it, then all of us start to believe it because we want to fit in. Except… I never really fit in… and that kinda hurts to think about."
"Do you want to know what Parsnip thinks of you, Sundance?"
He froze. Never before had he encountered a question so perilous, so fraught with danger. Even worse, he knew that his companion knew exactly what he was thinking right now. No doubt she was already planning her response. But it didn't have to be this way. He had the means to push into her mind and poke around—though he had no idea how to actually do that. Plus, she was probably aware of the fact that he could do this, that he was thinking about it, that he considered it an option, and she was probably prepared for it.
Why did life have to be so complicated?
If you think about the morality of telepaths, your head might explode.
Caught off guard, it took Sundance all of twenty or so seconds to realise that these words were not said aloud, but were broadcasted through the ripples of his grey matter. Even stranger, this message was more than mere words, a sentence. There were feelings here, chief among them amusement. He sensed others, too. Concern. Worry. Fear. Doubt. While the amusement felt pleasant, some of the others caused him considerable discomfort and made his brain itch.
The trouble with brain itches was that there was no way to open one's skull and scratch them.
It dawned upon him that River Raider had no means, no methods to shield her mind from brain itches. She had no filter, no defenses against unpleasant emotions, and so she resigned herself to a lonesome existence. Feeling unsettled and insecure, his mind attempted to shove all these thoughts out through his ears—and failed, miserably. He was stuck with them, cursed with awareness. Once a pony knew something, there was no going back to the blissful state of ignorance that one enjoyed previously. He thought of Princess Luna's lonesomeness, her isolation, her solitude. Why, he was barely cognizant of this newfound awareness and he already wanted nothing to do with it.
Just imagine all of that coupled with the awareness that every pony around you thinks that you are hideous. A monster. An eyesore. Feeling their disgust. Their revulsion. Imagine feeling all of that… and just wanting to be pretty.
"I need my brain fixed," he said aloud. "There's no way I can live with this."
"Sundance, it doesn't work that way—"
"I don't want to be like this."
"To be honest, neither did I. But I am what I am. And you are what you are. Your mind was already receptive, but it slumbered. A lot of the pegasus guards had sleeping minds. Some of the unicorns, too. And yes, even the earth ponies. But mostly pegasus ponies. Enough has happened to your mind that it awoke."
This bothered him in ways that words could not express.
"How am I supposed to be a good pony if my brain is capable of such treachery?"
"The same could be asked about bodies," Hornet replied. "Don't physical urges overwhelm you? The body makes demands. There are carnal needs. I don't see the mind being that different."
"Ideas are dangerous," he said to her in a low whisper. "Ideas spread through music and print. Through books and songs and slogans and billboards. But to have them go from mind to mind unchecked… unfiltered… there are some thoughts that can't be unthunk."
The little 'ling laughed aloud; she giggled and chortled in her peculiar insectoid manner.
"A single errant thought could spread like wildfire."
"Like you said… you're a herd animal." Hornet's voice changed in some strange way, and it was as if she now spoke with dozens of voices all at once. "All herd animals have some psychic potential. Even without sapiance and language, when your kind were just primitive plains-dwellers. The herd moved as one. Acted as one. There was a connection shared by the entire herd. Your scientists call them mirror neurons and they are what allow for mind-to-mind communication.
"But you are a sapient species… developed. Beyond that, you have magic. That makes you fine prey for psychovorous species and emovores. My ancestors once traveled from star to star… we dwelt in the dark spaces between the stars. We would sleep and hibernate in our hiveships for millennia until we chanced upon a world whose inhabitants evolved a particular set of traits, and when we sensed them, we would awaken from our long-enduring slumber. We even learned to slip between realities, so that we might find prey in other whens and wheres. But something happened on this world. We got stranded. Stuck.
"We got stuck and we could not return to the stars. That part of our memory is gone. Erased. Destroyed. Altered. Edited. Forever removed." The sound of dozens of dispirited sighs could be heard escaping her. "Stranded, marooned, your kind and my kind existed as enemies for as far back as our collective whole can remember. Queen Chrysalis wanted it this way. We suspect that she somehow altered our collective memories. Her crimes are too numerous to list.
"As hard as she tried to corrupt us… we endured. One thought, even one borne upon indomitable will, was not the end of us, so your fears of stray thoughts being a danger are unfounded."
Then, in a singular voice once more, Hornet added, "Your kind saved us from the Queen of Corruption. You have ensured our survival. Our debt to you is great. You offered aid to your most hated enemy."
After such a long and grueling day, Sundance was left with no response.