It was Lapis Print’s first day on the job, and he still wasn’t sure he was used to being a pony.
For one thing, when he’d woken up that morning, he’d fallen off the bed after trying to grab his bedpost with fingertips he no longer possessed. For another, he’d put a dent in his only cutting board after getting a little too enthusiastic chopping some mushrooms for his omelet via magic. The sound of his hooves clip-clopping on his wood floor was as jarring as firecrackers going off, and he still wasn’t sure why he had a gray streak in his mane - he was barely twenty, that hair color had no business on his head.
Still, he had to eat, and that meant he had to buy food. And that meant he had work to do. So, he pulled the three requests he’d gotten so far off his notice board, tucked them into his saddlebags, and was just about to leave when he glanced at the closet door.
His eyes narrowed. It was strange, but for some reason, the closet behind the counter just felt… off, somehow. Lapis wanted to give it a more thorough investigation, but he had jobs to do.
Lapis nodded, taking a deep breath and turning to face the front door. “Right. Jobs now, ominous closet later.” Then, he pushed the door open, and stepped into his first day of work in Ponyville…
…Lapis arrived back at his shop with Nikki on his shoulder. She flew in as soon as he opened the shop door, much to his surprise, then settled down on Lapis’ counter. He’d been expecting her to head for the hills after he’d fixed that first thatched roof, but for some reason she’d stuck around.
“So, what brings you here?” Lapis asked the pigeon.
Nikki shrugged in response, and Lapis was left with no way of continuing the conversation - so, he trotted over to the notice board, checked it for new jobs and found it empty, then cast a wary look at the closet door. He needed to restock the basket of slips, but…
Slowly, Lapis pushed the door open. The room beyond was, plain and simple, a closet. There wasn’t anything special about it - it was square, it had shelves, and on the wall to his right it had a tool rack. Lapis looked around, trying to figure out what it was about the closet that made him suspicious - but for the life of him, he just couldn’t put his finger on it.
Then again, he thought, it’s hard to put a finger on anything, lately.
He rolled his eyes, then levitated a sheaf of notices out of one of the boxes, stepping out of the closet as Nikki flew inside past him. “Careful in there,” he called over his shoulder as he made his way out the front door.
When he re-entered the shop a second later, it was to see Nikki emerging from the closet - on foot, this time. She looked right up at him and let out an urgent coo.
“What is it?” Lapis asked. “You notice anything?”
Nikki nodded. She walked to the corner of the space behind the counter, then walked along the wall that the closet shared with the main room, taking a quick, pattering series of steps along the long edge of the rectangular space. Then, she turned and flew into the closet, where she walked along the same wall from the other side.
Lapis raised an eyebrow. “What… are you doing?”
Nikki rolled her eyes, then flew back out of the closet and repeated the process. This time, she went more slowly, glancing back at Lapis as if expecting to see comprehension on his face. She finished walking the length of the closet wall, then turned and gave him a distinct “are-you-stupid” look, one that Lapis had previously thought was unique to people and cats.
“…Yeah, I’ve still got nothing,” Lapis said.
Nikki scowled, then took off, her wing smacking into Lapis’ muzzle as she flew past his face. She landed at the corner of the main room’s wall again, and stomped her way slowly and deliberately down the length of the wall. Her scaled feet made tiny, regular clicks as they came down, distinct enough that Lapis could count the steps - which he did, if only because he couldn’t think of anything else to do. Ninety-six steps, of about an inch long.
Then, Nikki flew back to the closet-side of the wall and clicked her way down its length. One-two-three-four-five-six… all the way up to…
“Sixty?” Lapis muttered. But… she’d gotten to ninety-six on the counter’s side of the wall. He walked up to the doorframe, looking at the rectangular space behind the counter, and then at the square floorspace of the closet. Rectangle… square. Rectangle… square. Then the penny dropped.
“This closet… is smaller than it should be,” Lapis muttered, and he turned to regard the wall with the tool rack.
“There’s something behind that wall, isn’t there?”
Under what some residents would tentatively describe as “normal circumstances,” Ponyville’s streets were pretty tidy. Sure, most of them were either made of dirt or of dirty flagstone, but you weren’t likely to trip over anything unless you dropped it in front of yourself. And even then, somepony else would usually stick out a hoof to stop you from falling on your face.
It was decidedly abnormal, Lapis knew, to have so much pottery on the ground that every other step was met by the musical crunch of breaking clay. It was also decidedly abnormal to have a herd of rabbits rampaging through town, devouring every flowerbed, rosebush, and potted plant in their path. And yet here he was, staring down the street just outside his shop, his mouth wide open as he gawked at the aftermath of the most damaging disaster to hit Ponyville in a decade: Hurricane Bunny. Courtesy, or so he heard, of one Applejack Apple - friend to Twilight Sparkle, and bearer of an Element of Harmony.
Which meant that all would be forgiven, no fines would be leveled, and no help in cleaning up would be expected. That left the duty of picking up the pieces to the citizens of Ponyville - and sure enough, a few ponies were already sweeping portions of the street in front of their house, but most were still staring forlornly at what remained of their gardens. Lapis hadn’t thought to plant anything, so his property had mostly been spared; even still, the bottom of his doorframe had been gnawed into a pile of splinters, and tiny, dusty footprints covered his doormat.
Lapis sighed, then lit his horn, picking up the largest pieces of his doorframe and putting them back into place one at a time, each piece joining with the rest in a small, bright flash of light. Maybe I should install a fence, or something? He snorted, smirking. Nah, that’d just be one more thing to chew up. I wonder if they’ve invented animal-repellant spray here? … No, it’d probably scare off Nikki, too. Huh. Looks like the bunnies actually ate some of the doorframe. If I want to make it look nice again, I’ll end up needing some sawdust and wood glue.
Lapis paused, cocking his head as a disturbing thought occurred to him. Wait. Isn’t glue made from…?
Okay, yeah, let’s maybe just never mention glue ever again. Just in case. He shivered, then turned around.
Lapis froze in place, his eyes widening as he took in the small crowd that had gathered behind him while he was working. A good ten or twenty of the town’s pastel ponies were standing behind him, peering over each others’ shoulders, the ponies in front straining to keep a respectful distance as those behind struggled to get a good look. All of them seemed to be unicorns, and as he turned to look, they all froze in place, their eyes widening as they glanced back and forth between Lapis and each other.
For a single, bizarre second, Lapis thought they’d somehow heard him thinking about glue, and his heart skipped a beat before he remembered that wasn’t possible. Then, one of the ponies - a green-coated stallion with a sack of dirt for a Cutie Mark - raised a hoof. “Um, excuse me, but… were those Mend-All spells you were just using?”
Oh, it’s this again. Lapis sighed, took a deep breath, and flicked his ears back upright. “Yeah, those were Mend-All spells. My name’s Lapis Print, I’m Ponyville’s new repair-pony, and I’ve always had a special talent for Mend-Alls.” Lapis had given this speech a few dozen times already - while he hadn’t had enough time to actually read the book on Mend-All spells he’d “loaned” from the Golden Oak, the reactions of the unicorns who saw him in action were starting to give him the impression that, whatever Mend-Alls were, they were a big deal.
The stallion who’d spoken nodded, a smile returning to his face. “Are you taking orders right now?”
“Yep.” Lapis gestured to the corkboard on the front wall of his shop. “Anything that’s broken, as long as you’ve still got all the pieces. Write your name, address, and what item needs fixed on one of those slips, then tack it to the corkboard and I’ll get around to it as soon as I can.”
“Thanks!” the stallion said. He turned toward the corkboard and started toward it at a casual walk.
Then another of the ponies in the crowd did the same, at a slightly faster walk.
The next three ponies approached the corkboard at a trot. The rest of the crowd exchanged glances, then darted toward Lapis’ corkboard at a full gallop, several arguments quickly developing as the ponies jostled against each other to get order slips. Lapis took a step back in surprise, his eyes widening and his ears tucking back as the ponies started shouting over each other.
Yeah, today’s gonna be a long day.
It turned out, Lapis was right. He didn’t get a chance to get back into his shop until six hours later, by which time the sun had been down for at least an hour, and he still had half the orders on the notice board to take care of.
Lapis locked the door behind himself, walked straight to his bed, and flopped down onto it face-first with a groan. I don’t think I’ve been this tired since the Summer Sun Celebration.
That had been a week ago, now, and a little more than that since Lapis and Nikki had discovered the false wall in his closet. Lapis had yet to see hide or hair of Princess Celestia, and though he’d shared a few breakfasts with Lyra and Bon-Bon, all parties involved had so far been too busy to actually hang out. Way, way too busy, in Lapis’ case.
Lapis rolled onto his back and stared up at the ceiling. So busy, I haven’t had a chance to work on getting back home.
Home… I just wanna sleep. Can’t I just sleep, please? Let things fix themselves tomorrow?
Unfortunately, that’d been his strategy for the last week, and it hadn’t worked at all. If Lapis wanted to get back home, then his normally low tolerance for putting in actual effort just wasn’t going to cut it.
So, grimacing, Lapis rolled out of bed, splashed some water on his face, and went back into the front room of his shop. Then, after glancing out the window to make sure nopony was watching, he opened up the closet behind the counter and stepped inside, closing it behind himself.
There were, as it turns out, two features of this closet would leave a pony scratching their heads at the room. As Nikki had discovered, the room was smaller than it should’ve been - and as for the tool rack, why would a repair-pony need a fireman’s axe?
Eventually, Lapis had discovered the fireman’s axe wasn’t really a tool at all; rather, it was a cleverly disguised handle. And the room was smaller than it should’ve been because the wall with the tool rack…
Is actually a door, Lapis thought, turning the axe and pulling the door open. Beyond was a narrow, steep staircase, sloping down into a brightly-lit stone basement. Whoever had build the secret door had put a lot of engineering effort into this closet - Lapis hadn’t had time to investigate the details, but as long as the secret door was open, the regular door to the closet would stick shut - blocked, he suspected, by some latch underneath the floorboards.
Lapis headed down the staircase and into the basement, shaking his head in amazement as he took in the room for the third time. Whatever pony had lived in this house before Lapis, they’d used their mysterious secret basement to set up and maintain what looked an awful lot like a machining shop. There was a grindstone and a rotary wire brush, a large, clean workbench, and something that looked a lot like a forge - complete with an anvil, a large metal bucket, and a rack of hammers, tongs, and other assorted tools. It wasn’t a big basement, but it felt open - the center of the room had been kept studiously clean, and the workbenches and tools were all pressed against the dully-gleaming gray stone of the walls, so that there was no need to step around anything you hadn’t put there yourself. Above, the ceiling was shaped almost like a wide, upside-down funnel, which looked as if it would channel smoke to the hole in the center of the roof - which, Nikki had discovered, led to a chimney outside.
Lapis stared up at the chimney-hole for a moment, then turned and walked to the workbench. To one side of it was an old, empty notebook - the edges of its pages were worn and yellow, but the book was still usable. The rest of the bench was clear, though it bore the scratches and dents that were the mark of any well-loved workspace.
I know exactly one thing about this room, Lapis thought, sitting back on his rump and staring around it. Whoever made it, they knew what they were doing. What I don’t know is why they did it. Why would some pony decide to set up a whole blacksmith’s shop, complete with ventilation, inside a hidden basement in their house?
“Who lived here?” Lapis muttered.
The words, though quiet, seemed to echo in the small space, returning to his ears as fragmented whispers. No answers were forthcoming, so, with a sigh, Lapis picked up the stack of books he’d taken from the Golden Oak, set them on the workbench, and glared down at their titles, which refused to yield any new information:
The Horn is Quicker Than the Carriage: Transportation for the Time-Pressed Unicorn
Shape-Shifting and Other Ways of Escaping the Sordid
The Totaled Theories of Harmonick Resonance, and Their Applickation to Mending the Otherwise Irreparable
He’d tried reading beyond the titles multiple times now, and found that they all assumed the reader already had a grasp of several fundamentals of magic - an understanding that Lapis didn’t have. Lyra had recommended several beginner’s guidebooks to Lapis, but the problem with those guidebooks was that they were inside the Golden Oak Library - which, as of a week ago, was home to one Twilight Sparkle. And Lapis absolutely could not get involved with Twilight Sparkle or her friends, or else he could kiss his time for research goodbye.
So, Lapis cracked open the book on magical transportation, flipped to the chapter on teleportation spells, and set to reading. The first sentence was all it took to give him the impression that he wouldn’t learn a thing tonight, but he read it anyway.
Not like there’s anything else I could do.
…Huh.
Or is there?
Sometimes, it paid to know a pigeon.
The morning after he’d decided to work on getting home again, Lapis asked Nikki to keep an eye on the Golden Oak, and to let him know if it looked like Twilight would be out for a long period of time. Then, he went about business as usual - or, well, he started cleaning up after the Bunny Incident as quickly as he could.
Lapis had finished up with the “B-day” requests by afternoon the following day, and was headed back down Cantering Boulevard to pick up whatever other slips had accumulated at his workshop when he spotted a problem.
Rainbow Dash was standing in front of one of the shops. She looked slightly more ruffled than usual, with short bits of straw sticking out of her mane as she apologized to an amused-looking Earth-pony mare through an open window.
Lapis glanced at the roof of the building, and wasn’t surprised to see a pegasus-shaped crater in the store’s thatched roof. Cleaning up the aftermath of Rainbow’s rooftop “landings” represented about a sixth of Lapis’ job. If Rainbow were already up and away, he’d offer to take a request slip for the storeowner - but, well, there she was.
Detour time. Lapis hung a right, slipping through an alley, and emerged onto a side street - but when he rounded the corner, there was an odd creature leaning up against one of the store walls.
It looked like someone had taken the head and plumage of an extra-large, moody-looking bald eagle (white head feathers, hooked yellow beak, brown everything else) and attached it to an animal with the general body plan of a lion. It had wings on its back - brown to match its body feathers - and its feet were mismatched: the front half had the yellow, clawed talons of an eagle while the back half had the padded paws of a lion. It looked bored, or maybe impatient, staring idly up at the sky as it scratched a lazy circle in the dirt.
Lapis went on guard at once, eyeing the creature warily as he started walking past it. Is that a griffon? Aren’t they carnivores or something? Might be aggressive, I’d probably better avoid-
The griffon turned to glance at Lapis through half-lidded yellow eyes, then nodded upward, speaking in a rough, high voice. “’Sup.”
Oh. “’Sup,” Lapis said, returning the griffon’s nod, then setting off down the road at his normal pace. Huh. Well, that was easy.
Not long after, he turned onto his street to see Lyra and Bon-Bon standing out in front of his house, supporting between them a long, narrow cylinder of what looked like dark green cloth. They looked up as he approached, and Lyra offered a cheerful grin and a wave as he started toward them, propping herself and the rug against his front door.
“What’re you two doing out here?” Lapis said, once he got within earshot of the pair.
“Well, I was cleaning out my closet,” Bon Bon said, “and I found this rug tucked away in the back. Lyra and I don’t have room for it in our house anymore-”
“And besides, it’s totally the wrong color scheme for our decor!”
“…And that,” Bon Bon finished. “So, we decided to drop by and see if you wanted it.”
Lapis blinked, then grinned, taking in the rug. “Oh, wow. Uh, yeah, it’ll do pretty nicely for the front room. Here, let me get the door real quick…”
He opened the door, and Lyra fell through the open doorway with a yelp, the rug following her into Lapis’ shop shortly afterward. “Oh. Whoops.”
“I’m okay!” Lyra wheezed, sticking a hoof out from beneath the rolled-up rug. “Just… need a little help getting this thing off me.”
Bon Bon gave the rug a firm nudge with one hoof, and it unrolled to the right, Lyra sitting up just in time to watch the last few inches slap flush against the wooden floor. “Hey! It really does work with the giant window!”
“Should help keep this place from echoing so much, too,” Bon Bon added, scuffing the rug with her hoof. “You like it?”
Lapis gave the unrolled rug a second look. It wasn’t quite a rectangle - its corners had been trimmed at an angle, so that it was technically an octagon - but it left a margin of about three feet to every side, meaning Lapis didn’t have to move his table and chairs. It had trim of a slightly different color, too - a lighter green, maybe with a bit of yellow to it, that was just bright enough to add some contrast without being garish.
“Yeah,” Lapis said, nodding as a smile dawned on his face. “I do.” He stared for another few seconds, then shook himself and turned to his guests. “So, cleaning house, are we?”
“Yep,” Bon Bon replied. “You wouldn’t believe how much dusting we’ve had to do, though.”
“I can guess,” Lapis said, looking over his house. “When I moved into this place, there was so much of the stuff on the ground, you’d almost think it was carpet. At least you got the rug cleaned out, though.”
“Yeah!” Lyra said, grinning as her ears tucked themselves back. “We totally did! Had to, um, beat it up with a broom handle! Both of us. At once.”
“…With the same broom handle?” Lapis asked, cocking an eyebrow.
“N-no, of course not! We, uh, actually own two broo-” Lyra started, before Bon Bon stuffed a hoof over her mouth. “What she means is that she held the rug upright, and I beat it with the broomstick.”
“Oh, okay,” Lapis said. Bullshit, he thought. “So, do you have the house-cleaning situation under control over there, or could you use a helping… hoof?”
“Oh, we just finished for today,” Lyra added, pulling Bon Bon’s hoof down from her face. “But we might drop by with more stuff later on, if we find anything nice!”
“Well, alright,” Lapis said. “Go ahead and just leave it outside the door if I’m not here - as long as it isn’t pink or fluffy, I’ll take whatever I can get.”
“Perfect,” Bon Bon replied, smiling as she turned to head out the door, dragging Lyra behind her. “We’ve got plenty, so you’d better be ready to fill up your spare rooms.”
“And feel free to drop by if you need help moving anything!” Lyra called out, sticking her head through the doorframe. “See you later, bye!”
“See you two around!” Lapis called back, as Bon Bon got Lyra out the door with a final tug. He shut the door, then turned to look at the rug again. Tentatively, he looked around, then lowered his head and scuffed it with his hoof.
The texture was soft, and only slightly fluffy, but it was definitely warmer than the floor already. Lapis gently brought his hoof down as if he was taking a step, and sure enough, the rug did an excellent job of silencing his hoofsteps.
The smile returned onto Lapis’ face as he raised his head back up, then stepped fully onto the wool. He briefly jogged in place, relishing how the padded surface muffled the sound of his hooves, then stopped, satisfied.
He’d never owned a rug before.
Aside from some deafening shrieking noise coming from near the Brookway Bridge later in the afternoon, the rest of the day was uneventful. Halfway through the following day, however, Lapis was going down the main road when he heard a coo. He looked up just in time to see Nikki land on his back.
“Go-time?” he asked.
Nikki nodded in reply, smirking as Lapis gave her a bag of mixed seeds from his saddlebag. She grabbed it and took to the skies as Lapis changed directions, heading straight for the Golden Oak.
Alright, he thought, let’s go over this one more time. What’s the plan?
Priority One: Get in, check for any of the guidebooks Lyra recommended, get them, get out.
Priority Two: If it looks like I’ve got time, snoop around a little and make sure Twilight isn’t onto me. Which… she shouldn’t be, but it never hurts to check. At most-
“’Sup.”
“’Sup,” Lapis replied.
-At most, she’s noticed that one of the books I borrowed is missing. Even that’s not a big deal, it just means I’ve gotta slip it through the return slot sometime soon.
Almost there now, Lapis thought, entering the clearing that surrounded the Golden Oak and checking his saddlebags with magic. Supply check time.
Forged order slip? Check.
Tools consistent with forged order slip? Check.
Emergency Anti-Pinkie Mask? Check.
Let’s do this.
Lapis set his jaw, then pushed open the door to the Golden Oak. The bell above the door jingled cheerily as he made his way inside and closed the door.
Sure enough, Nikki’s tip had been good - the Golden Oak was, for the moment, deserted. Although, Twilight’s definitely spruced up the place since I was last in here, Lapis thought, taking a moment to notice the complete lack of dust, the multitude of candles and iron-framed oil lanterns, and the new curtains on the windows.
No time. Where’s the guidebooks? Lapis checked the shelves where he’d last searched for magic, and was pleased to find that - whatever organizational system had been in place before - Twilight hadn’t changed it. Okay. Lyra recommended The Fun-damentals of Spellcasting and Magic for Dummies. Let’s start with the F’s.
Lapis started scanning the shelf, pausing only momentarily to glare at The Elements of Harmony - A Reference Guide, the brass bindings of which glimmered almost cheerfully in the lanternlight. He found the The Fun-damentals almost immediately afterward: a substantial, friendly-looking volume bound in dark green canvas, with a small illustration of a grinning unicorn on the spine. It was heavier than he’d expected in his saddlebag, and Lapis ended up tugging on the strap across his back as he started looking for Magic for Dummies.
He ended up not being able to find it, and so turned toward the door - only to stop when he saw the notice that had been tacked to the adjacent wall.
“Wanted Books - Listed in catalog, but not found in library or check-out records,” Lapis mumbled, his face slackening. “The Horn is Quicker Than the Carriage, Shape-Shifting and Other Ways of Escaping the Sordid, The Totaled Theories of Harmonick Resonance. Reward of… 75 bits a book, representing 50% of the fines to be levied at the responsible pony?!”
…Well, so much for the worst-case scenario. Lapis grimaced, pulling the book out of his saddlebags, then looked between the poster and the cover. How does she plan on levying the fines? Does she have some kind of… detective spell, or something she can cast on the books to see who’s touched them? Can she even lay out fines to begin with - no, of course she can, she’s the Princess’ student. Wait - is she like a federal officer? Is this a federal crime?! Am I a felon?!
“Shit,” Lapis muttered, his eyes wide, his ears flopping back against his head. Okay. New plan, fast. Can’t take the book out of the library, or else that’s just more… whatever-crime-this-is… on my head. C’mon, think…
He spotted a spare quill, an inkwell, and a roll of parchment sitting on a nearby desk, and lunged toward them almost at once, spreading the book open to the table of contents - and then shaking his head. No, I don’t have time to skim the whole thing. Just the few big keywords that keep coming up… here’s hoping this thing has a glossary and an index.
Flipping to the back revealed that, luckily, it had both. Lapis briefly considered his options, then decided to focus on the word that had come up most often: “starswirls.” He pulled a sheet of parchment over and frantically copied down the definition-
the low-level magical field generated around a pony’s hoof which enables them to “grip” light objects via thaumic pressure differential
-before jumping over to the item of next highest priority on his list: “accord.” Probably should’ve done that one first, keep it in alphabetical order, but whatever. He flipped to the glossary, only to find the phrase See Chapter Forty-Six staring back up at him. Oh. Helpful.
Lapis flipped back to the table of contents, then all the way to the very last chapter of the book, where he quickly skimmed to the end of the introductory paragraph before he started copying down.
“This accordant conduciveness, the emotional state of a pony as they cast a spell, is one of the most surefire predictors of a spell’s likelihood to achieve the intended effects - whether it’ll be in Harmony with the caster’s will, or instead sow Discord. If you’re sure your friend is going to love the fireworks you’ve bought, and you’re excited to watch their face light up, then your Candle-Flame Casting won’t light anything but the fuse, every time. But if you’re only casting the spell to distract them from a mess you’ve caused, and you’re worried they’ll be upset with you if they find out what’s really going on… well, it’s a good idea to have a bucket of water ready.”
Lapis blinked. …So, honest intentions good, secrecy bad? That explains the low crime rate around here, but it doesn’t bode well for me.
“…still can’t believe she would just shove you out of the way like that!”
Lapis froze, cocking his ear as he recognized Twilight’s voice approaching the front door. Time to go.
“Eh,” a boy’s voice said as Lapis quickly snapped the book shut and floated it onto the shelf, rolling up his notes and tucking them into his bag. “That cake was really good, so overall, I’m thinking of the whole thing as an opportunity. Besides, it takes more than just a griffon to put a scratch on these scales!”
“…Uh-huh.”
Lapis walked over to the same window he’d used last time, quickly glancing around for any sign of Pinkie or the rest of Twilight’s friends, then opened it and leaped outside. Then, keeping a magical grip on his mask just in case, he quickly slipped onto a side-street and started the walk back to his workshop.
When Lapis finally got back to his workshop, he found a whole bed - not just a mattress, not just a frame, but an entire extra bed complete with pillows and a heavy woolen blanket - sitting in front of his door. Nikki was perched atop one of the bedposts, regarding Lapis with what looked like faint curiosity.
“Lyra and Bon Bon?” Lapis asked, pointing at the bed with a hoof.
Nikki nodded. Lapis shook his head in amusement, then walked around the side of the bed to find that it had been accompanied by a weighty, iron-bound chest of drawers, two simple wooden nightstands, and a framed picture of a chestnut-feathered griffon with a faintly smug grin and an enormous handlebar mustache - so large, in fact, that it didn’t even fit in the frame, its perfectly coiffed lengths extending to both sides of the portrait and out of sight.
Lapis levitated the picture up to eye-level and grinned. Oh, I am keeping this painting. Actually, you know what, I’m keeping all of this. Lyra, Bon Bon - the next time we meet up, I’m paying for the coffee.
Wrangling all the stuff through the front door was difficult enough to make him reconsider keeping it - especially the bed - but he got there eventually. The bed, the chest of drawers, and one of the nightstands ended up shoved into a spare bedroom, though he swapped out his current blanket for the woolen one. Then, Lapis quickly cooked himself a hayburger, sat the portrait of the mustached griffon in the chair opposite himself, and sat down to have some dinner just as it started to rain outside, quickly opening the door to let Nikki take shelter from the downpour. She settled herself atop one of the lanterns, fluffing her feathers up until she was a poofy ball, and promptly fell asleep, leaving Lapis to enjoy his hayburger with no company but the rain.
Lapis looked across the table at the mustached portrait as he ate, trying to figure out where was the best spot to put it. It would certainly brighten up the patch of bare wall opposite the window in the front room, but it might also fill some space in his bedroom, or the hallway.
Where will I spend more time? Lapis wondered. Where will I see it more often?
He snorted. Well, I don’t really spend a lot of time in this house at all. The downstairs workshop, maybe, but I’m only in this room for the mornings and early evenings. And besides, it’s not like I’ll be living in Ponyville for long, right?
Lapis’ chewing slowed, and he stared down at his plate for a moment. …Right?
Well, of course he wasn’t. He’d just managed to get his first lead on translating his books on magic, and… well, magic was magic. If he could make two halves of a broken plate join back into an unbroken whole without even thinking about it, then surely Earth was just a few steps away. Twilight had teleported a few times in the show - Lapis was hoping the answer was as simple as learning the same spell she had, and then picking his home on Earth as the destination.
And that’ll only take an afternoon or two, tops, Lapis thought. So, honestly, I might as well not even hang up the painting at all - well, not until I get back home, anyway. It’ll be a nice memento. Lapis nodded, then took a decisive bite of his hayburger-
His door slammed open, and Lapis almost choked on his food. A thunderclap rattled the building, the accompanying flash of light momentarily silhouetting the griffon he’d greeted earlier standing in his doorway. She was panting and dripping wet, the scowl on her face showing no hint of any emotion but seething anger.
“Hey, you,” she spat, glaring at him with the bright-yellow eyes of an exceptionally annoyed eagle. “Pigeon-colt. How much to rent out a room for the night?”
Back on Earth, Lapis’ house had been at the intersection of two long, isolated country roads in the middle of what his grandpa had lovingly referred to as “bum-fuck nowhere, Ohio.” It wasn’t uncommon during spells of bad weather for drivers to get stranded in the area, and only slightly less strange for them to ask to stay the night. His mom had always kept the guest bedroom ready for just this purpose, and had made a point of only offering a price to the folks who demanded one.
As such, it only took a few seconds for Lapis to process the griffon’s question. “Let’s start with thirty bits for bed and breakfast, and add on either the story of how you got here or ten extra.”
The griffon bristled, then stepped inside, reaching under her wing and producing a small, worn coin-pouch. “You’re getting thirty-five, no ‘story,’ and my promise not to borrow anything. Deal?”
“…Deal,” Lapis said, cocking an eyebrow. …‘Borrow?’ Excuse me? “What’s the name?”
“Gilda,” the griffon replied, counting coins out onto the counter. “You?”
“Lapis Print,” Lapis replied. “Your room’s the second door down that hall. You’re lucky, I only just got a spare bed this evening.”
“Tell it to somegriffon who cares,” Gilda said. She finished counting out the coins, then stalked off down the hall. A few seconds later, Lapis heard the door creak open briefly before slamming shut.
…Well, that happened, Lapis thought, cocking an eyebrow down the hall. He stood up, headed over to the counter, and quickly counted the coins into the bag of bits he kept underneath. Considering her “borrow” comment, maybe I’d better put these in the basement tonight.
Although… this visit might actually be an opportunity. Right now, Lyra and Bon Bon think I was raised by griffons… Lapis stared into the bag of bits for a second, the gears turning in his head. …Maybe I could learn a thing or two about griffon culture over breakfast?
Grinning, Lapis opened the closet door and stepped inside, levitating the bag of bits in with him - then, after a moment’s hesitation, he grabbed the portrait of the mustached griffon as well. I’ll just leave it at the foot of the stairs for now.
Between the sound of the heavy wooden door thumping shut and the boom of thunder that split the air at that moment, there was a split second where Lapis would’ve been hard-pressed to hear the roar of an enraged adult dragon - let alone the frustrated, tortured groan of a griffon as she pressed her face into a stranger’s pillow, tried to forget the only friend she’d ever had, and clenched her beak shut against what she refused to think of as anything but a yell. Because she hadn’t cried since she was a cub, and that wetness pressing into her eyes from the pillow was nothing but a few more drops of rainwater.
No matter how salty it smelled.
Lapis woke up early the next morning, and instantly regretted it.
Groaning, he sat up in bed, shielding his eyes from the first faint glow of sunlight on the horizon with a raised hoof. He’d spent half the night trying to use the definitions he’d copied down to decipher something, anything useful about magic, but so far he’d only managed to connect “starswirls” to the strange gripping sensation he’d felt upon shaking hooves with Big Mac. Eventually, he’d come to the conclusion that he’d need to make a repeat visit to the Golden Oak, and had retired to bed not long after. It had taken him longer to get to sleep than he’d hoped for - for a while, all he could think of was how much his family must be missing him.
Lapis flung his blankets off himself, then stumbled out of bed and into the kitchen, shaking those thoughts out of his head. Okay. Breakfast and coffee first, make plans for library visit later.
It was a lucky thing that ponies could, apparently, eat eggs, and that the Mayor’s hiring bonus had let Lapis afford some cooking utensils on top of groceries and his old bed set. Lapis would not have been able to handle a completely vegan diet, even if his new body belonged to an obligate herbivore - being able to have scrambled eggs with spinach, mushrooms, and Swiss to go with a morning cup of coffee was a very welcome surprise, and it meant that he didn’t go hungry as he got started mixing some eggs, flour, butter, cream, baking powder, and sugar in a bowl.
Once Lapis had added salt and blueberries, and gotten the results of his mixing onto a baking sheet and into the oven, the start of his morning turned out to be his favorite kind of peace and quiet. He got to look out his broad window as he sipped his coffee, watching as the sun rose and Ponyville came to life one pedestrian at a time, trying to put together the best questions to ask his houseguest.
Lapis’ coffee had just kicked in by the time he started hearing movement from his guest bedroom. He stood, clearing his own plate and moving into the kitchen - breakfast wasn’t done baking yet, but it wouldn’t be cooking for long now, either.
“Breakfast should be ready in about five minutes,” Lapis said, as he heard the muffled clicking of talons pass by the door to the kitchen. “How do you take your eggs?”
“Whatever gets them on a plate two minutes ago,” he heard the griffon yawn through the door.
“Plain scrambled, coming right up.”
In the time it took Lapis to get a couple of eggs scrambled, seasoned, and on a plate, the other half of breakfast had finished baking. He grabbed one off the sheet for himself, then added two of the pastries onto Gilda’s plate before he stepped out of the kitchen into the front room.
Gilda had taken his chair. She was pointedly looking away from the window, glaring into an empty corner of the room and drumming her talons on the table. She pulled a double-take when Lapis got her plate in front of her, picking up one of the scones on her plate in a single clawed forepaw. “Are these why you stayed up all night?” she muttered.
Lapis shook his head. “Nah, scones only take about half an hour to make. I kept you up?”
“Maybe.” Gilda set the scone down, picked up her fork, and pointedly avoided eye contact as she started into the eggs. Lapis took the obvious cue and went behind the counter to busy himself, munching at his scone as he started organizing the few bits of paperwork he had. Gilda kept eating, and Lapis found himself struck by the sight of the griffon manipulating the fork. He would’ve expected the three-inch knives on her fingertips to get in the way, but she seemed to work around them without any difficulty. As he watched, she used a talon on her free claw like a knife, bracing it against her fork to cut an especially large piece of egg with a casual, practiced swipe-
“Hey, weirdo. You got something you wanna say about my claws?”
Lapis blinked, looking up to see that Gilda was scowling up at him, her eyes narrowed. “Oh, it’s nothing. It’s just been a while since I’ve been around someone without hooves - reminds me of home, is all.”
“Uh-huh.” Gilda stuffed a forkful of egg into her mouth. “Lotta griffons live there?”
“…Not so much, no.”
“Yeah, I can tell.” Gilda swallowed, then turned to glare at him. “You make good eggs, so here’s your tip: don’t stare at a griffon’s claws unless you’re keen on getting a closer look. Way closer.”
Lapis ducked behind the counter, rolling his eyes as he searched for a pencil. “Let me guess: as in, coming-right-toward-my-face closer?”
“You catch on quick, huh?”
Lapis found his pencil, and quickly scribbled down a note, tuning out the griffon for a second. Staring at griffons’ talons: major faux pas. Or maybe staring in general. Reasons unclear, further investigation likely unwise.
“So why’re you still in this dump?” Gilda asked.
“Sorry?” Lapis said, tucking his note away and standing up.
“Ponyville,” the griffon said. “If you miss your ‘home,’ why’re you still here?”
Lapis quickly hid his grimace. “Well, it’s a bit of a long way out.”
“Uh-huh.” Gilda took another bite of egg. “Griffonstone’s a long way out, but I’m still going, soon as this plate’s empty. What’s stopping you?”
“…Money,” Lapis replied, grabbing a stack of completed request slips from below his desk. “It’s easier to come by here, and I’ll need a bit more of it to be comfortable once I get back.”
Gilda snorted, a smirk curling her beak. “You sure you don’t know any griffons? ‘Cause that’s just-” She glanced out the window, then cut herself off and ducked down out of sight.
“What’s with you?” Lapis asked, cocking an eyebrow.
“Shut up. Somepony’s coming down the road,” Gilda hissed.
“Yeah, it’s a thoroughfare, they do that. What’s the issue?”
“It’s somepony I don’t want to talk to,” the griffon growled, glaring up at him. Lapis cocked an eyebrow, then his eyes widened as a faint, all-too-familiar sound reached his ears - the steady, springing hoofsteps of Pinkie Pie.
Lapis grabbed the mask from his saddlebags, which were hung on a peg by the door, and slipped it onto his own face, ignoring Gilda’s look of utter bewilderment. Only once he was safely masked did he look out the window, scanning for the pink nightmare.
Sure enough, there was Pinkie. She was heading down the main road at her usual bouncing pace, briefly pausing midair to wave hello to Derpy Hooves. For a few brief seconds, Lapis thought he might not have anything to worry about.
Then, directly across from his shop, Pinkie paused. She cocked her head, shutting her eyes and lifting her nose to sniff the air - then her head whipped around with uncanny speed, her too-wide eyes snapping directly onto Lapis’ front door.
Lapis lurched away from his window at once, plastering himself against the inside of the door as the sound of Pinkie’s sproinging began to grow louder. Shit. Shitshitshit!
“Hey!” a voice hissed. Lapis blinked, then looked down to see Gilda glancing between him and the window. “Is she coming this way?! Where can I hide?!”
For a second, Lapis considered telling Gilda to take it up with somepony who cared, but then he saw the panic in her glaring yellow eyes, and it was just too familiar to ignore. “Closet behind the counter,” Lapis muttered, pointing with a hoof. “She’s coming now, go-go-go!”
Gilda needed no further encouragement. She disappeared to the closet door in brown-and-white blur, whipping it open and shut with barely a thunk. Lapis was in front of the closet a second later, quickly tugging his crooked mask back into position as the sproing, sproing, sproing of Pinkie’s approach came to a stop.
“Hmmm…” Lapis heard her saying from the other side of the door. “…Blueberry scones, with a little bit too much flour, served with a side of scrambled eggs and coffee!”
For a second, nothing happened. Then, the doorknob jiggled, and Lapis took a slow, deep breath in and held perfectly still.
The doorknob turned, and Pinkie burst in a second later, raising a hoof as she sang out, “Heeere’s Pinkie!”
Perfectly… still, Lapis thought, forcing his eyelid not to twitch.
“Sorry to burst in, but it just smelled so tasty, I had to… huh? Hello-ooo?” Pinkie called out. “Anypony home?”
Pinkie took a few steps further in, glancing for a second at Gilda’s plate on the table before wandering through the open door and into the kitchen. “Ooh, tidy! …Hey, does anypony mind if I have some of these scones?”
…Really?
“Aaany-pony at all?” Pinkie asked. “…No? Okey-dokey-lokey!”
Then, there was a brief, violent burst of wet noise, something like the low, sucking squelch of a booted foot sinking into a deep puddle of thick mud. It lasted only for a fraction of a second, but caught Lapis so off-guard that it took him a moment to recognize the sound of his sink running, and the dry scratching noise of his dish-brush being put to work. A few seconds afterward, it stopped, and Pinkie Pie bounced back into view, chewing blissfully as she meandered across the room and out of Lapis’ shop, stopping only to shut the door behind her.
Lapis waited until he couldn’t hear her sproinging, then started counting. One. Two. Three-
“She gone yet?” Gilda hissed from behind the closet door, and Lapis jerked in surprise.
“…Probably,” he sighed, taking off the mask. “You alright in there?”
“Almost clipped my talon on the axe in there, but yeah, I’m cool,” Gilda replied, pushing the door open and brushing off her beak. “…You didn’t seriously hide from her with that, did you?”
“The mask? Yeah, that’s how I did it,” Lapis replied, tucking it back into his saddlebag. Note to self: get a lock for the door. Maybe even a bar.
“I don’t believe you,” Gilda said, cocking an eyebrow at him.
“If I wanted to lie to you, Gilda, I’d like to think I would pick a lie that made sense,” Lapis replied, suddenly exhausted. I need more coffee. “…Can we just sit down and eat, please?”
“Works for me,” Gilda said, resuming her seat and poking at her now-cold plate of scrambled egg. Lapis turned and headed into the kitchen, partially to figure out what Pinkie Pie had done in there, and partially because he was considering whether or not to have another scone. Both concerns, however, were resolved by the sight of the now-empty baking sheet that sat on top of Lapis’ stove.
…There were nine scones on that sheet, Lapis thought, feeling his own jaw drop. Nine.
He spared a glance at his sink, and found his mood only slightly improved by the discovery that Pinkie had also washed and dried all his dirty dishes, leaving them in neat, sparkling-clean stacks beside the sink.
Well, at least now he knew what the odd noise had been.
Lapis walked back into the front room, slightly stunned, and took the seat opposite Gilda. She cocked an eyebrow as she looked up to see him empty-hooved. “Thought you were gonna grab a bite to eat.”
“I was,” Lapis replied. “Pinkie ate all the other scones.”
Gilda paused, glancing at one of her scones, which had what looked like a small nibble taken out of it. “You made more of these?”
“Yeah, I made a dozen of them,” Lapis said, making a helpless gesture with his hoof. “She ate the other nine.”
Gilda’s other eyebrow rose, then she scowled, spearing her last bite of eggs with her fork. “Pinkie Pie,” she muttered.
“Pinkie Pie,” Lapis agreed, and for a moment they sat in silence together.
“What’d she do to you?” Lapis eventually asked.
“You first,” Gilda said, sitting back in her chair. “How come you made that mask in the first place? Doesn’t seem like something you come up with on the fly.”
“Pinkie throws a party for every new pony in town,” Lapis said. Gilda’s face darkened at the words, and suddenly Lapis got the niggling feeling that he’d forgotten something, but he pressed on. “I’m not really a party …pony, so I managed not to let her figure out where I live. If that changed… well, to start with, I’d end up spending the day afterward sweeping up streamers and ribbons, and then there’d still be confetti in every nook and cranny for years. Not to mention I’d probably have to deal with her way more frequently, since I bake sometimes and she’s definitely a pastry fan.
“The mask started out as a joke for myself. Well, a reference, but yeah, I wasn’t really expecting it to work. Then it did, and that broke my brain a little, until I just decided to not think about it too hard.” Lapis snorted. “Honestly, half the ponies in town seem to have that attitude about her. ‘Pinkie Pie’ is its own explanation. But that’s enough about me, what’s your story?”
“If I tell you, you’ll owe me five bits back,” Gilda said, staring at him levelly.
Lapis blinked, confused, until he remembered the terms he’d laid out the night before. “Oh yeah, I’d forgotten about that. …Alright, look, I’d thought you were a fugitive or something, but it looks like it’s not the law you’re running from. So, if you don’t want to talk about it, I’m not going to buy it out of you-”
“Hey, I don’t run from anything,” Gilda snapped.
Lapis raised his hooves in surrender. “Okay, that’s fair.”
There were a few seconds of tense silence, then Gilda spoke again. “…You’d have taken in a fugitive?”
“You were acting like a jerk, not a crook,” Lapis said. “There was no real reason for me to think you were up to anything wrong, and I probably could’ve argued that in court. Besides, money is money.”
Gilda snorted again, and that same smirk returned to her face. “…Alright, I gotta ask. Did you, or did you not, grow up in Griffonstone? Because you think more like a griffon than anypony I’ve ever met.”
“No, I didn’t,” Lapis replied. “Though, for some reason, most of the ponies I know think I did. Why, would I like it there?”
“Oh, you’d hate it,” Gilda replied, picking up a scone with one forepaw and leaning back in her chair. “Nogriffon does anything unless there’s bits in it for them, everygriffon’s more concerned about paying off their bills than about staying out of each other’s way, and the fewer questions you ask a griffon who’s trying to do stuff fast, the less likely you are to find out how sharp their talons are.”
“And you’re heading there?” Lapis muttered. “Doesn’t sound like a great vacation spot.”
“Nah, it’s cool sometimes,” Gilda replied, staring off into space. “Everygriffon gets that everygriffon else has stuff going on, so everyone’s chill with each other. You can walk into a bar and ask for the nastiest stuff they got, and as long as you got the bits, you’ll get it, no questions asked.” She chuckled. “Tartarus, most of the time, the griffon next to you’ll offer to share a toast, and you can drink together all night long without saying a word.”
Lapis nodded, trying not to show his astonishment. Okay, recreational drinking is a thing here. Somehow. Good to know.
“It’s cool,” Gilda repeated, and the smile on her beak mostly reached her eyes.
Lapis nodded again. “Yeah, sure. I could see that.”
Another silence fell, this one purely uncomfortable instead of tense. Gilda opened her beak, either to talk or to take a bite of her scone -
A knock echoed through the building, and both of them started in their seats. “Hey! Lapis, you home?”
Lapis recognized Bon Bon’s voice, and stood to get the door. “Sorry, I gotta get this real quick-” He looked back just in time to catch the tuft of Gilda’s lion-like tail disappearing into the hallway. Huh. Guess she doesn’t really want to talk to most ponies in this town, then?
When Lapis opened the door, it was to find Bon Bon standing alone on the other side - and behind her…
“Uh,” Lapis began.
“Is it too much?” Bon Bon asked, her ears half-folded back. “Because I tried to tell Lyra, but there’s only so much I can say.”
“No, no, it’s exactly what I need,” Lapis said, doing his best not to gape at the small cartful of decorations, small blankets, and assorted bric-a-brac that Bon Bon had pulled up to his house. “It’s just- it’s a lot, is all… Alright, look, there’s no way you’re getting all this from a spring cleaning, okay? Could you please just tell me what’s really going on? Whatever it is, I promise I won’t be mad.”
Bon Bon winced. “Yeah, I told her it was too much.” She sighed, then leaned in, speaking in a low, clear tone. “Alright, listen. I don’t know if you remember it or not, but just after Princess Celestia left, you admitted that the reason you didn’t have any boxes to unpack was because… well, because you didn’t have anything when you moved here.”
“I what?!” Lapis yelped. “That’s not, um, uh… yeah, that’s actually the reason.” Lapis sighed, facehoofing. Shit. “I must have really been tired, huh?”
“You were. I’m honestly impressed that you didn’t pass out in front of the Princess,” Bon Bon said. “But anyway. Somehow, Lyra got it into her head that the reason you didn’t want to have Pinkie over for a party was because you were embarrassed about how empty your house was. So now… well, she’s trying to fill it up.”
“Oh. Great. I guess I’ll need to talk to her, then.”
“Yes, you do,” Bon Bon replied, pulling her head back and speaking in a normal tone. “And make it a priority if you can - everything before now really did come from a spring cleaning, except the rug, but this wagonful was bought with the bits from all Lyra’s performances last week. She was going to buy the two of us a spa trip, but we talked it over and I had to agree - if it’s the way Lyra thinks it is, you’re more important.”
“It’s not, trust me.” Lapis said, waving a hoof. “And I'll pay you back, I've got the bits to spare. I just don’t want to deal with Pinkie. Especially not after she broke in this morning, and ate nine of the dozen scones I made for breakfast.”
Bon Bon cocked an eyebrow. “Huh. I didn’t think you cooked. But yes, she does that. I’d check your pantry if I were you - she probably paid you back by doing a little more than just your dishes.”
“-Wait, how’d you know she did my dishes?”
“Because she’s done the same thing to me, too,” Bon Bon sighed, unstrapping herself from the cart. “Word of advice - eat quickly, and don’t leave pies or anything else to cool by an open window. Otherwise, you may as well hang a sign.”
“Good to know,” Lapis said. “And, uh… you’re not going to leave that stuff here, are you?”
“Oh, yes I am,” Bon Bon replied, smirking as she walked around to the back of the cart. “Lyra’s got the wrong reasons, but I think she has the right idea: your house is too empty. It’s not you yet, it’s not your home, it’s just a house that you live in.” She pushed the cart through the door and into Lapis’ front room, dusted off her hooves, then turned to face him again. “When I moved into Ponyville, I didn’t realize how barren my home had felt until after I put some pictures on the walls. I know it sounds silly, but the difference was like night and day - both for my house, and my mood.” Turning, she pointed to the cart with one hoof. “So. Start with these. Then, take some time to buy something for yourself, and to put it in a spot where you can see it. I promise, it’ll make you a happier pony. That’s my advice, whether you follow it or not is up to you.”
Lapis chuckled, rolling his eyes. “Alright, I’ll look into it. Thanks, Bon Bon.”
“Don’t mention it,” Bon Bon said, turning to leave. “Be careful out there.”
“Will do, you too!” Lapis called, as she turned and headed out the door.
As soon as Lapis shut the door, Gilda poked her head back around the corner. “You get a lot of visitors?”
“Not usually, no,” Lapis said, opening the door again to grab some notices off the board. “There might be a few ponies who show up to tack up some job requests, but beyond that, Bon Bon and her friend Lyra are the only two ponies I know.”
“Uh-huh.” Gilda nodded, then sat back down to eat. She picked up one of the scones, gave it a hesitant glance, then took a tentative bite. “…Hey, that’s not bad!”
“I do what I can,” Lapis replied, absently looking over the requests. Gutter on Mane, chimney on Cantering, and a bunch of shingles on 69th. A small grin spread across Lapis’ face. …Nice.
“You’re seriously cool with that, aren’t you?”
Lapis blinked. “Huh?”
“Those two ponies, just… giving you free stuff,” Gilda said, gesturing to the pile of ornaments outside his door. “You’re not angry that they think you’re having a hard time, or anything?”
“Of course not,” Lapis said, frowning. “It’s free stuff, why would I be? It’d be like… I don’t know, like getting annoyed for getting presents on your birthday.”
“Presents are different, stupid,” Gilda said, huffing and sitting back in her seat, then taking another bite of her scone. “When ‘oo get somefin’ as a presen’, id’s cause you’re the big ‘fing that day anyway.” She swallowed, then continued. “But you don’t just give anygriffon free stuff for no reason. Not unless they’re cubs on their own, or their joints are so creaky they can’t work. If you’re a griffon getting free stuff, it’s other griffons saying you can’t take care of yourself.”
“…That’s really not what they have in mind,” Lapis said, shaking his head.
Gilda shrugged, taking another bite. “Well, id’s wha’ they’re sayin’ anyway.” She swallowed, smirking over at him. “Did you just not realize that before now, or what?”
“No, I knew,” Lapis said, looking over his order slips again, then picking an assortment of tools from the closet and levitating them over to his saddlebags. Looks like… two total rooftops need fixed on funny-number street, both resulting from pegasus crashes. Was there a bad gust of wind over there or something? “I’m just more grateful for the help than I’m resentful for needing it. It lets me know they care about me, and that’s not the worst thing to know.”
Gilda hesitated, her half-eaten scone halfway to her mouth. “…Uh-huh.” She scowled, then took another bite of her scone, glaring out the window as she chewed.
Lapis watched, and as he did, he got that niggling feeling in his stomach again. There’s something I’m forgetting. What is it, what is it… one of these requests, maybe? He looked them over again, trying to figure out whether there was some tool he was missing.
“…I mean, I guess it’s pretty weird. Ponies are a pretty friendly bunch, on average,” Lapis said as he started digging through the closet. “It’s not hard to get them to care about you - I mean, look at me, I only got on Bon Bon’s good side accidentally. All I did was cause her some trouble, apologize, and do what I could to fix it, then she started up some small talk, and then here she is a week and a half later, bringing me furniture and life advice for no reason other than being friendly.”
“You think it’s easy for them to stop caring about you, too?” Gilda muttered.
Lapis shook his head. “It’s weird, but somehow, I doubt it.”
“Uh-huh.” Gilda sighed, swallowed the last of her scone, then picked up the other in her free forepaw and stood. “Well, I’m outta here. Gotta get in the air while the thermals are still rising.”
“Good luck,” Lapis said, as he realized what he’d been missing in his saddlebags. Spare nails for the shingles - duh.
Gilda made it right to the front of the door, then paused. “…Hey, listen. It’s only because you made some lucky choices, but as far as griffon nest-n’-breakfasts go, this place wasn’t terrible.”
Lapis cocked his head. “Sorry, did you say nest-n’-breakfast?”
“Yeah,” Gilda said, shrugging. “What, do you call it a stable-n’-hay when you’re mostly serving ponies?”
Lapis’ face must’ve been answer enough, because Gilda rolled her eyes and smirked. “Whatever. Look, what I’m saying is, if you want to make some bits on the side giving griffons a place to stay the night, you could. Just put some trim around your door like an arch with three points on top, and if a griffon drops by, they’ll get the idea.”
“Huh. Is that like the griffon version of a vacancy sign or something?”
“Nah, it’s just something we do for our doors. It looks cool. Maroon or dark blue are your choices,” Gilda replied, pulling his door open. “Oh, and make those scones whenever you’ve got a griffon over. Scones are kind of an us thing, too.”
“If I find a reliable way to keep Pinkie away, I will,” Lapis replied.
The smirk dropped off Gilda’s face. “Yeah. Her. I’m outta here.” She crouched low to the ground like a cat, raising her wings above her head - then brought them down, and disappeared into the sky at blurring speed, turning into a speck on the horizon after only a few moments.
As Gilda flew off, turning toward Griffonstone, she’d rather not have had a lot on her mind. Munching on the other scone helped - griffon scones were better, but pony scones weren’t awful, not by a long way. Still, there was one pony she couldn’t put out of her head, and it wasn’t the colt she’d just told about the cool parts of griffon culture.
The reason she’d taken off so fast, high, and early was Rainbow Dash. Dealing with her right now wasn’t going to be good - right now, all she wanted to do was get back to Griffonstone, but that didn’t stop her from scanning the skies below her for her old pal.
She was over top of the town pond, doing her whole weather-director thing with the whistle and the yelling. When she gestured, she was moving her hooves pretty fast, but from up here Gilda couldn’t tell whether she was trying to hide being bummed out, or just being bossy. If she got close enough to see whether Dash had tucked back her ears or not, she’d know - ponies’ ears were almost built-in lie detectors, and Dash was no exception.
Gilda groaned, rolling her eyes and stuffing her beak with more scone. Yeah, I’m not getting anywhere near her right now. Couldn’t pay me to.
The pigeon-colt’s words seemed to echo in her head for a second. “All I did was cause some trouble for her, apologize, and do what I could to fix it… It’s weird, but somehow, I doubt it.”
“Yeah, well, trouble isn’t how we started,” Gilda muttered, glaring down at the last few bites of the scone. “It’s how we ended.”
Regardless, the words lingered as heavily as Gilda's scowl as she turned her gaze forward and set off for Griffonstone.
Lapis emerged from the closet a few seconds later. Instead of any of his tools, the object he held in front of him in a magical grip was the portrait of the mustached griffon - though, he did grab a hammer and nail out of his saddlebag as he passed it by.
This, Lapis thought to himself as he started hammering the nail into his living room wall, isn’t admitting defeat, no more than the rug is. I’m not giving up, not by a long way. But the fact of the matter is, getting home isn’t going to be a weekend project. It’ll take a while. And during that time…
Lapis finished, then carefully gripped the portrait with his magic. During that time, it’ll do me good to have a… a symbol. A reminder, that there are people who care about me. Not just back on Earth, but here, too. Something to help me know that I’m not alone.
He chuckled as he hung the painting, stepping back to admire his work. And besides, it’ll make this house feel a little more comfortable, too. A little home-away-from-home.
Lapis straightened the painting, then cocked an eyebrow at the portrait’s smug-looking smirk. “You shut your beak,” he said.
A coo came from the corner of the room, and Lapis looked over to see Nikki giving him a questioning look. “Sorry, not you. About to head out again, if you wanna come with.”
Nikki yawned, stretched, then lazily glided down to land on Lapis’ head as he slung the saddlebags over his shoulder and levitated a ladder over to his side. He made his way outside, running through his mental to-do list. Let’s see… The gutter will probably be the easy one, so I’ll save that for last. Chimney and rooftops are things I’d better get out of the way now, before it gets too hot to be safe up on roofs. That leaves the middle of the day hopefully open to plan my next entry into the Golden Oak… and to buy some cheap lumber and dark blue paint.
Lapis propped the ladder up against the first house of the day, clambered onto the rooftop, and quickly scanned the skies for Rainbow Dash. Luckily, she was far off in the distance, over the small lake outside the village. It looked like the other pegasi were busy wrangling the weather, and she was directing them, blowing a whistle and barking orders, her ears tucked back flat against her head in what Lapis guessed was annoyance. Yeah, she’s busy. I’m in the clear.
He got to work on the shingles, but that niggling feeling hit him again, and he took another second to look at Rainbow Dash. First Gilda, and now her… what’s bugging me?
An image shot thought his mind like lightning: Rainbow and Gilda, sitting on a cloud together, Pinkie flying up toward them in what looked like a pedal-powered helicopter made out of candy. Lapis froze, his eyes snapping wide open as he remembered who Gilda was - and, more importantly, who her former best friend had been. Shit. Did I change things? Shit, shit, shitshitshit-
Nikki shifted atop Lapis’ head, and Lapis wasn’t able to react before she gave one of his ears a light, firm slap with her wing.
“Alright, alright,” he muttered, rubbing his stinging ear. “I’m back. Thanks.” Gilda’s already gone, anyway - it’s not like there’s anything I can do.
Lapis sighed, then grabbed the shards of a shingle, merging them together with a flash of light and a burst of warmth on his flank. Besides, if I messed up, I’ll deal with the consequences when I see them. For now, I’d better focus on what I can see coming.
He nodded, put the first loose shingle back into place, and set to work.