Though ‘hot-air balloon’ described accurately the vessel upon which Celestia and Luna sat, it failed to underline the perplexing nature of its flight. No burner of fuel enabled the envelope, and even to their trained eyes no magical source of power was apparent.
‘It’s positively sinister!’ Celestia said for the third time. ‘Luna, we can’t stay here forever! I won’t do it! Anything?’
For Luna, using her magic, had conjured a coil of rope, tied it around her waist and flown below the cloudline, hoping to glimpse more than sea or sky. ‘Not a bird,’ she said, securing the rope so that it mostly dangled over the edge of the basket. ‘Scarcely a wave, Sister. Nice down there, though. It’s like going for a walk – except flying.’
‘Here,’ said Celestia, tossing Luna a slice of bread. ‘Jam?’
‘Please.’
‘What’s for dinner?’
‘What would you like?’
‘Sunday roast, please, with turnip mash too. And make sure the potatoes are cooked properly!’
‘Can’t do it. How am I supposed to know whether somepony’s made a roast? I need to visualise!’
‘Fine, fine.’ Celestia sighed and rubbed her eyes as Luna bit into her jeely piece. Luna watched, chewing.
‘Whah?’ she said, mouth full.
‘What? What do you mean “what”?’
Luna shrugged and swallowed. ‘What?’
‘I’m tired! I don’t know where we are, what’s going on!’
‘So? Neither do I.’ Luna grinned in spite of herself. ‘Step one, Sister; acceptan—’
‘To blazes with your steps, girl! What do we do next?’
Luna shrugged again. ‘Eat some brioche for dessert?’
‘No! No, no, no! I mean about this. OK, Luna, OK!’ Celestia said angrily. ‘You’ve made it perfectly clear you aren’t serious about helping. I understand. Forgive me if I don’t join in!’
‘Sorry, Sister. Hah, it’s just funny watching you get mad. Sorry. OK. What do we do next?’
‘Well, that’s my point! What? I don’t know!’
‘And you’d like me to –’ Luna paused. ‘Suggest?’
‘Yes, suggest, suggest! What’s our next move? What was our last move? Oh, I’m sick of this! OK. We know we’re nowhere. Or somewhere nowhere near anywhere – yes. So, what about our magical options? You can conjure food. Good. Great. What about parchment? A quill? Can we send a letter? I could, with my magic. To Twilight. Then she’ll find a way to –’
‘Nice thinking!’ Luna said, smiling at Celestia. ‘See, Sister? You’re already learning to accept! You’ve accepted that you don’t need to reach wit’s end to form a plan!’
Celestia sighed and closed her eyes. ‘Yes, yes. Acceptance. Whatever. Well, Luna? Could you?’
‘Quill and parchment? Coming up!’
Her spell succeeded, and the items fell into Celestia’s lap. Celestia beamed. ‘Where I’d be without you – OK. Oh, and ink, of course,’ she added. Another pop. ‘Good, excellent. OK. Now the question is – what do we say?’
‘We’re stuck in a balloon in the sky somewhere. What else can we say?’
‘Yes, I was hoping for something rather more eloquent. How about “My dear student Twi—”’
‘Student? You still call her that?’
‘Force of habit, Luna. “Dearest Twilight”, then. “Luna and I are –”’
‘“Dearest”,’ snorted Luna. ‘You know Twilight. What is this, an epistle?’
‘It doesn’t hurt to be formal. It’s polite.’
‘Actually, I think it’s impolite. I think politeness used to be polite, but what passes for “politeness” these days is not.’
‘What are you talking about, Luna?’
‘That’s the thing, see. “Politeness” is “Oh, I’m ever so sorry, Princess Luna, but I’m afraid we haven’t any in stock.” And it comes with that fake smile, and sometimes you get that horribly strained forced laughter. Time was ponies meant it when they told me that. “Politeness” was politeness because it was sincere. Now it’s a ritual ponies follow because they’re afraid they’ll be attacked if they don’t.’
‘What were you buying?’
‘Bunny slippers, but that’s not the point. And I’m just using retail as an example. How about in the street? You see a pony stroll up; face is relaxed and serious-looking; then as soon as they spot you, the greetings and the nods and the fake laugh appear. Honestly? Rudeness is politeness nowadays. Well, not “rudeness”, but, like – you know! Sincerity! If you’re angry, you’re angry – you yell. If you’re sad, you don’t put on a smile. See what I’m getting at?’
Celestia realised she very rarely heard Luna complain about anything. Perhaps the idleness was getting to her. ‘Luna, I am sincere! “Dearest” is how I begin my letters! I always have!’
‘I know,’ said Luna, and she smiled again. Celestia found this oddly disheartening. So often her problems were the topic of their discussion. Luna’s remained largely unspoken. Now grew an uncomfortable silence, one in which Celestia saw her own deficiencies as a sister. ‘Anyway,’ said Luna quickly, as though her frustration were trivial. ‘Where were we?’
‘“Luna and I are”,’ Celestia said quietly.
‘Yeah. OK, what are we? How about “missing”?’
Celestia sighed and smiled. ‘Why not? You’re right. What more can we say? “Missing”. OK.’
‘And just throw in something about the sea and the sky. And the clouds. And that we woke up in the basket. Oh, and that we have our T-Kams. Oh! And that she can contact us via T-Kam because we have signal! Anything else?’
Celestia grinned. Luna blinked at her. It was her turn to ask. ‘What?’ Celestia did not reply, only grinned more widely. ‘What?’ repeated Luna, starting to grin too. Celestia pointed, and Luna turned. ‘Wha—? Oh!’
The red envelope of a hot-air balloon had penetrated the cloudline. The sisters watched in silence as its skirt came into view – and then the basket.
In it, her eyes wide and her mouth open, stood Princess Cadence – and, blinking, five others.