//------------------------------// // Chapter 3 // Story: Notes Between a Married Couple // by AFanaticRabbit //------------------------------// Dozens of ponies stood outside of the great, domed capped building, despite the rushing hoof traffic of the chilly morning. Yellow tape and uniformed ponies kept them out, obscuring but not entirely hiding what was inside. Paintings were set aside against one wall, sheets were laid out over the floor, and a large mural of a certain princess covered the far wall. Some of the police officers wandered around, careful not to step on the sheets or any of the laid out art. One wandered around, photographing the scene from various angles, while putting particular focus on a single glass case. “I’m sorry you have to see things in this state, Princess,” said a pony in a plaid shirt, walking from one of the corridors. “It happened last night, and we’re taking stock of what is missing. It seems to just be the coronet but we’d like to be sure.” Twilight, walking beside him, nodded. “It’s not your fault, I’m sure of that.” She watched the ponies work, unicorns casting spells to find residues and marks, earth ponies and pegasi moving equipment and evidence markers into place for the photographer. “I suppose, but I can’t help but feel responsible. It was all in my care, after all.” Their hoofsteps echoed through the room as they walked, then muffled as they stepped onto the sheets. The fabric shuffled with them, bunching up behind the pair. While it revealed the dark, marbled tiling beneath, here and there were straight streaks of white paint. Twilight made a mental note, but kept her attention on the curator. “Any idea why they took the coronet specifically?” she asked. He snorted. “I’m not sure I’m anywhere near qualified to guess, but if I absolutely have to I’d pin it on somecreature not from Equestria. Everypony who would buy it knows what it is and wouldn’t dare touch it.” They approached the glass case, then stopped. Inside was a cut circle of glass, matching the size and shape of the hole in the side closest to Twilight. “What strikes me as weird,” continued the curator, “was that whoever did it left the other jewellery and smaller art alone. There’s plenty here you could fit into a pocket or saddlebag and no one would think twice about it. A big, silver headband is a little harder to hide.” There was a commotion from the door, the crowd getting louder, and Twilight turned toward it. Even more shouts echoed in the room, both from ponies calling out Twilight’s name, and officers yelling at them to step back from the crime scene. It had distracted the other ponies working inside too, including the photographer who set his camera aside. “I’m sorry,” said Twilight with a little laugh. “I think I’m stepping on your hooves here.” “It’s not your fault, I don’t think. I got word that some of them think it’s some sort of publicity stunt you and the council are putting on.” Twilight tilted her head. “Why would that be?” With a laugh, the curator gestured to the mural. “That,” he said. “It wasn’t there when I closed last night.” Twilight looked over at the mural, taking in its details. It was oddly lifelike, despite its sheer, immense scale. The more she looked the more the details stood out, like painted strands of fur, the odd hair out of place in her mane, and the shine in her eyes. Twilight had the grace to look embarrassed, then laughed again as she stepped behind the curator and the photographer. With a subtle kick and a curled wing, the camera found its way tucked against her side. “I’ll get out of your way. I know how folks can be when they get an idea in their head and me hanging around here doesn’t seem to be helping.” “Thank you, Princess. Both for that and taking this in good stride. I know we’ll find the coronet before long.” The curator nodded to her, then with a sigh marched to the door to help yell at the crowd. Later that night, when the door was locked shut, Twilight broke into the gallery. It wasn’t really breaking in. Officially the building belonged to the local municipal government, and by extension it belonged to parliament, and to her. It was a few steps removed, but she had the authority to come and go as she pleased. Never mind the fact she cast a spell to allow her to simply slip through one of the windows around the base of the dome. And that she had made sure to find a way to shut off the alarms. And made sure none of the guards posted outside saw her. She hovered in place as she let her eyes adjust to the lack of moonlight, barely making out more than the shape of the room. She didn’t want to be spotted just yet, so she held back on casting her hornlight spell. She’d taken note of the details earlier on. Case in the middle, art to one side, and sheets all across the floor behind the case. Twilight let herself fall, beating her wings to slow her descent and settle calmly onto the sheets. She stepped back, bumping up against the wall. Setting the camera down, she gave a flick of her horn and a quick sparkle of magic to throw the sheets back and bunch them up in the centre of the room. The paint was very much still there. Long, white streaks of it, criss-crossed in skinny, perpendicular lines and a few curves. At first, it seemed like a random mess, as though the culprit just wanted to splash pant everywhere on the floor. To Twilight, however, that just didn’t seem right. The mural was so incredibly detailed, after all, yet not a drop of purple or pink had found its way streaked over the floor like that. Yet as she paced around the streaks, it very much seemed like a random mess. There wasn’t much of a pattern to it, other than the fact most of the lines seemed to be straight. As she passed by the glass case, however, everything about the lines came into focus. The lines were skinnier at the far end, close together, while where she stood they were broad and thick, more spaced out. It was as if they were closing into some vanishing point opposite her. She didn’t remember seeing anything from that side of the room a few minutes ago, but maybe from another perspective… Twilight looked up at the far wall, meeting the gaze of the unlit mural. She took off, casting a small light spell as she flew, then scrambled across the wall until she found the enlarged eyes. She considered for a moment if she should be in front of one eye or the other, then decided to split the difference and hover between them. She turned up the luminosity of her spell, then faced the splashes across the floor. What she saw was text. It was large, not enough to carry a particular long message, but it was enough. It was complete. Twilight dipped down to grab the camera, then took a snapshot of the scene from that unique vantage point. With a little extra boost of light from both her horn and the camera’s flash, she figured the polaroid that printed out should hold up. Hello the love of my life. This will be short. I only have so much paint and so much space. It’s a little rude to call your wife predictable. I’ll show you predictable. So I stole the coronet you made for me! Take that. Yours, you-know-who.