Anon glared at the bath, trying to make it vanish.
Or more accurately, to make herself vanish.
Still doesn't work.
The jumper stood there, reality withstanding yet another attempt at beating it down.
They had just arrived back at the house. Bon Bon had drawn a bath for her, and even put in some bubbly soap. All that was missing was a little yellow rubber ducky, and then it would be perfect.
A hot bath.
It was something she'd long wished for, after so many cold nights spent crawling through thickets and mud, sand and ash.
Her ears swiveled towards noise from downstairs. Voices. Sunny was in the process of teasing the two mares out of existence.
I should go down and help them.
The thought came, but Anon couldn't say from where, exactly. It had placed itself into the forefront of her mind and solidified.
Help them. She had attempted to help this whole world. Why? So unsafe, so easy to die. A slight misstep was all it would take. Better had died from less.
But Anon knew why she chose to fight the Nightmare: for once, she wanted to change something. Leave an impact. Some evidence that she ever was. A world flourishing where there should be a frozen wasteland or a burnt out husk. People living where they should be dead. Even if nobody but her would ever know.
And after, she would move on. Never looking back, not expecting any thanks or gratitude, because there wouldn't be any. The knowledge would be enough for her.
So she thought.
I can't afford to care.
Can I?
Anon stepped into the bath, scrubbing the filth off. It would be much faster to simply phase and leave the rotting plant matter behind, but baths were a luxury she intended to enjoy for as long as possible.
There was no hurry to get rid of the grime clinging to her fur. Filth like that was just plants turning to soil. Anon had crawled through things much more foul. But soil and mud, or things becoming soil, didn't disgust her anymore. How could they?
Once one clings to soil for their life, gives themselves to earth as their blood boils with fright and animalistic terror, death and shrapnel flying past, it stops being dirt and becomes a familiar friend. A shelter. This was just some plants becoming soil. Nothing to be ashamed of or be disgusted by.
But being clean was truly something else. It meant being more than an animal, struggling to survive. A bath was a victory over an uncaring and cold universe. How could one take a bath for granted? Being clean for granted? Encircled by a world that didn't care if one lived or died, it was nothing short of a miracle.
Some noises came from downstairs, interrupting Anon's musings. Groaning followed by silvery laughter. She started scrubbing quicker.
That was weird. She didn't want to hurry, but it felt wrong not to. Yet, she was aware that nobody was in any danger. Lyra and Bon Bon would still be there even if she took a little longer, submerged in the warm water. But it didn't feel right to take her sweet time.
So she got up from the bath, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around her head, and rushed downstairs.
I shouldn't keep Celestia waiting anyways.
Celestia sipped on her tea and closed her eyes as she enjoyed the pleasant taste - earthly and vaguely sweet. She had always loved chamomile, and Sweetie Drops never failed to prepare a good cup for her.
Anon was sitting in front of her. The green filly had an utterly unimpressed look settled on her face, seemingly uncaring and unreactive to the stranger inviting herself to their home. She had a wet towel still tightly wrapped around her head, and her fur clean was and without blemish, if still slightly damp.
The newly engaged pair had left to start working on the questionnaire (after Bon Bon brought in a wheelbarrow to move it first, that is), leaving them alone for some time.
The jumper was putting on a facade of calm, but Celestia could clearly see little cracks in the mask. Curiosity or anxiousness hidden behind an air of apathy. Good. A false air of apathy was leagues better than real apathy. Fear could be defeated by will, anxiousness calmed with patience, but apathy was a tough beast to kill.
Celestia cleared her throat and ruffled the papers she had in hoof. It was important to ruffle the papers and have her quill ready to write, even when nothing of note was happening. It gave others the right impression. A part of the role she assumed.
"Can I ask you a few questions, Anon?" she said carefully, testing the metaphorical waters and measuring the jumper's reactions. "You don't need to answer straight away if you feel uncomfortable, but-"
"Celestia, what the fuck are you doing?" interrupted Anon, while punching herself in the muzzle - an attempt at face-hoofing Celestia guessed, and she winced, seeing the filly in pain. And, more by instinct than anything else, a ghostly wisp of gold reached the bruise.
To her credit, Celestia made a truly commendable attempt at salvaging her cover - ignoring the quick use of healing magic on Anon - by keeping a straight face through the accusation, while internally cursing herself for not thinking to bring her own Sun Orb with her - it was basically perfect for situations like this.
No matter, she would just have to make do without it. She hadn't survived hours upon hours of pointless blabbering from the nobility without developing at least a passable poker face - Luna's opinion to the contrary notwithstanding.
"Who? The princess?" she asked, putting down the clipboard and giving the most innocent look she could manage.
Anon rubbed her temples, feeling a big headache coming already, and a weird warmth coming from her bruised muzzle.
A strangely familiar, tingly kind of warmth - but her Sun Orb was inactive.
Which means…
"God, your acting might be even worse than mine," Anon said, with genuine surprise in her voice. "I have to applaud you on that. I didn't even think that was possible, honestly."
The alicorn in disguise cocked her head, putting her hundreds of years of experience at court intrigue to work with a sure answer that would definitely destroy any suspicion placed on her.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
Anon gave a very deep sigh, still rubbing the sore spot on her muzzle, fighting not to attempt face palming again.
"You called me Anon."
Celestia shuffled in place, coughing awkwardly while pretending to write something down - forgetting to dip the quill in ink.
"I simply misspoke," she attempted, feeling desperate and silly for making such an easy mistake in the first place. "I've read your file. Nurse Redheart said that's how you introduced yourself. I apologize for the confusion."
"Right, that sounds plausible enough," Anon nodded. "But then there is your chamomile tea."
Celestia cocked her head, clearly confused.
"Chamomile tea?" She looked at the cup, as if it was accusing her of some terrible crime, steam rising steadily from the hot liquid. "Lots of ponies like chamomile. It's good for the nerves."
Anon took a greedy gulp of her cocoa, the foam on the surface giving the filly a mustache.
Celestia frowned. Anon was enjoying her misery maybe a little too much. Payback for teasing the pair? Well, that was fair enough. But she'd only done that to help Lyra relax around her - better to be a little embarrassed than afraid, at least in her book.
"I guess so. Chamomile tea seems surprisingly popular around here," Anon smirked, green eyes sparkling for a brief moment. "But not everybody drinks it while it's still boiling hot."
Celestia froze, taking a careful sip of the steaming tea, the fire immune alicorn only now realizing that it was still very much hot.
"...So, you have some strange vocabulary." Celestia said with as much a straight face she could manage. "Tell me, what is this god you speak of?"
"Please stop pretending," Anon said. "Just a minute ago I saw your forehead glow. I'm pretty sure pegasi can't do that."
Celestia was beginning to sweat, a notable feat coming from the alicorn in charge of the sun. The green filly pointed down, bringing attention to her forelegs.
"Also, you left your gold horseshoes on."
Oh no, not again!
Wide eyed, Celestia shot a panicked look at her hooves, only to find them absolutely normal, absent any gilded hoof protection.
But the fact that she looked in the first place was evidence enough.
"Uh-huh."
Celestia paused for a few seconds, while the filly kept grinning smugly at her. The disguised alicorn sunk into her seat, until something stirred her back up.
"Wait," she said slowly, the corners of her eyes crinkling, the tone of voice serious. "Did you punch yourself just to see if I would heal you?"
"Nope." Anon waggled her hoof. "But hey, at least I got a laugh out of it."
That was reassuring to Celestia. If it was an unlucky incident turned into a trick, that was one thing. But to be so eager to cause herself pain just to prove a point would be very worrying.
Anon suddenly asked, "Does she know?"
Celestia cocked her head. The filly stared at the mug of cocoa, now half empty, muzzle scrunched. There was a hidden edge in those green eyes.
"Bon Bon calls you mom," Anon said slowly. "Does she know?"
At this Celestia laughed, tension suddenly released. Anon flinched at the sudden movement, but Celestia couldn't control it.
"Of course she knows," Celestia stated after she gained some control of herself. "Found out pretty quickly too. It's funny. Foals have a penchant for figuring it out."
Sweetie Drops was far from the first. Faithful students, baby dragons, or any other foals that had found their way into her care. It was as if her disguise would simply dissolve under their gaze. The record-holder was Cadence. Ten minutes was all it took until the newly-ascended alicorn figured out who she was.
What a day that was.
"I think it's because foals don't know what impossible means yet. Or how things work, or at least not how everypony thinks they work," Celestia said, getting lost in the memories. "Foals see a world for what it can be. Not how everypony thinks it is.”
Anon sat, barely moving. A strong sense of déjà vu was attacking her senses. She'd had this conversation before. Although in a different context, it was practically the same.
"A noble for example," began Celestia, "looks at me and sees only what they already expect to be there, and nothing else. Foals, though… foals are far smarter than that."
Anon chuckled - it was lacking mirth, but still a good sign to Celestia. The jumper definitely seemed in a better place than the last time she had seen her, even her smile almost looked genuine. She seemed cautious too, her eyes focused on Celestia entirely, instead of darting around the room for possible escape routes or weapons.
"Well, then I'm the first adult to get it." Anon said, hoof tapping on the table in thought. "I mean, Sunny? Really? Nobody else figured it out?"
Celestia shook her head, a cheeky smile sneaking its way onto her lips.
"No. No adult yet," she said.
She was hoping to settle the score, after Anon tricked her with the horseshoe bluff, with some light teasing.
But Anon did not react, as she'd hoped, by playfully shooting right back. The jumper frowned instead, snorting angrily.
"I'm not a kid, Celestia," Anon huffed, crossing her hooves over her chest.
"Hmm, you sure?" Celestia retorted. "Could have fooled me..."
There was a beat of silence, with the jumper avoiding eye contact, staring at her cocoa. Celestia sighed, and jotted something down on her clipboard before putting the quill back down.
"Why?" she asked more gently. "Why didn't you mention your memory issues?"
Anon recoiled, her front hoof flickering for a second, accidentally going through the table.
The jumper froze then, breathing heavily.
There was only one person Celestia could have learned this from. Luna ran her mouth and spilled the beans. That complicated things. Anon had hoped that Luna would forget much about her time as Nightmare Moon, but that was obviously not the case. She remembered enough to make Celestia worry, at least.
She wasn't an amnesiac. Anon reminded herself that her memory was fine. She remembered her favorite movies and books. She remembered early mornings in the mountains and hot summers in a small apartment without air conditioning. She remembered being in the scouts, camping in the forest, and doing terribly stupid things out of boredom with her friends.
It was only herself that was missing.
"I didn't mention it, because it was irrelevant," she said, her gaze shifting from side to side. "You should tell Luna to keep her nose out of other people's business and her magic out of my goddamn mind!"
Anon took in sharp, shallow breaths, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she desperately tried to keep calm, only now realizing that she had screamed out the last part.
The disguised alicorn reached for her, the pinkish wing extending to offer some small sense of security, but Anon pushed it aside.
"Don't," she snarled.
Celestia retreated, her face unreadable. But the green filly chastised herself. This was bad. She was getting irrational - her anger at Luna, her anger in general, was making her act too rashly. Celestia was the only ally she had. She couldn't afford to lose her good favor. Holding a grudge - even if justified - would only make her position worse.
Don't run your mouth, keep to yourself and stay alive.
"I apologize," Celestia said. "I have overstepped my boundaries."
Anon stared at her, brow raised. That was…not what she expected.
But before she could ponder it, Celestia spoke up again.
"Have you ever wondered why this world chose this form for you? This age?"
"No," Anon said, fidgeting nervously. "I don't… I try not to think about it. It's not worth the effort."
Feandil had had a theory that it was the Weave's attempt at accepting them - remaking their bodies to better fit the places they had found themselves in, but it made no difference to Anon. Whether it was the will of the world or just a simple throw of the dice, the result stayed the same.
But what Celestia was implying, that her broken memories and lack of true name led to her being transformed into a child…
Anon shrugged. If there was nothing she could do about it, it made little sense to waste time thinking about it. So her lack of true name had more consequences than just screwing with her mind and memories, it wasn't like she could just get another one by doing a pretty dance or making something explode. What was done was done, now she just had to live with it and adapt to the best of her abilities.
"You…" Celestia paused, her expression suddenly appearing so much more strained, almost. "You fell in, didn't you?"
Anon raised a brow. This was another example of Celestia showing far more understanding of jumping than she should have. Thinking about it, Daybreaker was the same: displaying knowledge of jumping, but refusing to reveal from where. The only logical conclusion was that she had met a jumper before.
Something is definitely not right.
This secrecy didn't bode well. If even Daybreaker kept it a secret…
I need to know more. Find out what happened to the first jumper. And why Celestia is so tight-lipped about it.
It was grasping at straws, but if the other jumper was capable of jumping out of Equestria, it meant her condition was either temporary or curable, right? At least it would disqualify an external force as what was keeping her tethered here.
"Every jumper falls in at least once," Anon said evenly, trying to discern any change in Celestia's expression. Trying to discern if this was information the alicorn already knew. "That's how our power first manifests."
There was a nod from Celestia. Again with that saddened, pained look.
So she knew that already.
"How far did it fling you?" Celestia asked, gaze locked onto the jumper in a way that made her shudder.
The previous jumper was her friend.
That made too much sense once Anon put that together. And by all that secrecy, it probably didn't end well for the previous jumper.
"That's…impossible to say," relented Anon after a few seconds. "Distance is really hard to measure when the rules of spacetime are only applied to other people."
"But there are rules to jumping," Celestia countered, taking a sip of the tea, her movements monotone. "Unbreakable ones."
Chamomile, good for the nerves.
The disguised alicorn shot Anon another sad look. Almost bitter. It only served as further suggestion as to the other jumpers' fate.
"It takes… about five days for a blind jump, yes? No way around that?" she asked, and Anon nodded in answer. "But you jumpers are born with your power growing until it reaches critical mass. And then-"
She paused to drink again.
"So tell me," Celestia said, placing the cup back down slowly and delicately, as if it was the most precious and brittle treasure. "If it takes a week of building power to jump from one world to another, how far do you think years got you?"
Anons bit her lip, suddenly reminded of her new body's tail as it subconsciously tucked itself under her legs.
"That's not how it works," the jumper began. "Falling in the space between is… random. Uncontrollable. You're like a ball in a pachinko machine, bouncing around, stopping and starting again, until you lose all momentum. One could start and end in the same place in the Weave but-"
Anon stopped herself. Firstly because she doubted Celestia had any idea what a pachinko machine was, and secondly because explaining the Weave to a non-jumper was… difficult. The Weave wasn't made to be understood. Anon only used the term because Feandil had, and Feandil had only referred to it as a 'Weave' because he'd heard about the 'fabric of reality' and thought it was funny.
The Weave was, as far as Anon understood it, the foundation on which universes existed and also the stuff they were made from.
It’s like dirt, Feandil explained to her one day. Something can be made from dirt and also stand in dirt.
Or, after Anon told Feandil the name of her homeworld, Earth.
He mostly used it to loudly announce that they were on Earth every time they arrived somewhere, to mess with Anon.
She hated his stupid jokes back then. Strange how much she missed them now.
Mirroring the space that Anon was at least somewhat familiar with, the different universes on the Weave did as stars do in space - clustering, branching, and influencing each other in all those terrifying, incomprehensibly giant ways. But instead of gravity wells pulling galaxies together, for universes it was something else. Ideas and circumstances and chances and probabilities bled over from one to another, each having their own pull on the other - or more accurately, having their own pull on the Weave. The more similarities worlds shared, the closer together they stayed. To the occupants of one universe, some of its neighbors would be familiar, some of them would appear alien, and some would contain talking, pastel-colored horses.
Yet, again mirroring space, most of the Weave wasn't filled in with universes. Most of it was just empty.
To a jumper, 'falling in' simply means jumping and, instead of ending up somewhere, ending up nowhere.
Still on the Weave, technically, but nowhere nonetheless. And while the millions upon millions of different somewheres a jumper found themselves in on a weekly basis were rarely pleasant, the nowhere between universes was an entirely different beast. Especially the patches of nowhere that were almost somewhere and definitely not empty.
Nothingness is one thing - almost merciful in its hostility. If a jumper got stuck without power in nothingness, well, they would die. End of story.
No, it was the nearly empty places one had to look out for. Those forgotten little corners of not-quite-nothingness, where untethered ideas and abandoned dreams mixed together.
Death is easy. What awaits there is not.
"But the risk of falling in is always there. Isn't it?" Celestia asked, despite already knowing the answer. "If you're lucky, you claw your way out, a little less you. But if you're unlucky…"
Celestia let the sentence hang in the air for a few beats. Anon sighed, eyes drifting to the windows, the rain outside weakening into a steady drizzle.
Anon shook herself - she had to focus, now.
"You look better than when you first came to the palace," Celestia observed. Anon turned to look at her, caught off guard.
The mare smiled. There was fondness in the expression, or pride, perhaps, and Anon wasn't sure it was entirely aimed at her.
"Hmm, much healthier, definitely," Celestia hummed. "Your fur even shines a little. I suspect somepony is sneaking hay into your meals."
Anon stayed silent. Celestia eventually relented, producing a small box from under her wing and carefully unpacking it.
"I have something for you. It should help, as you put it, 'keep others out of your goddamn mind.'"
There was a shine of gold and silver. An amulet, with an empty slot in the shape of an orb, hung from Celestia's hoof.
Anon shot her a questioning look. While the craftsmanship was impeccable and she had nothing against jewelry, she hardly understood how it could help her.
"It's enchanted," Celestia explained. "It's not perfect. A skilled enough mage can still breach it without much trouble and affect your mind. But it's far better than nothing."
Of course it's magic. Should have realized that.
Anon picked it up in her telekinesis, and the moment she did, the amulet and the chain connected to it lit up in green hues as hundreds of barely-visible engravings started to glow before dimming again an instant later. Carefully, Anon touched the surprisingly warm metal, feeling a hum of power through its polished surface.
"Well, that's going to raise some questions," she laughed nervously. "How am I going to explain it?"
Celestia smirked, playfully waving her wing in the air.
"You see, the guards just recently discovered it during their investigation into your case," Celestia pointed at Anon - at the orb tucked away in her mane with some use of gravity manipulation. How she had known it was there, Anon had no idea. "Considering it matches your gem, the guards gathered that it belongs to you."
Anon nodded, pulling out her Sun Orb and inserting it into the empty slot with a click. The artifact gave a brief flicker of golden light in response.
"I see… thank you."
Celestia waved her hoof, but Anon could swear that her eyes lit up for a second.
"Think nothing of it. Now, I think they've had enough time to fill out the questionnaire."
Anon got up, the necklace hanging around her neck.
"Yeah, let's- wait, what's that?"
Celestia froze and Anon's ears swiveled to the side. There were noises: the thundering of hooves on cobblestone.
Quite a lot of hooves.
And somewhere amid the chaos, music was playing.
Is that Benny Hill?
On the street was a mob. A weirdly excited mob, armed with everything from paint to carrots.
They were chasing somepony.
"Twilight?"
"What even is this nonsense?!?"
Their bedroom wasn't very big. It was enough for the two of them, but it did get a little cluttered sometimes, despite Bon Bon's best efforts to organize.
One bed, four walls painted blue, and a lot of knick knacks making up Lyra's collection. Comic books, a bunch of ancient lithographs (because in Lyra's opinion, those old posters for Prench musicals were just what the room needed), even a whole wall dedicated just to framed vinyl records.
"It's ridiculous!"
Lyra slumped down onto the table, sending papers flying everywhere. Bon Bon leaned over her and placed a reassuring hoof on her shoulder, but it did little to calm the fretting unicorn down.
"Most of these questions are just stupid!" Lyra cried, pointing at the offending text. "I mean, we passed all the tests, why are they making us do more?"
Bon Bon sat down next to Lyra, gently prying the paper out of her hooves. The ever-changing beast that was the Equestrian bureaucracy did not typically interfere with the everyday lives of its citizens. But when it came to the Foal Protective Services, they operated at full force and with a vengeance.
Sometimes Bon Bon wondered if the extensive hoops and endless questionnaires and forms were just another test for potential adoptive parents. The theory went that if they had enough willpower and patience to withstand the full brunt of the bureaucratic system, then surely they could handle raising a foal.
"C'mon Lyly," Bon Bon said, neck to neck with Lyra. "It can't be that bad if we've done it all before."
Lyra gave her a nod. Bon Bon was right, she could do it! For Spring! This small hurdle couldn't stop her! At least, not for long!
"Question number fifteen," Lyra began. "In your opinion, is thinking about yourself selfish? Yes or no."
Silence filled the room. Bon Bon sat there, stumped. Lyra started tapping on the table, seconds ticking sluggishly by.
"I mean, of course it isn't selfish to think about yourself." Bon Bon said hesitantly. "Did they mean only about yourself?"
Lyra read the paper again, shrugging.
"Nope, I read it right the first time."
Bon Bon's mouth clamped shut, thinking.
"Then just circle no and move on," she finally offered, grabbing a quill to circle in the answer, before Lyra grabbed it in her magic.
"We can't do that!" Lyra exclaimed, waving the quill around. "Don't you see? If we say no, they'll think we're some kind of narcissists!"
Bon Bon ducked under the swinging quill, the writing instrument-turned-projectile missing her by a few inches as it buried itself into the wall.
"Then just circle yes!" She yelped.
"We can't do that!" Lyra grabbed Bon Bon's head, cupping her cheeks. "If we say yes, we'll look like we're encouraging Spring into an endless circle of unhealthy behavior, putting more and more expectations on her until she breaks, leading into a terrible accident that will leave her hurt and abandoned by the ponies she thought were her family!"
Bon Bon stepped back, horrified.
"Lyly! We would never do that to Spring!" Bon Bon paused, her brow rising. "You were talking about Spring, right?" she asked. The minty unicorn recoiled, scratching her neck and smiling sheepishly.
"What?" she laughed nervously. "I'm rambling. Sorry. I'm just… tired."
Bon Bon couldn't help but agree. It almost felt like somepony had purposely put nothing but trick questions into this test as some sort of… prank.
Darn it.
"We should take a break," Bon Bon announced, pushing Lyra away gently. The minty mare nodded in defeat, walking towards their bed and face planting into the covers. Bon Bon rolled her eyes and sat next to her.
"That's one way to do it," Bon Bon giggled.
"Hmm," was the answer. "Bonnie, could you please turn off the music?"
Bon Bon cocked her head, not hearing anything.
"What… music?"
The sound of spectral banjos and the trampling of hooves began to shake their house. One of the framed vinyl records fell from the wall and shattered on the floor.
Alerted, Bon Bon rushed towards the bedroom window, looking outside for the source of the disruption.
And she didn't take long to spot it.
Twilight Sparkle ran.
She was surprisingly good at it, all things considered.
Too bad that the horde of ponies behind her was even better.
"Faster, faster! They're gaining on us!"
Having Spike on her back, yelling right into her ears, was also far from helpful.
"Hold on!" Twilight replied, charging her horn. Sparks of purple magic enveloped both her and Spike. The teleportation spell fired up just as the ponies behind them gave their all - but she couldn't cast it quickly enough. One of the flower ponies let out a wild shriek and threw a bouquet of flowers at Twilight's legs in an attempt to either trip her or bribe her (possibly both).
The flowers spun in the air, only inches away from hitting Twilight's hind legs mid run…
Only to be deflected at the last moment by a piece of hard candy, Sweetie Drops smirking as it did.
And they say candy is unhealthy.
From the side street, Lyra managed to arrive, trotting with a limp. Spring kept at her side - Bon Bon had to hide a smile at this. The filly had a blank expression despite the mob still gaining on Twilight, seemingly not worried in the slightest.
And neither was Bon Bon.
"WHAT, IN MY-ehm-CELESTIA'S NAME IS GOING ON?!"
The whole crowd halted, some mid-step or mid-flight. Twilight herself skidded across the cobblestone as she forgot how walking worked, her spell disappearing as she lost focus on it.
Sunny simply glared everypony down. Some ponies whimpered as her gaze fell upon them - overcome with the feeling that they had just disappointed their favorite teacher. Most of them began backpedaling while pretending that they would never do something like chasing somepony through town while trying to bribe them with a sack of carrots.
It wasn't working very well.
Sunny sighed, noticing the five mares remaining in the street - the element bearers - all pawing at the ground and avoiding eye contact like school fillies caught stealing from the cookie jar.
"So?" she asked them, trying to ignore Spring snickering at her for nearly blowing her cover. "Will anypony explain to me what is happening here?"
But was it Spike who answered, the young drake's face turning blue as he struggled to keep from laughing, eyes bulging out from his skull with heroic, but futile, effort.
"Tickets," he wheezed out.
Sunny gave the most reasonable response anypony in her position could.
She facehooved.
"Aargh! I can't decide!" Twilight suddenly screamed out while grasping the sides of her head. "I just can't decide! I wanted to make them all happy, but I can't, I just can't!"
The five mares hesitated until Applejack broke from their group and approached the panicking unicorn, others following just behind her.
"Twilight, sugar, I didn't mean to put so much pressure on you," Applejack said. "And if it helps any, I don't want the ticket anymore. You can give it to somepony else. I won't feel bad. Promise."
Twilight sniffed, giving her an appreciative smile.
Rainbow sighed, and helped Applejack get Twilight back on her hooves. The athlete slumped, ears dropping.
"Yeah, I haven't perfected my signature moves for the Wonderbolts anyway," Rainbow said with as much false bravado she could. "I don't need that ticket either."
"Me neither," Fluttershy said meekly while trying to hide behind Pinkie - struggling as her living cover did not stop moving. "I feel so terrible that I made you feel so terrible."
"And me neither, too!" piped up Pinkie, seemingly not noticing the yellow pegasus occupying her shadow. "It's no fun upsetting your friends!"
Rarity nodded where she stood by Twilight's side.
"Twilight, it was unfair of me to try to force you as I did," said Rarity. " We were all so focused on the gala we all failed to see how upset we were making you. I think I speak for everypony when I say that-"
"You do realize that all of you have tickets coming in through the mail, right?" Sunny interrupted flatly. The six mares immediately turned towards her. She continued, "Like every other guest? As it was done every year, for the last five centuries?"
"Wait, who are you?" asked Rainbow, flying right up to her face.
Twilight rushed to pull Rainbow away, darting between the pink pegasus and her friends. She also shot a dirty look at Spike who watched, claws grasped over his snout, producing noises that could be described as the cross between a faulty lawnmower and fatally sick chicken.
"That's Pri- Sunny," she stammered. "She works for the Princess." Spike still managed to hold it in in the background.
"That's right," Sunny said. "I work closely with the princess, and I know for a fact that all of you were invited to the gala. Twilight only got hers first because… well, she is her student."
Sunny paused for a beat, but Bon Bon's and Spring's eyes stayed glued to her as they felt a qualifier coming. "But, eh, mostly because she ran out of stamps."
Twilight gave a blank stare, with smoke steadily rising out of her ears and bloody murder in her eyes.
And with that, Spike finally gave in and burst out laughing.