16:31 - 6/04/1008 - Lunar Castle, Everfree Forest
“Excuse me, Miss?” Sweetie Belle called out.
The red pegasus Sweetie Belle was talking to didn’t react, they continued to trot down the castle hallway carrying a basket of clean bedding on their back.
“Miss?” she asked again, jumping in front of the pegasus and waving.
“Hm?” the pegasus looked down at Sweetie Belle, coming to a sudden stop and nearly dropping the basket. “Oh, you- you meant me?” he said in a low, masculine, Griffish accent whilst hastily adjusting their glasses. Sweetie Belle jumped upon hearing his voice.
“You silly!” Scootaloo fleered whilst pointing at the pegasus. “He’s a stallion!”
“How was she supposed ta know?” Apple Bloom interjected, hopping up to Scootaloo. “He’s short enough to be a mare, got his mane up in a bun, wearin’ a mare’s night-maid uniform, got a pretty face and-” Apple Bloom looked closer at the pegasus, “hey, s’that eyeshadow?”
“Ooh ooh! Hey, guy, say ‘bottle of water’!” Scootaloo giggled.
“Uh,” the pegasus mumbled as his face turned to a bright pink blush, “it’s fine. I’m- flattered,” he smiled, his eyebrows pulling together. Then his eyes shot wide open. “Hey, aren’t you those kids who broke into here a few years ago and tried to overthrow the Empress? Who let you in?” he asked aggressively, his eyes narrowing.
The Cutie Mark Crusaders went silent and still. Mouths tightened shut and eyes wide as dish plates, they frantically exchanged glances at one another, until Sweetie Belle broke the tension by raising a hoof. “We’re here for Rarity, I’m her sister.”
“Ohh, I see, I see. Rarity’s shift doesn’t finish for another…” he checked his watch, “uhh, half an hour, thereabouts. I could take you somewhere to wait. If you want.”
The fillies looked at each other, exchanging shrugs and other expressions of indifference. “Sure, beats standing around a hallway doing nothing,” Scootaloo said.
“Sweet,” the pegasus said. “Follow me. Uh, Moonatik, by the way,” he added, pointing to himself.
“Moonatik?” Apple Bloom said with an eyebrow raised. “Like, moon fanatic? That your name?”
“Maybe more like Luna-tic!” Sweetie Belle said, with everyone staring at her. “Well I thought it was funny,” she grumbled.
Moonatik returned an indistinct mumble whilst fidgeting with his wings. He gestured for the three fillies to follow him as he set off down the hallway, each of them doing as suggested.
Before tonight, the Crusaders never had the opportunity for a calm, quiet walk through the halls of the Lunar Castle. Long, wide, densely decorated hallways with stone-brick walls painted varying hues of blue and cyan, lit by turquoise torchlight and the moon itself. The carpet beneath their feet reduced the noise of their hoofsteps to soft taps, and a subtle refreshing scent hung in the air.
Each of the three fillies had something to grab their attention. Sweetie Belle’s eyes were drawn to the masterfully intricate tapestries and to the endless rows of stained glass windows, presenting an array of vibrant hues of cyan, blue, and purple, their beauty amplified by the dazzling moonlight filtering through the glass. Scootaloo marvelled at the frequent sight of an epic painting or statue depicting a recent or historical battlefield triumph, featuring brave and dashing soldiers fighting against incredible odds inspired by the leadership of their majestic Empress. Apple Bloom, however, had her focus on the stallion ahead of them.
Outpacing the rest of her friends, Apple Bloom trotted up aside Moonatik. “What’s your cutie mark mean?” she asked.
“Uh?” Moonatik glanced down at Apple Bloom, then looked to his flank. His midnight-purple tailcoat - part of his uniform - went over the top of his flank leaving his cutie mark on full display. It presented a purple lightbulb, with rays of yellow, green, and blue light emanating from it. “This, uhh, I think it means creativity. Like… I’m creative, and stuff. It’s kind of abstract, but that’s probably the point.”
“How’d you get it?”
Moonatik’s eyes wandered around the hallway. “I dunno, I’ve always been drawing and writing stuff, really cuz it’s just fun, you know? Guess one night the cutie mark gods decided ‘yeah, give this guy a creativity cutie mark’, I don’t really remember a lot about it,” he explained, half speaking and half murmuring. “It was nice, just, getting this confirmation of what I’m meant to be. Yeah, though like, I’m not really read up on cutie mark- uh, -ology? I don’t know the actual word, but you know what I mean…”
Apple Bloom put a sincere and earnest effort into listening n to Moonatik as he rambled on, but struggled as his speech devolved into barely-audible incoherent mumbles. She made an effort to appear engaged by nodding along and making eye contact where she could, which was difficult as Moonatik’s eyes wandered everywhere except at the filly herself. “Sounds nice!” she said, throwing Moonatik a kind grin.
“Hmrh,” Moonatik shrugged, “I dunno, there’s probably ponies here with way more interesting cutie mark stories than mine.”
Shortly after, Moonatik stopped in front of a large door, built of dark-blue wooden planks and styled after those found in old medieval castles. He pushed it open to usher the fillies through. “In here. I’ll let Rarity know where you are,” Moonatik said, then made his way off.
The fillies looked at each other, standing quietly in front of the open door for a moment. “He seemed nice,” Apple Bloom said.
“Kinda looked like your brother with wings and glasses,” Scootaloo observed, “though I can’t see Big Mac wearing makeup and mares’ clothes.”
Apple Bloom smirked. If only Scootaloo knew.
Stepping through the door and onto the soft clean carpet, the fillies gasped in amazement at the lavish waiting room before them. An elaborate chandelier dangled from the ceiling, filling the room with a warm, calming light. A circle of wide plush sofas surrounded a large wooden table at the centre of the room, and the walls were lined with detailed tapestries and neatly filled bookshelves. Only one other pony was in the room lying on a sofa on the far side of the room.
Quickly, Scootaloo ran up to a sofa, jumping up and down on it before she settled down. “Bouncy!” she observed.
The other two fillies hopped onto the sofa. To them, it was enormous, big enough for one to splay out their limbs and still have room to wiggle around. They practically sank into the soft, luxurious cushions, and consequently, they settled in almost instantly. “I reckon I could sleep on this thing!” Apple Bloom said, kicking her hindlegs up and throwing her forehooves under her head.
They may have been content just to sit and wait for Rarity to finish her shift, and a full minute passed with them simply enjoying the comfort of their new seating arrangements. Until their ears flicked upwards, triggered by a noise that any foal would recognise, that of the sound of a hoof rustling through a bag of candy.
Each of them had paid little mind to the other pony in the room, up until then. On a sofa across from them laid a seafoam-green bat pony with a silky smooth cyan mane flowing down their athletic body and onto the sofa. In one hoof they held a pencil which they were using to sketch something into a notebook, and the other a lollipop they had just put into their mouth. Peculiarities such as his snazzy black bowtie, lightly coloured ‘sock’ coat markings, long dark eyelashes, and glistening crimson eyeshadow stood out to the fillies, but as the trio exchanged glances they each understood their common desire, candy.
“Should we ask?” Sweetie asked.
Apple Bloom shrugged. “No harm in that.”
Sweetie smiled and turned towards the thestral. “Excuse me! Miss!” she shouted whilst waving, catching their attention.
“Ugh, not again,” Scootaloo groaned, putting a hoof to her cringing face.
Sweetie snapped around. “What, you don’t honestly think that’s a stallion, do you?”
“I wouldn’t just assume it!” said Scootaloo. “Ponies have assumed I was a colt before, and it’s not nice!”
“Oh come on, just look at her!” Sweetie turned back to the pony, only to jump when she realised the pony had silently gotten up and was standing over the trio. With a lollipop stick poking out of their smug, smiling lips, they looked down at the three fillies.
“Something you wanted to ask?” they said, speaking in an androgynous voice that only added to the confusion.
For a good few seconds, the three fillies said nothing. “Are you a mare or a stallion?” Apple Bloom tentatively asked.
Putting a hoof up to their mouth, the pony giggled. “I love it when ponies can’t tell, but I am indeed a stallion. In fact, I am the ideal of equine masculinity. You may not like it, but this,” he waved a hoof at himself whilst fluttering his wings, “is what peak male performance looks like.”
“Snrk,” Scootaloo snickered, half at the stallion and half at Sweetie Belle. “I really thought you’d be used to seeing ponies like this at Rarity’s store,” she said, giving Sweetie a nudge.
“Seriously?” Sweetie groaned.
“Rarity?” the stallion said, stroking his chin. “Oh yes, the seamstress from Ponyville,” he continued, imitating Rarity’s cultured voice flawlessly. “I am familiar with her both as a domestic and as a dressmaker. I have to say, her talents are utterly wasted doing the menial labour she does here, but ever since that other chap opened a boutique on the other side of town… Well, a pony has to make ends meet somehow-”
“Who in the hay are ya, anyway?” said Apple Bloom as she cocked an eyebrow, cutting the stallion off. “Y’seem to-
“Blanche,” he said, “Carte Blanche,” his voice carrying an aura of effortless charm and sophistication. “Here on behalf of Enjoyable, Exciting, Enrapturing Entertainment Enterprises. Now, was there something you wanted?”
“We were just gonna ask for a lollipo-” Apple Bloom froze. Her eyes had shifted down to Carte’s flank, and she quickly realised the symbol it adorned.
“Something the matter?” Carte asked with a tilt of his head.
“Y-y-your cutie mark,” Apple Bloom shuddered, “it’s-”
“A kitchen knife, wrapped in barbed wire,” Carte said nonchalantly. “It means precision, but I understand if the symbolism is a little, hmm, unclear.”
Scootaloo jumped off the sofa and ran up behind Carte, inspecting his cutie mark. “How the heck did you get a cutie mark like that?” she asked.
Suddenly, Carte’s smug expression fell from his face. His mouth clenched shut, his wings tensed up, and he took a step away from the fillies. He cleared his throat, “I’m not sure if my cutie mark story is exactly appropriate for an audience of fillies, even if I was around your age at the time. How old are you?”
“We’re all thirteen”, said Sweetie Belle.
“Huh, so exactly the same age,” Carte said, yet he glanced off to the side, pouting his lips. “I’m- not sure though. It isn’t exactly for the faint of heart-”
“Ooh, I definitely wanna hear it now!” Scootaloo yelled, her wings flapping excitedly, a broad smile on her lips.
“Me too!” Sweetie Belle added.
“…ah dangit, me three!” Apple Bloom confirmed.
“Well in that case,” Carte chuckled, throwing himself onto a clear space on the sofa, “allow me to set the scene. I twas but a colt, little more than a year after the return of our Empress. My parents had shipped me off to a prestigious boarding school the year prior…”