//------------------------------//
// Afterward 
// Story: Tintin and the Magic of Friendship 
// by RudyGamgee2 
//------------------------------//

Coercing the insecure, anxiety-induced underclassmen did not prove to be difficult. Oftentimes, just telling them what they did not want shared was enough to flock like sheep. Trips to the Equestrian Parliament of Canterlot gave some pointers also. No, the actual trouble involved concealing her presence, erasing any memories the figures had of their unexpected entry, dispersing them to various regions with intricately difficult teleportation, as well as keeping them off track long enough before her three-day deadline was reached. She was just glad she had surplus reserves for that cloud-walking spell after using so much energy beforehoof, all of which boosted her own confidence exponentially. 

Discarding the tattered cloak she had since her arrival, she reopened the chat page to type aloud, “All clean!”

Elated she did not have to send more of her precious time down the toilet, she saw the reply. Does anyone suspect?

“If I was tracked, you’d know about it.”

Yes, or no please. This entrepreneur joke of a ham always irked her by simply belittling her like a foalsitter.

“No. Period. Exclamation point!”

And you’re certain they can’t get back to us?

“Even if they find out anything remotely about us, I made double-sure that some of them are stuck on a wild goose chase. At the very least, they’ve got two and a half years before they even consider the possibility of getting back here.”

Then I suggest you use that time well, to prepare for any more surprises. Reading that reminded her of what she learned from her latest visit. Pulling out a torn piece of paper with a drawing of that unicorn's tiara, she placed it onto the scanner.

“Oh, by the way. I’m sending you a sketch for your people to sculpt, as per my 'preparations'." She hoped that her facetious tone could be gathered from the screen. "Doesn’t have to be solid gold. Brass or tin will do. And if you guys can’t get an amethyst off the black market, just make a magenta hexagram out of plastic.”

Received. Expect a cut from your salary. Bad enough she had to rely on this self-righteous creep for housing, employment, tuition, and all other expenses since coming here. There was always that grating reminder, as if to tell her who was truly in charge of the situation. She played along, as she has done, until the time was right.

“Nothing’s personal, with you.” She then closed the page. Huffing with relief that whole ordeal had past, she was ready to rest and prepare for another day's work. She was walking down the hallway of lockers in the late afternoon gleam, when she felt something in her backpack resonate.

"What, now?" Taking it off to unzip and view its content, she spotted the source of her added frustration. She opened the old journal that gathered dust, from where she tore a page to make her sketch, forgetting that it might go the other way. On the first page that had no ink or lead, she viewed the new contents appearing onto it with graceful script.

Dearest Sunset,

I’m sorry I missed your most recent visit. You are dearly remembered by all who love and care for you. Hopefully, we may catch up the next chance we can.

Your friend,

Princess Celestia

P.S. Best wishes to you on your--- She slammed the journal shut, with disgruntled moisture that began to build. She hated her for the way she used words like that. She knew what that mare was doing, what she was actually saying between so few of lines.

Deciding on what to do next, without a second thought, she stormed towards the nearest waste bin, ripped out the page, tore it into several pieces, and sent them on their merry way. The hardbound spine of pages was held viciously in her hand. She knew she had every reason to treat it the same way, that she would be right to send it to a landfill or sea barge. But she also knew that there was still some useful information that was hidden, deep inside her former mentor's, riddle-marked pages. She was able to calculate Nightmare's return, which coincided with her need to drop off her latest situation after all.

What she did, rather, was send it back to the furthermost corner of her fallow locker, letting it collect more dust as before. She slammed the locker closed, and marched onward, without ever looking back.

Little did Sunset Shimmer know that that this apparent act of defiance was a redirect by her lively conscience, for the sake truly needing it.

A.M.D.G.