//------------------------------// // 2023-12-27 Central Park in the Dark // Story: Lyra and the White Mares // by publiq //------------------------------// Horseless carriages and carriage-less horses rarely commingled outside Equestria. Tonight proved no exception. Just as their new Lexington friends had told them, all the one-horse-open sleighs were found neither on the rolling foothills of Kentucky nor on the pavement of New York City. Sleigh-pullers labored busily bilking humans looking to reenact their favorite Christmas carols up in Canada and New England. Instead, Lyra and Vinyl sat in their one-horse open carriage (painted to look like a sleigh), less cuddled than one would expect ponies to cuddle given the urban wind tunnels and the late hour. Only the clip-clop of their chauffeur’s trot prevented the urban facsimile of silence from descending. Neither mare needed to remark on the other’s fastidious adherence to the coat growth pills. Unbeknownst to the ponies, a pale bird tracked their progress overhead. “As you requested,” Lyra felt the momentum slow with the announcement, “the city’s finest nighttime grazing.” Their carriage now at a stop, the pair of ponies stepped onto the snow-covered grass beside the path in a large respite from pavement and concrete. They tipped their driver before ambling in search of the best grass far from human desire paths. “Over-overhead!” Stammered Vinyl. Lyra looked up to see an enormous, slow snowflake make its descent and stuck her tongue out in hopeful anticipation. What would it be like to wish upon a snowflake instead of a shooting star or comet? She closed her eyes in contemplation and in appreciation of the waning gibbous around which the snowflake spiraled. Would the wish only hold if you caught it on your tongue? Hooves left the ground in shock when both mares had a nonconsensual wing draped as a blanket. “Come back,” cried an unknown voice to the scattered pair of mares. At least one pony slowed her gallop to a trot and flicked an ear back. As the voice said something about being another pony, Vinyl called out to Lyra in a wordless whinny. Lyra slowed her gallop to circle to her travel roommare. Indeed, the snowflake was equine. She had wished upon a gliding pegasus. “I wish you were pegasi like me. Jumping off the roof of 432 Park Street is an absolute joy for a pretty sneaky pegasus such as yours truly. Glide circles between the buildings and ride an updraft from the radiant asphalt to prolong the air. It’s the best life.” “Where in Equestria are you from? We’re from Ponyville,” asked Lyra. “Zephyr Heights,” answered the pegasus. “Mom sent me for diplomatic studies for, well for I take over, her face fell, “all too soon, probably.” “I’ve never heard of Zephyr Heights. Where is it?” “On top of a well-defended mesa. Surrounded by fields in all directions, whether between us and Maretime Bay or on the way to Bridlewood.” It was Zipp’s turn for confusion at Lyra’s continued perturbation. “You said Ponyville, right? Where is that?” Lyra explained how Ponyville is a comfortable overnight train from Canterlot, or a dangerous three-day journey through the Everfree, before pausing to reconsider that a pegasus would understand the location of Cloudsdale typically being docked about a third of the way to Canterlot from Ponyville. “…and you said you grew up in Canterlot?” Zipp asked with enthusiasm. “The Canterlot? How long ago was it rebuilt?” Both Vinyl and Lyra gave Zipp a blank stare. “You must be from so far in the future that Canterlot is rebuilt and Zephyr Heights is all but forgotten.” “Celestia taught us that Canterlot has pretty much always existed as long as unicorn records and oral tradition exist. It was one of her few guest lectures at the school supposedly named for her.” “Let me get this straight: you were a student when THE Celestia was alive?” Zipp’s eyes would have been lit even in a forest on a new moon. “Yes. Her sister returned from exile a few years after I graduated. I think it was shortly after I made my final move to Ponyville. Rumor has it that they’re currently getting ready to retire. Something about losing connection to the Elements.” “Woah, you’re, like, a living legend. One of the ponies who once made the city a myriad moons ago. Can you explain why Princess Flurry Heart is so inconsistently present in the history books?” Without thinking of the consequences, Lyra whispered in Zipp’s ear, “She was supposed to be a body double replacement, but we think Celestia is losing the immortality effects from the Element of Magic faster than Flurry can grow into a full-height alicorn.” “Anyway,” Lyra asked, now at her usual volume, “What’s your name? It sounds like your family is mighty important in Zephyr Heights.” “Full title is Her Royal Horse Crown Princess Zephyrina Storm. Please call me Zipp. Princess Zipp if you must be formal.” “Neat. When I was at CSGU, we were taught names in the style of ‘HRH P’ were a unicorn tradition. How long have your pegasi adopted it?” “THE Princess Zipp? Did I just hear that you are the Zipp written in the legends?” A half-crazed carthorse interrupted the mutual exchange of history. “Let me get this straight: you are Zipp Storm, Sunny’s prime disciple to the pegasi?” “I wouldn’t call myself that.” Zipp blushed. “Besides, my sister would be the evangelist.” “S-Sunny?” Chimed in Vinyl. “You don’t know? How can you not?” Asked the rhetorically flamboyant brown stallion. “She is the mare who restored Equestria and revitalized the lineage of Clover, Starswirl, Celestia, and Twilight. Back home, we’d chant a song in her honor every half moon.” Zipp backed away from such an insane fortune teller. He continued, “We even have some songs dedicated to you, princess,” before losing himself singing an untranslatable melody. The mares backed away before saying their goodbyes. Lyra and Vinyl headed off to their hotel. Tomorrow would be the day to see the Times Square preparations and absorb the bustle of a human megacity.