//------------------------------// // Inky Eyes // Story: Marks of Harmony // by Lapis-Lazuli and Stitch //------------------------------// Gdocs Version Marks of Harmony Part 3 For Twilight, breakfast was not usually a social affair, or any kind of significant event in her day. Food was present to be eaten; and therefore, to provide nourishment, nothing more. Twilight always considered a healthy, decently sized breakfast to be important, to be sure, but never thought of it outside of its primary purpose. Rarity on the other hand considered all gatherings in which food was involved to be of the utmost social value. Twilight respected her friend’s view, even if she found it utterly ridiculous, but had never thought she would actually appreciate it until that morning. Out of simple courtesy, Twilight had allowed Fluttershy to have her bed. She had not intended to use it that night anyway. Her nocturnal hours had been spent buried in the oldest research documents in the Ponyville library. She had dragged out genealogy books, fringe magic research articles, and even war journals. The allicorn’s description was completely lacking in the genealogies, though many of these were collected when cutie marks were still the preferred means of identification. As neither Twilight nor any other pony had been able to see the mare’s mark, the books were even more unhelpful. The war journals were gruesome to read through; tales of hardened Guard commanders relating the horrific sights, sounds, and smells of battlefields. If they were not describing such brutality, they delved heavily into statistics and strategies; neither of which helped Twilight find a precedent to the ship’s existence. Occasionally, a Gaurdspony would mention a name of a piece of equipment, and Twilight would rush for a reference guide. This would end in a fruitless search that left her feeling rather stupid that she had not known the name to begin with. Never once was anything as large or oddly shaped as the allicorn mare’s vessel mentioned. And finally there were the magic research articles. Even if the mare’s identity escaped her, and her ship’s construction baffled her; Twilight believed beyond a doubt that she would be able to come up with something—anything—on the current magic employed against Ponyville. The luminescent pink field cast around the town at least gave her a place to start. If Shining Armor had been with her, the search would have been marginally shorter; as a goodly portion of his job rested in managing several protective spells around Canterlot. Nevertheless, Twilight was a veteran researcher, especially when it came to magical subjects, and she had laid out three prospective books with little difficulty. Each had raised her spirits, then—with one particular qualifier—dropped them mercilessly onto the floor. Each and every book argued over how such spells were cast; what techniques could be used to alter them for whatever purpose; and how certain variations could make the spell stronger or weaker. But as much as they disagreed on these points, the three unanimously agreed that such spells had to be maintained by their original caster. They could not endure indefinitely without some kind of continual support from a caster. Twilight was both witness and practitioner of this law. Its side-effects of headaches had been the Queen Chrysalis’s inroad to her brother’s mind, and Twilight had thought it worth the renewal energy required to put up a field around the library when Scootaloo and her friends had masqueraded as the invasive reporter, Gabby Gums. And yet, the mare’s ship seemed to fly in the face of this law. In all the time she had been in Ponyville, not one pony had seen her re-energize the invisible fields around her ship, else it would be the talk of town. And the pink sphere trapping every citizen within their home town was just as much an enigma as the invisible fields. It was certainly provided power from the four spikes protruding menacingly from the ship, but the how of that was beyond Twilight. All of her books made it very clear that first, all protective fields had to be maintained by a caster; and second, that said caster had to be a unicorn or allicorn: a being with the ability to project magical force. One field defied the first law, and the other defied the second law. It was all a befuddled mess, and even though she was going on board the vessel that afternoon, she doubted her questions would be answered: either directly or indirectly. Her so-called tour was likely just a publicity stunt, and Twilight was meant to play along. She swore she would not. But however resolved she was to not fall into the conniving hooves of this mare, she would be able to do little of anything if she did not eat. Rarity—being the overly fastidious pony she was—had somehow anticipated that Twilight would be sorely sleep deprived and would not have the energy to prepare herself a proper breakfast. She had consequently asked Twilight and Spike over for breakfast with her and Sweetie Bell. They had accepted without hesitation, as Rarity’s cooking was often just as tasteful and refined as her dresses. So now, here they all were, watching Rarity at work at the stove and surrounded by the savory and sweet smells of the dishes already cooking. “Did I tell you about Scootaloo, Twilight?!” Sweetie Bell asked, poking Twilight in the shoulder. Without having realized it, she had drifted off into a doze, Sweetie Bell’s gentle prodding yanking her awake with a surprised sniff and jolt. “Oh, um, no, I don’t think you did,” Twilight replied drearily, bashing her head with both hooves in an attempt to stay awake. “Sweetie Bell!” Rarity chastised her little sister. “Twilight has a stressful enough day already. There is no reason for you to make it any worse than it already is.” “But Sis,” Sweetie Bell whined, “it’s important!” “She can go ahead and tell me, Rarity,” Twilight said. “I need to talk to stay awake.” “You could always talk to yourself like you always do,” Spike muttered, just loud enough for Twilight and Sweetie Bell to hear. The young filly snickered, Twilight casting a glare at Spike. “Well if it is so important,” Rarity exaggerated her tone, “why are you giggling about it. Besides, it is no laughing matter.” “Never mind Sis,” Sweetie Bell passed off her sister, turning to Twilight. “Scootaloo and Apple Bloom thought it would be a brilliant idea to try and help with the pink bubble. I said no. I told them they weren’t thinking right, and that we should just leave it alone.” “They didn’t listen did they,” Twilight inserted, her ears beginning to droop in fear of hearing what had befallen the over-enthusiastic Scootaloo. “No! And it was stupid what she did!” Sweetie Bell exploded in caring rage. “Scootaloo ran right into it with her scooter!” “Is she okay?!” Spike asked urgently, having seen the immediate effects it had had upon Pinkie Pie. “Yes, how is she then?” Twilight seconded her dragon charge. “The poor thing is in the hospital indefinitely,” Rarity interrupted her younger sister as she brought over the tray of breakfast goods. She deftly began levitating cups of tea, honey, maple syrup, jam, biscuits, and muffins all around to her guests, making special note to give Spike a few gems on the side. “I heard about what happened to Pinkie Pie,” Rarity continued, “and thank Celestia nothing like that happened to the little filly. She is running an awful fever, beyond what a normal illness would do; and is in considerable distress in her stomach and flank.” “Did you say her flank hurt?” Twilight asked, intrigued. “Yes I—oh, Twilight dear, a few drops of this potion in your tea should keep you awake—hm, what was I saying?” Rarity distracted herself. “She asked if Scootaloo’s flank hurt,” Sweetie Bell answered beratingly. “Oh, yes, I remember,” Rarity said, taking a bite of biscuit, “yes, it was the first thing she said happened. Both of her flanks have been in constant sharp pain since she ran into the field.” “And we can’t even give her back her scooter to cheer her up...” Sweetie Bell said sadly. “It went right on through...” “We’ll get it back somehow,” Twilight encouraged her confidently. “If I get on the mare’s good side, maybe she’ll bring it back inside: even if she doesn’t lower the field entirely.” “You’d do that!?” Sweetie Bell asked excitedly. “Of course,” Twilight said, smiling. “I’m sure a little filly’s scooter won’t mean that much to her.” “Oooh! Thank you so much Twilight!” Sweetie Bell said, hugging her tightly. “I’ve got to go tell Scootaloo right now!” With that, she slipped herself away from the table and darted out of the boutique for the hospital. “Thank you so much dear,” Rarity said. “It’s good to see her not fretting so much.” “It’s the least I could do,” Twilight said. “I just hope I am able to get on the mare’s good side now.” A brief silence followed, only mitigated by Spike’s obnoxiously loud crunching of his jewels. “So you said that Scootaloo had pains in her flanks after touching the field?” “Yes,” Rarity replied, “at least, that’s what the doctors said she told them. I have to wonder Twilight, why are you so interested in it? The girl is running a dangerously high fever. That should take priority, should it not.” “Well, kind of,” Twilight hesitated. “But back when I still attended school in Canterlot, there was this special pony wizard that came in to talk to us that hadn’t gotten our cutie marks. I already had mine, but I remember him saying something about a phenomenon called ‘cutie pang’. It’s when a pony has sharp pains in their flank for about a day after earning their cutie mark. It’s pretty rare, but the whole concept makes me think the field may work around that phenomenon. It would explain why the scooter went right on through.” “I’ve never heard of it,” Rarity said astounded. “But I will defer to your knowledge on the subject Twilight. Will she suffer much longer?” “I have no idea,” Twilight sighed. “There are too many things that are odd about the situation; the two biggest being that Scootaloo doesn’t have a cutie mark and that the field isn’t the illness itself.” “Then the best we can do is hope for a speedy recovery,” Rarity said. Twilight nodded, finishing off her share of the food and feeling much more alert than when she had arrived. Rarity’s medicine had certainly taken the edge off of her drowsiness, and it was about time she went back to the library to sort through the books she would take and those she would leave behind. “Thanks for the breakfast and especially that potion. It’s helping already,” Twilight said, sliding away from the table and standing. “Hopefully I’ll have tons to tell you when I get back.” “What? You mean you’re leaving?” Rarity asked, as if mildly slighted. “Yeah, what’s gotten into you,” Spike added. “I’m not finished. This is an awesome breakfast.” “...Um, it’s just that I want to go and get ready to leave. I still haven’t decided which books to take with me,” Twilight said awkwardly. “Oh,” Rarity puffed, “if that’s all darling. Then let me ask you a question. Please tell me you have something special to wear.” “Uh... no,” Twilight replied blankly. “Surely not!” Rarity exploded with horror. “Even if that mare is nothing short of rude, you should at least present yourself properly! What were you thinking? For all we know, she could be some lost member of the Royal family!” “Rarity,” Twilight attempted to convince her otherwise, “I seriously doubt she’s related to Princess Celestia or Princess Luna. And anyway, it’s not like it’s an invitation. She’s demanding that I come, not extending a friendly hoof. I don’t really think she’ll be looking for any sort of glamor.” “But of course she will!” Rarity insisted, now standing from the table as well. “She will judge all of Ponyville by how our representative presents herself, so you must be adequately adorned!” “Rarity, I’m telling you, all I need to take are some saddlebags and books, nothing more,” Twilight said, gradually growing impatient. “Thanks again for breakfast.” She made to turn for the door—and even took her first few steps—but escaping so easily was not to be. “This simply will not do!” Rarity grandly declared in her loudest voice. “Twilight! You and I are taking a trip downstairs.” “Really Rarity, it’s fine. I appreciate the offer, but I really don’t need anything special to wear,” Twilight was nearly pleading now. “Don’t give me those ridiculous excuses,” Rarity replied staunchly. “If you must organize your books, send Spike to gather up your must-haves; and have him bring them here. You would do that wouldn’t you Spike?” “ ‘Course I would!” Spike answered, jumping from his own stool, eager to please his crush. “See,” Rarity said to Twilight. “Okay...” Twilight relented, “but we have to be quick. If I’m late, it’ll look just as bad.” “No worries dear,” Rarity said, urging Twilight down the stairs and into the center of the boutique floor. “I have just the thing that should suit an occasion like this.” Her voice was already somewhat muffled as she gathered up her utensils, levitating some and gripping others in her mouth. “And what kind of occasion are you thinking this is?” Twilight asked warily. “I would imagine it would be some form of an academic meet,” Rarity said, flinging a measuring tape around Twilight’s stock-still body. “Am I wrong?” “No, no, that’s about right,” Twilight answered. “Spike,” she hissed at him from the corner of her mouth. “There’s a list of books at the end of my bed. Find all of the books on it, put them in my saddle bags and bring them here.” “Sure thing,” Spike saluted, “but you might want to make sure whatever Rarity’s making you can fit them.” “Ooh, you’re right, thanks,” Twilight whispered back as he leisurely stepped out of the shop. “Um, Rarity?” she turned to ask her friend. “Will my saddle bags still be able to fit with this outfit on?” “Of course dear,” Rarity said, seemingly affronted. “It is an academic meet after all. I suppose it would not be if the attendees were not able to bring their books.” She retreated from view into one of three alcoves on the left wall, only faint humming and snipping sounds coming from within. She emerged a moment later—eyeing Twilight critically—then grabbed some fabric with her horn and trotted back into the recess. An even longer wait ensued, accompanied with disgruntled growling. Rarity finally returned with the back half of a dress that was more akin to a cape than anything else. It was a subtle sky blue with golden trimming, simple but flowing and incredibly elegant for it. “Wow Rarity, it’s beautiful,” Twilight said honestly. “But how am I going to wear it? It’s not big enough to flow over my tail and go up my back.” “That is the point,” Rarity replied, as if this were the most obvious thing about the cape. “It will attach to the remaining portion that you wear on your front by clipping to it around your stomach. Your back will remain exposed, and you will look amazing with or without your bags. Personally, I think you would look absolutely fabulous without them....” Rarity laughed uneasily as Twilight cast her a look. “...but since it is an academic meet, so... Let me go finish up the rest and you and Spike can sort out those books while you wait.” She whisked the cape away in a flurry of fabric, rolling it up neatly under her magic and taking it back to the recess. Twilight sat heavily, breathing out some relief. If this was the most Rarity was trying to do for her, she could count herself lucky. Normally, the fashion-obsessed mare would spend hours stressing and nit-picking an outfit. Her swiftness in this instance meant quite plainly that Rarity had been planning the dress since the allicorn had announced Twilight’s summons; but for once, Twilight did not mind her friend’s frivolity. She was more than correct that the proper attire always helped make a good impression; it was just that Twilight happened to think more important things were at stake. That and she doubted the allicorn mare cared anything for dresses and such. In her first appearance to the Ponyville population, she had worn nothing. Then again, maybe Twilight’s dress would add enough sincerity to Twilight’s appearance to convince the mare to retrieve Scootaloo’s scooter, which—oddly enough—was currently Twilight’s top priority for the visit. The simple thought of helping the injured Scootaloo made Twilight smile, the first she had had since the ship’s arrival. This good mood perpetuated through Spike’s return and their joint sorting of her books into the bags. “So,” he said once Twilight’s choice texts had been shoved into her saddle bags, “is there anything you need me to do while you’re gone?” “That’s very nice of you Spike,” Twilight replied kindly, “but I made sure to take care of most everything in the library last night. The last thing anypony needs at this point is extra stress. You should go hang out with Pinkie while I’m gone. That ought to keep your mind off things.” “Yeah maybe,” Spike replied, shrugging. “I just hope she doesn’t try to hold you hostage or anything.” “She doesn’t seem like the type to do something like that,” Twilight said. “She really wants us to know what it is she can do. Maybe her motives are twisted; but if she was aggressive she wouldn’t have bothered to talk to us first” “Then why did she trap us in town?” Spike asked pointedly. “I think she’s scared of something out there,” Twilight replied seriously. “And she doesn’t want it coming near her, or somepony leaving and accidentally letting it slip that she’s here.” “You think she’s scared of the Princess?” Spike asked, wide-eyed, having picked up on Twilight’s leaning. “Yes, I know I would be if I were her,” Twilight said shortly. “But that doesn’t matter right now. What matters are things like Scootaloo and her scooter, and what things that mare means to do now that she is with us.” Spike nodded his affirmation, but was quickly distracted. “Oh hey Rarity! Wow! Is that for Twilight?” he asked, standing and running behind Twilight where she could not see. Spike rarely showed any enthusiasm for dresses and the like, and for this reason, Twilight jerked her head around. Rarity was wheeling out the dress, mounted upon one of her mannequins, and Twilight could not have been more pleased with the result. The cape was indeed attached to the underside of the dress, but it only complemented the front piece. The fabric was not silk, but flowed airily and fantastically. It—like the accompanying cape—was in light blue, with gold borders and cuffs, but the sleeves only came down to about her knee and the neckline was dropped into a sharp V. Embroidered on the chest in gold thread was the silhouette of Twilight’s cutie mark, making it appear to be a crest. In addition to both pieces, Rarity had acquired sky blue hoof shoes; small and dainty, but etched with elegantly curling vines and leaves. “It’s amazing Rarity!” Twilight exclaimed earnestly. “You must have been up all night working on an ensemble like this! Oh! It’s just so elegant and simple!” “It was the least I could do darling,” Rarity replied, her satisfaction plastered over her entire face. “At the very least, that mare will show you some due respect with a dress like this.” “I hope so,” Twilight said. “Can you help me into it?” she asked Rarity. “What kind of boutique would this be if I did not help my customers?” Rarity asked, aghast. “Come here and stand still.” Twilight obeyed, but still stumbled slightly as Rarity had her lift one hoof after another off the ground to slip her into the outfit. Once, Spike even flinched forward like he would try to catch her. The entire process was marginally shorter than the other times Rarity had had her try on dresses, but the end result looked just as incredible as ever. “You look absolutely stunning!” Rarity declared as they both eyed Twilight in the mirror; Rarity patting down a wrinkle here or there. When she peered up again a small yelp escaped her lips, and she tore away with manic speed. She returned a second later, levitating two star shaped gold earrings into Twilight’s ears. “There! Now you’re outfit is complete!” Rarity said with finality. “That’s good,” Spike said in a grunt, having been prompted to lift Twilight’s loaded saddle bags onto her back. “ ‘Cause we gotta go. It’s just ten minutes till twelve.” “Let’s move then,” Twilight said, steeling herself for whatever so-called ‘science’ she would find aboard the ship. “Are you coming Rarity?” “No, dear, I’m sorry,” Rarity replied, shaking her head. “Even if Sweetie Bell and Applebloom mean well, they need some oversight with whatever schemes they dream up to make that poor Scootaloo feel better.” “It’s okay,” Twilight said. “Spike, go and spend some nice time with somepony like Pinkie.” He nodded awkwardly, as if he had wanted to argue at first, but then turned away from her as she moved solidly down the streets toward Ponyville Square. Twilight felt guilty about sending him away, but if she were to be held hostage, the last thing she wanted Spike to remember of her was a lone pony entering a flying fortress. It was testament to Rarity’s designing skill that the dress did not inhibit her range of motion, even at a brisk pace. As Twilight rounded the corner into view of the allicorn’s vessel, she resigned herself to no more farewells. Not a single pony was present to wish her luck. “What’s up Twilight?” Rainbow Dash’s carefree tone shocked Twilight into a startled jump. Twilight looked around for where her friend may have come from, but with Rainbow’s speed, it was impossible to tell. “That’s some dress,” she commented with a long yawn. “Rarity make it?” “Yes, I think it looks rather nice,” Twilight replied turning to Rainbow, who had finally decided to hover beside her. “Well, that’s just you,” Rainbow said flatly. “Anyway, came to wish ya luck. Nothing much happened last night except we couldn’t keep our thundercloud from drifting apart.” “Did you see anything of the allicorn?” Twilight asked the far more important question. “Yep,” Rainbow replied, “and she’s one hay of a ditz with magic. You could trump her easily, no prob.” “That’s odd,” Twilight mused. “Allicorns are usually incredibly strong with magic.” “Not her,” Rainbow asserted. “Like I said, you could so own her with your magic. She reminds me a lot of Trixie actually. All talk, no talent.” “We’ll see,” Twilight said. “She managed to build that ship and bring it here didn’t she?” “Pff, somepony else could have done that for her for all we know,” Rainbow replied, unconvinced. “I still think she’s a fraud. We should have her out of town this time tomorrow just like Trixie.” “What if she turns out to be good for Ponyville?” Twilight posed the question seriously. Rainbow turned her head to Twilight dramatically slow, eyes half-lidded in pure cynicism. “Okay, okay,” Twilight replied defensively. “I just have to wonder.” “Well, keep your wondering to yourself then,” Rainbow said. “Oh no, here comes Pinkie Pie. What in Equestria is she carrying?” Twilight instinctively turned to where Rainbow was staring; Pinkie Pie greeting her eyes. She was bounding down the streets—happy as ever—but on her back was strapped an uneven tower of cake boxes. “Here’re the cupcakes Twilight!” she said gleefully. “Mrs. Cake was so nice, she let me take all of these! There’s one of every flavor from Sugarcube Corner in here!” “That’s really nice Pinkie,” Twilight said hesitantly. “But I can’t carry all of them up there with me.” “Can’t you just use magic?” Pinkie asked, confused as to why the number of boxes mattered at all. “I could,” Twilight said, looking down and fidgeting uncomfortably with the ground, “but whenever I get really close to the ship, it becomes incredibly difficult to use magic, let alone walk and talk.” “So she steals pegasus wings and unicorn horns!” Rainbow burst out. “I knew it!” “Maybe you’ll get to use that lift!” Pinkie suggested happily. “That would be so neat! I’ve always wanted to ride one of those.” “Well, we’re here,” Twilight said in something of a faint voice. She was looking directly up at the ship’s bottom, and this close to it there was no denying its menacing girth. “I’ll take as many cupcakes as I can but....” Twilight was about to make an excuse to not take Pinkie’s entire column of cupcakes, but before she had finished a muffled clang sounded from within the ship’s interior, and the litter began descending. It dropped through the platform cloud—whatever pulley system operated it clicking every moment—until it settled firmly on the streets of Ponyville. There was more than enough room for Pinkie’s cupcake collection. Twilight took a deep breath and stepped onto the litter, for the first time noticing two hoof pedals attached to it. Rainbow dubiously helped Pinkie Pie unload the stack next to Twilight, and once finished, the two stepped back and waved silently. Twilight brushed her dress nervously, but managed a smile and waved to her friends. She started briefly when the lift began rising and clinging again, but forcibly regained her composure before she was enveloped in the wood and brass construct. ______________________________________________________________________________ It was the strangest feeling, and one that Twilight Sparkle had only ever experienced once before. The sensation of moving from one world into another in the blink of an eye could never—in her opinion—be fully explained, either in words or thoughts. And yet, this was the very impression she ascribed to ascending into the vessel’s lower decks. Where Ponyville had been vibrant and cheery, even with the luminescent sphere casting its ghostly pink tinge upon everything; the inside of the ship was barely two toned. It was primarily constructed of hundreds of wooden planks, brass fixtures of various—and often times undecipherable—functions built in every few paces. Only an eerie foursome of these fixtures were operating upon her initial coming inside, casting an unnatural, yellowed, and wavering glow. It was as if they emitted a light that combined the traits of both fire and mechanical illumination. Only when the litter had shuddered to a halt did more and more of the fixtures flicker to life. They cast their glow upon a narrow, low hall in which were visible more, differently shaped brass devices. Twilight could interpret nothing of these, as even their shape lent little to the understanding of their purpose. As her eyes traveled, taking in every detail, she jerked back when they alighted upon another pony just now coming from a hidden passage directly to the right of the lift. He casually closed the disguised entrance to the room and ambled toward Twilight with clear ease of presence. He was a pegasus, colored light maroon with vibrant green eyes. His mane was a curly, bushy controlled mess; reddish-pink in hue with neon pink tips. His tail had been dyed a solid black, though he still retained the pink ends. “Well, you can step off the litter now you know,” he said in awkward encouragement. His voice was light, but throatily scratchy. “The floor won’t fall out. Come on, step off.” “Who are you?” Twilight asked bluntly, having expected to be met by the allicorn mare. “Where is the mare who owns this ship?” “First, I am Inky Jay, traveling author, and currently employed scribe,” Inky Jay replied with an air of officialdom. “Lady Aurora is currently occupied. I was sent to give you much of the tour, as she is occupied with something imperative in her research. She told me to inform you that she will be with you as soon as her work permits.” “Well,” Twilight replied, disgruntled, “you can go fetch this ‘Lady’ Aurora and inform her that I will not move an inch until she has the decency to show me around this ship herself.” “She said you might say that,” Inky muttered, his formal tone dropped. “Look, she said she would prefer it if she could do the tour herself, but the research has to take precedence. She thought you of all ponies would understand.” Even if Twilight was still miffed that the allicorn—apparently named Aurora—had passed her off so easily, her reasoning was not too far off. Twilight did understand the pull and appeal of science, but in this case she thought presenting oneself to confused and scared ponies should take priority. “Does she at least know how long she will be?” Twilight ventured. “It is my responsibility to give the town an impression of her, and already she’s disappointing me.” “She didn’t tell me the exact time,” Inky replied, “but I assume she will take over about half-way through. Besides, I won’t presume to understand all of her technology, let alone explain it. I’m just going to show you the sights.” The situation was still so far from what she had expected, Twilight had trouble responding intelligently. “I guess that’s fine...” she said, “I mean... as long as I get to meet her... Urgh! I sound like Fluttershy!” “Who’s Fluttershy?” Inky asked, eyebrows arched. “Is she one of the ponies in the town?” “Yes, and it doesn’t matter,” Twilight said rapidly to cover up her outburst. “Can we go?” She was eager to begin moving, if only to drain away her nervous energy. “We could have gone the moment you came up,” Inky said plainly. “You were the one gawking at lights.” “What did you expect me to do, coming into this foreign place?!” Twilight replied, angered by the pegasus’s impolite language. “I honestly wasn’t sure what to expect,” Inky replied, not even fazed by Twilight’s indignation. “I’ve lived as assistant to Lady Aurora for quite some time now, and she is anything but normal.” He peered around Twilight, eyes narrowed inquisitively having caught a brief sight of the stack of cupcake boxes. “What did you bring with you?” he asked, taking it upon himself to stride onto the lift and consequently push Twilight into the hall proper. “You have no sincerity,” Twilight said under her breath, disbelieving. She had heard Rarity’s horror stories about the affluent and ill-mannered Prince Blueblood, but she had only ever considered a small portion of those stories to be true on account of Rarity’s tendency to over-exaggerate. Now though, she had not the slightest trouble believing Rarity. If this servant, for there could be no doubt that that was Inky Jay’s position; could be so blatantly rude, there was nothing that said Blueblood could have been any better. In fact, considering those stories, Inky might possibly be even worse than Blueblood. “Are there cakes of some kind in these flimsy boxes?” Inky asked critically, bringing Twilight out of her reverie, which at present might actually have been better than reality. “Yes,” Twilight replied defiantly. “One of my friends wanted to give Miss Aurora a kind of welcoming gift and goodwill present.” “I see...” Inky replied, not taking his eyes away from inspecting the boxes. The minutes dragged onward, Inky not stepping away from the cupcakes. The only change in his bearing was his tail, which had begun swishing back and forth immediately after Twilight’s answer. Why is he so nervous? Twilight wondered, remembering having much the same give away the first few days in Princess Celestia’s selective academy. If anypony has a right to be nervous, it’s me. “Okay then,” Inky finally stated, turning back to face Twilight, “I’ll have somepony come pick them up and carry them to Lady Aurora’s chambers. Do want to carry one box for when you actually meet her in person?” “The gentlecolt thing to do would be to offer to carry it yourself,” Twilight replied lowly, glaring hatefully at Inky as she swung one box onto her back. “Ha ha!” Inky laughed, genuinely amused. “The ponies here still hold onto those outdated notions!? Ha ha! Wow, you’re in for quite a shock then. Follow me so we can finally get this tour started. Ha ha.” Twilight dubiously obeyed, hoping that the science used to build the vessel would be enough to counter the effect of her terrible guide. “To start, I suppose I should show you how the doors work,” Inky began, stopping at the section of wall he had exited a few minutes before. No, really, Twilight growled irritably to herself. “Lady Aurora designed this vessel to be both a mobile lab as well as a fortress for her own defense,” Inky continued. “The doors are all hidden as part of the walls. You just have to memorize their locations, no signs, no anything.” He nodded his head back to confirm Twilight was watching as he put his hoof against the wood. “So,” he explained, “if you do happen to remember where a door is, all you do is push against it with your hoof and slide it to the right.” He did exactly this, applying pressure until a large square part of the wall receded slightly, and with a casual shove; it slid away to reveal a room gloomy with its single hanging brass light fixture. “The system works both ways as well,” Inky added, stepping into the space and indicating that Twilight should follow. As she passed the mechanism, mounted just inside the room, she fought her desire to be impressed with every ounce of willpower in her body. In the end, she conceded to it, able to admire both the craftsmanship and mathematical skill involved with building something so utilitarian. Her admiration was cut short as Inky Jay coughed significantly for her attention. She faced him, but allowed her continuing displeasure to show with a pointed glare. He noticed, but merely shrugged nonchalantly before extending his hoof over a discombobulated contraption of gears, levers, and steel cables. “This is my pride and joy aboard the ship,” he said, eyes closed in immense self satisfaction. “Lady Aurora decided to make this litter at the last minute, and charged me with building the pulley system. I freely admit I am no engineer, but the system works and serves as a reminder to her of the hardship which she seeks to dispel.” “And how exactly does she intend to do that?” Twilight asked critically. Inky returned to standing normally and pushed past her out the door. “I am not sure,” he said, looking back at her. “I imagine she will tell you herself. Honestly, you should not expect a pegasus like myself to understand any of the magical alchemy you unicorns and allicorns do. All I do is take notes. Now, please, refrain yourself from asking me such probing questions anymore. Follow me.” He ruffled his wings importantly and motioned for her to step up to his side. Twilight came, but gave herself as much distance from this pegasus as was possible in the narrow hall. Inky reminded her a great deal of the Canterlot ponies she always met on trips to the Princess’s city. He was self-righteous, imperious, and completely insensitive. As he led her along, she hoped his behavior was not by example, and that Aurora would be more personable. “This is the only hall that leads directly to the deck of the House of a Thousand Fangs,” Inky said, rounding the first corner and coming to a ridiculously high, wooden spiral staircase. “In total she has five decks, all built with a different floor layout,” Inky grated on in his scratchy voice. “Four decks are for different areas of research; the fifth and lowest is for quarters and maintenance. That is the one I will be showing you.” He trotted around to the stairs and began the long climb to the surface. Twilight felt a permanent frown becoming plastered on her face as she struggled up the steps loaded down with a dress, books, and box of cupcakes. To add to this difficulty, she was beginning to feel the effects of the fields around the ship. Now more aware of the magic’s debilitating effects on her, Twilight endeavored to keep careful track of its progress. As she laboriously climbed the stairs—Inky pausing every now and again to allow her to catch him—she acted as if she were just about to reach for magic. It was incredibly difficult not to slip into actual use, but Twilight’s concentration prevailed. Only, there was not a single change in her magical reservoir. She could feel increasing difficulty in maintaining contact with it, but nothing about its self changed. Unable to stand it any longer, she attempted to grasp a simple lighting spell. Without meaning to, she let slip a small gasp. There was nothing, nothing at all. It was if somepony had placed a clear wall between her and magic. She could see it, even feel it; but grasping it was another matter entirely. An intense feeling of dread washed over her, as it seemed Rainbow Dash had been correct about Aurora stealing unicorn horns. Inky Jay, having noticed she had ceased walking up the extensive stairwell, came back to check on her. At first, he appeared perturbed that she was slowing them down, but a knowing light sparked in his eye when he stepped closer. “The fields treating you harshly?” he asked, the first note of genuine sympathy Twilight had heard in his voice. She actually blinked several times to check whether or not it was the same pony speaking to her or if she was just hallucinating. “It passes,” he continued, still concerned. He lifted the cupcakes off her back, and offered a hoof to assist her. “Try not to concentrate on the loss, and the fields are kinder to you. You will find that you tire out much less.” “But you’re a pegasus!” Twilight exclaimed, waving away his hoof and determinedly climbing on her own power. “How can you just get used to not flying?” “Oh, I can still fly,” Inky replied, his voice now returned to its normal affluency. “Just the same way you can still perform magic. It’s just more effort than it’s worth in the end.” “But... but I can’t use any magic,” Twilight stumbled, confused now about the effects of the field. “And one of my friends is a pegasus, and when she came over the ship, she couldn’t fly.” Inky was frowning seriously, but it was more a condescending look than that of confusion. “You Equestrians must be...” he was saying, but at that moment, they emerged onto the deck of Aurora’s ship. “Lady Aurora...” Inky interrupted himself, for the allicorn was striding from another opening in the deck. “I thought your experiments were going to take a good portion of the afternoon.” “The hypotheses turned out to be incorrect,” Aurora said bluntly unconcerned, “so there was no point in carrying on with the research. Her eyes lingered on Inky first, which Twilight considered odd seeing as she was the guest. “Get that box off your back Inky Jay,” she said sharply. “If she has brought us something, it is not our duty, but hers, to see to it that it reaches the intended recipient.” “I would have done as much,” Inky defended himself, though he removed the box, “but the protective fields seem to be having an odd effect on the ponies in this town. She and the blue pegasus from before have both completely lost their respective abilities upon coming into contact with them.” “I AM HERE YOU KNOW!” Twilight shouted, unable to bear being treated as baggage any longer. “I am an ambassador,” she stated, somewhat breathlessly for the effects of the fields, “and you could show a little more respect for me.” “Don’t expend yourself trying to get my attention young one,” Aurora replied softly forceful, her pale pink eyes narrowed all the same. “You look grand in that outfit, but contrary to what you have assumed, this is not in any way related to politics or an exchange of ideas. This is related to science and science alone, and I chose you to come here because you had the look of a learned pony in your eyes, nothing more. If you wish to participate in our discussion, speak relevantly.” Her words, while not harsh in and of themselves, were biting. In that, she was much like Princess Celestia. “Well, I won’t be able to talk much about science if I fall over from exhaustion,” Twilight fought back. “I heard what Inky advised you do,” Aurora answered. “And it seems you have not yet taken his advice. Consider yourself nothing more than an Earth pony and see if that helps before raging against me.” It was no easy task, to forget completely about the loss of her magical abilities especially when the fatigue was so prevalent in her mind; but simply attempting the exercise brought a measure of relief. From then on, she only had to find something else on which to concentrate, and Scootaloo’s lost scooter was the best option. “Better,” Aurora said. It was not a question. Twilight nodded anyway and said, although grudgingly, “Thank you.” “You have no need to thank me,” Aurora replied, “not until Ponyville has experienced the full extent of my skills.” She turned pointedly to Inky and said, “Be sure to prepare my labs for tomorrow, as usual; then you have leave. You may even venture into the town if you like.” “Thank you Lady Aurora,” Inky inclined his head to her, and swished his tail as he sauntered away. “Inky Jay is a unique personality,” Aurora said to Twilight, not bothering with the fact that Inky was still within earshot, “but he is incredibly skilled with the pen. Now girl, tell me your name so we may get down to the business of my summons.” While she was appreciative of Aurora’s direct manner, it gave Twilight no hope that she would be any more polite than her scribe. All the same, it also meant Twilight herself could be just as purposeful without feeling intrusive. “My name is Twilight Sparkle,” she answered evenly. “I am the favored student to Princess Celestia, and...” she had continued, hoping to both impress and intimidate, but neither seemed to affect Aurora. “I did not ask for your relations, to Celestia or otherwise,” Aurora cut in, irritated. “I only asked for your name, and you having given it to me, we may continue.” “No! Hold on!” Twilight finally burst out, not settling for being trampled over like she was worth nothing. “I am representative for Ponyville, and I will carry out that responsibility as if Princess Celestia herself had given it to me! Now, there are several things you should...” “Keep your words between your teeth,” Aurora cut in again, this time in a louder, more authoritative voice. “I saw in you both spirit and a keen mind, which are the reasons I chose you to come here on behalf of your town. But you must learn that there is a time and a place for everything. You and yours may have many grievances against me already, and I will be willing to hear them all out; but this is neither the time nor the place for us to discuss them. Balance your mind and your spirit.” Twilight shrank back, not out of fear for the mare—as Rainbow had thankfully dispelled such notions—but more from the biting tone of her speech. She was just as forward as Inky Jay, but her words had more edge to them—more relevance. But what was oddest, this mare was speaking down to her, and yet acknowledged and expressed a desire to repair any preconceived opinions of herself. Twilight’s confusion at this apparent contradiction showed as she said, “You... you care about our perception of you?” “Only to a certain degree,” Aurora corrected. “I will not change for them, and I will not expect them to change for me; however, I wish to avoid a dismissal of my science on my character alone.” “Okay,” Twilight said. Despite herself, she was beginning to warm up to Aurora. It was clear her work was her passion, and Twilight could most definitely relate to that. And ignoring how Aurora used it, Twilight also thought she was a bit like Princess Celestia in both poise and authority. “What was it that you wanted to show me first?” “I am glad you have finally come around to a legitimate question,” Aurora said, motioning for Twilight to join her side. “Now try to open your mind. It seems Equestrians have become so mentally stingy as of late.”