//------------------------------// // Act II: The Appeal of Happenstance // Story: The Literary Appeal // by HiddenBrony //------------------------------// “You broke her.” “I did not! I just... I thought I was being romantic! That’s what the book said to do! I just–” Twilight Sparkle trotted over to one of the other desks, her eyes quickly reading over the titles of every chapter looking for a way to narrow the search down. “There’s nothing in here that involves fainting!” Spike waddled over where Cheerilee had fallen. He picked up her hoof and let it fall limply to the floor. “She’s definitely out.” “Spike! Don’t touch her while she’s unconscious!” Twilight groaned, retreating from her book to survey the damage. Sadly, Cheerilee had really made a mess of things, a fact compounded once Twilight’s hoof kicked a stray glass clear across the room on accident. Giving the offending glass a long glare, she bent down to try to nose Cheerilee awake. Spike walked around the fallen pony, tittering his tongue as he did. “Well, how else am I going to clean around her? She’s made a mess of your desk, and I can’t exactly mop up a puddle of ink when she’s lying on it.” Twilight snorted. “Fine, just, let me move her somewhere out of the– puddle of ink?” she paused, giving the dragon a long look. “She’s... lying in a—” Going full gallop, Twilight bowled over Spike as she got to look at where Cheerilee had fallen from his point of view. Cheerilee’s face was drenched in black, unforgiving ink. “Oh my gosh.” Twilight breathed, her pupils dilating. “Oh my gosh oh my gosh ohmygosh ohmygosh.” She looked around wildly for inspiration for what to do as he hooves went pitter-pat against the wooden floor. “What do I do? Oooh no, what do I do!?” Spike crawled out of a mess of brooms and mops, his expression sour. Walking calmly past Twilight, he picked up Cheerilee’s head for a moment to inspect just how far along the ink puddle had spilled over half of her face. “Well, that’s not good.” Letting her head fall unceremoniously back into the puddle, specks of ink burst out from under the pony’s head as it made contact with the ground, causing the ooze to drizzle out in a sunburst around Cheerilee. Some of it grabbed on to the Dragon’s scales, which Spike gave no mind to. Twilight’s forehooves did not fare much better. “Whoops.” “Spike!” Twilight shouted. Spike looked guilty, even if the corners of his mouth were turned up in a smile. “You’re not helping! Get a... something, anything to pick this up or wash this out!” she groaned, slapping a hoof to her head. It took her a moment to register that. “Did I just...” Twilight slowly removed her hoof from her face, staring down at the upside U-shaped black imprint of her hoof. Slowly, she looked over to Spike. Tears formed at the edges of his eyes. His smile was growing impossibly. His stomach gurgled as the laughter started to pour out of him, roaring like a waterfall as the guffaws spilled from his gut. Spike tumbled over, rolling over a decidedly cleaner portion of the floor as he tried to keep stealing glances over the hoof-shaped ink print on Twilight’s face. And then there was a knock at the door. “Oh, not now,” Twilight seethed, stomping over to the door. “The Library is closed. Come back tomorrow!” she said with a sweetness like battery acid. “Pardon me,” a refined voice called from the other side, “But I was told this was the residence of where I could find one Miss Twilight Sparkle?” The voice was familiar, but the Princess’ personal pupil had no time for someone who wasn’t in her direct circle of friends right now. “I’m not home,” Twilight snorted, silently congratulating herself on her tactic. It was bulletproof. There was a small silence on the other end. Long enough for Twilight to declare victory over the unknown pony, but as she turned to deal with the task at hand, there was a polite cough and a clearing of one’s throat coming from outside. “Yes, well, seeing as somepony who is clearly not Twilight Sparkle is clearly telling me that she is not home in any capacity, I would like to pass on that I am here on business from Canterlot, under the Princess’ orders—” The door opened wide quickly, revealing a rather large white unicorn stallion, expertly dressed for the evening. “The Princess?!” Fancy Pants quickly took stock of the mare in front of him. Yes, this was definitely the same one from the Garden Party a year or so back. “Ah, so you’re the one who was in the charmingly rustic dress. I had a feeling we’d met before.” His eyes focused on the very obvious horseshoe print on her face. “I see you’re busy, I hadn’t taken you for an artist, Mrs. Sparkle...” “It’s ‘Ms.’ Sparkle,” Twilight corrected on the fly, "And you wouldn't believe what I'm going through." There was a pregnant pause before the Canterlot Elite himself curtly nodded. “Well, I’m ready to believe you, if you’d fancy a try.” ----- “My my, that is quite a pickle.” Fancy Pants nodded, delightfully sipping from his tea. “So you’re saying you’ve been courting this lovely, sadly accident-prone schoolteacher for a while, and you’ve finally set a date with her to meet her mother while you’re sober—” “Stone cold sober,” Twilight interrupted. “Quite,” Fancy nodded, “and while getting ready, Cheerilee,” he paused, giving Twilight a look for confirmation that he had gotten her name right. When Twilight nodded, he smiled and continued, “happened to have spilled a large pool of ink, resulting in that speckled dalmatian look that was so popular in last Fall’s animal-inspired collection.” Taking a sip of tea, Fancy took a sort of enjoyment from the bitter taste. “And you, after reading up on, what was it again?” “Asking the Difficult Questions to Your Significant Others that You Want to Make More Significant: For Eggheads.” “Ah yes, they’re on their Ninth Edition, yes? You know I wrote the foreword for the Eighth,” Fancy Pants beamed, a shadow passing over his face shortly thereafter. “Sadly, I was replaced this edition for a foreword by Princess Luna. I find her take on presenting questions to be very old fashioned and upfront, but it lacks a certain finesse that is important in high-class Canterlot.” “Yes, your section on treating mares with respect about their weight was certainly more helpful than Princess Luna’s,” Twilight praised, her eyes never leaving Fancy Pants’. Nearby, Spike was mopping up the mess next to still unconscious Cheerilee, who had been relocated to a set of chairs that had been used to create a makeshift couch. “There is always a certain charm in being direct, Twilight. Speaking of, bravo for treating your mare there with a certain amount of romance and respect, even if it did end in inky disaster.” Fancy Pants checked the time, his eyebrows raising. “However, I must note a certain hole in your story that remains unfilled. The mother– Her mother, specifically. Isn’t she waiting at the restaurant for you?” Twilight gasped, her face spinning towards the mirror which hung limply on the wall. “Oh no! I totally forgot! We’re completely late, and—” Seeing a clear opportunity, Fancy Pants ahemed loudly as he rose to his feet. “Well, I believe I’ve taken enough of your personal time. I think I should return the favor,” he said simply. Twilight wheeled about, her face a mask of confusion. “Don’t worry about the old maid, I’ll be sure to let her know of your predicament– not in so many details, however.” Twilight’s eyebrows furrowed as she brought her inkless hoof up to her chin, tapping it thoughtfully. “Do you think you could do that? Really?” “Why yes, of course, it’s no trouble at all. I’ve got plenty of time on my visit here to Ponyville, after all,” Fancy concluded, casting a disconcerting eye over Cheerilee. “I’d be more than happy to help a fellow pony out of a rough spot. You take care of your loved ones, Miss Sparkle. I shall be the bearer of bad news.” “Well... thank you, Fancy Pants.” Twilight stared blankly, unbelieving of the stallion’s kindness. “Oh! But you said you were here on Princess Official Business!” she said, galloping over to Fancy. “What does she need from me! It must be important!” Fancy Pants paused, looking back at the half fuchsia, half black mare behind Twilight. “Not as important as interpersonal relationships, Miss Sparkle. That’s just good business practice. And a hard one to learn.” Nodding curtly toward the dragon with the mop bucket, Fancy Pants exited the library. “Oh, and the restaurant's name?” he called back. “The Blue Mare! And thank you!” “Think nothing of it!” Fancy Pants called back. Looking forward again, the stallion trotted forth with due speed. “What an odd coincidence, that’s just where I met Fleur when I was there on business. I recall their Maregaritas were really quite stellar.” ----- Common Household Cleaning Tips: For Eggheads was discarded on the floor for the much more commonfolk version of the book, So You Poured Ink/Wine Over Someone. Twilight, having sent Spike out to purchase several cleaning solutions, was hurriedly trying to read through the list of cures before Cheerilee woke up to find half her face covered in ink. On the other side of the room, in full view of Twilight’s standing mirror, Cheerilee woke up to find that half her face was covered in ink. The scream just about shattered the mirror. “What happened–” Cheerilee whipped around, her eyes catching Twilight’s bulging eyes. “Twiiiiiiiiiliiiiiiiight, why is my face covered in what smells like shame?” "It's ink," Twilight hesitantly choked out. Wincing, she couldn't stop Cheerilee from casting another look over to her two-faced reflection. One side of Cheerilee's face was fuschia and friendly. The other one was dark as night, sticky, and smelled of copper and the crushed dreams of college students. “I think I screwed up.” “Nooo...” Twilight trailed, trotting over to Cheerilee, appearing in the reflection behind her. “You just... it was a little silliness, that’s all. We’re all a bit silly from time to time.” “I thought we could be a decent couple in an indecent time,” Cheerilee started, her eyes not leaving the black reflection of herself in the mirror. Twilight paused. “What’s indecent about our time?” “My mother,” Cheerilee expressed. “There is no morality with her.” “I think you’re overreacting,” Twilight chuckled, catching a glare from the ink-stained side of her marefriend. “You just don’t want me to meet your mother, Leelee...” “It’s not about what I want! It’s about what’s fair!” Cheerilee moaned, her face falling in her hooves. “You don’t know her like I do, Twilight.” A pause. “She does things. To mares.” Twilight allowed herself an unapologetic snort of a laugh as she placed her hoof on her mouth to cover it up. Cheerilee gave her a look. “Not like that.” Another pause. “Okay, well, exactly like that.” “I know.” “How could you?” Cheerilee said, slightly indignant. Twilight blinked. “Well, I said I remembered what happened last time vividly, and she seemed to be getting pretty friendly with that waitress before we left...” “During, actually,” Cheerilee answered soberly. Twilight gave a thousand-yard stare. “That explains the crashing noise.” “So you already know my mother is a complete—” “Succubus, my books tell me to call her,” Twilight smiled. “Yes, I know, but she’s still your mother. If you want us to be together, Cheerilee, I have to know your family, and that includes your mother,” Twilight’s hoof reached out, placing it over Cheerilee’s. “She has to be some sort of good to raise a mare like you.” Cheerilee smiled appreciatively, leaning her head against Twilight’s while closing her eyes. They stayed like that for a small time, before Cheerilee finally dared to speak. “When did you get to be the voice of reason in this relationship?” Twilight giggled softly. “About the same time you stuck a maneful of wet ink against my head,” Twilight responded gently, feeling a trickle of black ink run down the side of her neck. “...Oh.”