//------------------------------// // Eclipse (The End) // Story: The Sun and the Moon // by Brony_Fife //------------------------------// They dined that night on the finest Canterlot cuisine—well, the finest Canterlot cuisine they could afford, anyway. Any money the two had earned from their occasional odd jobs was usually quickly eaten by the wagon’s upkeep, ingredients for the more difficult spells Trixie was learning, and other necessities. But tonight was a special occasion. It was time to splurge a bit; crack open the champagne and live a little! The restaurant itself was like its own cramped little kingdom. Ceiling lamps cast dim light onto the patrons below as they sat at their tables, feasting on food and spinning yarns. Night Guards about to clock in were steadily leaving the diner before the Royal Guards just getting off work came in for their regulars. From outside the windows, the moon looked on in jealously as the whole restaurant ignored its presence. Where she was seated, Trixie found the diner to be a ballroom of different smells and sounds. The cologne from some of the patrons, the baked goods, the steamed vegetables—all smells of all kinds twirling and waltzing through the air. They became dance partners under the music of the chatter of patrons and the band playing on stage, a song of hatred slowly becoming love humming over gently-stroked guitars and softly blowing horns. “You like this place, huh?” asked Sunset—now in her glorious regular form—from the other side of the table. Trixie was snapped out of her thoughts. “This your first time here?” Sunset shrunk in her seat shyly as she nibbled her smoked onion and potato shish-ka-bob. “Well, yeah. You know I lived in Canterlot for a while, but I never even knew this place existed.” “You only lived in the Castle, right?” “Mostly, yeah.” Trixie chuckled, then took her fork and jabbed it into a fried artichoke ball, greedily horking it into her mouth. She swallowed before continuing. “Looks like somepony’s gonna need a tour of Canterlot.” “Well, you’ve been pretty much everyplace in Equestria, right?” Sunset said before taking a bite from her shish-ka-bob. Trixie shrugged. “I’ve been everywhere, mare. Performed in Hoofington, Baltimare, Ponyville, Whinnyapolis, Manehatten—” (she clapped her hooves together and snorted a laugh) “—oh-hoooo, shit, Manehatten!” “I’ve read about Manehatten,” Sunset said as she took another bite of her shish-ka-bob. She chewed quietly, as if in contemplation, then swallowed. “Casinos, theaters, first-class hotels and restaurants. Lots of entertainment venues there.” “No kidding! The lights, the crowds. The roar of applause at my Manehatten show was so loud I went deaf for a day!” Trixie laughed as she finished her bowl of artichoke balls. She eyed the half-slice of orange she’d ordered as a side. After a few silent seconds, she looked up to Sunset with a smirk. “...I bet I can do it.” Sunset rolled her eyes as she finished one ka-bob and went for the second. “Here? Now? Seriously?” she asked. “Sounds like we have a neigh-sayer in the audience,” Trixie said, drawing out the neigh. “An audience, huh?” Sunset grinned. She took another bite of her ka-bob and chewed slowly, eyeing the half-slice of orange on the table. Her eyes flicked back up to Trixie, who was leaning forward on the table, her elbows propping up her smug, challenging face. Sunset swallowed, then placed her ka-bob back on her plate. She leaned back with her own smug smile. “Entertain me.” Trixie made a mock bow in her seat. Then she eyed the orange with intense concentration as both her horn and the orange began to glow with blue light. Sunset observed closely—and only now did she realize the tablecloth was a deep, healthy shade of red, like the skin of an apple. On top of that, the dish the orange rested in was white, like the flesh of an apple. Visual cues. Good. With a muted pop of pure blue light, the half-slice of orange became a delicious half-slice of apple. The two watched it closely for a few seconds, as if it was going to come alive any moment. The half-slice was then plucked up from its dish and brought over to Sunset Shimmer. She carefully put it into her mouth, one edge of the apple fit between her pearly whites. Slowly, her teeth closed around the small bit of apple in her mouth, breaking it off with a crunch. She chewed. Swallowed. Sunset closed her eyes and nodded approvingly. “Pass,” she said. “The Great and Powerful Trixie never disappoints!” Trixie chirped. She lifted her glass of water—since the food was so expensive—and took a drink. Suddenly, the chair behind Trixie scooted right into hers with a jarring clack, pushing her forward and knocking the glass out of her telekinetic grip and clattering onto the table, dousing the tablecloth with its contents. “Oh! So sorry!” came a merry voice. “So sorry!” joined another. “We’re so sorry, Miss!” they both said in unison. The two skinny unicorns stood up from their seat suddenly, revealing their impressive height. Their blue-and-white striped clothes, straw hats, black bow ties, and ruddy mane colors made them resemble vaudeville showmen. They both looked similar enough to be identical twins, had one of them not grown a moustache. “I didn’t know you were there,” said the clean-faced one as he placed a hoof on her shoulder in apology. Trixie coughed and sputtered, the water she’d tried to drink coming up through her nostrils. Sunset got up from her chair. “You okay?!” she asked with some alarm. “Tr-Trixie is fine,” Trixie replied, gulping a desperate gasp of air. Her eyes—howling with anger—flicked to the two who’d so rudely knocked her chair too far forward. The two stallions winced, as if expecting to be on the business end of a lightning bolt. “W-We said we were sorry,” said the clean-faced brother. Trixie brushed at her barrel nonchalantly. “The Great and Powerful Trixie has no time for your—” “Trixie?!” said the other brother, his moustache bouncing with surprise. “The Great and Powerful Trixie?” Trixie stopped, stunned. Her reputation was well-known, yes, but these days, for none of the reasons she’d like. She and Sunset had already been accosted numerous times before by ponies who still remembered the Ponyville Takeover. Was this going to be another confrontation? Before Trixie could say or do anything, Sunset Shimmer took a step forward. “Yeah, that’s her. Got a problem with that?” By now, the other patrons had stopped to stare. Sunset’s choice of words evidently wasn’t for the best, as some of the Guards fidgeted in their chairs, preparing for a brawl to break loose. The clean-faced stallion removed his straw hat, placing it against his chest demurely. “No problem at all, Miss,” he said. “We’re just…” He blushed as his voice trailed off, his roasted-green eyes darting away from Trixie’s inquisitive stare. “We’re big fans,” his brother finished with a nod. “Are you, now?” Trixie said with some reservation. Both nodded. “We saw your show in Manehatten,” said the demure one. “The pyrotechnics you used were nothing short of inspiring. The act finisher in particular?” He made a popping motion against his head with one hoof. “Mind-blowing.” Trixie remembered her one show in Manehatten, and that the pyrotechnics she’d used then were faulty. The act finisher the clean-faced twin mentioned didn’t go exactly as planned—exploding and sending waves of fire down all over the stage. Trixie put them out with twirls of magic that hushed them like strong winds slapping at candles. It was one Tartarus of a fiasco, but the audience loved it. “How rude of us!” exclaimed the mustachioed brother. “All this talk, and we’ve yet to introduce ourselves!” He elbowed his brother. “R-Right!” The two then started their introductions in an odd sort of song. It was charming, fast, tongue-twisty. The kind of ditty that bores holes in your ears and lays eggs that hatch into never-ending stanzas of its parent. The clean, baby-faced one was Flim—the mustachioed one was Flam—they were the Flim Flam Brothers, travelling salesponies nonparei!l Nonpareil. Traveling salesponies they may be, but nonpareil? Somehow, Trixie and Sunset Shimmer doubted it. But their act, impromptu song number as it was, was definitely solid. Sunset found herself tapping her hoof, keeping the beat to their lilting, barbershop-quartet-styled singing. The other patrons settled back into the lively atmosphere, with many of them getting into the song as much as Trixie and Sunset were. The band on stage even got in on the act, their guitars and drums and horns and bass barking discordantly, trying to find the exact rhythm of the Flim Flam Brothers’ song. It was like listening to something fall apart, then come back together gracefully. Soon, the entire restaurant was alive with the sound of song. Suddenly, everypony was singing the stanzas, clinking their mugs of whatever drinks they’d ordered, having fun. Trixie, showpony she was, became swept up into the song—literally. She’d taken Flim by his skinny foreleg and the two cut a rug during the bridge, the patrons cheering them on. Sunset glanced aside at an expectant Flam as the song continued without them. He wiggled his eyebrows and held out a hoof. He didn’t have the jawline, the cute chin, the eyes, the build, or the overall design of a guy she’d want to date—or fuck, if she was in the mood—but dammit, he was handsome in a way that felt... mature. Confident. Masculine. She smirked, rolled her bright green eyes, and took his hoof. Together, they joined the other two in their dance number—spinning here—trading there—a jump—then a twirl. Their unrehearsed dance certainly showed their lack of practice, but it was so sudden and so damned fun that nopony really minded. The patrons of the restaurant began stomping their hooves to the beat, chanting the word “dance” as if it were a command to these four unexpected entertainers. The dancers' movements graduated from graceless to fluid as they became more comfortable with their partners, growing more and more kinetic as their nervousness with one another was shed. The Flim Flam Brothers then began their refrain, this time met by stanzas made up by Trixie and Sunset—who were returned with crazy, clever, on-the-fly rhymes from the brothers. Trixie's place countered with Flim's face, and Sunset's shame for Flam's name. Their crisscrossing lyrics ended up changing the tone of the song from an introductory proclamation to a story of learning from one's mistakes and moving on, their soulful voices dancing with one another just as much as they were themselves. The patrons went wild at their performance. Finally, their song came to a close just in front of the exit. The four bowed as the entire restaurant shook with cheers. “Thank you!” Flim called over the clamor. “Thank you very much!” With that, all four filed out of the restaurant to applause that could be heard three blocks away. Doubtlessly, it was a night that the patrons were going to talk about for a long time. The excitement died down a little bit afterward, the patrons returning to their meals now that the entertainment portion of their visit was over, murmuring about the marvelous performance. Suddenly, realization smacked the face of one of the waiters. He quickly turned to his manager. “I don’t think those guys paid for their meals.” The manager’s squinty eyes shot open. “This is a cider-maker?” Trixie asked incredulously. Wheels both big and small spinning round, bells ringing, gadgets buzzing, spokes spewing steam—if it really was supposed to be a cider-maker, it sure as shit didn’t look it. It more closely resembled the head of a train. All four rode this beast of a machine as it chugged and rolled along Canterlot’s main street, the moonlight above peeking shyly from behind Canterlot's phallic spires, bathing them in a ghostly glow. “That’s what we tried selling it as for a time,” explained Flim. “But thanks to some setbacks, we’ve been working on putting it to different uses.” Sunset cocked an eyebrow. “So, same machine, different applications?” “That’s the idea!” Flam declared. Trixie tsked, smiled, and shook her head. “So you’re salesmen, singers, dancers, and inventors?” She looked aside the next street. "Hey, down this way; we parked near the gates." The brothers laughed. “Well, we’re hardly magicians,” Flam said with a shrug. Trixie shrunk a little in her seat. “Um… truth is, neither is Trixie.” Flim and Flam eyed her with looks of disbelief. All that big talk, that flair for the dramatic—even her performance in Las Pegasus—and she didn't consider herself a magician? Flim seemed ambivalent to say something, but before he could, Sunset Shimmer reached over from her perch on the machine and placed a hoof on Trixie’s shoulder. “But she’s getting better!” she offered in defense. “I’ve been teaching her better magic.” Flam’s moustache twitched as he turned to look at Sunset. “So wait a moment; you’re a magic teacher?” Sunset saw that look sparkling in his dark-green eyes. It was there when he offered her a dance, and now it was back, stronger than it was before. That look of intense interest, the kind a stallion makes when he’s found a mare he knows is worth keeping. She gave him a teasing smirk. “Not officially,” she said, electing to not mention her tutelage under Princess Celestia. “But I’m good enough, don’tcha think?” Silence. Flam then sported a daring smile as he leered at her. “...Don’t suppose you could... teach me some tricks?” “I can teach you how to play dead,” Sunset said not unkindly. Flim let loose a laugh that sounded more to Sunset and Trixie like a chicken clucking. “Looks like you need to work on your pick-up lines, brother!” he said. Flam hurrrrrmmmphed and sunk in his seat, earning a laugh from the machine’s other passengers. Sunset gave his shoulder a playful punch. “But seriously, you guys are pretty awesome,” she said. “And I take it you’re travelers?” “Wherever the wind takes us!” Flim said with a dramatic wave of his hoof. Trixie laughed. “We’re a whole group of travelling entertainers!” she said. Her eyes widened in realization. “Hey! That’s it!” “What’s it?” asked Sunset. Trixie turned in her seat, facing the other three. “The way we played up that restaurant? The applause? The cheering? We led that crowd! We should be a travelling vaudeville show!” She let the idea sunk into her three comrades. Flam, wide-eyed with realization, gave an approving nod, but said nothing. “That’s a GREAT idea!” Flim declared. “Your magic show, coupled with our singing and dancing—” “—and this hulking beast of a machine,” Sunset added with a knock on the machine’s chassis. Trixie’s hooves were shaking with barely-contained energy. “—We’d be an unstoppable show! We’ll have ponies talking about us to their grandkids! Ponies naming their pets after us!” “Gee,” Sunset said flatly, “I’ve always wanted a slobbering Rottweiler named after me.” “And think of the merchandising opportunities!” Flim joined in. “Posters, coffee mugs, t-shirts...” Sunset laughed. “Imagine me, on a t-shirt...” “I'd totally wear a t-shirt with you on it!” Trixie said. Sunset made a deep gasp, her smile wide and her bright green eyes twinkling. She reached down and gave Trixie a hug. “Best friends, foreverrr!” “I can see it now!” Trixie said, deliberately ignoring Sunset’s half-sarcasm. She lifted her eyes to the starry sky as if her following headline were written there. “The Great and Powerful Trixie performs alongside the Flim Flam Brothers, travelling entertainers nonpareil!” “So what does that make me?” Sunset asked with a scowl. “You get to be the coffee girl,” Trixie said quickly. Sunset broke her hug and playfully smacked the back of Trixie’s head. All laughed. The four ponies rode down the street, out of Canterlot, and into their future. And for the first time in a while, everything looked bright. THE END.