//------------------------------// // Chapter 2 // Story: Orderly Chaos // by FoughtDragon01 //------------------------------// A sigh of relief passed through Twilight’s muzzle as she stepped inside her library home, an equally relieved smile on her face. Her day had been a picture-perfect example of convenience. So far, in a rare moment, she managed to get everything on her schedule completed in a nice, timely manner. No distractions, no sidetracking, no citywide catastrophes. She was, for all intents and purposes, as happy as could be. As she took off her saddlebags, placing them off to the side, she giggled. Only Ponyville could make staying on schedule feel like a breath of fresh air. Granted, she didn’t really spend as much time with her friends as usual, but she didn’t let it bother her that much. After all, it wasn’t like she was putting her punctual needs before them; they all had their own things to do as well. She was certain that they’d all agree that today in particular ran especially smoothly for all of them. “Spike, I’m home!” she called, approaching her desk. As she neared her desk, she couldn't shake off the odd sense of familiarity itching at the back of her mind. Huh. Déjà vu, she thought. She didn’t let her bother very much, though. She had been a busy mare for the past few days. It only made sense if things felt a bit samey. It certainly wouldn't have been the first time that the feeling hit her. The clattering of pans and silverware against the countertop rang from the kitchen before Twilight’s young assistant poked his head through the doorway. “Hey, Twilight. I’m making lunch.” ---- “No.” Snap. “No.” Snap. “No!” Snap. “Oh, for heaven’s sake!” A more-than-agitated sigh escaped Discord’s mouth after his, what, umpteenth attempt at conjuring a nonsensical creations of utter chaos that he actually wanted to conjure. Unfortunately for the irritated draconequus, that was anything but simple. Days of effort later, and he was still faced with trouble. As much as he loved chaos, even he drew a line somewhere. His forte generally revolved around controlled chaos, oxymoronic as it sounded. Chaos without control was similar to watching an out of control lawnmower wreak havoc on some poor soul’s property. Yes, it would be nice if it eventually drove itself into said poor soul’s living room by complete chance. Yes, it was amusing for a time. Yes, Discord could’ve been the reason why the lawnmower was out of control in the first place, but there was always an added sense of satisfaction if he could just steer it into the living room himself, rather than leave it to chance. That was a similar case, except instead of a lawnmower, it was his very chaotic power. His ‘little slice of chaos’ certainly lived up to its name, as it was practically filled up to the ceiling with chaotic little objects. Porcelain plates flapped about the room, giving off the occasional tweet. Magazines and other books hopped across the floor like frogs or wriggled like worms. Discord’s own bed was quite literally a water bed, the small body of water retaining its bedlike shape, save for the ripples. Plaster was virtually nonexistent in his room, his walls, floor, and ceiling all being made out of some wondrously delicious combination of chocolate, cheese, cake, and other confections. All of these chaotic creations, yet there was one thing that Discord didn’t have that left him annoyed. He did not have a ball. It wasn't even that he tried to create a ball made of diamonds, magic, or the tears of young foals. No, he simply wanted a round clump of rubber, evidently something that a higher authority deemed him unworthy of obtaining. Discord, in all of his powerful, chaotic glory, could not for the life of him conjure an object that any child with half a brain could purchase from the nearby marketplace. That, as they said in old Canterlot times, was simply and completely unacceptable. “Well, isn’t this just inconvenient?” he muttered. Power without control was not something that Discord appreciated, not one bit. It was one thing if others were annoyed by his antics, but if he himself grew annoyed with what were technically his own creations, intentionally created or not, then something was severely wrong. Still, he supposed that it wasn’t all bad. Some chaos was better than none, and it at least added some unpredictability to his power. After all, what was chaos if not unpredictable? If it didn’t end up fixing itself in the near future, he supposed he could get used to it. After all, it wasn’t as though things could get worse. “Oh, well. What can you do?” he said with a shrug. With something of an amused grin, he snapped his fingers yet again, anticipating whatever creation he’d unintentionally conjure next. Then things got worse. What greeted Discord was not the familiar, grand flash of light that preceded his creations popping into creation. It wasn’t even a mundane flash of light. Rather, there was no flash of light at all. There was no new object. Instead, a few meager green sparks flew from Discord’s finger tips. Discord did little more than stare down at his hand with a look so stern it was surprising that his hand simply didn’t will itself away. He snapped his fingers again, as though that would fix things. He did it again. And again. And again. Each snap was more frustrated than the last, and each one yielded the same, miserable sparks. He himself almost didn’t want to believe; it actually took him a moment to process what this meant. “Well, this is…” In the blink of an eye, dozens of his chaotic creations all became not-so-chaotic with an accompanying pop. “…bad.” His plates crashed back to the floor, shattering to pieces. His books ceased movement, flopping back to the floor with a thud. His walls all changed from their edible materials back into their boring, white plaster. His bed and couches all turned back to their ordinary selves. Everything around him, all of his creations, turned back to… normal. Tossed back into the dull normalcy that was his room, Discord only stood there, his face twisted into an irritated scowl. “And now apparently this is happening.” Was he shocked? Was he confused? Was he terrified? He himself didn’t know. He only knew two things. One, he was very, very annoyed. Two, and even more inconvenient, without his own magic, fixing this mess would prove considerably difficult. He’d need help. He just needed to decide on who. Admittedly, that did bring something of a smile to his face. He already enjoyed annoying the countless inhabitants of Equestria, and now he had a perfectly reasonable excuse to do exactly that. Humming merry tunes to himself, Discord rummaged underneath his bed. A smile on his face, he pulled out a large sheet of parchment. Unfurling it, it revealed pictures of several different ponies, including, but not limited to, Celestia, Luna, and of course, young Twilight Sparkle. After pinning it up to the wall, he dug inside a nearby drawer, pulling out a single dart. “With so many choices, I couldn’t possibly make the choice myself. Now, then, let’s see who the lucky one is.” Discord placed a paw in front of his eyes as he took aim with the dart. With nothing left in the way of distractions, he haphazardly tossed the dart towards the chart. After hearing the telltale thud, he eagerly peeked over his paw. If there were hints of a smile on his face, they were quickly erased when he saw who his dart landed on. Princess Celestia. A humored chuckle left Discord’s lips as he walked up to the chart. “Yes… No. Maybe some other time, Celly.” He unceremoniously yanked the dart out of the wall and planted it onto another pony, this one far more appealing to Discord. Little Twilight Sparkle. “And it seems we have a winner!” he exclaimed. “Ponyville, here I come.” Without another word, he dove out of the nearby window. Despite plummeting towards the unforgiving ground below, Discord wore a calm, cocky smirk as he lackadaisically snapped his fingers. The green sparks that flew from his fingertips was a much-needed reminder of his current predicament. It also made him aware of something that came just bit too late: Jumping out of that window was a terrible, terrible idea. ---- Something was odd. A sigh of relief passed through Twilight’s muzzle as she stepped inside her library home, an equally relieved smile on her face. Her day had been a picture-perfect example of convenience. So far, in a rare moment, she managed to get everything on her schedule completed in a nice, timely manner. No distractions, no sidetracking, no citywide catastrophes. She was, for all intents and purposes, as happy as could be. Yet something was still odd. If one were to merely glance at her, then yes, they would assume that she was content with the events that unfolded throughout her day. What they wouldn’t be able to notice, however, was the storm of panicked thoughts rushing through her mind. Again, something was odd. Very odd. This day, this example of immaculate time management that flowed like clockwork, was one that had repeated itself over and over and over again, each event unfolding in the exact same way, at the exact same time. In fact, this day in particular must’ve been the fourth—no, fifth—no sixth!—repetition in a cycle that made a straight block of wood look like a winding trail of twists and turns. Twilight couldn’t explain what the cause of such a linear cycle was; she didn’t even know when it began in the first place. It must’ve been some time last week when she noticed the strange repetition that persisted day after day. At first, she merely thought that it was just a case of déjà vu. It wouldn’t have been the first time she felt its effects, especially since she was already a devotee of routine. As that sense of familiarity continued throughout the rest of the week, however, Twilight couldn’t help but feel that something was off. The day always played out in the same order. She woke up at exactly seven in the morning, ate breakfast at exactly seven-thirty, studied from eight-thirty to noon, and so on and so forth. Now, as the clock landed on three in the afternoon, Twilight found herself returning home after a simply invigorating stroll around Ponyville, giving out the same exact greetings to the same exact ponies that she found in the same exact places. The feeling was strange. She knew that the days were repeating themselves to an uncanny degree. She knew that she must’ve been trapped in some kind of loop. She also had a fairly good feeling that the rest of Ponyville, maybe even the rest of Equestria, knew this as well. If they did, or if Twilight was just some odd exception to this sudden, new rule, she didn’t know. None of her friends, or anypony for that matter, could express their worry, as that would no doubt go against the day-to-day routine that they’ve been forced to follow. If it was some type of loop, it was one in which Twilight had no control. While her mind was free to think and free to process the repetitive stimuli around her, she had no control of her body or even her own voice. Everything she did, from waking up in the morning, to speaking to whomever she spoke to, was done entirely against her own free will. She simply went through the motions, and this day was no different. Not in the slightest way. Even before she stepped inside the library, she could smell the hay fries that Spike was cooking. What she couldn’t smell, though, were the daisy sandwiches that he prepared as well. But she knew that they’d be there. They were always there. Had been for the past week. Speaking of Spike, next came Twilight’s call to him. “Spike, I’m home!” As she heard the pitter-patter of tiny feet coming towards her, she slipped off her saddlebags and placed them in their spot in the corner. Twilight was certain that she saw a clear spot where she kept placing them day after day. After the seven steps it took for him to reach the kitchen entrance, Spike poked his head out into the lobby. The smile on his face was no wider or softer than the previous days before. Next, he’d say, “Oh, hey, Twilight. I’m making lunch.” Twilight looked up at her young assistant, her warm smile betraying the raging storm inside of her mind. Now, I say ‘Mmm—’ “—I can smell it. You’re getting good at this.” He’d better have been getting good at cooking it. He’s been doing it for the past week. The rest of the conversation was so predictable that Twilight simply blocked it out. Even then, she was able to follow along perfectly as she followed Spike into the kitchen. She couldn’t help but allow a passing thought as she wondered if she’d finish her meal in more or less than forty-seven bites this time. As she took her twelve steps to the kitchen, the dull, repetitive monotony was broken by what sounded like a muffled thud right outside the front door. Normally, such a noise would hardly be enough cause for concern, but in this particular scenario, it was more than enough, and for one simple reason. Twilight had never heard such a noise in the previous days before. It was something different. Oh, if she could, she would’ve spun around on the spot and rushed outside just to see the source of this simple, yet routine-breaking noise. Had somepony finally broken out of this never-ending loop of monotony? Who could have done it? How could they have done it? Unfortunately, such questions would have to go unanswered. Despite her inner desires to go see what that noise was, her body continued on into the kitchen, that smile of hers not wavering for a second, as though she never heard the noise at all. No! Turn around! Turn around! she mentally screamed. Yet she didn’t. Her eyes simply scanned the table before her. Two plates, one topped with a daisy sandwich and hay fries, the other, a few chunks of gems. As Twilight sat down at her kitchen table, soaking up the homey aroma of a home-cooked meal, another series of noises moved about her home, just outside the library walls. They sounded like footsteps, as though somepony was circling the library, trying to find a way inside. Never in Twilight’s life did she ever wish for something as simple as turning her head, but she would’ve given anything to just glance out the blasted window. But if memory served correctly, her eyes wouldn’t go anywhere near the kitchen windows. At the most, she could spy a single window out of the corner of her eye, but that was it. “So, Spike. How was your day?” Twilight asked before taking a bit out of the top-left corner of her sandwich. She never realized before, but she rarely asked Spike that question before this… incident. It was a nice question to ask, yes, as it showed interest in her assistant’s affairs, but it was just so mundane. More times than not, Twilight would come home to a dragon with a smile that was slightly too innocent and an enthusiasm that was slightly too great. More times than not, Twilight would simply ask him ‘What did you do now?’ and that would be how she learned of his day, as well as why her library walls were sporting a few new holes. Regardless, Twilight and Spike enjoyed their lunch, chatting away as they had the exact same conversation they had for the past eight days. As she stared into his eyes, Twilight could’ve almost sworn that she saw a glint in Spike’s eyes, one that screamed ‘Help me’. He certainly had her condolences. At around the sixth bite of her sandwich, Twilight caught something. Whether it was simply sheer luck or her mind finally beginning to crack, she saw something appear in the kitchen window that she herself could barely see. It couldn’t have been a normal part of this odd loop, she would’ve noticed it days ago. It was something else. Something different! Her mind raced with joy at the prospect that somepony found a way to break out of this loop. If she could just talk to them. Heck, if she could just see who it was! As she and Spike continued with their lunch, this newcomer banged on the kitchen window, no doubt trying to get Twilight’s attention. They certainly had her attention, but she couldn’t turn it towards them unless it was part of the routine. It wasn’t. From her less-than-convenient perspective, all she could derive was that this visitor was gray. That didn’t really narrow it down. As the mysterious visitor continued banging against the window and waving their arms, there was but one thought rushing through her mind, one that she sorely wished she could just shout to the heavens. The window is unlocked. The window is unlocked. The window is unlocked. Unfortunately, that didn’t seem to be a thought that crossed the mind of her surprise guest. The screams inside of Twilight’s mind could shake Canterlot Mountain itself as she saw her visitor duck out of sight. No. Don’t leave. Please come back. “So, what are your plans for tomorrow?” Spike casually asked, munching on a piece of topaz. Shut up, Spike. Luckily for her, not many seconds ticked by before her wish was promptly granted, though perhaps not in the way she imagined. A trashcan flew through her window. If Twilight didn’t know better, she might’ve thought that her eye twitched ever so slightly as glass shards scattered across her floor. That might’ve just been the minor aneurysm. “Ah! Well, that worked! And they said I needed a key.” If it could’ve, Twilight’s fur would’ve stood on end as that voice invaded her eardrums. Out of all the ponies—no, all the species—in Equestria, why, in sweet Celestia’s name did it have to be him? Oh, no. Please leave. Don’t come back. Discord, with a wide, all-too innocent smile on his face, slithered his way through the shattered kitchen window. “Twilight! Just the mare I was looking for!”