Pinkie lifted her head from the pool of water. The cold air upon her face stung slightly. An involuntary chill rippled through her torso. She wiped off the remaining water from her face and stepped into the pool. Shivering, she lowered her thin form down into the water and sighed.
“Anger? I thought being mad would make you hotheaded. This water is ice cold!” She called out.
She received the exact response she had expected, that is to say a response was not heard. Anger had been acting stranger than usual lately. In fact, ever since Blue had been found she had been rather odd. The monotonous irritation with bursts of rage had been replaced with periods of decently calm interaction, and even the ghost of a grin. It was strange, thought Pinkie, how color was separated from the grey of the cave. Grey’s a color, right? She dismissed the thought with a splash of water. Pinkie lifted a hoof out of the water to scrape the mud off, the other dangled precariously over a lip in the pool. A chilly blackness stretched down into a yawning pit, greedily drinking the still water. The legs traded places. It was kind of Anger to provide a bit of a light to follow Pinkie around.
“I don’t suppose you want to tell me where you went? Ooh! What if you can still hear me?” Pinkie called back into the cave.
“Of course I can still hear you! I’m just in the other room! Are you done yet?”
“I don’t know. The cold kinda feels like it’s warm.”
There was a pause.
“What?”
“Yeah, like the cold water felt how cold it was and decided that it wasn’t good to be cold.”
The temperature of the water dropped substantially.
“Ahh! I was just joking!”
“I’m not. Hurry up.”
“Why are you in the other room? You can come in here, you know. Silly Anger.”
“It’s because you’re bathing.”
“Because I’m bathing? Why does that matter? I always look the same.”
“You know what?” Anger paused. “Fine. Stay in there as long as you want. I’m going for a stroll.”
“A stroll? Stroll where? Ooh!” Pinkie smiled and shifted lower into the now warm pool.
She closed her eyes and sighed. The first thing she was going to do when she returned was go to the spa. Oh, and she must tell Rarity how wonderful a mental bath…yeah, a mental bath is. It was oddly still in the pool; no water dripped from the ceiling to break the surface. They called out from elsewhere to mark their descent. She must also remember to install one of these in her own mindset as well.
“Take a note,” she exclaimed, raising a hoof from the water, “that I, Pinkie…err…Joy, wish to install a cave pool in my mindset at once. I do not require the cave, however.”
“Very good, Madame Joy. Is there anything else you require?”
“Something sweet, if you’re asking. I would love some cake.”
“A cake you shall have. No, do not stir. I shall feed it to you.”
Pinkie opened her mouth and felt something soft and sweet, which tasted remarkably like cake. A bit tart, yet with a smooth, cool frosting to help satiate the palate.
“Satisfactory, Madame?”
“Mmm. Delish! This is a great cake!”
“May I continue?”
“Mmm-hmm, please do!”
With each bite of the pastry, Pinkie felt herself falling deeper and deeper into a state of pure contentedness. Something soft and sweet smelling removed the excess frosting from her lip before her desert continued.
“Would Madame enjoy some peeled grapes?”
“Ooh, I would love some peeled gr—Wait, peeled grapes? No thank you. You can’t mess with cake!”
“My apologies, Madame. Of course, you are right. Is the water temperature all right?”
“The water’s great! Come on in!”
“I appreciate your invitation, Madame, yet I must decline. My place is here, to serve you.”
“Don’t be silly. I don’t need to be served.”
“I hesitate to contradict you, Madame, but as a guest of Anger you must be attended to. Would a braiding of your mane be pleasurable?”
Pinkie made a note to thank Rarity for no particular reason.
“Um, sure!”
“In what style would Madame prefer her mane to be styled?”
“I don’t know. Choose your favorite; it’ll be my favorite too.”
Pinkie felt two soft, skillful hooves weaving through her mane, twisting and knotting. Another pair of hooves attended her hooves, cleaning and polishing with acute precision.
“Madame, would you enjoy a drink after your meal?”
“I would indeed. Can I have some punch? Oh, and thank you, you’re the best.” Pinkie smiled and opened her eyes.
A ghostly white stallion stood over her, hooves running through her mane. Another knelt at her side, polishing her hooves. Their wide, caring eyes met hers with pity and help. Their own manes were neat and proper, combed and styled in the same manner as a royal servant would. The thin, white forms stood against the grey stone, every movement a ballet step. Upon their bodies hung elegant robes of translucent silk. She could see more walking, if not floating, into the room. An attendant was departing and with her the empty cake plate. A dark, putrid ichor dripped from their open mouths past a missing lower jaw.
“My apologies, Madame, the only drink we serve is water. You may find the quantity at which we are able to serve it at once a decent compensation for this.”
Two soft hooves wrapped around her dangling hooves. She felt herself slowly being drawn towards the lip. Could she die here? What would happen if she drowned? The water had turned quite cold.
“Why?” She asked softly. The pulling stopped. She glanced back at the attendant who was still braiding her mane. “Why?”
“My apologies, Madame. We were requested to remove you. We can’t disobey our superiors. It isn’t proper, and it’s unsatisfactory service.”
The pulling resumed. Pinkie tilted her head up as the water neared. “Was it Anger? Did Anger tell you to do this?”
“I am sorry, Madame, but Anger was disposed with other activities. The request was not hers. I must submit another apology, Madame. I can no longer continue your braid.”
Pinkie nodded and felt a droplet of water from somewhere high above fall to rest on her face before slipping into the pool. “Ok. Can you tell Anger what happened?”
“We are not to communicate with Anger at this time. I regret to say she does not understand this and as such believes us to be something we are not.”
“You’re the angry thoughts. So, what are you really if not thoughts?”
“We are thoughts, Madame, that part is true. We are not a threat. Goodbye Madame, it was a pleasure.”
“See ya.” Pinkie replied as her head slipped under the water and was pulled down into the pit. She watched as an attendant moved to the light Anger had provided for her and began to devour it.