//------------------------------//
// Chapter 21: Hobnobbing Week 
// Story: Destiny's Call: The tales of a foreigner in a familiar land 
// by Zenith Starwalker 
//------------------------------//

	I leaned back comfortably in my Durasteel framed lawn chair, drinking in the sights and sounds of the tropically themed atrium in the belly of an iconic Alliance Starship. In the center of the artificial bay was an island overgrown with coconut laden palm trees and dense foliage. Gulls cawed and flew overhead, crabs scurried about in the sand, and small waves of water licked at my heels as I sank back further into my seat. I hummed in absolute contentment as I mimicked a sedentary blob, not a care in the world.

That is, until a certain passenger I recently invited into my body welcomed herself into my dreams as well.

“What is this place?” I heard the sand shift under her feet as she spun in place, taking in her new surroundings.

“Welcome to the creature comfort chamber of Home One. Everything you see around you was designed to accommodate hundreds of stressed souls in dire need of some rest and relaxation” I explained without batting an eye, lazily crossing my outstretched legs over each other. 

“Were you one of those souls? Is this some kind of alien spaceship!?” Her voice was practically saturated in girlish excitement.

“The correct term is Starship, you wouldn’t go calling something like the Skybex a mere boat now would you? And no, I wasn’t one of those lucky souls. This place is utterly fictional” Or at least, that’s what I used to think. My perspectives had been broadened a little since then.

‘Dude, maybe this place does exist somewhere!’ It was an interesting possibility, though my passive face betrayed little of my internal enthusiasm.

I heard her make a huffing noise, “You’re not one of those grammatical sticklers are you? You knew what I meant. I mean, you’re a being from outer space!” Ugh, was she still going on about this?

I finally turned to face her, quietly noting the fact that she was fittingly dressed in mint green bikini to account for surroundings, “I’m from a lot further than that Lyra, trust me. I’m not really an alien either. I’m human like you, as you can plainly see” I gestured to myself with both hands, the Hawaiian shirt and swim trunks going a long way in supporting my point.

“Maybe you’re from a society of shape shifters, like the changelings” She countered self assuredly. She had a decent point there. However…

“You saw my memories right? Surely you must have seen all the people I’ve interacted with in my life as well? They looked like normal people too didn’t they? Why would a whole society of shape shifters emulate something else while in their natural state?”

She digested that for a moment before sighing in defeat, “Why must you be so intent on shooting down my theories? Don’t you know that I’m a huge xenophile!?” She pouted and crossed her arms together. It was an amusingly cute expression to say the least.

“Uhm no, but that’s interesting to know…I guess” I looked away tentatively, what could she possibly mean by that?

She cut into my brief time spent musing, “So if this is all fictional, why do you dream about it?” She summoned her own beach chair and took a position right beside my own. 

I guessed she possessed some pull here too, I idly wondered what would happen if we had to wrestle for control. It also called to concern the likelihood that she had an equal influence on my real body, but I was meticulously careful enough in the transfer process to avoid mixing our essences together. Wouldn’t want to end up having an embarrassing body snatcher episode now would we?

I raised an incredulous brow, “Are you kidding? Don’t you dream about places and things that your own world lacks, but your imagination contains? Where it lives and breathes?”

“I used to…before my dreams were plagued with endless nightmares and a cold emptiness that always consumed me” She spoke mutedly, all traces of her previously zesty attitude gone. 

I nudged her shoulder with a hand, getting her to look at me, “They aren’t troubled anymore, and when the geas finally wears itself out, you can sleep peacefully once again” I said comfortingly. I wasn’t really the commiserating type, but she seemed to appreciate my words regardless.

She faintly smiled, “I can’t wait” Her expression soured once more, “But what if the damage is already done? Will I still remain forgotten? What if winning this last battle still lost me the war?” She shivered at the possibility.

“Then you’ll just have to reforge your old relationships anew, think of it as having a second chance at making a good first impression. You’ve made a pretty good one with me at least” I shrugged complacently, her concerns were well founded, but she needed to seriously lighten up.

‘Can’t be worse than the first impression that I made with the Elements’ That’s positive thinking for me, knowing that you cannot possibly sink any lower without violating some obscure unspoken universal rule and dooming all existence. Actually, that thought isn’t very comforting either.

She chuckled and glanced towards me, “Nothing seems to break your stride, does it my white knight?” That’s a strange name she came up with for me. Either that or she knows her Internet lingo, which could be the case. She did get a good look at my memories after all.

I gave a thoughtful hum, “I suppose I do qualify for that don’t I? Saving the damsel and assuring her that everything will work out in its own way” I haven’t made any empty promises at least. I worded them way too precisely for that.

“You’ve made a pretty good first impression with me yourself, you know? Suffering a depressing nag like me and even sharing body space with me? That takes either a total basket case, or a truly noble person” She leaned a bit closer to me with a ribald grin, “I mean, interlacing your soul with mine? I couldn’t think of a more intimate act between two people” If she was trying to provoke some kind of reaction out of me, I’m ashamed to admit that she got dangerously close with that jab.

I rebounded quick enough, “I suppose that’s true, though the memory backlash is an odd side effect I could do without” I’m still reeling from processing two lifetimes worth of memories in one afternoon. I did the smart thing and let the encoding process happen in the background, bringing forth a foreign memory gave me a minor migraine anyway.

We sat together in silence for an unknown amount of time. I always thought that was a funny characteristic of dreams, they can last for what feels like minutes or prolong themselves for seeming hours on end and no time had passed in the outside world. I guess Inception did have a point when it went on about creating more time by unearthing more layers of the dreaming mind. It felt like Lyra wanted to inquire more about the person whom she approached on a whim, and who also just happened to be the one person who could break her figurative chains and set her free. But the placid look on my face as I noiselessly observed the artificial tides ebb and flow against the smooth and warm sands discouraged her from disturbing the picture of serenity.

Although I was partly worried about Luna showing up and discovering that a new impromptu dream partner had taken her place. My fears were misplaced, as the Night Princess never came knocking. I then hypothesized that since we had fallen asleep during the day, she wouldn’t be as likely to be monitoring her subject’s sleep cycles or dream walking as a consequence. I’ve never asked Luna what she does during the daylight hours, but she did imply that she did not sleep it away like other nocturnal creatures. Yet I never saw her leave the confines of the palace very often either. She seemed content enough to shut her doors to the world and isolate herself, occupying herself with who knows what kind of activities. Luna may have been more honest and upfront than her big sister, but even she could be a bit of an enigma herself at times.

Lyra was fidgeting impatiently in her chair, which was odd since she hadn’t struck me as the restless type. Though given that she had recently regained her right to exist in the eyes of the world, I suppose I can’t begrudge her current state of mind. The white cracks that began appearing all over the place notified me that our dreamtime was almost over. I decided to end it on a wannabe philosopher’s note.

“Want to know the funny thing about sleep Lyra? It doesn’t matter if our dreams are the greatest thing our minds can conjure up, or the worst fears that a nightmare can well nigh bring to life. In the end, the waking world invariably calls to us…and we are powerless to ignore its beckoning” I turned to her, looking into her pretty but nonplussed golden eyes, “I’ll see you on the other side”

And with that, the world around us fractured and broke apart into a million streams of piercing light.


⁂


You want to know the worst part about waking up for me? Those damned intense rays of light that had the gall to incite my eyeballs to contract on themselves as if they were in imminent danger of implosion. I groaned in severe discomfort and twisted away from the sunlight that was pouring in from the cabin windows. The tiny size of the bed made the effort even more strenuous than was worth it, but necessity took precedence over laziness and I powered through the stiffness of my rotating muscles. I had effectively shut out the worst of the light, only for something else I had completely failed to account for invading my senses and clobbering them until I was forced awake. My eyes slowing inched upwards until I was face to face with the form of Lyra’s sleeping body.

‘And I thought my morning breath was bad, geez’ I cringed as I caught another good whiff of whatever Lyra had to eat from yesterday.

‘Hey!’ She squawked indignantly, further aggravating my shakily rebooting brain, ‘I’ll have you know that I take special care to have flawless breath after every meal. Guess who interrupted that cycle yesterday?’

‘Almost makes me wonder if I made the right choice’ At her feeling of indignation being sent rolling at me like an avalanche, I hastily amended my poorly developed opinion, ‘I keed, I keed. I’d face a thousand occurrences of gnarly morning breath if it meant helping out someone in dire need’

She didn’t grace me with an answer, deciding to give me the cold shoulder treatment instead. I could already see her mental avatar placing her hands on her hips and facing away, somehow ignoring me from within the confines of my own mind. She was reacting a little harshly in my humble opinion; I mean…she wasn’t the one who had to deal with waking up to Celestia’s freaking orb of light that somehow always found the worst possible way to brighten up my day. Knowing that a recently angered woman will only cool her jets in her own time, I played the silent game right back and got up to stretch, relishing in the relaxing feeling of all the ligaments and joints in my spine popping back into their proper place. 

I smiled a little as I heard her quietly mutter to herself, ‘…So this is what its like to be tall…’ 

To be honest, Lyra was a tad shorter than the average woman, so this radical change of perspective was bound to be something different for her. I also felt inclined to tell her how it came with the additional benefit of not having to reach for a stepping stool whenever you wanted to get at the really good stuff hidden on the top shelves in the pantry, but she was still ignoring me at the present time. Plus we both had magic, so that particular advantage was kind of negated anyway.

After a brief debate on whether or not I should practice some T’ai Chi exercises, I decided against it and opted for checking up on Lyra’s body. I circled around until I was on her side of the tiny mattress. Brushing a few stray locks of hair out of her face, I laid a hand against her cheek and began to concentrate my energies into her soma. Her skin was not nearly as icy as it had been the day prior, which was a good sign.

‘Why are you staring at my body and touching it like some kind of creeper? You’re not going to kiss me again are you?’ Lyra suddenly interrupted, intruding upon my focus and subsequently grating against my nerves. Her avatar also had a faint blush on her cheeks, apparently remembering how hands on I was with her yesterday.

I ignored her second question, ‘So I can see what the state of your curse is…baka’ I muttered irritably at the end, hopefully she didn’t know her Japanese insults.

She let off a puff of confusion at the foreign word before speaking, ‘But do you have to be so…direct? Can’t you just scan it from afar like you did yesterday?’ She reasoned, sounding distinctly uncomfortable with the way I was handling her body at the moment.

‘You realize that it takes extra mana to do that right? All for a less comprehensive scan too. This is more practical and efficient. Not to mention that the flesh on flesh contact makes the connection more solid…Giggety!’ Yeah I was kinda trolling her, but she’d probably find it funny too, if she knew the context of that reference...or not. She made this annoyed huffing sound, but otherwise stayed quiet and let me work my magic, much to my relief.

My lips curled downward into a frown as more and more information regarding the curse was revealed to me. This curse was a persistent bastard to be certain; clinging to whatever handhold it could get a grip on. However, it was slowly but surely dying out like a candle being burnt down to the last strands of wick. I made sure to check for any failsafe’s that were embedded into its creation, but complex as the geas was, it wasn’t designed to handle having its anchor deprived and left to fend for itself tether wise. Even if it somehow managed to level out its state of degradation, it wouldn’t have enough juice to carry out its purpose. For all intents and purposes, this magical ‘cancer’ was in full remission.

Unfortunately, Lyra’s curse was still another hour or so away from entirely dissipating. I released a sigh both equal parts dismayed and relieved.

‘Well? What’s the prognosis doc?’ She asked, thinly veiled anxiety underlying every word. I guess that even though she was riding shotgun with me in my head, she was still in the dark as far as my thought processes went.

‘Good news is that the curse is in its death throes, the bad news is that we’ve still got about another hour before its final curtain call’

‘That’s great!’ She clapped with glee before pausing, ‘But how is the last one bad? An hour will fly by like nothing!’

I shuffled in place as a familiar pressure began building up in my bladder, ‘It’s bad because I need to drain the one eyed monster’ I explained, hoping that she’d get the picture.

‘Huh?’ She said confusedly. How could she not read between the lines? I wasn’t precisely hiding my wriggly state of being at the moment.

‘Y’know, leak the lizard?’ I offered, praying that she’d see the full picture.

‘Is this guy code for something? Cause I’m not reading you here’

I slapped a palm against my face, “Oh for the love of… I need to take a huge piss!” I exclaimed out loud. Silence reigned in the cabin as the weight of my words slowly sunk in.

‘Oh…well why didn’t you just say so? I’m not stopping you, my lavatory is just a few paces across the room’ She pointed out, completely missing the true point as she did so.

“I’m not sure if you’ve realized this or not, but I ain’t exactly an exhibitionist. You’re not getting a free show if I have anything to say about it, dinner and a movie first babe” I could already see her avatar flustering in embarrassment. 

Not finished educating her on the enormity of the subject, I elucidated some more, “Furthermore, the bathroom is the only place in the house where a male is completely free of a female’s influence. Its like an unofficial shrine dedicated to men who like a nice quiet place where they can sit and think in peace, as well as conduct nature’s natural business”

‘I never realized that the restroom was such an important place to men’ She noted with a perplexed air. I couldn’t hold it against her. There weren’t enough guys out there for this vital ritual to become well known.

“I presume that you’re not familiar with S, S, and S then” I speculated aloud, her mental avatar responding with a shake of her head.

“I won’t explain what that stands for, but the overarching point is that it is very important to men the world over. Not to mention completely estrogen free” I resentfully exhaled and sank down on the bed, being mindful of Lyra’s sleeping form.

‘What do you suppose we should do to pass the time then?’ The momentarily incorporeal woman asked.

I brought a hand to my chin as I thought about it, “Hmm…nothing soothes the nerves quite like music. As a musician yourself, I’m sure you can agree with that sentiment right?” She responded in the affirmative, looking mildly excited at the prospect.

‘That music that you were listening to yesterday when I found you sounded exquisite! I’d very much like to hear some more, if you wouldn’t mind that is’ She politely finished. It was always refreshing to interact with people who were so well mannered.

I shook my head, “I don’t mind in the least, though this spell mostly relies on my own memory of the songs themselves. Luckily, I’ve a good ear for remembering music” I said as I began channeling my magic into the encapsulating version of the sound sphere that I used yesterday. 

I forgot to mention it, but I had gotten the inspiration for this modification from when I first spoke to Vinyl. Which also reminded me that I needed to pay her a visit before long, I’m certain that a week with my IPod should be enough to sate her curiosity in my tunes. I marked that on the list of things that I could do after I returned Lyra to her own body and we went back to our mutual business in town.

‘How does your auditory spell work? It’s one of the most interesting uses of magic I’ve ever had the pleasure of experiencing for myself’ She inquired, complimenting my arcane skill in order to soften me up for the in depth discourse on its intricacies. Which is funny, because the commands woven into the spell itself are quite simple. At least, they are to a Trifect like myself.

“I personally call it the sound sphere, since it’s capable of creating more than just music with the commands that are keyed into its creation. The spell itself works by oscillating the air around the user so that the sounds corresponding to the user’s memories of the sound are produced exactly as requested. When more than one person steps into hearing range of the field however, the spell has to work a little harder to compensate for the second pair of ears listening”

‘Oh dear, I hope my presence wasn’t too exhausting for you’ She sheepishly expressed regret.

I waved it off, “Relax, I’ve plenty of mojo to spare. How else would I have been able to cast the spell required to liberate you, if I wasn’t packing some serious reserves of mana?”

‘That raises another question. Just how are you so proficient with your magic? My age old academy professors couldn’t muster up that kind of power!’ Her tone was filled with wonder, was my usage of magic really that impressive?

“Well…” I trailed off, could I really trust her with the knowledge of my physical identity?

Then again, she trusted me to save her from being forever forgotten, I suppose I should trust her in turn, “To put it simply, I’m a Trifect…”

I heard her laugh within the depths of my mind, ‘That’s a good one! But seriously, how did you accomplish this?’ Figures that she wouldn’t believe me at first.

I left the newly summoned sound sphere to float on stand by and walked over to one of Lyra’s dressers, stopping and facing the mirror. I noted with vague interest that my normally crimson irises were speckled with gold, possibly a side effect of taking in someone else’s spirit into your own body. The churning of my protesting bladder being briefly put to the side, I leaned against the varnished wooden surface and gazed into my inscrutable reflection. I spared a small glance to the Lyre instrument that was hanging on the wall next to the mirror before speaking.

“It seems that mere words are not veracious enough for your belief. So instead of verbally convincing you, I’ll just whip these beauties out” My wings snapped open with a bright flare, the undulating motion of their feather like structure served to further the intended shock and awe effect that I was aiming for.

Lyra was speechless for a full minute. I could tell that she was trying to make out words, but only short sputters and sharp intakes of breath were the only sounds that she made.

She eventually composed herself enough to speak coherently, ‘This…explains so much, a run of the mill Stellar Mage wouldn’t have been capable of the feat you pulled off. You really are a Trifect’ Her imaginary brow furrowed in deep thought, ‘You’re such a mystery. I know that you are not of this world, yet you’re right alongside our Royalty in similitude. But there’s more to it than that, isn’t there?’

I nodded in concurrence, “There is...but for now, let us just say that I’m rather unique as far as the inhabitants of this world are concerned” I withdrew my wings into myself and flashed another glance at the mirror, “I trust that this will also stay between us?” She hummed her agreement.

I sat back down on the mattress and began pondering on what set of songs we could pass the time with. Memories of home stuck me with a bout of inspiration and the sound sphere began swirling with colors as it received my mental input. I condensed the spell so that it would only be about as large as a headset. There was no need to waste energy when I was the only person physically listening to it after all. Lyra piped in as soon as the beginning tunes began to play.

‘What’s this? It’s more bohemian than what you were playing before’ She asked as the song cycled into the intro.

‘I imagine it would be, this is Sugar Ray we’re listening to’ I started lightly swaying as I got into the beat.

‘Sugar Ray? Never heard of her’ She said, scratching her head as she tried to place the name.

That almost got me to chuckle in amusement, ‘No no, Sugar Ray is the name of a group…consisting of dudes. I like some of their music since it reminds me of home’

‘Huh, well it has a catchy beat. I like it!’ Glad to see that Sugar Ray now has Lyra’s stamp of approval.

She liked them so much that she requested that I show her more of their works, so I dredged up what songs I knew of them from the dusty receptacles of my memory. I then relayed the mental command to the sound sphere headphones, which pulsed almost happily as they were put through their paces. After we wore through what I remembered of Sugar Ray, I moved on to other genres of music that I reckoned she might like, scoring big time when I showed her Breaking Benjamin (especially ‘Better Days’). The hour began gradually melting away and even my urinary discomfort reached an endurable plateau as we both moved to the groove. 

We had time for one last song as the final minutes of Lyra’s curse ticked downwards. So feeling a little poetic, I put on a song that felt representative of my mood, given what I had experienced the day before. I shut my eyes as I let the strong rhythm of Imagine Dragon’s Demons take me for a spin. This song really spoke to me, not just because of the lyrics, but also because of the progression. That gentle and uncertain stillness that leapt into a masterful crescendo that was given its character by the drums and bass line. I felt that it represented me in a way, like how I would have these calm periods in my life that were suddenly beset by situations where I would find myself in a moral quandary.

I’ve found myself questioning the choices I’ve been making more and more each day. Ever since the events of the Krystal Kingdom, I’ve been using some unsavory measures to take care of my plights. Get assailed by a madman bent on becoming all-powerful using an ancient relic? No problem, just toss a stun grenade at his face and knife him in the neck. Is there an abhorrent Prince who disputes your position and seeks to claim all of your title’s power with an unarmed duel? Just beat the ever-loving shit out of him using your fists. Find yourself surrounded by a pack of animated wooden wolves with their alpha not far behind? Just hack them to pieces with your Mage blade before turning their leader into an explosive pincushion. 

It has become exceedingly obvious that I liked to solve my problems with a hearty serving of violence. I don’t know exactly why this is always the first option that I lean towards, but my life’s experiences had made me rather vindictive as of late. I usually won’t start any trouble, but bring some of it my way and you’re in for a world of hurt. But that doesn’t excuse what I did to Twilight the day before, just because I knew how to overwrite and blur memories didn’t mean that it was the right thing for me to do. I believe deep down that I just did not want to have that conversation with Twilight, not about the festering darkness that I kept suppressed within. Why couldn’t she just leave it well enough alone? 

I was so caught up in my brooding that I hardly noticed Lyra practically shouting for me to notice her.

‘The hours over and done with now, you gonna put me back in my body? Interesting as all of this has been, I sort of miss being able to control my own actions’ The fact that she hadn’t voiced her dissent sooner was a feat in itself. This experience had been strange enough for the two of us.

I shook myself out of my funk, “Right, I apologize for zoning off there”

‘You alright? You sound…out of it’ She spoke with some concern.

“I’m fine” I lied, “Just lost in my thoughts was all” 

Before she could inquire further, I brought my attention back to her inactive body, which unsurprisingly, was still very much unconscious. I figured that I wouldn’t need to do anything to break her mental defenses since they needed to be manned in order to stymie any intrusions. I laid both hands on her forehead, lazily noting the feeling of the citrine focal gem against my palms. Satisfied that I could no longer detect any trace of the curse remaining on her person, I closed my eyes and recalled the spell necessary to spirit walk within another being, taking extra care to bring Lyra along for the ride. The familiar sensation of losing all sensation greeted me once the connection was bridged.


⁂


“Huh…this place is somewhat familiar” I spoke to myself. Lyra’s previous spirit realm with her cabin frozen over was missing. Instead it was that same endless void that I saw within my own personal depths (barring that bloody mist).

“This is what the interior of my own soul looks like? It’s a lot drearier than I thought it would be” Came Lyra’s voice from my side, making me turn and glance at her.

“Chillier would have been a better word. Back when I yanked you out of your body, your soulscape was positively covered in snow and ice. Then it decided to self destruct shortly after I nabbed you” Could have been more harrowing, all things considered.

‘Do you think we can, I don’t know…brighten it up a bit?’ She asked, looking upon the darkness with mild disdain.

“It’s your soulscape sweetheart, do with it as you will” I said with a shrug, before summoning the Null Edge and severing the pseudo invisible tether that bound us together with a fell swing, effectively cutting her loose. Now that I’d brought Lyra here with me, my role in this was pretty much over with. Part of me wanted to just cast the exit spell and be done with it, but a larger proportion wanted to see what Lyra would create now that she was in control of her own destiny again.

She looked uncertain of herself at first, glancing behind at me for some kind of cue. I gave her the ghost of a smile and rolled a hand as if to say, ‘go on, don’t be bashful’ and she perked up at the wordless encouragement. She straightened her posture, looking more confident as she experimented with just creating light. Slowly raising a hand, a simulacrum of the Sun started to peek over the horizon, almost mirroring its creator with its timidity. The act of raising her own star inspired her immensely, and she began seeding the ground with what appeared to be flowers. She only got more ambitious as she went on, insta-growing foliage and verdant trees that stood tall and proud in the light of the newly birthed Sun. From the flora came fauna, with creatures like hummingbirds and rabbits materializing from the woodwork and bringing a sense of life to the episode.

‘She and Fluttershy would probably get along quite well’ I internally observed, they seemed to share a love of unbound wildlife. The dryer side of me was envisioning the last few minutes of the Firebird Suite’s trumpets blaring out in style, which was rather adequate for this sudden proliferation of nature.

I raised an eyebrow once I realized that I wasn’t imagining it, and that Stravinsky’s score really was providing background music. I scoffed incredulously; there was no possible way that Lyra gleaned that specific piece from my memory just to use it now. But I had to hand it to her; she faithfully paralleled the scenery from Fantasia almost scene for scene, even sprouting the iconic gorgeous cherry blossom tree close by. Lyra’s rebuilding of her soulscape was almost at its end, with the cabin that she called home for the past few years being the last of her creations. She began morphing into that metaphysical orb of unfathomable power as she made her way up the steps and past her porch. The door to her humble abode gently closed behind her and all was silent once more.

‘That’s my cue to go’ I gave the cabin behind me one last appreciative glance before making my exit. The easily recognizable light at the end of the spell bridge engulfed me and I returned to the world.

I had to blink a few times to rid myself of the spots dotting my vision before all became clear again. It was soon obvious that my hands had moved while I was ‘out’, and were now caressing Lyra’s cheeks (much to her embarrassment). Amusing at it was to see how fast her face could heat up. I still had to make sure that all was well with her.

Not wanting to draw any attention to our new position, I spoke normally, “How do you feel?”

“Warm” Was her one word response, I couldn’t tell if she meant that because of our close proximity or the fact that her curse no longer fed on her natural body heat.

“That’s good to hear” I gingerly removed my hands from her person and stood up. I hurriedly walked towards the bathroom, eager to finally relieve my bladder of its contents.

“Where are you going?” Lyra asked as she sat up, rubbing a hand against her eyes in an attempt to get the sand out.

“To answer the call of nature” Was my curt response, happy that the soul-delving spell didn’t make my own body lose control over its urges. I’ve never wet a bed in my life and I certainly didn’t intend to start now.

I shut the door behind me and granted myself the privacy that I so dearly valued. The cabin lavatory was almost as small as the one in Twilight’s old tower, only this one had a more rustic appearance. I lifted the lid to the toilet and let nature take its course, meanwhile pretending to be the renowned water fountain at Bellagio whilst idly humming to the tune of Frank Sinatra’s ‘Fly me to the Moon’. It’s an inexplicable urge that only creeps up on me when I have to stand there longer than twenty seconds. I’m weird, what else can I say?

With that taken care of, I immediately searched the sink cupboards for anything that could take the edge off of my fasting breath. Lyra mentioned something about a cycle that guaranteed freshness after every meal. I made a tiny ‘Aha!’ noise as I found what I was looking for. Pulling out a half emptied bottle and holding it up to the light, I read the label.

“Crème de menthe eh? Why am I not surprised?” I said to no one in particular. 

I unscrewed the cap and proceeded to birdy a swing. The intensity of this mouthwash was almost overpowering. The commercials for the York patties had nothing on this. Not only did my pupils dilate in response, but a wave of chilling air also set me awash, sending a pleasant electric tingle up and down my spine. Not to mention that it was also pretty tasty flavor wise.

I spat out the rest of the fluid into the sink and shook my head, “Wow! That’s some potent mouthwash right there!” I’d have to add that to my bathroom cupboards once I got the chance.

My eyes also caught sight of an old fashioned shaving razor sitting on the counter. I picked it up and unfolded the blade with a flicking motion. The handles were made of silver and had intricate engravings etched onto them. It looked almost like the same kind of cutthroat razor that Sweeney Todd was fond of using. A morbid corner of my mind brought up the potential uses that this implement had, should Lyra have lost the will to continue on. I involuntarily shuddered at the flow of images and gave myself a good smack on the side of the head with my free hand. Again, I had some serious issues that needed to be resolved, or buried so deep that they couldn’t affect my regular thinking.

I twisted the knob to the sink and wet the blade. I couldn’t find anything I could use to make a lather, so I would have to settle for a pseudo dry shave. The stubble on my bottom neck and chin were starting to get scratchy, so they were the first bristles to be removed. I also mused on the rest of my appearance hair wise, I wasn’t to the level where I would be considered shaggy, but I would need a good trimming before long. I intended to keep the hair covering my forehead untouched however, since it did a decent job of hiding my lack of a focal gem from those in the know.

Speaking of which, I absently pondered what type of gem mine would have been. Perhaps it would be that of a Fire Ruby or Garnet. Its not that I wanted a focal gem per say, but I’ve noticed that a Stellar Mage’s magic is always the same color as that of the focal gem on their brow.

The sound of knocking at the door jolted me out of my introspection.

“You almost done in there? And I thought girls were the ones that took their sweet old time!” Lyra impatiently asserted with a huff from the other end. Well, I suppose I was kind of pussyfooting around.

I finished shaving with a few brisk vertical swipes of the razor, cleaning it with the water and drying it before snapping it shut and placing it back on the counter. I then pulled open the door to come face to mid chest with the keyed up woman.

She let out an agitated exhale, “Finally! I was afraid I was going to have to wait until Hearth’s Warming!” She edged her way past me and brusquely shut the door behind her.

“I didn’t think I took that long” I grumbled, ambling to a corner of the cabin. 

Out of bored curiosity, I took another look in the mirror of the dresser, satisfied to find that my eyes no longer had any specks of Lyra’s influence left. It was a curious aftereffect of a soul transfer to be sure, but I didn’t plan on making a habit of it. Whereas someone like Twilight would be dead set on replicating such a scenario for the sake of discovery, consequences be damned. The mere act of thinking about her made my mood sour considerably, the memory of her lapse in judgment was just still too fresh for me to be completely unfazed. I wasn’t completely innocent in the matter either, but it was either muddle her entire memory of the event, or put up with the inevitable heart to heart nonsense that I’d be put through. Which not only annoyed the hell out of me, but life experience had taught me was ineffective as well.

Lyra emerged from the restroom looking fit as a fiddle and with a cheery smile on her face. I guess her morning routine could only be complete if she tidied up her appearance properly. I reduced my scowl until it was no longer noticeable as I regarded her approach.

She came up to me and spoke haughtily, making sure to breathe in my face, “Don’t have morning breath now do I?” Jeez, was she still sore about that?

“Neither do I for that matter, welcome to the club!” I disparagingly quipped at her, much to her dissatisfaction. 

That tiny upward wrinkle on her lip told me that she sincerely enjoyed our banter despite my flippancy. I guess it’s because I’m the first real human contact that she’s had in a long time. It’s a real shame that she got someone like me for it though.

Our lull in the conversation was cut into by distinct rumbling of a hungry stomach. And for once, it wasn’t mine this time.

Lyra looked mildly embarrassed by the unsubtle demands of her body, “We should probably commence with the most important meal of the day huh?” She chuckled nervously and rubbed at one of her arms. I never understood why some people did that. Must’ve been a variant of a tic, like Twilight’s right eye twitching whenever she was stumped by something, for instance.

I nodded in agreement, “That seems like a prudent idea” I then smirked at her, “I don’t know about you, but I’m in the mood for some sandviches” And no, I didn’t expect her to make me one.

She looked hesitant at my proposition, “My pantry is all out of the things we’d need to make those” It was true too, her stocks were rather paltry for what I had in mind.

She then realized that I had put a Russian spin on my last word, “Wait…did you say sand-viches?” She repeated, rolling it off her tongue as if sampling the inflection.

“Da, sandviches” I said in a near perfect imitation of the Heavy’s voice.

“Okay holdup. Say sand” I did as she asked, “Now witch” She got the same result with clear pronunciation from me.

Meanwhile I was laughing uproariously on the inside, ‘She’s making this way too easy for me’

“Now say sandwich” She spoke slowly, enunciating every syllable as though she were speaking to a child. I wanted to snort derisively at the notion. I wasn’t that immature.

“Sandvich” I impudently persisted with grin, eliciting a strained groan out of the vexed woman.

“Ugh, never mind. It’s simply not worth the headache” She rubbed at her temples and indistinctly muttered something about how strange extra terrestrials were.

“More to the point, do you know any good places for that? It’ll be my treat!” I offered like a proper chivalric man, patting the munny pouch and making the numerous coins inside clink together. 

‘Actually, doing that just makes me look more like a pretentious rich boy’ Not that it isn’t nice having such a plump stipend from Royalty.

She gave it some thought before answering, “There is one place that comes to mind, overly generous portions, decent prices, and they have the best malted shakes to boot!” Based on that anticipative gleam in her eye, that was where we were going, regardless of whether I agreed to it or not.

“Sounds good to me, this place got a name?”

“Folks just call it the local diner, I don’t know what its actual name is” She replied casually, that sort of thing wasn’t of importance to her it seemed.

“In that case” I motioned for her to show me the way, “Lead on”

She obliged and we left the confines of her homely shelter, making our way past the apple trees that were naturally shedding their fruit as they overly ripened. From what small glances I had of Lyra’s pantry, she had stores upon stores of the pomaceous sustenance. I was downright sick of eating apple themed foods after a single week, so I could only imagine what my companion must have felt after sustaining herself on them for years. I silently vowed to make certain that I would treat Lyra to whatever her heart’s desire, just as a way of making up for such a tragedy, even if the impact would only be slight.

The woman was oddly quiet as we walked, looking deeply preoccupied with cogitation. I had a couple speculations as to what topics, she had recently been shown grace and freed from her curse, but she had to be wondering if it really meant anything. From what little I could glean from her personality, she bounced back from almost anything quite easily. But her ordeal pushed that tolerance to its breaking point, threatening to rob her of all hope for a normal and happy life. I briefly opened my mouth to say something encouraging, but swiftly closed it and kept equally noiseless for her sake, allowing space for her to form her own opinions as to what she would do with this opportunity that had been given to her.

It was rather late in the morning, so there were plenty of people out and about. Some of them greeted us in a friendly manner, which I returned on behalf of the currently engrossed Lyra and myself. The diner itself was located more to the outskirts of town, so there weren’t many houses or other kinds of buildings in its general vicinity. The architecture of the diner matched that of its brethren, with a thatched roof that lent it that Germanic country appearance I was still getting used to. 

An enticing smell of meat being cooked on a grill wafted from the open doors, setting our mouths salivating and inviting us inside. There was a lit up sign above the restaurant depicting a variety of greasy spoon meals that made me feel right at home. My eating habits had a severe weakness for fast food, which meant that whenever I did eat out, I binged like crazy. I blame my picky taste buds for making me so susceptible to any beef themed products.

I held the door open like a right gentleman and received a halfhearted murmur of thanks from the mint haired woman. She gradually began leaving her contemplative shell as her hunger pangs returned full force, and she began to survey the menu as we got in line. The interior was a mix between a Johnny Rockets and those outdoor cafés that dotted the Magiville grid, with a metallic counter with barstools lining the side and a partially open kitchen in the back. The majority of the tables were wooden and the seats for those looked like someone had chopped a barrel in half and planted it into the floorboards.

I took my eyes off of my surroundings and towards the menu. It was your standard fare with good prices (ten bits got you the typical meal deal) and a decent selection. The line moved fast and orderly, with people making their orders and forking over their bits, while the uniformed employees wrote a combination of numbers on a slip of paper and attached them to clips hanging over the windows leading to the kitchen. The diner was only about halfway full to capacity, so there wouldn’t be much of a fuss over finding us a table.

Lyra apparently didn’t mind taking advantage of my kindly offer for brunch, burdening the poor kitchen staff by piling on no less than four saddlebag burgers with fries (think half pounders with everything on top), three malted shakes of differing flavors, and a key lime pie just to sweeten the deal. 

“Will that be for the t-two of you?” The flabbergasted restaurant cashier stammered out, gaping at the hefty amount of food that she requested.

“No, I’ll also have what she’s having” I said with a perfectly straight face, though his mortified expression had me cackling inside. I also wanted to try asking for a diet water, but I felt that we were screwing with the guy plenty enough. It took him a brief moment to comprehend the two big eaters standing in front of him, but he recovered soon enough.

“Will that be for here or to go?” I glanced over at Lyra, who shrugged noncommittally.

“Here, I think” I answered, imagining offhand what their to go bags probably looked like.

“Alrighty, that’ll be sixty bits please” I fished out a hundred piece and handed it to him, thinking I would settle for change. He frowned after looking at the stamp and gave it back to me.

“Sorry sir, but we don’t take centuplicate pieces. Fairly recent policy I’m afraid” He apologized. What was this? A ‘no bills over twenty’ universal constant?

I muttered something unintelligible in petty complaint and painstakingly dug out six tenners to give to the man. He smiled graciously and thanked us before handing us a thin card with a number on it. We got ourselves settled into a table by the window and I inserted the card into its respective holder as we awaited our food. Lyra looked out the window at the passing people and sighed forlornly.

“Something ailing you?” I rhetorically inquired.

“I’m debating whether or not I should try revealing myself to my friends and family” She answered, still not meeting my gaze.

Needless to say I found that statement to be puzzling, “What is there to debate? You want to see them again don’t you?”

She narrowed her eyes and wobbled her head in response, “You don’t understand, I feel like I would just be invading their lives or something. They don’t deserve to have me intrude upon them after all this time. I should just stay forgotten” She finished lamely.

‘That’s a poor excuse if I ever heard one. Do I really have to put up with this new downer Lyra?’

I narrowed my eyes right back, “If I recall correctly, your tune was different yesterday. Does ‘I’d do almost anything to return to my loved ones’ ring a bell?” I repeated her words from last we met, much to her consternation.

“Well yeah but…that was before I found out that you could save me!” She protested, her raised volume drawing a few stares in our direction. My smoldering warning glare had their heads swiveling back to their own business post haste.

I scoffed and crossed my arms together, mentally cursing the lack of back support these barrel seats had, “Lyra Heartstrings, I saw in you a persistent and even cheerful person who could find the smallest details of good worth living for in an otherwise hopeless situation. And this sudden fatalistic attitude of yours, quite frankly…it angers me” Her eyes slowly widened as I bore down on her verbally. 

I continued my onslaught, “Am I a liar Lyra? Was I mistaken when I felt the hard determination behind your every decision to endure that curse to the best of your ability? Or was I just peeking at shadows? Shades that would simply vanish when the night was over and the Sun rose?” I quivered a hand to illustrate my point. I liked to speak using lots of hand gestures; I was told that an effective speaker utilizes such actions to get his point across more clearly.

She had the good grace to look ashamed, “I’m so sorry! You must think me so ungrateful of your gift…its just, I’m so afraid that they’ll end up rejecti-”

I interrupted her by laying a hand on her shoulder from across the table, compelling her to look me in the eye, “Fret not my dear, not even the strongest curse can make those who love you truly forget that love for you. So what if their memory turns out to be faulty? It can’t change the fact that they found you to be a delightful influence on their lives in the first place” The more I spoke, the less demoralized she looked, her posturing becoming more straight and upright.

I hammered the point home with a confident boast, “I’ll bet you all the wealth in existence that they feel like something…or more specifically someone is missing from their existence. Would you let such a travesty continue to linger? Or would you go out there and rectify it?”

“I would restore that which was lost, and all the captives of Tartarus couldn’t stop me!” She exclaimed positively, her expression no longer gloomy.

I grinned nice and wide, “Splendid! But that can wait, our food is here” One can’t expect to effect constructive change on an empty stomach.

The waitress holding both of our heavily laded trays expertly balanced them as she set them on the table. On her hands was the Mana mark of a plate and a pitcher of coffee side by side. Normally I would have felt pity for anyone relegated to a life of waitressing, but the sincere smile on her face told me that she was content with her lot in life. A sobering thought really, coming from a society where people were always trying to advance themselves into what they deemed as a higher, more prestigious position; and here was this middle age woman, acting as if she had just scored the job of her dreams.

‘I’ll be sure to tip her good’

The delectable smell of the food in front of me called out to me, demanding that I engorge myself until I was satisfied. Mr. Tummy seconded the motion with a rumbling gurgle. But before I dug into my meal, I shut my eyes and uttered a few words of thanks. Something which did not go unnoticed by Lyra, who had already taken a large chunk out of her burger with an unladylike chomp.

“Who are you talking to?” She asked with her mouth half full, arching an eyebrow at me.

I answered without skipping a beat, “The Creator, to whom I give thanks to on a daily basis”

She craned her neck sideways, “You didn’t strike me as a man of deep faith” She said with mild surprise in her voice.

“And what makes you say that?” I asked in return, taking a squeeze bottle of ketchup and decorating my mountain of horseshoe shaped French fries with wavy patterns.

‘I’ve heard of shoestring fries, but horseshoe fries are a little on the ridiculous side for me. Crispy tasting though’ I thought appreciatively as I chewed on a small handful of said fries.

She contemplated her response, “I dunno, you always seemed too…solemn. It’s hard for me to explain accurately. I think it mainly stems from the fact that you rarely smile, and that steely glint in your eyes doesn’t suggest anything reverently pious. I didn’t see anything in your memories offering anything to the contrary either” She explicated between bites of her hamburger.

“You could peruse through all of my memories, and you still wouldn’t know me half as well as you’d think. A lot of things have influenced me as a person, and it would be an injustice to say that you understand someone based off of faulty memories alone” No matter how in depth the memories were, I still wouldn’t really know how Lyra behaved or reacted to things with full accuracy. Although I’ve gotten a decent read of the prelude, from what I’ve already seen.

“Furthermore, perhaps one of the reasons that I believe is because I am like this” I added, savoring the balance between crunchiness and malleability of the finger food, I might just have to make this place a regular stop.

“Hmm, fair enough. I’ve always been rather ambivalent myself as far as the bigger picture goes. I want to believe that there is a greater force out there, watching over all of us. But sometimes…I just don’t know” Her tone went pensive at the end.

She looked downwards at the table in a self reflective way before looking back at me, “All that aside, at least I can say that one of my prayers has been answered” She projected a beautiful smile to me, with the thousand island sauce trailing from her lip somehow adding to how cute she appeared.

‘I need to watch it, I’m starting to get enchanted by every girl I somehow connect on a deeper level to’ That’s a minefield I won’t be stepping into today, thank you very much.

We ate the rest of our meal in relative peace, with one of us making a comment every now and again about how delicious the food was. After we had finished wolfing down the beefy sandviches (I idly wondered how much of this beef was supplied by Sweet Apple Acres), we partook of our malted shakes. Lyra wasn’t lying when she said that this place made some great milkshakes, all it took was one sip from my straw before I was sent on a journey of flavors. I could only liken it to that one scene in Ratatouille where Remy is describing to his brother Emile how individual tastes on their own can be great, but when combined, could be wondrous. I could already see the streams of color in my minds eye meshing together like two lovers doing the Tango to a particularly spicy song.

The key lime pie was nothing to write home about, if I could even write home that is. I grit my teeth and dismissed it, reminding myself about my seclusion from home was only going to spoil my good mood if I wasn’t careful. We polished off the last of our brunch food and I left a very generous tip for the waitress who was servicing all of the tables solo, and doing a damn fine job of it too. 

We left the quaint restaurant after washing our hands in their restroom and left. My companion suppressed an undignified belch and giggled bashfully, fully expecting me to disapprove in some way. Only to gape openly when I one-up’ed her with a discharge of air that actually echoed throughout the valley. We stopped momentarily to make sure no one else was watching before bursting into laughter. I wiped some moisture from my eyes; it felt good having someone whose blatant disregard for casual decorum was only outclassed my mine. It reminded me of the times that I shared with Daring, although with significantly fewer innuendos being traded and less usage of myself as a pack mule.

‘I wonder what she’s up to? Probably stumbling onto something important, while kicking ass and looking damn fine doing it’ I hadn’t received any letters from her so far, so I’d either have to wait some more, or check in with Celestia over the status of her assignment.

Eventually we reached a fork in the path, with one end leading to the eastern part of town, and the other to the western part. Lyra was looking wistfully to the path on the left, while I had business with the one on the right.

“I suppose this is where we temporarily part ways” Was all I could say.

Instead of answering me, she embraced me in an unexpected hug. Which I had the good grace to return once I had gotten over my minute shock of sudden physical affection. 

“Thanks for early lunch. Wish me luck!” She waved farewell to me as she jogged down the road with a firm sense of moxie in every step.

I didn’t believe in the concept of luck, but I wished her the best anyways. I twisted to the right and set down the path that would hopefully lead me to the home of Magiville’s greatest seamstress. I had a set of robes that I wanted to see the progress of. Rarity had likely finished making them by now, given her reputable skill. I hadn’t spent enough time around her to see how efficient she was at her craft, but I knew that a full week was plenty of time for the up and coming fashionista to work ‘ze magicks’ so to speak. Which in turn made me wonder if I was going to run into a certain fashion photographer anytime soon.

I found the Carousel Boutique after a couple dead ends that forced me to do some back tracking (something I secretly hated with a passion) until I finally came across the marker I was searching for. One of the very few things I appreciated about the Boutique’s flashy appearance was that it always had a small flag hoisted at the very top that flew in the wind, which also acted as a type of beacon; given how the flag itself shimmered in the sunlight. I stopped at the door to practice my knock and enter drill before wiping my shoes on the welcome mat and stepping inside.

The interior of the Boutique was different this time, with racks upon racks of casual and formal wear organized into neat little rows all around the circular wall. There were also customers beside myself looking up and down the isles for something that suited their tastes. Not that it was entirely relevant, but each and every one of them was female. Why was it that I never saw any guys bankrolling this place? Perhaps it had something to do with the overwhelming gender disparity leading to Rarity fashioning less in the way of men’s wear and catering mostly to the gals.

Speaking of whom, I couldn’t find the high-class aspirant woman anywhere. It made me wonder how she handled the customers who actually wanted to purchase something, since I couldn’t see a register anywhere either for that matter. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes once I saw that my arrival had drawn the interested stares of more than a few of the ladies browsing the dresses, which were all wrapped up in those plastic garment bags that one would commonly see at a dry cleaners. I hypothesized the reason for this being that Rarity absolutely despised anything that she created getting filthy by all the possibly soiled hands touching her works. This was somewhat ironic given how messy her workspace usually was.

‘Rarity really should invest in one of those desk service bells’ I groused, the new layout of the selling floor made it rather difficult to spot the woman. Even if she was the only one with a Royal Purple hairdo done in that fancy curl, which I had no name for.

I was contemplating just climbing the stairs to attract the woman’s attention if she was groundside by chance or hunt her down if she was too busy for us common folk languishing below. Thankfully, it wasn’t a decision that I had to make, as Rarity descended the stairs with a satisfied looking customer in tow; lavishing her with compliments on her new appearance all the while. It took me a moment to realize that the happy looking customer was in fact, Golden Harvest. And she was actually smiling for a change, wearing a flowing green gown of satin that made her look like a reverse color coded carrot. Her hair, ordinarily messy and unkempt, was now almost as pristine and swirly as Rarity’s.

“…I promise you darling, he’ll simply love your new ensemble! It is all but guaranteed to make you the appl- er, carrot of his eye” Rarity abashedly corrected herself, subtly adjusting those ridiculous half moon spectacles from a bygone era.

Goldy bristled with pride, “Pretty sure I have him hooked, but I want him to stay interested. Can’t be too careful ya’ know?” She stated with a girlish giggle that belied her gruffness.

“Yes, quite” The seamstress automatically agreed with an ingratiating nod, the customer was always ultimately right.

To be honest, Carrot top’s voice was still too grating to lend her a proper lady’s disposition. She was at her heart, a country girl like Applejack (heck, they live right next door to each other!). You could slap as much make up and accessories on them as you like, and they might look the part, but once they start speaking earnestly, the charade is over. Perhaps I was being a little harsh on her, but that cold aggression towards me didn’t do my opinion of her any favors. Kinda like the downright frigid way she was looking at me right now, with her posture immediately stiffening in response to my presence and her previous simper disappearing faster than a politician’s promises after Election Day. It’s like she knows something…

Rarity tilted her head in confusion as she followed Goldy’s line of sight, “Golden? What’s the matt-, oh! Zenith! What brings you to my humble shop?” She asked with an immaculate smile.

“Good morning Rarity. I’m just here to check up on that commission I made a short while ago, among other things” I answered with a polite downward incline of my neck, keeping my eyes locked on Golden Harvest the entire time. 

‘Now’s as good a time as any’ I needed to have words with her.

“Do you mind if I have a private chat with your spiffy looking customer here?” I gesticulated to Golden, whose eyes narrowed at my actions.

Rarity processed my request for a few seconds before agreeing straightaway, likely reading between the lines, “I don’t see why not! If you need me, I’ll be assisting my other clients” She wandered off to another part of the Boutique to do just that…or hide behind a clothing rack to eavesdrop. I really didn’t care either way.

I had barely opened my mouth before receiving a hostile “What do you want?” from the cantankerous woman, who was tapping her heeled shoe against the flooring irritably.

I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose, “Look, we need to discuss a few things. Namely things that happened on a certain holiday that concerns you specifically”

Her reaction was first that of shock, before she returned to her cold aggressive stance, “What about it? I already told you that I don’t want any of your damned sympathies” She spat with the same vitriol as before.

“I didn’t come to offer you my sympathy, I came to ask for your forgiveness, for wronging you to begin with” I made sure my posturing reflected that sentiment, shoulders slumped, eyes downcast, and less confidence overall. She didn’t need to know that my acting skills were second to none when I found it necessary.

She was quiet for an indeterminate amount of time, grasping the significance of what I had just asked. 

When she spoke again, her voice was that of an unreadable calm, “It was you wasn’t it? I knew there was a reason why your eyes bothered me so much, they were the same ones I peered into that night…the night I thought I lost all of my friends” That explains why she was instantly critical of me, she instinctively knew that it was I who terrified her.

“Before you jump to conclusions, you need to know the whole story” I pleaded with a hand held out, not willing to provoke the woman’s ire in front of so many witnesses.

She crossed her arms together, “I’m listening” She said with unexpected forbearance. I played it cool as to keep the metaphorical ball rolling.

“I never intended for what happened that night to escalate as much as it did, but by the time I realized that something was terribly wrong, and I was unable to stop myself. You see…being possessed by a remnant of the Night Terror’s dark essence tends to cloud one’s sense of judgment” I naturally let some sarcasm seep into my voice to emphasize that I wasn’t amused by that torturous experience either.

She scoffed, “Really? You’re saying that the Night Terror possessed you to paralyze and frighten both myself and my friends into thinking those were our last moments alive, right after we had just given offerings to said spirit?”

“No, the spirit took over as soon as I realized that your fear was actually feeding me…it, whatever! Its influence was so subtle that I didn’t even pick up on its malevolence until I was no longer in a position to do much about it. You can ask any of the Element bearers and they’ll vouch for my relative innocence. The point is…I wasn’t entirely in control of my actions past a certain point when I was shadowing your little group” I clarified with mounting frustration, remembering the horrific feeling of having my body ‘snatched’ from me.

I anticipated her skeptical bearing towards what sounded like a poor justification and worked to head it off, “I realize that this doesn’t excuse that I was following you with the intent to scare either. I’m not exactly proud of the Fright Night act I pulled on you and uhm, if you feel like pressing charges…I won’t blame you for doing so” I deliberately winced and looked off to the side, milking the vulnerability I was projecting for every last drop. My normal impassive attitude didn’t come off as repentant, so I had to resort to somewhat unscrupulous measures to achieve my objective.

I didn’t need to see Golden Harvest’s face to know that my act had taken its intended effect. From what my clandestine spell scanning of her empathic aura told me, she was deeply conflicted with what I had revealed to her. Part of her wanted to throw me in the clink and be done with it, but another and more importantly larger portion wanted to simply leave this behind her.

“I-I…f-forgive you” She spoke in a shaky voice, prompting me to look at her.

She held up a conditional finger, “But you’re never purchasing carrots from me again, got it?” I nodded my head in a wordless affirmative. Her carrots weren’t anything special anyway.

‘Oh the humanity! I could just fly home and cry myself to sleep with sheer grief over losing such an illustrious privilege!’ I melodramatically despaired inside my head. Even when marginally apologetic, I’m still finding ways to snipe at people.

I bowed to her, feigning sufferance, “That is perfectly acceptable, miss Golden Harvest. I shall defer to your fair punishment for my heinous actions”

“Whatever” She spoke dismissively, before adding in a quieter tone, “…I guess I do have you to thank for leading Gizmo to me…”

“I trust that he treats you with the respect accorded to you?” I asked, if Rarity was listening in as I suspected, she would love to hear some details.

She regarded me with a wary eye, but relented, “He does. That oaf can be incredibly clumsy and awkward, but he has a big heart. He’s one of the few people that can actually stand to be around me when I get into one of my ‘moods’, and I can respect him for that” She explained, appreciation instilled into her voice.

“May he continue to do so then” I conventionally responded, automatically growing weary of this talk. I’m not really one of those nosy persons who want to hear all about someone else’s relationships, especially not from Carrot top of all people.

Goldy grunted something indiscernible and removed herself from my presence, having grown equally tired of dealing with me. I saw Rarity pass by me mouthing what looked like a ‘be patient please’ as she saw to her other patrons. I found a nice empty place to sit out the rest of the morning rush and seclude myself from the banal topics of conversation that many shoppers projected to each other somewhat loudly, as though they were completely unaware of the people well within hearing range. I didn’t even need to rely on my Valkyrian hearing to eavesdrop on somebody standing on the opposite side of the Boutique, haughtily boasting about having slightly more colorful Tulips than her neighbor, along with the tired sigh of someone who likely heard the same story before.

I was idly wondering how Lyra’s day was going when the last customer exited the store. A relieved looking Rarity ran a hand along a miniscule non-coiffured partition of her hair and sighed worriedly. She then straightened out her posture and addressed me.

“Now that that’s out of the way, how may I be of service to you Zenith?” She asked in that highbrow manner of hers. I could tell that something was on her mind however, since her act seemed more forced than usual.

“Just checking in on the creation of my robe set, I can’t always go around wearing unrefined garb now can I?” I reasoned. Jeans and a T-shirt could only get one so far and through so many occasions.

Her eyes lit up with that artistic glee characteristic of her craft, “I’m so glad you choose this time to ask! I’ve just finished putting the final touches on it yesterday. I have it exhibited upstairs in my personal showroom. This way please” She waved a hand to follow her.

I sat up from the felt covered stool and got to my feet in order to accompany the fashion designer up the stairs. Instead of taking me to the room where she stitched together all her clothes, she ushered me into the one just across from it. Inside was pitch black and mysterious, tempting me to augment my eyes with a night vision spell. But before I could do so, Rarity clapped twice and the room was suddenly illuminated. The light revealed a set of platforms that were positioned around us in the shape of a crescent, with each platform nearing the middle of the crescent elevated above its preceding brethren.

In the center and on the highest stand were my robes. Now, I wasn’t normally impressed by any kind of fashion, but in this case I thought that it looked magnificent right off the bat. It did not resemble how I had envisioned it. In fact, it looked even better. The closest comparison would have been if the best traits of the Armor of Altair and Helmschmied Drachen Armor were married. Serious props to Rarity on this masterpiece made real. I could practically feel the sophistication radiating off of the outfit in tangible waves.

The beaked hood was drawn over the mannequin’s head and completely veiled its face in shadow, just as I had specified in my sketched designs. The lapels were of a rich shade of red with ornate designs embroidered into the cloth. The sleeves were barber striped in a crimson and black pattern that weren’t bright enough to attract attention, but looked damned refined when it caught the light. The leggings were plain, but made of a silky textile that felt like it would glide comfortably over the skin, Rarity even had the foresight to include a pair of black leather buckled boots to go with it. The chest proportion was intricately designed and displayed its colors proudly, with the telltale diamond insignia of its maker cleverly inserted in places where only the most observant could spot it. 

The belt region was metallic and ornately molded in the style of an infinite triangle; which was inspired by the symbol on the pommel of my Tantō. I noted with interest that fire rubies were encrusted into the wavy bands of metal that surrounded both sides of that symbol. The belt also had multiple loops, pouches, and useful attachment points for things like throwing knives or other implements. The layered flaps on the lower front and back section of the robes were long and flowing, looking very reminiscent to the wings of a majestic bird of prey. I especially admired the reddish trim lining the edges of the outfit, which lent it an aura of calm and unfaltering lethality. The whole piece also appeared to be form fitting enough to accommodate armor if I ever felt the need.

Something was missing though, “Where is the blade fragment holster?” I asked, looking the outfit up and down in case I overlooked it.

She answered hesitantly, mildly afraid of my response to the alteration, “It…interfered with the overall beauty of the set, and so after some intense deliberation on my part, I decided to take the holster’s dimensions into account and sew pockets into the lower portions of your robes instead. I hope you don’t mind” She innocently injected at the end.

I gave it some thought. The ad hoc scabbards could not only conceal my blade fragments, but also act like a form of spaced armor with them contained inside. I grabbed one of the lowest strips and visually appraised it, running my fingers through the slips in the smooth material. The length easily allowed for the longer pieces of my Mage blade to be sheathed and brandished with no one the wiser. My disappointment over a lack of a holster quickly evaporated.

“Good thinking Lady Rarity, I knew there was a reason why I chose you as my go to couture designer” I grinned at her exemplary handle on innovation. She all but swooned at the praise, her cheeks painted with a tinge of rose.

She smiled at me, “Anything for a Prince such as yourself Zenith, think of it as my way of saying thanks for that favor…” She drew a tentative hand across her chest, “…though, I find myself in a most undesirable position of asking for your favor yet again” She bit her lip and stared up at me.

‘I knew there was some kind of catch’ When is there not? This is Rarity I’m talking to.

“I will…consider it” I responded carefully, “Provided you can enlighten me as to what that favor requires of me”

She pounced at the opportunity, “As you might recall darling, I was very much inspired by the robes that you commissioned from me. So inspired in fact, that I made a multitude of other designs that I would just love to incorporate into the upcoming winter fashion runway show being hosted in the wondrous city of Concordia!” She exclaimed with stars glittering in her eyes.

The brow of incredulity stood tall and proud, “And you’re telling me this why? It’s not like you need my permission to showcase those designs”

She shook her head, “You misunderstand darling. I need a man to model those designs for the fashion world at large, it wouldn’t look as fetching on myself now would it?” She explained, fluttering her extended eyelashes ingratiatingly at me.

‘Oh hell no!’ That meant being stared at by dozens of snobby people and being judged based on my inherent poise and sense of elegance, and I couldn’t be bothered to care about such grandiose things.

The reluctance must have been evident on my face, because Rarity immediately went into beseeching mode, “I beg of you Zenith! It would be such a shame to let those outfits uselessly gather dust on the rack! It would be…it would be…a downright crime against fashion!” Really? That’s her excuse?

“Oh please please please please!” She implored, resorting to her most pathetic expression to butter me up.

My right eye twitched agitatedly as I was put on the spot. If I refused, I would likely lose favor with Rarity and endanger my good standing with her. Not to mention that this was a chance for her to expand her mostly female exclusive designs into the realm of male fashions (even though I had no idea how large or small that realm was given the gender disparity) and garner some more recognition for her world-class sewing skills. I then remembered a few important things that I forgotten, such as important business I needed to see to in the Capital; namely with a gorgeous cellist and a confectionary that sold cheesecake.

Looks like my hands were kinda tied on this one, “I accept” I cut off Rarity before she could thank me profusely, “Conditionally that is…”

She blinked, “And just what are those conditions, pray tell?”

I held up a finger, “First and foremost, you must never force me to act a certain way at any social functions that you’ll inevitably end up dragging me to. The second condition…is that I can make up conditions as I see fit” I added after a short pause. An elastic agreement is the best kind in my opinion.

She cast her eyes downward in rumination, “I cannot protest to any of your terms since I’m still feeling rather ecstatic about revealing my new designs to everyone. However, I must ask that you at least retain a professional and polite demeanor to those who will be hosting us in their home over the course of the event” She lay down her one ground rule.

“Of course! You don’t expect me to act like some ill mannered brigand do you?” I folded my arms in response to the implication. I did have my own set of standards that I adhered to.

“I never implied that you would be anything but an absolute gentleman darling. Now are you going to try on those robes? Or would you like me to…assist you in putting them on?” Oh Rarity, always finding some way to subtly flirt while relating it to her business.

“I think I’ll manage on my own. Do you have any privacy screens I can make use of?” I asked, not being baited into playing this game with her.

Her turn to pout, “Oh sap the fun out of it, why don’t you? Indeed I do dear. I’ll set one up for you” She used her magic to open a cabinet and pulled out one of those folding screens that were ubiquitous in older times back home. Rarity had flowery ones that were a tad girly, but it was either put up with those or put on a free strip tease for the incorrigible woman.

I levitated my new robes off of the mannequin and examined them, removing the belt as I did so. The method for putting them on seemed to involve unstrapping the back clasps and proceeding to fold it around the torso. I did so (with my handy dandy magic) and was impressed by how well they formed around me. I slipped into the leggings and boots and hooked the belt around me as an afterthought, wanting to get a feel for the whole outfit. It looked like that time I spent standing absolutely still for Rarity paid off in spades. My robes fit my body like a well-worn glove; the silk lining the inner layers kissed my skin while additionally allowing for circulation. To paraphrase Edna Mode, ‘it breathed like Egyptian cotton’. They also obeyed the ‘no capes!’ rule she was ardently unyielding about.

I stepped out from behind the screen and presented myself in front of the vanity mirror that hung from the door. These robes suited me quite well, despite the current lack of hidden blade vambraces or protective coverings. The footwear was also strangely snug and without any of that ‘out of the box’ stiffness that would impede mobility. Wearing these prominent clothes was like discovering a new facet to myself. Whereas my casual attire portrayed me in a few sentences, this new look did so in whole books; such was the difference. It was if donning those robes empowered me. I not only looked like a paragon of virtuosity, I felt like one too.

Rarity was even more floored by how much of a change took place, holding a hand up to her mouth and speaking in hushed tones of awe.

I faced her with my arms held wide, “Well? What do you think of it?”

She snapped out of her trance once she heard me speak, “They always say that clothes make the man. But in this case Zenith, you make those robes simply resplendent! Mere words cannot do it justice!” She gushed, unable to take her eyes off me.

“Wow…that certainly puts my assessment to shame” I diffidently remarked, uncomfortable under her almost hungry gaze.

She sauntered closer to me, tracing a delicate hand along my chest, “I dare say that you look truly like a Prince” She complimented with a husky voice, which I decided to pointedly ignore.

“Lemme know if there are any damsels in need of saving” I jested, causing her to scowl at my cheeky comment.

‘Your feminine wiles won’t work on me woman’ I faux sneered on the inside, smirking at her in the meantime.

She let out a ladylike ‘hmph!’, “I’ll capture your heart yet, Zenith” She vowed, gently poking a finger in my chest.

“We’ll see” Was my neutral reply. She had some serious competition in that category.

She piped up, “But first! Allow me to express my gratitude for agreeing to accompany me to Concordia”

I held up a hand to object, “I don’t think that’ll be necessary mis-”

She silenced me by laying that same finger on my lips, “Hush, my dear Zenith. Allowing me to treat you to the spa won’t kill you” Her predatory smile had me believe otherwise.

I briefly contemplated biting her finger, but thought better of it, “I’m a guy, Rarity. Meaning that spas and I don’t mesh together all that well by default. Besides, don’t you and Fluttershy have a get together there once a week?”

She hummed in an affirmative way, “We do, but why must I limit myself to a well deserved pampering only once per week? Think of it as regularly giving to the Spa twin’s imperative business” Oh, she’s good. Playing it off as being generous to someone else’s coffers instead of making me squirm.

I narrowed my eyes at her deviousness, “I see that I’m not likely to dissuade you from this. But if you try to make me do any activities I consider overly emasculating, I’ll blow the joint faster than a jackrabbit hopped up on speed” And that’s a guarantee.

Her face wrinkled as she tried to process my last statement, shaking her head to recover, “Aloe and Lotus are the best at what they do. Believe me when I tell you that you’ll be in very good hands”

“Sure sure, just let me switch back to regular clothes would ya? Robes such as these should not be wasted on anything less than official occasions or grand ceremonies. It would be profane” I withdrew behind the privacy screen before she could get a word in edgewise.

I emerged before long redressed in my normal clothes, that strange feeling of empowerment having left me as soon as I shimmied out of the robes. It made me wonder if there was a special enchantment on it or if my sense of surety was bolstered by what I wore. I usually wasn’t someone who placed excessive emphasis on their outward appearance, but I could make an exception if it meant feeling like I could take on the entire world with nary a scratch. With that in mind, I tenderly placed my expertly crafted garments back on the mannequin.

Rarity looked disappointed by my reverting back to clothes that she likely perceived as plain and unbefitting of what she apparently saw as a Prince. A major reason why I was being so stubbornly resistant to her advances was due to that personal sentiment. I didn’t want to be seen as a Prince and I sure as hell didn’t want Rarity to express interest in that Prince, I had enough difficulty relating to her as it was. I didn’t need to be placed on some pedestal and fawned over by someone too star struck to realize that she was unknowingly alienating me. Sooner or later I was going to have to have a serious talk to her about that.

We descended the stairs without any kind of interruptions, as Sweetie Belle was at school at this time. Rarity had me wait outside while she locked up the Boutique temporarily, placing a ‘Fashion Emergency, be back in a flash!’ sign on the door as she joined me. Her body language suggested that she always looked forward to her trips to the Spa, with a bounce in her step and liveliness in every motion. She also took the liberty of attaching herself to my person, and while normally I would relish having such nice eye candy under my arm, Rarity’s proximity put me on edge more so than I would like.

After about thirty minutes of a casual stroll through town and ignoring all the stares that the physical display of affection attracted, we finally reached the Magiville Spa. I was well aware that Rarity had taken more than a couple detours to get here, wanting to flaunt me to everybody in town like a kid with a trust fund. I was secretly grateful that none of her other friends saw us during this, because then I’d never hear the end of it. Just imagining Pinkie setting up some kind of ‘Congrats on the new addition to your love nest!’ shindig made my insides churn.

The Magiville Spa itself was a grand looking structure of medium size, standing alone but dignified with the notorious prank store nearby. It was shaped like a tent, with golden crowns jutting out of the many peaks that stabbed at the sky. A large sign hung over the doorway, advertising the silhouette of a nondescript female posed in a glamorous stance, sparkles of glitter floating over her long hair.

Rarity disconnected herself from me and clapped excitedly, making a noise not unlike a squeal of delight, “This is the place! Isn’t it just marvelous?” She asked, rapidly swapping her gaze between the Spa and myself as she did so.

“It’s something alright” I drily replied, not bothering to even hide how unenthused I was with this whole thing. Rarity disregarded my lifeless attitude and grabbed me by the arm, pulling me inside with unexpected strength.

The bell above the door jingled as we made our way past the threshold. A desk with a stylistic billboard hanging over the wall behind it greeted us. There was a setup similar to a waiting room just before the counter, with magazines appealing to various tastes piled atop a coffee table that was digging a groove in the circular carpet. The air smelled heavily of flowers and other aromatic products that you’d typically associate with laundry detergents. Rarity wandered up to the welcoming desk and chimed the service bell, completely ignorant to her own need of one.

“Be zhere in a moment!” An accented voice called out from somewhere in the back. I couldn’t pin down its origin for the life of me. I’d have to hear more, but my best guess would have been this Universe’s equivalent to the Alsace-Lorraine, where the French and German accents converged, with a bit of Swedish thrown in for good measure.

After the spoken moment had passed, a woman with shiny light blue hair tied back with a white headband and sporting a unique choker with a pink dot in the center appeared from around the corner and took her place at the desk, greeting us with a winning smile. If memory served correctly, this sister was the one named Aloe.

Her eyes flashed with recognition once they beheld Rarity, “Ah, mizz Rarity, always a pleasure to see you. Alzhough…you’ve never brought male company with you before” Her smile morphed into a grin as soon as she spotted me unsuccessfully trying to blend into the Royal Blue walls.

‘Curse you chameleon powers! Why aren’t you working!?’ I was starting to regret agreeing to this more and more with each passing second.

“Well my dear Aloe, there’s a first time for everything. We’ll be having the usual” Rarity took out her purse and fished out six ten bit coins before handing them to Aloe, who stashed them away before turning to us with professional glow in her countenance.

“You know zhe routine mizz Rarity, but since your guest iz new here. I will need to instruct him in how my sizter and I’s practice operates” 

“He’ll behave darling, I can assure you of that” She told the beautician.

“I haf no doubt of zhis mizz Rarity, but protocol iz clear” Aloe’s tone brooked no further argument, nor did her eyes leave mine the entire time.

Rarity sighed, “Very well, I’ll get myself settled into the sauna. Be gentle with Zenith though would you Aloe? You wouldn’t want to scare him off!” She giggled as she disappeared around the bend, leaving me and the beautician locked in an Epic stare down.

She closed the distance between us the instant I blinked. I would have recoiled at her speed had my back not already have been pressed against the wall. It was like she was part SCP or something, making me subconsciously shrink my neck into my shoulders. She didn’t immediately say anything, choosing to take in my dimensions up close. To say I was ill at ease would have been an understatement. But it did give me the chance to return the gesture.

Aloe was a lithe creature, with a toned body that glistened with droplets from either steam or the sweat of her labor. I could see the bands of muscle in her exposed midriff ripple as she leaned from side to side in her scrutiny of my person. It was almost hypnotic to gaze at, I must admit. The refreshing fragrance of Jasmine followed her movements and stimulated my sinuses. She wore a kind of blue bathing suit with a clear sarong skirt covering her pelvic region that somehow only added to her mysterious allure. 

Once she was finished with her examination, she bore up into my vision once again, “Zhis iz your very first time to our kind of establishment izn’t it?” She rhetorically asked.

“Eeyup” I borrowed a page from Big Mac on this one, simple one-word answers would have to suffice for the moment.

She nodded, as if the answer was plainly obvious, “It reflects in your overall complexion. Your skin iz rough and overly dry in many places, zhere are hints of abrasions on your biceps, and zhere iz zhis general aura of bodily negligence hovering over you. But zhat aside, you are a fine specimen indeed” She seductively bit her lip, shamelessly flirting with me. I was more focused on the abrasions that she spoke of; my ‘wounds’ from the Timberwolf incident were not unnoticeable to a trained eye it seemed.

“We’ll have to rectify that…won’t we?” I was eager to get this over with.

She held up a hand, “All in due time, first zhere are specific ground rules zhat must be followed. Our Spa iz not exclusive to one gender alone, however, zhat does not mean zhat it iz unisex eizher…” She trailed off, waiting for me to get the picture.

“So you have measures in place to discourage peeping Toms and voyeuristic Bettys right?” I sarcastically speculated.

She tilted her head upon hearing the expression, “Zhat iz one way of putting it, yes. We separate zhem so zhey are not tempted to intrude upon zhe atmosphere of physical privacy zhat my sizter and I work so hard to maintain. As such, during certain parts of your treatment, you will not be sharing zhe same space with mizz Rarity or our other female customers”

“That’s perfectly reasonable. Have there been instances where that privacy has been broken, or has this always been a spoken rule?” I inquired, curious at why first timers had to be explicitly told that they were not allowed to let their eyes wander.

“Under our watch, no such instances haf occurred. Zhough, a distinct lack of male customers has made it quite easy for such a clean record to be kept” She admitted with a half shrug.

I chuckled, “You needn’t worry about me miss Aloe, I respect my fellow being’s modesty”

She inclined her head forward, “Zhat iz good to hear. Moving on, I must ask a few questions beforehand” She returned to the desk and took out a clipboard, motioning for me to come closer.

“Do not take offense, but from which clan do you hail?” She asked, my long hair covering my forehead and unsummoned wings made it difficult for her to assume right away.

“I passed out from magical exhaustion yesterday, so…yeah” I sidestepped the question, unequivocally stating my supposed clan heritage would have undoubtedly come back to bite me.

She made a humming noise as she marked notations down, “Any particular sensitivities we should know about?”

I searched my memory banks for any known ticklish zones and came up with nil, “Nothing immediately comes to mind, why do you ask?”

“Some of our customers haf more sensitive regions, usually around zheir Mana marks, or zhe shoulder blades for Skyborn” She automatically explained, making further notations on the clipboard. That reminded me, I needed something to cover up my lack of a Mana mark, I didn’t want to arouse any pesky suspicion into my background.

“Do you have any extra armbands? I do have this one preference for covering my shoulder regions” I coolly asked the beautician, who raised an eyebrow at the unusual request.

“We do, I’ll be sure to get you some before you enter zhe steam bath” She said as she placed the clipboard on a wall hook. She then had me follow her into the main chamber of the Spa and past the Jacuzzi.





“Much appreciated. You know, I was uneasy about this visit at first. But after seeing how well organized this place is, my fears are gradually subsiding” I mentioned offhand as I tread behind the attractive agrarian woman, fighting off the urge to stare at her shapely ‘assets’. 

“Zhat iz good to hear, it will be a much more enjoyable experience if you relax after all” She smiled back at me again, this one free of any ulterior motive.

“So in what sequence does the ‘usual’ take place?” I followed up, passing by lounging customers with towels wrapped around their heads and the stereotypical cucumber slices over their eyes. 

Aloe and Lotus were not the only people manning the Spa, with other masseuses and at least one masseur tending to their clients. Many of them were also topless, but I remained true to my word and stared right on ahead.

“Zhe steam bath takes precedence so zhat you may sweat away impurities and cleanse zhe pores of blockages, from zhere are zhe facial masks with dual manicure and pedicure, our renowned back massage, concluded with a seaweed wrap followed with a mud bath to rejuvenate and renew zhe flesh” Aloe listed, though more than half of those treatments did not entice me.

“Is it possible for me to skip the facial masks, nail filing, and mud bath?” I strictly solicited, making my distaste of such things clear.

“But you would only be receiving two fifths of what mizz Rarity paid for!” She objected, not wanting her client’s coin to go to waste.

“Think of it this way miss Aloe, you’ll be receiving the same amount to do less. As a man, I don’t take well to mud masks or baths, and my nails were the proper length last I checked” I gave them a cursory glance just to be sure.

She shook her head, furrowing her neatly trimmed eyebrows as she did so, “Zhat will simply not do. We will haf to substitute in somezhing worthy of mizz Rarity’s patronage”

“I presume that she’s one of your repeat customers?” I wryly surmised.

“Mizz Rarity’s contributions account for almost a quarter of our monthly profits, she iz a very valued regular to my sizter and I” She said in an almost reverent voice. Rarity must have really been keen on spoiling herself with this place to have garnered such respect.

Aloe then leaned towards me and spoke conspiratorially, “If you do not mind, may I ask what your connection to her iz?”

“I’m the guy who got suckered into modeling for her male winter fashion line for the upcoming runway show in Concordia” I deadpanned, not amused in the least by the idea.

She noticed my discontent, “Yet you yourself do not care for such zhings, no? So what made you agree?”

“A couple of reasons. I felt duty bound to assist Rarity make waves in the fashion world and also because I had business of my own to attend to there” I answered forthrightly. I wondered how Octavia would react to the news that I was technically still on the market. I bet that she would be thrilled, though I imagine she would do a good job of hiding it under that charmingly prim exterior of hers.

We finally reached a closed off dressing area that was encompassed by folding screens, although the one’s that the Spa sisters employed were far more gender neutral, being a shade of yellow with swirling orange lines adorning it. Aloe passed me a towel and a couple of armbands to wrap myself with and pointed me to a cubbyhole where I could stash my clothes before leaving me to change in privacy. I debated just how much I needed to strip. Being completely new to beauty parlor etiquette made for much indecision, but I eventually opted to go all the way, figuring that the steam bath would likely result in moisture buildup that would be unfavorable if I kept my undergarments on. 

I kicked off my sneakers and slipped on some clogs that were provided courtesy of the Spa before making my way to the doorway into the steam bath right around the corner. I pushed my way inside and was instantly enveloped by the muggy touch of steam. Through the fog, I could make out the figure of Rarity, who was dressed in a frilly bathrobe that felt counterintuitive to the purpose of the sauna. On either side of the door were cauldrons filled with hot rocks, with a bucket of water and a ladle to pour onto said rocks for generating steam.

“I trust that Aloe was not too overbearing with you?” The woman asked with an amused smirk.

“Nope, she was totally professional and to the point” ‘Unlike someone I know’ I thought as I took my place on the bench beside her.

“Now tell me what I should be ready for in our glorious Capital” I was in no mood to beat around the bush, much to Rarity’s consternation.

“There’s no need to be so forward Zenith. We have plenty of time for me to discuss with you all the details you need to know” She spoke distractedly, only just managing to maintain eye contact.

She tried her best to hide it, but she was eagerly eyeing my exposed torso in her peripherals. Breathlessly drinking in every curve of my pectorals and ogling how the beads of moisture formed and rolled down them. I didn’t see what the big deal was, my musculature may have been more defined with my Trifect body, but it wasn’t the hulking mass of brawn that Big Mac unveiled to the world every time he took off his shirt from working the fields too long. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, the dude was ripped! Of course, my Trifect physiology hid my true strength quite well. I might look scrawny in comparison, but I could punch well above any Agrarian’s weight class.

I grunted in minor annoyance, “If you say so…” I summoned my sound sphere and was about to shut the world out when she spoke up again.

“It’s remarkable how you can still be so proficient with magic and yet without a focal gem” She observed with awe, glimpsing at the swirling luminescence of the magical construct. I was briefly caught off guard by her comment, but recalled that Rarity had a sharp eye for minor nuances like that.

I withheld my astonishment, “I theorize its because I lack a Mana mark,” I tapped an armband for emphasis, “and they supposedly go hand in hand for Stellar Magi. But then again, I’m so much more than I initially appear” I said with a small grin. In more ways than one too! 

She slowly smiled, “That’s one of the many things about you that interest me Zenith. You’re truly one of a kind” From the sincere way she said it, she meant that without any reservations. I suppose I should feel flattered.

“What goes on behind those mysterious crimson eyes of yours, I wonder?” She muttered to herself, ignorant to the fact that I could still hear her loud and clear. I felt the urge to put an end to that line of curiosity straight away.

“Twilight wondered the same thing, and she didn’t like what she found” I said with a dark tone. The shrouding mist of the sauna only made my statement seem more ominous.

She gasped lightly and melodramatically held a curled hand to her lips, “Is that what was wrong with her last night? She hardly spoke a word to either Applejack or myself! Tell me what happened” She all but commanded, I was more than happy to oblige.

“Twilight tried to understand something that would have utterly destroyed her had she succeeded. I managed to deter her unauthorized digging into the fabric of my mind, something that I’ll be discussing at great length with her mentor the next I see her” I explained, slumping into a more comfortable position on the bench.

“Oh Twilight, what have you done?” She said worriedly, “Why is she so vacant though? It was as if she had all the joy drained out of her body” Her voice had a far off tenor to it, concern for her good friend’s state of mind clearly weighing down on her.

I wasn’t worried about her current condition. It would wear off with time, as long as she didn’t try scratching away at the metaphorical red tape I placed around her memories of the event. I had contingency plans for that possibility anyway, namely wiping her mind of the spell she used to trespass in my being in the first place, as well as the addition of placing down restrictions on any attempts to relearn such a spell.

I lazily turned my head to her, “If there’s something you should know about me Rarity, it’s that I have my own burdens to carry. But they are mine to carry and mine alone” I thumped a fist against my chest for emphasis, “This is why I discourage you from looking too deep into my allegedly mysterious eyes: it’s where my demons hide, it’s where my demons hide~” I echoed the words to the song, bemusing her greatly.

We spent the remainder of fifteen minutes in silence, with Rarity doubtlessly trying to make sense of what I had told her. I occasionally used my magic to pour some more water onto the hot rocks, the hissing sounds of sudden evaporation being the only break in the lull. I did away with the sound sphere, in case Rarity wished to confront me about Twilight’s new listlessness. But the harsh words of accusation never came, and her sudden poker face made it challenging to discern what she was thinking.

The door to the sauna opened abruptly and Aloe’s velvety voice piped in, “It iz time to proceed to zhe next phase” She informed us as the humid air escaped the room and a chilling one replaced it.

I got up and followed my ruminating companion outside. Turns out that it wasn’t Aloe speaking to us, but her twin sister Lotus. The fact that they sounded exactly alike was equal parts fascinating and somewhat off settling. Their hair and outfit’s reverse color scheme further compounded this, with only their azure iris color being a constant (though their eye shadow’s were still contrasting). Heck, they shared the same Mana mark image! I could never understand what it was like to have such a physically identical sibling, being an only child myself.

Lotus then divided us, sending Rarity to one side of the main Spa chamber and myself to another end, which was completely devoid of any males, save for myself. I could only speculate that my companion would have to disrobe for her facial mask and back massage, and I wasn’t allowed to peek at the goods. Which was fine by me really. I was half expecting some bulky guy with a strange exotic name to be my masseur, but I was pleasantly proven wrong when Aloe showed up again.

“How are you taking to your first time at zhe Spa so far? Did you find zhe steam bath refreshing?” She asked with a lively demeanor, motioning for me to lay face down on one of the empty massage tables that had those face hugging cushions.

“I’ve actually been in those rooms before, though it wasn’t at a Spa” I enlightened the masseuse as I got comfy, intriguing her.

“Iz zhat so? And what establishment, pray tell, had one? Last I recall, ours iz zhe only building in all of Magiville zhat has one” She asked while searching through a wall cabinet for the right massage oil. Finding one that satisfied her demands, she pulled it out and popped the cap before dabbing the nozzle to one of her palms and rubbing them together. Even from this distance I could catch the pungent scent of Eucalyptus.

“A gymnasium actually, they joined the shower and saunas together in the same complex. So after you worked out, you could then either sweat some more or hit the stalls to wash up” I gregariously conversed, which was atypical of me. This place was somehow picking at my self-imposed taciturn restrictions.

“Fascinating, I’ve never heard of such facilities before” She applied her wonderfully soft hands to my back, quickly working out all the knots and other trigger points that had accumulated over time. 

I barely stifled the urge to groan loudly once she reached my shoulder blades. I wouldn’t go so far as to call them erogenous zones, but Valkyrian shoulder blades were sensitive in ways that I couldn’t fully describe. It was kind of analogous to scratching a dog behind the ears. One simple touch and they’ll melt into a tail wagging pile of contentment. I still wasn’t aware if actual arousal caused a subconscious summoning of one’s wings, but I wasn’t eager to test the whole wing boner theory. At least the chances of getting an awkward erection were negated by my facing the floor.

“Has anyone ever told you that your fingers are magic?” I casually remarked to the beautician, letting my body uncoil from its constant state of tensed readiness for a change.

She giggled as she effortlessly dismantled a particularly stubborn knot, “I might have heard somezhing similar once every so often, zhough my sizter far outpaces me in zhe reception of compliments” From the sound of it, she bore no jealousy towards her twin at this.

“Well, if you keep this up my dear Aloe, you might just have a repeat customer on those heavenly hands of yours” I exhaled with gratification, I may very well mark this place on my mental list of prime locations, right alongside the diner.

“I’m pleased to hear zhat mister Zenith” She happily chirped, using a sweeping motion with her thumbs to stroke the grooves of my spine.

“Just Zenith, please” I crooked my head sideways to speak clearly, noticing a peculiar spiral glass jar that caught my attention, “Say Aloe?” She hummed in acknowledgment, “What kind of concoction is in that jar over there? The one with the bright orange stopper?” I specified.

She let out a tiny gasp as soon as she saw it, “Lotus was supposed to put zhat away!” She rasped in slight dismay.

“Well?” I asked, noting how she sounded vaguely…embarrassed?

“W-well, it umm…iz an imported gel made from a special seaweed extract zhat does not grow locally. It iz…for an experimental treatment zhat my sizter has been…entertaining recently” It didn’t even have to turn around to know that her cheeks were flushed with blood. 

‘A gel made from a special seaweed extract…where have I heard of that before?’ That’s when it struck me. That was a container of Nuru gel!

“You do body slides here!?” I exclaimed, shocked at this news.

“Iz zhat what zhe name of zhe treatment iz? Oh my…” She trailed off, but still working my backside for all she was worth. How professional.

“Is that treatment officially offered here? Or is it just in the books?” Why was I asking this!? I didn’t want to be smeared in gelatinous substance, regardless of that quip I made to Vinyl.

“Zhat iz somezhing you will haf to ask Lotus. It was her idea in zhe first place, zhough I did not know zhat it was a labeled exercise already. Iz such a treatment what you desire?” She asked, clearly uninformed as to what a body slide entailed, though I had this odd inkling that she wouldn’t mind even if she did. Just thinking about being sandwiched between Aloe and her equally sumptuous twin during such a massage had me hot and heavy.

‘Don’t pop a stiffy, don’t pop a stiffy, don’t pop a…aw damn’ Hopefully she won’t ask me to flip over any time soon, lest she bear witness my rendition of Mount Everest.

“I’ll…have to take a rain check on that” I evaded with extraordinary resistance, although I could kiss my state of tranquil repose goodbye for the rest of my stay. Eh, nothing a cold shower couldn’t fix…a really cold shower.

She leaned closer and spoke sensually in my ear, “Zhat iz such a shame. From what little Lotus has apprised me, such a close contact procedure would be pleasurable for both zhe customer and zhe masseur, no?”

‘So…tempting’ How could she be exploiting my weakness so easily like this?

I settled for a bit of a coin toss, “Tell you what. If by some inexplicable twist of fate I end up a huge celebrity during my trip to the Capital. I’ll not only take you up on that, I’ll pay triple the going rate” With a hefty tip too.

She hummed in thought, “Zhat gel iz quite expensive, and triple zhe rate would quite steep. Pourquoi pas? You are on. But only if both my sizter and myself are allowed to administer your rubdown. Think of it as your substitute for mizz Rarity’s remittance” She punctuated her terms by putting extra pressure on my shoulder blades, eliciting a choked gasp out of me. Man was I sensitive there!

“…Deal..!” I managed to wheeze out, this could be an effective torture technique if applied correctly! I could slap myself for this pruriently driven decision later.

We spoke no more for the rest of my back massage, which lasted another ten minutes. By the time Aloe was finished working her magic, I felt more limber than ever before. Maybe I could use these Spa visits as a form of keeping in shape, as well as enjoy the company of its winsome proprietors. After a quick wash off in the Spa’s showers (set on extra cold temperature as punishment for thinking with the head below my shoulders), I returned to the area where I had stored my clothes and put them back on, discarding my damp towel in a hamper nearby. I was glad that the massage oil that Aloe used was the kind that did not leave a sticky sensation after it dried. Clammy skin was one of my pet peeves.

I figured that I could wait out the rest of Rarity’s pampering at the front entrance. On the way there, I snuck a glance in her direction, discovering that she was lounging on a pool chair with a green mud mask applied to her face and getting her nails filed and polished to a mirror shine by Lotus, a towel was wrapped around her hair for reasons I didn’t know. I couldn’t make out her words over the general din of chatter in the chamber, but she was scowling and appeared indecisive about something (likely what she was to do with me), and wanted the beautician’s opinion on the best course of action. Hopefully she would get the picture and leave me well enough alone, I’m not someone she (or anyone really) should dote on.

‘Rarity kinda reminds me of Yzma with those cucumber slices over her eyes, except less wrinkly…and evil’ I humorously thought as I rifled through the selection of magazines that were haphazardly stacked together from countless patrons tossing them back once they were done reading them, or when it was their time to indulge themselves in Lotus and Aloe’s many services.

Another hour or so slowly ground down as I struggled to find some means of occupying myself without resorting to using my magic. Needless to say, with only fashion mags and other feminized reading material, this was a losing battle from the very start. The pressure of boredom began building until it reached nigh unbearable levels. With a frustrated grunt, I accepted my defeat with humility and put on the Arcane earmuffs of shame to wait out the duration of my sentence. 

I had reached the end of an old nostalgic favorite by Rusted Root when a visually improved Rarity materialized from around the bend. I could see now why she relished coming here, her pearly white skin, while nearly flawless before, now glowed with an immaculate sheen. Her hair had regained that luster that you would usually associate with an artist’s impression of a Goddess. All traces of stress lines were erased and I couldn’t detect a single blemish marring her features. Her medium length fingernails were glossed and had been stylishly painted, though not distractingly so. She stood with a more confident and poised posture, much like I did after donning my robes. 

Any man back home would have rated her a solid ten (perhaps even an eleven) at this point, but glamorous beauty just didn’t have that spark necessary to capture my attentions for longer than five seconds and keep it. I was more a fan of…natural beauty, such as that exhibited by the woman who was still safeguarding my things. I’d need to stop by and pick those up, now that I had my own residence. 

Rarity snapped me out of my musings, quite literally, using her fingers. She then waved a hand in front of my face, “Are you alright Zenith? I’ve been trying to grab your attention for a while now” She stated in a slightly irked voice. I rushed to pardon myself for my careless self distraction.

“Apologies Rarity, when I get into an introspective mood, I get stuck in it quite often” She reluctantly accepted this answer and pivoted to face the Spa twins. 

Aloe was busy whispering something into her sister’s ear and motioning towards me. They both giggled in tandem once they realized that I caught them staring. Me, being the charming rogue I am, winked at them with a bawdy grin. Their tiny fit of laughter confused Rarity, whose backside was turned to me when I enacted the gesture. She shrugged it off and said a few more words of thanks before dipping into her purse once again to give her favorite Spa people a tip for their consistent excellence. She then grabbed me by the neck of my shirt and pulled me outside.

“There’s no need to manhandle me Rarity! What’s the rush?” I proclaimed, blindsided by this sudden unladylike behavior of hers.

She seemed to notice her tactless actions and let go of me, nervously clearing her throat and pretending like she was innocent, “Ehem, no rush today darling. I just remembered that I had some…last minute preparations to make before our departure for Concordia, yes that’s it” She hastily excused her strange behavior.

“Speaking of which, when do we leave?” I asked, ignoring the transparent lie.

“Be at the train station at seven o’ clock sharp. The distance to the city will take about an hour and a half to traverse, so we can use that time to learn you the basics of modeling” She explained in her business voice, before switching to a warmer one, “Ta for now Zenith, we have an interesting week to look forward to” Interesting was a word that swung both ways, and the sly way she spoke it only exacerbated my cause to be rueful for agreeing to this undertaking of hers.

With her peace said, she left me to my own devices. It was midday by now, with Celestia’s Sun bearing down almost directly overhead. I scratched my head in an effort to divine what I would do with the rest of my day. Given this morning’s hearty breakfast, I was tided over for the next few hours. There was nothing pressing in town that demanded my time, albeit I was mildly interested in the state of Davenport’s headway into introducing more practical writing utensils to this moderately simplistic society that still relied mostly on beasts of burden for the heavy lifting.

I sighed with indecision and chose to wander at random, leaving it up to fate to decide where I was needed, if I was even needed anywhere at all. I melded into the throngs of people going about their daily lives; occasionally returning their neighborly gestures of fellowship, even if our association was just living in the same general area. It made me absently wonder if small town homes back in America had this level of community. Perhaps that was the case, though I could not truly understand what drove these people to connect with each other so deeply.

My aimless meandering eventually saw me on the outskirts of town that I had stormed yesterday in foul spirits. In a classic reversal of fortune, I found a dejected looking Lyra staring forlornly off into the wilderness. Muttering to myself about the fickleness of fate, I soundlessly sat beside her and joined her in her thousand yard stare. We were both silent for a time until I cut into the downcast atmosphere that the woman was emitting.

“You seem troubled” I parroted her earlier words to me. If fate decreed that I was to step into her shoes for a moment, I was going to do it theatrically.

She regarded me in the peripherals of her vision, a spark of annoyance mixed with faint amusement flashed in them, “Nothing that won’t pass with the inevitable flow of time, I’m sure” She echoed in almost as dry a tone. She might have been playing along, but her effort to seem lighthearted felt only halfhearted.

“How are things?” I went straight for the heart of the matter, beating around the bush be damned.

She sighed tiredly, “Crappy, everyone still doesn’t remember me. Although a fair few of them made mention of me being familiar, I’m still forgotten. Even Bonnie looked at me like I was a stranger, and she was my Celestia damned housemate!” She cursed, throwing her hands up in surrender before burying her face into her palms to begin softly weeping.

‘Why do I have to be the one to provide an emotional cushion?’ I don’t think that there’s a person in this entire world less qualified for it than I am. Well…maybe Discord would be worse, or secretly he would be the greatest emotional councilor ever, it’s hard to tell with him.

Despite my unfitness for this task, I laid an arm around her shoulders and pulled her in close. She accepted the physical contact and used my shirt as her personal handkerchief. I’m sure the snot and tears would wash out after a good scrubbing. Her choked sobs and snivels grew less and less frequent at she cried out the last of her grief. I chose that as the time to offer my two cents (or bits as it were).

“I’m terribly sorry to hear that Lyra, but from the look of things, you will not stay forgotten. Whether the townsfolk’s memories slowly return or if you have to re-earn their familiarity, there’s no longer anything that will force you to stay forgotten” I caressed her arm comfortingly, “Give it time, the name Lyra Heartstrings will have universally recognized meaning connected to it once more”

She let out a strained chuckle and nuzzled against my side, “It’s a good thing that I still have my White Knight to remind me that not all is lost huh?”

“Ain’t I a regular saint?” I sarcastically remarked, prompting less strained sounding laughter from the emotional woman.

“A snippy Knight that is. Mayhaps, a Snark Knight?” She looked up at me with a tear-stained face and grinned.

I grinned back, “I like it! A Snark Knight forever at your service, my esteemed lady Lyra” I utilized my impeccable British accent to make me sound nobler than I actually was.

She chewed her lip, as if mentally debating something, “You know…” She began tentatively, “You said something about not asking to return to somebody’s home on the first outing, but what about the second outing?”

I raised an eyebrow at her implied meaning, “Are you saying that you want to see my place?” 

She delicately nodded, “If you wouldn’t mind, that is” She said with an adorably shy smile.

I frowned and shook my head, “That would be unwise. I have a cloud home, and the floors are particular to Skyborn alone. Even though the house itself is solid, I wouldn’t want to leave you stranded there” I reasoned.

She crooked her head, “Stranded? What do you mean by that?”

“I’ve gotta be at the train station early tomorrow morning, since I’m accompanying Rarity to a fashion gig in the Capital. I’d rather not leave you stuck up there with no way down, it wouldn’t be very gentlemanly of me” I explained, watching her eyes light up in recognition of something.

“My parents! They live in the city, they’ll remember me! I’m their daughter for Celestia’s sake!” She exclaimed loudly, whatever act she was trying to pull by inviting herself to my place now forgotten.

She got uncomfortably close to my face, “Mind if I tag along? I promise not to bother you or Rarity too much” She pleaded, her lower lip quivering in a fashion that would have made it difficult to refuse had I not already been cool with it.

“Of course you can! You don’t need my permission to come with. You’re on your own for train tickets though” I playfully joked, though the energetic nodding of her head indicated that she was too excited to get it.

“That’s all tomorrow however, so let’s find something to occupy ourselves with until that time comes eh?” I said to the lyrist, “Perhaps I can crash at your place instead and we can make some sweet sounding music?” I wiggled my eyebrows suggestively; two could play the innuendo game.

“And just what instrument will you be using for that?” She incredulously asked as she shifted back to get a better look at me.

‘The one I carry everywhere’ I rakishly quipped in my thoughts.

“I have an acoustic guitar stored at a friend’s place, I can go retrieve that and meet you back at your place. Sound good?” I might be flirty at times, but I almost never directly mean what I say.

She held a hand to her chin, “I doubt our two instruments are compatible for duets, but I guess we can show each other what the other is capable of doing solo wise” She shrugged indifferently, “It’s been far too long since I’ve had a audience who stayed cognizant for the whole performance, I’m looking forward to this!”

And so Lyra and I split up temporarily, with myself returning to Fluttershy’s to reclaim my belongings as well as explain why I couldn’t be found at my home yesterday to the worried woman. The animal caretaker smiled when I told her that my absence was due to helping someone out of a near impossible situation. She told me that she understood and was gladdened by my eagerness to lend aid to those in need, which was a sentiment that she herself shared readily. I got this warm and fuzzy feeling in my chest upon hearing that she was regretful that she wasn’t able to spend more time with me before. I made sure to say to her that the feeling was mutual, and that her demure smile never failed to cheer me up.

With my things now back in my hands, I returned to that cozy cabin in the woods, where Lyra and I spent the rest of the day regaling each other with tales of our lives. It was fascinating to see how she could alter the sounds of the strummed chords by muting certain strings with the fingers she used to hold the instrument. She was just as hypnotized by my use of a single index finger as a makeshift capo for power chords. I taught her the three major and two minor chords necessary to play the iconic ‘Yellow Submarine’ by the Beatles, and in turn she showed me a simple single noted folk tune she would play whenever she found someone lachrymose that needed uplifting. I figured that’s what she would have done for me had I not indulged her for a chat.

We improvised chords together, we laughed together, and we got to know each other the old fashion way, none of that one-sided memory montage nonsense. Our revelry lasted well into the night, and before long the importunate pull of sleep began tugging at my companion’s eyelids. She gaped a large yawn and invited me to bed in the same breath, too tired to realize the impropriety of what she had proposed. She collapsed on her tiny bed and was out like a light before I could muster a response. Shrugging indifferently to myself, I set my things at the foot of the bed and sat down, leaning against the bottom portion of the mattress before getting some shuteye myself.


⁂


The morning air had a wintery chill to it as I stood on the platform waiting for the seven thirty train to arrive. Its cool touch made me wonder how the seasons actually changed here, for the Valkyrians I had seen zooming about the skies did not adjust their usual modus operandi as they went about their weather jobs. Lyra was impatiently tapping her foot against the floor of the platform as she stood in line to purchase her ticket, swiveling her head every so often to glare daggers at me for not having the courtesy to at least save her a spot or buy tickets for the two of us.

‘Well, I did say she was on her own for tickets’ I apathetically smiled back to her, making her snort in disbelief. It’s not my fault that she woke up late and took her sweet time in the shower.

Speaking of which, where the heck was Rarity? The finicky woman tells me to be here at seven sharp and yet has the audacity to be absent herself, the nerve of some people! I scoffed indignantly, the suddenness of the action drawing a few confused glances from those standing by me (which I ignored). It was likely that she was bringing enough baggage with her to fill up the compartments of an entire car. From what I’ve seen, there were no carry on limits for the train station like the kind you’d find at an airport.

Lyra stomped her way over to me and I mentally prepared myself for an imminent ‘chew out’ session.

“I can’t believe you made me wait all the way in line! You were only two people away from the clerk when I got here, you could have allowed me to stand by you! But you just had to insist that I wait a full turn” Her face was flushed with anger, and the tiniest bit of betrayed hurt.

“What did you expect me to do? Let you cut in line in full view of everybody?” I calmly riposted, casting her a sidelong glimpse.

She stared unbelievingly at me, “Uh…yeah! That would have been a perfectly acceptable thing to do”

I wasn’t convinced, “And how would I excuse that? Say that we’re a couple going on a trip to the Capital?”

Her facial coloration switched to a darker beet red tinge, “Erm! I-…no, maybe?” She vacillated before groaning in exasperation, “Yes, we’re a couple…” I crooked a brow, “…of friends”

I didn’t even wince at the sudden F bomb this time. I must be getting good at this.

“Then as your…friend, permit me to ask for your forgiveness for standing by my words to you yesterday” Her shift from an eager face at the beginning to an unamused half lidded one by the end was priceless.

She vocalized a ‘hmph!’ that sounded far less refined than the person we were currently waiting for was capable of and turned away. I’m on a roll, cold shoulder treatment two days in a row!

Within fifteen minutes I spotted Rarity approaching on the horizon, and sure enough, there was a small mountain’s worth of luggage being hauled to the rear of her on a flat-bedded wagon with a thin sidewall to keep its freight from falling over. I focused my vision on the tuft of spiky green hair trailing in the rear. I followed that tousled hair down until I could make out the familiar face of a certain library assistant. I rolled my eyes in restrained vexation, it seems that Rarity had ‘enlisted’ Spike (brazenly taking advantage of his affections) to provide the muscle needed to move her things for her. 

I shook my head in pity, ‘That poor boy’ Doesn’t he even realize that he’s only going to get crushed by his crush? Love truly is blind sometimes, and not always for the better.

She waved to me as soon I was in visual range. Her form was dressed in a white and silver fur coat that reminded me of a seventies disco uniform for some reason. I idly pondered what animal that coat was made out of, but dismissed the idea. She was a good friend to Fluttershy; having such an outfit in her inventory would horrify the gentler woman. Unless Rarity employed the use of white lies more than I realized, then she must have only worked with fake fur.

“Good morning Zenith! Are you as giddy as I am for our upcoming time to shine?” She chirped once she was within a few strides distance, striking a pose as if she were in the limelight already.

“Mornin’. And no, I find that level of anticipation difficult to match” I drawled with a mirthless chuckle, still not enthused by the prospect of being this woman’s glorified mannequin.

“Geez Rarity, you pack enough for a family of five” I drily observed, eyeing the wobbling cases at the top of the cart behind her warily.

“Only the barest essentials darling, many of those valises contain the outfits that you’ll be displaying for the fashion world. I originally wanted to bring more of my own wares, but sometimes sacrifices must be made in the name of fashion” She spoke as if her decision to minimize cargo was noble.

I brought my attention to Spike, who had a thin line of sweat on his brow from the sheer effort he put into pulling the wagon up the platform ramp. The things that boy does for his unrequited romantic love.

I greeted him as well, “Hey Spike, need a hand?” I altruistically proffered, seeing the slow progress of his toiling.

He tried to dismissively wave a hand at me before his grip on the handle began slipping and he was forced to catch it again, “No thanks…I’m mostly sure I…GOT THIS!” He heaved as he put his back into it, fighting a futile uphill battle against gravity.

I smirked in amusement before surrounding the mound of bags with my magic and levitating it into a more organized pile placed by myself. Despite the sizable number of bags and their contents, the action felt as trivial as breathing. Due to my penchant for boiling down incredibly complicated feats of magic into the proper metaphors and mental commands, (which is a huge part of being a successful mage) magic was all but second nature to me by this point. Still…did Rarity really have to bring so many bags? There were a little over a dozen of them! Why couldn’t more people be like me and pack their paraphernalia into something more portable? Like the space-enchanted adventurer’s pack that I brought with me?

With his load completely lightened, Spike crested the apex of the ramp in a jiffy. He exhaled in relief and began flexing his muscles in front of the target of his affections, “See? I told you I could handle…it?” 

He stared incredulously at the empty cart before him before aligning his gaze with the short stack next to me, his mind connecting the dots. He let out a puff of steam and pouted, “I could have done it without you dude” His draconic eyes glared at me for making him seem helpless in front of his idol.

“I apologize for interfering Spike, but some of those bags contain some very delicate cargo, and the longer they stayed haphazardly smushed together like that, the greater the chances of something being warped or mangled beyond recognition” It was a transparent excuse really, but the young lad seemed to believe it without much fuss.

“I guess you’re right. I wouldn’t want any of Rarity’s things getting damaged. She deserves only the best” He glanced fondly at the squiggle haired beauty. This time I was sure there were heart shaped glints hovering over his pupils.

“Oh Spike, such gallantry won’t go unrewarded” She reached into a fold in her coat and produced a fire ruby the size of a chestnut, which Spike immediately began salivating at the sight of.

“A fire ruby!? But aren’t those super rare? I couldn’t possibly take such a treat from you” That hungry look in his eye told me that he didn’t even believe his own words.

“You can thank Zenith here for renewing my supply of rare gems” She smoothly tossed the rock to Spike, who caught it between his teeth much like Winona would catch a stick when playing fetch. He began chewing on it like it was a jawbreaker, moaning in delight at its taste.

‘I’m not hearing any gratitude from the mobile mailbox’ I pettily griped, unappreciated as usual.

Lyra was just standing awkwardly to the side, indecisive about whether or not to include herself in the conversation. Knowing that she’d take forever to make up her mind, I chose for her.

“We have a third wheel in our party Rarity, if it’s not too much of an issue” My tone making it clear that this wasn’t up for debate.

“Oh? And just who is that, if I may inquire?” She began looking around, oblivious to the girl standing just behind me.

“Lyra here,” I sidestepped to reveal the woman stricken by self-consciousness, “Is visiting her parents in the Capital, and she’ll be sitting with us for the whole trip” She shrank back as all attention was directed on her.

Rarity automatically began analyzing her, taking in her shabby hoodie and torn jeans and flinching for a fraction of a second before beaming a friendly (if not perturbed) smile her way.

“I can’t recall making your acquaintance before, but it’s a pleasure to see you again miss Lyra” She formally uttered with an inclination of her head.

“W-what?” She stuttered, caught off guard by her strange words.

Rarity held a palm against her gemmed forehead and grimaced as if she was suffering from the sudden onset of a migraine, “I’m sorry…did I say that it was nice to see you again? Something about you is so familiar…”

“Of course!” She cried out with a snap of her fingers, having reached an epiphany, “You’re the girl who came to me to do stitching repairs on that atrocious hooded sweatshirt, despite my pleas to make you something more presentable”

“You remember me?” This shocked Lyra, so much that she didn’t pick up on the insult to her garb.

“I never forget a patch job darling, especially not one done on such…threadbare garments” She murmured with distaste.

Lyra was finally aware of the criticism and incensed this time, “These threadbare garments hold a great deal of sentimental value to me. I’d choose these over frilly dresses any day of the week” She crossed her arms together and fumed, and Rarity realized her faux pas.

“I meant no offense Lyra! My uncouth opinions as a seamstress sometimes pass through my lips before my manners can filter them”

“You’re forgiven, I still need someone to keep these in one piece after all” She grinned, ecstatic that someone besides me mostly remembered her, even if it was the result of an association to her clothing.

“As a means to make my apology more sincere, I’ll do it free of charge!” She followed up, ever the Element of Generosity, with Lyra fruitlessly trying to deny her charitable offer.

While they negotiated the terms of their reconciliation, I spoke to Spike, who was drooling slightly as he admired the more glamorous of the two.

“How’s Twilight holding up?” I interrupted his daydreaming.

“Huh!” His head snapped to me before he processed my question, “Oh. She’s recovered from the mishap, but she’s been acting kinda off kilter lately” He scowled, a worried expression on his face.

“Describe off kilter” 

“She’s…restless about something. She remembers inviting you over for some sort of testing, miscasting her spell and unleashing a discharge of energy as a result. Which took me three hours to clean up by the way” He frowned at the addition to his chores. I certainly didn’t envy his duties one bit, “But she keeps making these mystifying remarks about existential topics; ‘intimately knowing what a life deprived of significant meaning was like’ she said. I’ve seen her piling on more philosophically heavy reading at night too”

Hearing this made my lips purse together in a thin line. This was an undesirable development to learn about. My worldview had imprinted upon Twilight deep enough to start bleeding into her own. Something of that magnitude would ultimately destroy her inside, rendering her a hollow shell of the person I had only just come to know. There’s no telling what this might do to her ability to channel the Element of Magic, or how it will affect her daily interactions with the close people in her life.

‘Let’s hope I haven’t corrupted an Element via exposure’ I don’t want to be the one responsible for disabling one of Arcania’s most potent means of defense.

“I see. But other than the sudden enigmatic statements and avid interest in existential subjects, she’s still the same Twilight you grew up around right?”

“I’d say she still is. Why? Was the spell that backfired meant to alter one’s personality?” He jested, ignorant to how close to the truth he just might have been.

I shook my head, “You cannot force a person to change their personality, with magic or otherwise, for that is an exercise of free will. One chooses to change how they see and feel about their existence, much like one chooses whether or not to be happy to see the rainfall, even if it means being stuck indoors” Personally the rain makes me feel at peace. It causes the air to smell fresh too.

“Wow, you sound like you’ve given this a lot of thought” He tried to wrap his mind around such profound insight.

‘If only you knew’

“Yes…I have” I tentatively admitted, deeper thinking came naturally to me.

The far off sound of a train whistle echoed in the distance, alerting us that it would soon be time to depart. I decided to utilize Spike for what he was best for.

“When next you see her, please tell Twilight I’m sorry for the way things turned out” And I meant that, no one should be subjected to seeing the world through jaded eyes. 

Make no mistake, I’m still miffed at her for letting her burning curiosity get the better of her, but my anger had cooled somewhat upon hearing of her new condition. What’s done is done, and it is pointless to hold such banal grudges against someone who only had the best of intentions. Even if the road to hell is paved with them.

He stared at me strangely before eventually agreeing with a nod and casually waving the three of us a two-fingered valedictory salute. Lyra and Rarity had finished their haggling, with Lyra agreeing to let Rarity craft her a dress to compliment her petite form, if and only if Rarity in turn agreed to let Lyra pay her for future repairs to her treasured hoodie. The steam powered locomotive pulled into the station with a gentle stop before some of its passengers began the process of disembarking, carrying with them their belongings or even nothing at all. I was initially confused when Rarity stood by us and not in line to purchase her own ticket, but she revealed that she had already bought her boarding pass well ahead of time.

“Would you kindly assist me in bringing my things aboard darling?” She asked as her lips curled into a sickly sweet smile that she used whenever she tried to get someone to do her bidding.

“Only because you used the magic words, milady” I replied, causing her to blink twice.

“But I haven’t studied in the school of incantations” The figure of speech soaring clear over her head.

“It’s an expression Rarity, I didn’t mean literal magic” I said as I effortlessly floated the numerous bags into the passenger car in an orderly line, my feat being looked upon with awe by nearby Stellar Magi.

The inside of these passenger cars looked different than those of the train that I inadvertently derailed. The seats faced both forwards and backwards and were upholstered in a dull red; almost maroon colored velvet covering. The chairs were wide enough to fit three people of average width, or two of those who had been eating well. There was a decorative rug running along the center of the walkway that depicted grassy swirls of green, with a starry sky lining the roof above. The compartment itself was lit with multiple crystal lamps hanging above and to the side of the windows that convincingly emulated the light of the sun. There was also this mysterious new car scent lingering in the air that utterly baffled me.

Mentally shrugging at the not altogether unpleasant ambient smell, I began stuffing the overhead bins that weren’t being used with Rarity’s luggage. The harsh glares I received from the passengers who now had to move to another car in order to stow their things were downright bitter. But that’s what they get for not regulating such things. It allowed people like Rarity to take advantage of the system and hog up everything.

With that task taken care of, I chose an open spot next to the left side of the cabin and plopped my keister down on the cushions. I set down my rucksack on the ground in front of me, having run out of space thanks to Rarity’s gratuitous packing. My two companions, who were affably chatting about something I couldn’t care enough to listen to, joined me. Lyra sat across from me while Rarity unsurprisingly sidled up next to me.

‘It’s good to be on a train that isn’t about to violently fly off the rails for a change’ God willing, I can sit back and actually enjoy the ride this time around.

The conductor, a stocky looking agrarian man with a bushy walrus mustache who was going car to car and punching tickets, stepped past the threshold and into our cabin, prompting the three of us to reach into a pocket or other crevice and whip out our proof of passage. He said a few words of gratitude while tipping his cap at my female companions before he punctured our cards, cupping them so the chads created didn’t accumulate on the floor. After another five minutes of collecting had passed, he stood on the steps of the end car and bellowed out the ‘all aboard!’ call. Now that I thought about it, he sounded a lot like Tom Hanks did in Polar Express. 

Not long after that, the train began slowly pulling out of the station, the muted chugging sound of the engine located a few cars ahead of us became a rhythmic clock like ticking as we left Magiville behind and steamed through the valley and towards the hills. The majority of the other passengers in the car pulled down their window curtains and settled back for a catnap to pass the time. The rolling scenery just outside mine however, entranced me with its idyllic beauty. Causing me to glue my face firmly against the pane as I was treated to the passing sights and ever-changing angle of the landscape that Magiville was nestled in the bosom of.

“Be careful Zenith, any closer and you might crack that window in two” Rarity giggled in amusement as she saw how hypnotized I was with something that she saw almost on a daily basis. My wordless hum of acknowledgment only furthered her gaiety.

She attempted to draw me into the conversation, “So how did you and Lyra meet if you don’t mind my asking?”

The aforementioned woman beat me to the punch, “We haven’t known each other that long actually, but we found a common ground and everything else just…fell into place” She said with a warmhearted smile.

“What she said” I quickly voiced my opinion before resuming my monitoring.

Rarity was having none of that, however, “I might as well let you in on the basics of what you’ll need to know for the runway show, so pay more attention to me and less to the window, darling” She commanded, tugging at the collar of my polo shirt.

“But mom!” I whined as I relented, drawing a chortle out of Lyra and a disapproving look from the seamstress.

“I am not your mother dear, though if you insist on acting in such a childish way, I may have to treat you like one” She evenly replied, tempting me to say something just to be contrary, but I thought better of it and shut up, much to her satisfaction.

She unfolded a document that she took out while I wasn’t looking and laid it upon a fold out table that was used for dining. It seemed to describe in detail the time that the event took place, the location where it would be hosted, and which notable celebrities would be in attendance. I recognized the names of Hoity Toity and Photo Finish, which made me ponder if they looked as stuck up in this world as they were in the Equine one. Knowing the snobs that called Concordia home, it was a likely possibility.

“As tradition dictates, the female models will go first. Women’s fashion lasts about three quarters of an hour, after that the men will grace the catwalk”

“That’s very interesting and all, but why are you sharing this with us?” Lyra asked, glancing disinterestedly at the paper.

Rarity gave me a ‘You didn’t tell her?’ gaze and spoke, “Zenith here volunteered to model for my winter line for men, something I’ve never been able to publicly reveal before”

I half expected Lyra to burst out in laughter for my agreeing to something that pandered mostly to feminine tastes, but all she expressed was a subdued ‘huh’ and remained silent. Perhaps it wasn’t that big of a deal here.

Rarity began her lecture, “Now, fashion affairs like this aren’t purely about the extravagance of the clothing alone darling. It is also how you project yourself in that clothing. People aren’t going to be as interested in an outfit if they see the model wearing it walking in a nervous or unconfident manner. I’m not saying that you will be high stung up on that stage Zenith, but I do want you to bear this in mind”

I utilized Occam’s razor and succinctly simplified the subject, “So basically, pretend I’m a peacock and strut my stuff right?” 

“That isn’t the expression I would use, but more or less, yes” She conceded with a bob of her head.

“There is also the matter of the proper form you use while presenting my works. This is not an exact science per se, but modeling can be narrowed down into three very important concepts: posturing, how passionately you place your strides, and attitude. I’d like to think I know you well enough that I won’t even bother trying to change the latter, but you must cut back on that slouching and put some more life into your stroll” As she said this, her Sapphire focal gem lit up and she forcefully corrected my habitual hunch with her magic, which felt like a field of statically charged hands grabbed me and readjusted my spine.

‘You could have just asked’ I quietly griped to myself and cracked my vertebrae, making the two women flinch at the noise.

“You know, where I come from, people like their male models to have that blasé ‘I really don’t want to be here’ attitude as they take the stage” I countered, remembering what I could of those fashion oriented television shows my mother was so fond of watching.

“That may be well and good over there, but the audiences in Concordia are a picky bunch. It’s always considered risky to divert from the well-established norm, but as long as you’re two for three, it shouldn’t be a deal breaker” She looked moderately pleased that I made an effort to keep from returning to my lazy comportment.

“Is that all?” She answered in the affirmative, “Out of idle curiosity, would that coat you’re wearing happen to be made of real fur?”

She appeared dumbstruck by the random question, but soon rebounded, “Heavens no! Could you imagine how Fluttershy would react if she saw me incorporating the pelts of animals into my designs?” I could actually; I imagine that the word used to describe her potential expression would be appalled, followed by tearful. I tactfully kept this to myself though.

“So it’s made out of…fake fur?” I asked, marveling at how close to the real deal her coat felt as it brushed my neck from Rarity’s proximity.

She shook her head, “There is no such thing darling, and this is real fur. But that which was painstakingly put together by donations from many of the animals that Fluttershy looks after. I value her friendship so much that I’ve sworn never to work with any kind of material that was made by furriers” That explained why the fur didn’t feel uniform in its smoothness. It must have been dyed too, for I couldn’t recall many of the creatures living near Fluttershy’s cottage as having medium length white fur. Which also led my mind on a tangent as to what Angel would look like completely shorn, a humorous image to be certain.

We spoke little afterwards, with Rarity having finally filled me in on what was expected of me, there was minimal need for us to converse more. Though she and Lyra wouldn’t stop yammering about the most inane things for the rest of the hour and a half ride there. Much as I enjoy the company of women folk, sometimes they talk too damn much for my tastes.

The suspension on this train was superb, I could hardly detect the bumps whenever the carriage wheels made contact with the joints connecting the rails together, though the distinct ‘ka kunk!’ sounds could still be heard. I busied myself for the remainder of the trip by listening to music with my special sound sphere headphones whilst surveying the outside view as we climbed the steep gradient of the mountains. 

Every so often an attendant came though pushing one of those complimentary snack carts much like those stewardesses on an airline would. The train itself wasn’t traveling very fast, only about fifteen to twenty miles per hours going uphill, so gaining access between cars would not be the windy affair that it was back when Daring and I were confronting Ahuizotl’s goons against the backdrop of the frozen north. Thinking about her made me somewhat doleful, I hadn’t received anything from her about her expedition or how she was doing. I realized that she couldn’t guarantee any messages, but even a cheesy postcard would have been better than no word at all! 

Since Celestia herself gave her instructions, I’d have to ask her for details surrounding her current condition, though the Sun monarch seemed hesitant in divulging anything that concerned matters of the state. Heck, she could very well use that as a means of leverage to get me to fully accept joining her and her sister in ruling over Arcania. Maybe I was still a little leery of Celestia’s hidden agenda, but after more than a thousand years of solid leadership tucked under her belt, I’m reasonably sure that it’s become an acquired proclivity to her.

My musings were cut into yet again by the slight jolt of the train coming to a gradual stop, informing us that we had reached our destination.





Concordia’s train station wasn’t as prestigious looking as the rest of the pristine city, but it held a professional and composed demeanor of its own. Everything was orderly, with valets and chaperones awaiting their charges on the wooden platform with horse drawn carriages parked on the curb just like an old world analogue to LAX. I recognized one of the men waiting in the crowd by his magnificent trousers and lofty height, beside him was a similarly tall and slender woman with light pink hair accentuated by faint white highlights.

“Fancypants?” I mouthed inaudibly, what could he be waiting here for?

Dismissing it as mere coincidence, I bided my time until the other passengers in our car had withdrawn their belongings and were otherwise out of the way. Digging into my magic, I popped open the lids to the baggage bins containing both mine and Rarity’s event clothing and levitated it into a formation seven by two in dimensions. For the heck of it, I pretended it was a column of soldiers and had them ‘march’ out of the train, each row oscillating up and down like the cylinders of an engine block. This action understandably flummoxed my two companions, but that was only because they didn’t share my unique sense of humor.

With my newly created caravan in tow, I tread down the steps separating metal grating and station platform and found an empty spot free from the hustle and bustle of people happily greeting friends or relatives that were waiting for them and stacked the luggage into something resembling a squat Jenga tower. It was kind of hypocritical to pile them together after my excuse to Spike, but objectively speaking, this arrangement spread out the weight more evenly and was less likely to result in squashed dresses and whatever Rarity had made for me to wear. 

“Well, for whom are we waiting for? You mentioned that somebody would be hosting us didn’t you?” I asked Rarity, who was standing on the tips of her feet trying to peek over the roving crowd.

“As a matter of fact I did darling, and you just might be surprised who’s kind offer it was that I accepted” She spotted whoever she was looking for and excitedly waved them over to us.

“I sincerely doubt that” I murmured so she couldn’t hear.

Imagine my complete lack of surprise when I saw a smiling Fancypants and his supermodel trophy wife-girlfriend sauntering through the waning crowds on a collision course with our little group.

‘So much for coincidence’

“I should probably get going. My parent’s are usually preparing to head out around this hour” Lyra spoke up beside me, glancing around the station with a nostalgic expression that I couldn’t quite put my finger on.

“I suppose I’ll see you back in Magiville then?” There was no telling how long I would be staying here. Rarity failed to specify the duration that the event would last.

She answered me with a sudden hug, “Yes, you will. And…thanks for making this possible” She nuzzled against my person for a second occasion, which made me suspect that she was more of a more tactile persuasion than most.

I brought a hand to her fragrant hair and stroked it with my thumb, “I’m your Snark Knight, it’s what I do. Say hi to your parents for me would you?”

She laughed harmoniously, “Will do, have fun modeling!” She said in passing as she pulled away and began walking in the direction of the easternmost part of the city.

Which left me with a pleasantly surprised looking Fancypants standing not three feet away for me. Unlike the last time I saw him, he was now the one who had to adjust his neck to look me in the eye. As a footnote, he was also missing the signature monocle. His inamorata: Fleur de lis, stood to the side, dispensing various pleasantries with Rarity in a nasally accent that was almost unmistakably French, definitely European. While Rarity’s mid Atlantic pronunciation seemed stilted at times, Fleur’s came naturally.

He stroked his chin in mild astonishment, “I say, when Rarity took me up on my offer to provide lodgings in exchange for crafting my dear Fleur’s wardrobe for the upcoming Winter Wear Walkway event, I hadn’t expected to see you accompanying her” So Fleur is also taking part in this event? I must’ve skipped her name on the list that Rarity showed to me on the train.

The classy man thrust his hand out to me for a shake, which I obliged, “No matter! A pleasure to make your acquaintance once again Zenith! You’ve certainly grown since the previous occasion we met” He noted arbitrarily.

‘Huh, he actually remembered me’ I should return the courtesy.

“So I have. Good to see you as well, Nigel” He smirked; equally pleased that I remembered to forgo the stuffy formalities he likely received all the time.

“So what brings you back to our fair city Zenith? Last I saw of you, Daring was adamantly denying her feelings for you” He inquired, legitimately interested in how it turned out.

“Let’s just say that I took your advice” I replied with a phantom of a smile.

He clapped me on the shoulder and grinned, “Good on you my friend! She deserves a trustworthy anchor in her life, something to really motivate her out there in the field” He went on, shaking his forearm as though he were giving a rousing speech.

“You wouldn’t happen to correspond with her while she’s out there in the wild lands beyond our borders would you?” I asked, almost desperate in my yearning for information on her wellbeing.

His grin faltered somewhat, “I’m afraid not old chap. My influence is vast, but sadly, mostly confined to sovereign Arcanian soil”

“Don’t sweat it. Knowing her, she’s doubtlessly no worse for the wear” I expressed confidently, remembering how well she handled herself in dangerous situations.

“You pulled your weight with decent finesse yourself if I recall my reading correctly” He remarked in a chummy tone.

“That’s just Daring extoling me, I didn’t really do many productive things on that adventure” I shrugged off the praise, dark memories of my impulsive actions during the finale threatening to bubble up to the surface.

“Don’t be so modest! The woman may very well have met her end if it weren’t for your split second dive after her to prevent her plummet using your wings” He retorted as he idly twisted at one end of his Clark Gable mustache.

‘You clearly have no idea who was partially responsible for her being in such a precarious position to begin with’ Why Daring left that particular detail out of her latest novel, I’ll never know.

“I can’t afford to be immodest Nigel, the last thing I need is to have fame potentially going to my head” I said as I rolled my eyes, refusing to become anything like the conceited elite.

“Oh, pish posh! One should accept their credit when and where it is do. But we can discuss the finer points of merit someplace a little more sequestered” His aquamarine focal gem illumed as he took hold of a little more than half a dozen of Rarity’s bags, inadvertently reminding me that I had a Valkyrian image to maintain while in his company.

With a brief glance to his beloved that she immediately understood the meaning of, Fleur began shepherding Rarity in the direction of where the multitude of carriages were coming and going as they ferried their passengers to hotels or local residences. That left me with six bags to haul with me, which would be easy enough given their relatively lightweight nature and my inherent Agrarian strength. I looped three straps around each arm and carried them newspaper boy style as I moseyed closely behind the man with the dazzling light grey slacks. 

I wouldn’t consider myself an expert on the quality of horse drawn carriages, but Fancypant’s ride was practically a Rolls-Royce limousine in comparison to the crude wooden boxes on wheels fore and aft of it. It was pulled by a team of four snow-white stallions and was at least double the length of any coach I had yet seen so far. The coach itself was decked out in decorative wooden carvings that looked like they were done by hand, the metal plating on the door panels was gold sheathed and also regally designed, and the complex chassis looked state of the art. I couldn’t help but feel a little impressed, this was how the well to do travel in style in Arcania.

The stagecoach driver, a man dressed in plainer clothes that contrasted heavily against the vehicle he operated, hopped down from his perch on the seat and tipped his curved brim leather bush hat at us in brisk salute before taking the bags that Nigel handed to him and carefully setting them on the top rack.

“I take it these two will be riding home with us?” His gravelly accent wasn’t Concordian, which was of vague interest.

“Very astute observation Turnpike, the elegant lady conversing with my dearest Fleur is miss Rarity, and the charming gentleman behind me is Zenith” He introduced us, and Turnpike responded with a grunt and a curt nod to me, easing my burden and stuffing it securely into the rear boot of the carriage. I swung my rucksack off my shoulders and gave it to the man, wincing as he grabbed it a little too roughly for my liking.

“Do you always keep such interesting people in your employ, Nigel?” I asked of Concordia’s most recognizable celebrity while the man in question was in the middle of doing his job.

He seemed to misinterpret my question as aversion, “Turnpike may not seem as refined as you or I, but his skills are first rate! There’s no other man I’d trust with both the financial allocations for my toll road operations and my life” He defended the honor of his retainer.

“He’s your bodyguard? But who would ever want to do you harm?” I also partially wondered just how Fancypants accumulated his wealth from his statement, but asking about that seemed impolite.

Fancypants actually chuckled jovially at the question, “You don’t get to where I am in life without making a few enemies Zenith, no matter how scrupulous or upstanding your business practices are”

“Yeah but, would anybody really make an attempt on your life?” The idea of being so close to someone who probably had powerful rivals didn’t sit well with me.

He rubbed his nails against his suit lapels and inspected them, “I should certainly hope not! I’m much more useful to the world alive than dead, wouldn’t you think?” He didn’t sound too worried, which was a confidence bolster on my part.

“I think we can both agree on that” I said as Turnpike finished putting away our things and opened the doors for us, with the ladies entering first as tradition dictated before we joined them.

The interior of the coach was just as luxurious as the exterior, with buttoned leather seating and the scent of exotic incense permeating the air of the cabin. It was large enough to comfortably seat over half a dozen people, so with only the four of us, there was legroom aplenty for someone of Fancypant’s stature and my own. We took our seats and Turnpike shut the door behind us before climbing back up to his roost and grabbing the reins. I heard him whistle sharply and give them a flick, with the carriage lightly jolting forwards as we made our way to casa Fancypants.

With the women segregating themselves from us on one end of the cabin and giggling over something that would likely be a mystery to the masculine mind, I turned to Fancypants to resume our conversation.

“If you’ll pardon my asking, what is it that you do for a living?” I dropped the courteous pretenses and went straight for the good stuff.

His brow creased as he thought about his response, “In addition to owning a few toll roads that the mercantile companies are so fond of using, I’m an investor of sorts. Whenever I see an idea or invention that I believe that the whole of Arcania should know about, I subsidize the inventor or group representing that idea and help make it commercially viable. In return, I receive a cut of the revenues generated by my stake in such ventures” He explained, sounding like a professional businessman as he did so.

‘Ah, so he’s the equivalent of J.P Morgan financing the proliferation of Edison’s light bulb’ Hopefully without bearing the ignominious title of robber baron.

He leaned back in his seat as he remembered the investments that he made, “Sometimes they fail to take off, in which case I shrug, dismiss it as bad luck, and then move on. Most of the time however, they turn out to huge successes. I make extra money to invest in more undertakings, and our country diversifies and improves its standards of living, everyone wins” His lips curled upwards, crinkling his mustache as he did so.

“I’m especially optimistic about the latest phenomenon to hit the market, the self contained ink quill, or fountain pen as they’re starting to call it” That made me feel a small touch of pride, it was about time these hooligans modernized and stopped using feathers to write with.

“We should thank our lucky stars for the bloke who came up with that brilliant brainchild” I commented with a wry snicker.

“Indeed! What about yourself, if I may inquire?” He returned the personal interest.

That was a good question. What exactly was I doing here and to what ends? What was my purpose in the grand scheme of things?

I settled for a partial truth, “I’m something of an agent for Royalty. I go where the Princesses command me and do their bidding. Not the worst bosses to work for, if I do say so myself” I jested in good humor.

‘Heh, there’s a lot of work all right’ I was taking it easy compared to everyone else. But that isn’t to say that I was being unproductive, busy as I am constantly refining my capabilities as a Trifect in preparation for some unknown threat.

“Ah, so you serve our esteemed Princesses” He inclined his head in a respectful motion, otherwise remaining silent as he considered this new information.

I could only listen for three more minutes to the trite aspects of how Rarity gleaned her inspiration for creating Fleur’s dresses before I spoke just for the sake of shutting them out.

“I’m sorry, is there some kind of bad omen connected to agents of the Crown? Because you’re acting far too quiet” I quipped, noting how his demeanor ever so subtly shifted into something that looked like recollection.

He waved at the air, “No no, nothing like that. It’s just that…I’m trying to rack my memory for a reference of an agent matching your description, and not that I’m implying that you aren’t true to your word, but I’m coming up short”

Oh, so he’s taking my understated claim to agent hood seriously, “I’m one of a kind Nigel, probably the only agent serving their Royal Highnesses that can get away with calling them by their first name without breaching pre-established protocol” Amongst other things.

He elevated an eyebrow at this, “Truly? I cannot fathom the idea of addressing the Royal Diarchs so…casually” Apparently Fancypants was another of those types who were wholly deferential to their leadership.

“For all of their might, both are still very much people like you or I. Only they have a great deal more life experience to draw upon”

“Immortality” He exhaled a breath of fascination, “I like to think that my forty years upon the Earth have been quite the ride, but that pales in comparison to over a millennium of exposure that was doubtlessly fraught with change and strife. But those two have managed, and Arcania wouldn’t be the powerhouse it is without their guiding hands. It has become almost ingrained in the average citizen that their Princesses are as pivotal and everlasting as the astral bodies suspended in the firmament” I voiced a ‘hear, hear!’ in concurrence, not out of reverence for the Diarchy per se, but because Nigel was a strong speaker.

‘Fancypants is forty? He’s aged quite gracefully’ He looked closer to late twenties or early thirties. Of course, magic and affluence may have stemmed the ravages of time.

The carriage made several wide turns down winding roads that spanned throughout the whole of the city’s infrastructure. There were actually traffic cops that directed the flow of vehicles at busy intersections, which I found odd. Their ship docks had red and green light boxes, so why not their thoroughfare? Well, on the other hand, it did keep someone busy and their wallets stuffed with bits. Too much automation in a society and good people suddenly find themselves without jobs. From the descending view outside the window, Fancypant’s place was located somewhere on the lower levels of the city to the North, presumably in a more isolated location if I knew anything about the buying habits of the exceedingly prosperous.

It took another ten minutes before we pulled up to the golden gates separating the demesne that Nigel owned and the manors of his likewise loaded neighbors. Two servants that wouldn’t have been out of place on Georgian era palace grounds rushed into position and pulled them back to grant us passage, once they recognized the flashy coach carrying their employer. The best way I could describe his home was a fusion of an Italian Villa’s open air atmosphere and the attractively old fashioned quaintness of a French Château. There was a long strip of fountain in the front yard that had crossing streams and sculptures of mythical beasts and heroes frozen in various poses that reflected bravery and fortitude in the face of long odds, or at least, that’s the vibe I got from them.

A welcoming committee composed of servants, maids, and other staff hands lined up in an almost military like precision as our coach came to a stop. The closest two opened the doors for Nigel and myself and we both exited the transport with the smoothest ride I’ve ever experienced on a glorified wagon. Fancy stepped just to the side and took Fleur’s hand as she stepped off, prompting me to do the same with Rarity; who had a rapturous smile on her face as she beheld the sheer Opulence that surrounded her. Our bags were being thoroughly taken care of by the Estate’s personnel, though Turnpike made himself scarce the moment we arrived, bleeding into the background. Likely off doing whatever it was that dual financial officer slash bodyguards did. He didn’t really expend much effort in profiling Rarity or myself, but it was probably due to him trusting his liege’s choices in which company to keep, which is a noble sentiment, but ultimately bad for prudent protectors.

I walked behind the couple with Rarity’s arm hooked around mine, choosing to ask her a question while our hosts were occupied with escorting us throughout the mammoth of a mansion, presumably to our quarters.

“When does this fashion show take place?”

She pried her eyes away from the Victorian interior architecture and turned to me, “It happens this very night my dear, starting at around seven”

“Wow! That notification is a little on short notice don’t ya think?” I criticized her neglecting to mention this beforehand.

“Oh relax Zenith! We have the rest of the morning and the afternoon to ourselves for you to practice. Fleur told me all about the stage she has in her walk in armoire, which she rehearses on right before she has a photo shoot” She informed me with a hint of envy in her voice, much to my slight shock. Her walk in closet is large enough to house a stage!? Nigel must be really good to his women.

“We are here!” Fleur announced this time, the highbrow timbre of her voice cutting into my thoughts, though not unpleasantly. Without further ado, we ushered ourselves into the room to inspect where we would be staying.





And what a room it was, a chandelier hanging from the ceiling illuminated everything that the sunlight outside couldn’t reach, the four-poster queen sized bed possessed drapes made out of a purple velvet cloth that smelled daintily of lavender, and master bath that had all of the essentials and then some. On top of it, the room was connected to one just like it via a set of doors, so it eliminated the awkward prospect of having to share living space with the overly dramatic fashionista.

“Well..? What do you think?” The statuesque woman inquired with a presumptuous grin and a hand placed on her hip. Now that I pay more attention to it, Fleur’s got curves like the hull of a racing yacht, sans the unsightly wool jersey.

“It is…sufficient” I replied in monotone, wiping the smug look clean off her face. Fancypants caught on to what I was doing and chuckled softly at my antics.

Rarity jumped in, “Don’t mind Zenith here darling, he seems to favor the usage of understatements even when the truth in front of him justly deserves more embellishment. This is without a doubt the grandest living quarters we have ever laid eyes on. Isn’t that right Zenith?” She directed to me, her jaw set in such a way that promised pain if I didn’t play along.

I shrugged, “Sure. It is…très agréable” My word usage restoring Fleur’s jolly mood, even though I completely slaughtered the pronunciation. Eh, I took four years of high school Spanish, not French.

By that point the servants were spilling in with our bags in tow, setting them down next to the cabinet and giving us a respectful bow or curtsy before they left to fulfill their other obligations. Which left both Rarity and myself to get settled in, or perhaps even switch to more loose fitting clothing seeing as we weren’t leaving the premises until before the show.

Fleur clapped her hands together, “Well! We will leave you two to get adjusted, lunch is in half an hour and we will expect you at the table” She then focused specifically on me, “Afterwards, we will resign ourselves to my personal catwalk. Rarity has told me that you made need coaching lessons on what a good model does when they take to the stage. This is acceptable oui?” I agreed with little hesitation, curious as to what a walk in runway looked like.

“Excellent! See you at the dining table!” She happily chirped, pulling Nigel with her and leaving the two of us in peace.

“What was that?” Rarity instantly got on my case as soon as the doors shut.

“What was what?” I innocently replied.

“That lack of enthusiasm you seem so insistent in maintaining! It’s comes off as rude to our hosts you know. Did you not agree to remain professional and sincere to those who have so generously offered their home to us?”

“I was only speaking the truth milady, these guest rooms are…adequate, are they not?”

She groaned and massaged her temples, “If you continue to behave like this in front of everyone we meet during our stay, you are going to be the death of me” She muttered sourly.

“I’ll be sure to get you some nice flowers for your funeral” I flippantly remarked, finding a nice chair and falling into its cushions.

“How do you expect anyone to respect you if you go about your life with such a disrespectful attitude?” She asked out of the blue, voice free of any ulterior nuances.

I answered after a moments thought, “I don’t expect anyone to respect me, it’s not something that ever mattered to me. Not if it means sacrificing being myself”

She stared at me strangely, “Is this really you though? This unhappy, snide creature that relishes taking beautiful things…and belittling them? Not caring whose feelings he might trample on while doing so?” Where the heck did this come from?

She didn’t stop there, “And then there’s the worrying comments you make about your own discontent, and you can't even bring yourself to care then! Why!? Why are you so…so…” She couldn’t find the right word, unfamiliar as she was with someone like me. She’s acted like she had hit rock bottom no doubt, but did she understand how it really felt, or more accurately…didn’t feel?

“Apathetic?” I filled in for her, worsening her irritation.

“Yes! What happened to you that could make you so…cold?” She sank to her knees in front of me. Peering into my eyes with her misty ones.

I looked away and out the window, feeling distinctly bothered by her sudden interest in my own turbulent soul, “Many reasons, but the primary one is disappointment with the way my life played out. Don’t get me wrong, I had a great upbringing, I was taken care of, clothed, fed, and even loved” I explained, with Rarity listening in rapt attention.

My expression darkened as I spoke, “And for a time, it was good, and everything was right with my world. But time passed, and all of those things gradually became less meaningful to me. My responsibilities grew while my sense of fulfillment declined, spiraling into an abyss that it has yet to fully return from. I stopped living, and only existed, taking tedious courses in college to eventually work a job that didn’t even appeal to me, but promised a healthy check for my toils. It got so bad that even when I experienced things that brought some small amount of joy, I was already desensitized to it” Her eyes were wide at this point, filled with apprehension as she struggled to imagine what my life must have been like.

She seemed aghast at the mere thought, “What a horrid feeling to endure…to never find satisfaction with your life. But why did you become so bitter?” 

“The way I act is hardly acrimonious” I retorted, glancing briefly at her. I could all but physically sense the waves of insipid pity flowing from her person, “In a way…I envy such things as Mana marks. This preordained destiny that’s conveniently stamped on your body in case you forget, one that tells you what you’re good for, what you were meant to do” But I still don’t want one, nor will I ever.

Rarity still couldn’t wrap her head around this, “Again, where do you originate from where you’re deemed to blindly stumble into doing what makes you happy? If even that!” She was evidently averse to that way of life.

I wagged a finger at her, “Nope, I told you I would explain my origins when all the girls were there to hear it, and not a moment sooner” She scowled in displeasure, but made no protests.

“I would despise the world if I was denied a purpose, yet you still treat your fellow being with dignity. I know that the occasions where you are an upright man of honor are not acts, what motivates you to strive to be a good person in spite of your…indifference?”

“It’s simple really. I realized that my existence is not all about me, and that I share it with people who are going through trials of their own. I might not be terribly happy, but that doesn’t mean that everyone else should share in my misery. Life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness? I still believe in concepts like these, I just don’t believe in their profundity anymore” I smiled sadly at her, otherwise remaining stoic.

She embraced me in my chair, holding me close to her bosom and speaking in soft, almost motherly tones, “I had no idea you felt this way. Perhaps I’ve been a little…unrealistic in my expectations of you being this infallible Prince that can do no wrong, but at the same time, you are no less significant Zenith. And I feel it necessary to remind you that you do not have to shoulder this burden alone, and that I and other girls will always be here for you, even if it isn’t physically” She pulled back and smiled at me, unaffected by how my expression remained unchanged by her heartfelt words.

“I appreciate the sincerity of your gesture my lady Rarity, and I promise I’ll try to cut back on my denigratory stance towards…just about everything” It wasn’t meant to be funny, but Rarity giggled anyway as she wiped her eyes and face clean of moisture, which was staining the make up she had put on.

She excused herself to the bathroom to clean up and reapply her cosmetics. While she did this, I injected my eardrums with some upbeat music using my sound sphere headphones. This was a regular habit of mine back home: where I would tune out the world by drowning it in Muse, and it would continue to be so here. When she emerged again, she didn’t bother me for the rest of the time we had until it was time for lunch with our hosts, choosing to instead to unfasten the bags that she packed with various dresses and coats. She used a nifty spell to automatically erase the wrinkles that had built up during transit and corrected other deformities that she detected with her attentive eye for detail. I caught her looking at me whenever she thought I wouldn’t notice, a pensive expression adorning her countenance. I paid it little mind, letting the rapturous voice of Matthew Bellamy take me on an unparalleled journey through time and space.


⁂


Lunch at Fancypants was…an informative affair, to say the least. I got to meet another one of his lovers, an ample agrarian woman named Blissful Bounty, whose father owned large tracts of farmland and was responsible for at least one sixth of Arcania’s agricultural output. The cynical part of me instantly assumed that they were together for that very connection, but Nigel seemed to be legitimately in love with her, just as he was with Fleur. That didn’t stop the kisses they shared between the three of them being any less startling to me, seeing a man’s Harem showing affection (quick as it was) to each other was…new. 

‘Fancypants has his hands dipped in a lot of honey pots’ I examined the way his hands were planted on the hips of his lovers, ‘In more ways than one’ I dryly observed.

I was still in the dark surrounding the dynamics of such a system, but from what I could glean from watching their interactions, Fleur and Bounty seemed to be on good terms with each other, with their affection to each other being of a more sisterly persuasion. Their romantic love however, was focused purely on Nigel, evidenced by the starry gleam in their eyes as they looked at him. I wondered if that's how he saw Daring looking at me, it was still hard to picture the rough and tumble woman acting like a schoolgirl. But Daring was still a woman, a woman’s whose endearment I had somehow garnered by standing by her in the thick of the action, watching her back even after she had strictly stated that she wouldn’t do the same for me.

And then there was Octavia, whose fondness I had not counted on obtaining. We hadn’t gone through such an arduous ordeal ourselves, but we shared an interest in the classical arts, and she seemed genuinely grateful to me for letting her listen to the greatest composers from lands that existed well beyond her own. There was also the way that I looked upon her with fairness and not lechery, something that she admired greatly about me. The cellist was the one who revealed to me that such romantic formations were common here, and who very much wanted to become a part of mine. I’m willing to bet that many guys would be drooling over the idea of having so many women to themselves without the need for secrecy, but have they ever really fully comprehended its ramifications? 

With each woman that falls in love with you (and who you likewise fall in love with), that’s one more spouse that you have to keep happy, possibly support financially, and one more mother of your children that you are obligated to spend time with while avoiding giving off the appearance of favoritism to the others. Not to mention all the problems that could arise if one woman dislikes another in the Harem. Then there are…bedroom matters, which I will not be delving into. Yet, despite all the obstacles, I could see this system working out. So long as it was maintained by love above all things, and not used as an excuse to satisfy one’s lust.

As soon as we set our forks down and gave our dirtied plates to the servants for sanitizing, Fleur made me follow her to her own sizable partition of the house. She led me to her walk in closet and past her rows upon rows of shoes that she could easily fill up an entire Nordstrom retailer with and still have some pairs to spare. I won’t even bother describing what the inside of her walk in closet was like, but I leaned towards the words enormous and overflowing. Her personal walkway was a medium sized strip of smooth black stone that was meant to accentuate the model and their outfit. It stood a few feet off the ground and was lit up by crystal-powered sidelights. 

Fleur wasted no time in having me walk up and down the stage multiple times, taking in natural stride and way I projected myself to the world.

“Hmm…it is not the worse I have ever seen, though you could stand to slow down a bit. It might be called a runway, but that does not mean that it meant to be jogged upon”

“That wasn’t jogging, that’s my natural walking pace” It became clear that Fleur didn’t have Botox injections, because her forehead threatened to vacate her face with how fast her brow snapped upwards at the briskness of my casual speed.

She eventually recovered, mumbling something to herself in her native tongue, “I see, well, please refrain from doing that during tonight’s event. People want to be able to see the outfits that Rarity worked so hard to create. It is hard to appreciate something when you are given less than ten seconds to take in its every detail” I snorted derisively at what I perceived as a hyperbole, but agreed none the less.

We spent hours going over the same routine, until it was all but drilled into me at that point. Fleur sat to the back using a lorgnette with magnifying lenses in hand to replicate the effect of a spectator in the back of the gathering. After the first few attempts, Fleur gave up on trying to get me to smile for the audience. She usually had me stop mid pose sometimes in order to correct a flaw in my posturing before resuming practice. She would occasionally compliment me when I did something that she saw as risqué, but not lewd enough to be frowned upon on the stage (this meant that I was allowed to swagger to my heart’s content). Repetition bred familiarity, and it wasn’t too long before I received Fleur’s figurative stamp of approval. In her words I was ready to ‘bask in the task’, which was apparently a colloquial saying amongst models.

The event itself initiated to much fanfare, with Hollywood-esque carpet entrances by other celebrities or renowned people in the fashion world. Fancypants was mindful enough to forgo making a big entrance and snuck both his lover and myself through one of the back entrances after greasing some palms for extra anonymity. I got to meet the other male models who I would be working with (a charming bunch, but not how I pictured most male models to be personality wise) and they give me a few tips that women like Fleur would not be privy to. There were ten of us total, each of us an exemplary representation of something that women loved in the male physique, be it the bulky strength of the agrarians, the roguish windswept looks of the athletic Skyborn, or the suave aura that the Stellar Magi radiated.

‘Funny. There are three from each clan, and I technically represent all of them’ Could it be coincidence? Or was this world just screwing with me like I knew it was?

Rarity’s clothes for me arrived on a rack that was number coded so the other models would know that it wasn’t theirs. Of which, I counted a total of half a dozen outfits overall, many of which were similar to my own robes but without the hoods and more layers added, a couple were even standalone buttoned coats that came with colorful scarves that gave them some life. All of them came with dress shoes that I didn’t particularly care for, but I manned up and slipped into them anyway. At least they weren’t crocs.

I found out that there was a DJ with spiky hair and wearing ridiculous shades (think his name was Neon, or something) who would pipe in music during each presentation, but the tracks he would be playing (using some kind of recording crystal that was receptive to music oriented magic like my sound sphere) during the guys half of the show were lackluster to say the least. So I managed to convince him to drop the track listings he had using a special trick that Nigel taught me not long before, otherwise known as monetary bribery, and give me a blank recording crystal to imprint the songs I had in mind for him to play instead. 

After the forty-five minutes had passed, the crowds outside clapped in muted approval and held still for what trends awaited them on the masculine side of the spectrum. All of us were dressed in outfits that were either conservative, flamboyant, or something combining both (I fell into the third category I believe). The guys decided that since I was showing the most initiative out of all of them in making their stint more interesting, I would be the one to lead them onto the stage (Not literally. In Arcania, each model goes by themselves and stands at the end for about a minute before returning backstage to swap outfits). I shrugged to myself and basically said ‘why not?’. 

Cueing Neon with a nod, he grinned in return and slapped the recording crystal into a groove on his mix table, the sounds of Calvin Harris’ ‘Colours’ filling the air via multiple speakers in the auditorium as I strut my way down the lane, remembering Fleur’s advice to take it slow. Judging by the audience’s reaction, they were not expecting such buoyant music. A few of the old guard among them muttered disapprovingly amongst themselves, but the majority was actually bobbing their heads to the beat (even though Rarity was glaring up a storm at me, somehow knowing that I had something to do with this). I aptly wore the coat that came with the colorful scarves, because I’m cliché like that.

After a minute of standing there with a face that almost screamed ‘Good God, this is lame’, I did a little shuffle in place that spun me around so I could return to the dressing area behind the runway. The whole crowd was murmuring to each other, though not in a negative way. I caught the words ‘radical’ and ‘nonpareil’ being passed around, though I did not know whether they were talking about my performance or Rarity’s designs. 

Either way, it looked like my idea had proven popular enough as the first round was completed without a hitch and Neon’s speakers transitioned to the next song on the list (which was another by Harris called Disco Heat). This time I add a little more spice to my method by turning my shuffle into a little jig that showcased the flexibility of Rarity’s apparel, which offered insulation from the cold and maneuverability. How she pulled it off with such voluminous clothing was a mystery.

I was tempted to finish the whole thing with ‘The Girls’ but felt beforehand that the song would be a little too overambitious of me, opting instead to make it another old favorite from the nineties by Stardust called ‘Music Sounds Better With You’ It sounded a good deal different than what the previous tracks offered, but the crowd didn’t seem to notice, busy as they were jamming to the beat. Even the guys seemed to develop a bounce in their step as they walked in tune with the rhythm. I never thought I would have fun doing something as snobbish as dominating the runway, but brazenly shattering the norm and introducing something new and fresh held a certain facetious appeal to it that summed me up pretty well.

I didn’t bother joining the other guys when they went back out for the traditional encore walk, which was kinda like how stage actors all present themselves at the end and bow to the audience as they are cheered and wolf whistled to. This of course didn’t stop Rarity from storming backstage with pure murder in her eyes as I lazily lounged on the couch.

“Zenith what you did out there was a complete contradiction to what makes modeling a respectable career! You’ve probably ruined me via the association alone!” She bit at her nails nervously, “I can never show my face here again, I’ll have to move somewhere in the middle of scenic nowhere where they shun gossip, change my name…” She trailed off, quietly laughing to herself in a hysterical manner.

Her face abruptly went pale as she saw a woman wearing purple designer shades fast approaching. She rushed to make some sort of excuse by saying that she didn’t know me and that the model they assigned to wear her clothes was new to the business (which was true), but she was ignored as the shady woman (heh) blew past her. The woman in question instead made a beeline straight for me, stopping and stooping right inside my personal space bubble.

"You! That stolid bearing. The insouciant progressive attitude. The sheer masculine poise you exhibited on that stage. I must photograph you!” She told, rather than asked me, before another voice of a similar accent cut in.

“Hands off Schweinhund! He will be the centerpiece of my next photo shoot!”

Photo Finish pulled away from me to glare balefully at the approaching woman, though the goggles kind of neutralized the intended effect, evidenced by the smirk that remained on her competitor’s face. This new person who I had never seen before was familiar none the less. Picture Perfect was the only being in the whole city (save for Discord) who could be identified by their eye coloration alone, which was strangely heterochromatic. One eye was an intense orange while the other was a shimmery silver. From what stories I’ve heard from Rarity regarding the big fish in the metaphorical pond that is the Capital City, Picture Perfect and Photo Finish’s fierce rivalry was the stuff of Legend, and I was starting to see why.

They got within inches of each other’s face and began arguing in their native tongue, which was almost entirely in German. Many curses and insults were hurled at the other, the shouting match bordering on violence. I managed to catch the word ‘Backpfeifengesicht’ and chuckled in silent amusement before playing the role of mediator.

“Ladies, ladies! I’m flattered that you thought so highly of my performance, but there’s no need to fight over me. Especially when I haven’t even agreed to anything to begin with!” I arbitrated from the comfort of my seat, to lazy to bother standing back up.

“Vhat!?” Picture Perfect shrieked, before clearing her throat and inhibiting her birth accent, “But I must have you! I can’t stand the thought of this blöde kuh getting her filthy hands on you first!”

“Speak for yourself dumme Schlampe!” Photo Finish angrily retorted as she shoved Picture Perfect away.

Rarity saw this as an opportunity to make herself look good by interceding, “Ladies, if I may make a suggestion? Why not share a Photo Shoot with Zenith? That way both of you will have the latest material to publicize in your next magazine editions” 

‘And he’ll be wearing my designs for it’ She neglected to express aloud. I gave her a flat look that told her I knew as much, with her response being a ‘Shut it! You owe me this much’ return glower. I sighed in resignation and wordlessly consented, much to her pleasure.

It took a few more open insults and Rarity a few more attempts playing negotiator, but she did managed to succeed in getting them to cooperate to a mutual agreement (though she couldn’t get them to formally shake hands on it). Their rivalry was so petty that they argued some more over the time and place that the photo shoot was to be held. So Rarity had to get them to reconcile all over again by claiming the Fancypant’s residence as neutral territory (which was a ballsy move on her part, though I doubt Nigel would prove too resistant to her request). Rarity rewarded me later that night by wearing a tantalizing negligee as she said good night to me.

And so the majority of Wednesday’s morning was spent getting dolled up by the entourage of both fashion photographers and standing in place wearing my ‘game face’ as they called it. I cannot begin to tell you how weird it was to hear their paroxysms as they encountered what they perceived as a particularly enticing pose (which was me subtly moving an arm to scratch an itch on my hind quarters) and snapping photo after photo with those gigantic flash cameras that made me glad that I wasn’t prone to seizures. While they were getting their photos developed in a portable vat of solution, they regaled me with tales of their home region located in the windy mountains. Both belonged to a faction of the agrarians known as ‘Sturmfolk’, which was a term coined for numerous reasons that they glazed over the details of. When all was said and done, they packed their gear, shook my hand, and zealously resumed their argument as they left for the door.

Fleur had mixed feelings about the sudden attention that I had received, while both camerawomen hardly said two words to her, despite the supermodel being the premiere ‘cat’ of the walk. On one hand she was happy for my unorthodox methods proving successful, but on the other hand she was intensely jealous. This showed up in our future interactions, with Fleur muttering darkly in French and avoiding me at all times. Sensing that she needed some time to herself, I spent the rest of the day in search of that confectionary that the Sun Princess herself sent me to. And when Celestia herself personally endorses it, then you know they have good stuff. Something that bothered me though was how many people recognized me from the fashion event and swamped me, some asking for autographs, some wondering what gave me the right to act different, and more than a few bachelorettes who wanted get touchy feely for all the wrong reasons.

After beating off the crowds with a stick (actually an ornate walking cane that I swiped from Nigel’s umbrella vase) I was finally inside Sweet Tooth’s confectionary store for the second time. The same girl in the boater hat from before instantly recognized me, though it wasn’t for the same reasons as the mob outside. Turn’s out that Cream Filling (for that was her name), possessed an eidetic memory, and much like the similarly energetic Pinkie Pie, remembered everyone who entered the shop. She was more than happy to provide me with the cheesecake that I was searching for (once again asking which girl I was trying to get in the good graces of), and even helpfully pointed out that Sweet Tooth’s did deliveries. I managed to silence the motor mouth for all of five seconds by telling her to drop it off at Fancypant’s place. She must have been good at reading people’s faces, because she knew that I wasn’t lying. I gave her a hefty tip that she adamantly tried to refuse, finally caving in once I told her that she deserved to be rewarded for her diligence in putting the customer first.

With my mini quest objective scratched off the list, I spent the rest of the day randomly wandering about the city and dodging those pesky fan girls until the Sun began setting and it was time to head back. I spread my wings once I knew that no one was watching and cast an active camo spell over myself, pretending I was a stealth fighter and flying home to Nigel's completely undetectable to the human eye. Fleur’s anger had cooled only minimally in the time I had been gone and she refused to acknowledge me. Knowing the futility of trying to convince a woman with her mind made up, I secluded myself to my room and surfed the web using the laptop that I had stashed in my rucksack. I think Rarity came by to pick out another feathery hat to wear as she accompanied Fancypants to some stuffy art gallery, but I couldn’t be bothered to give a damn, occupied as I was with some ‘research’.

Thursday was the day I officially decided to pay Octavia a visit. My memory wasn’t the greatest, but I did remember that her apartment was directly under one of the Princess’ towers. After a couple awkward moments of door-to-door speed dating, I finally reached the right one. Octavia was shocked to see me, even more so when I responded to her nervous greeting with a passionate embrace and a peck on the cheek. The cellist was absolutely delighted to hear that Daring was willing to share and expressed this by glomping me (I kid you not, the prim and proper Octavia glomped me. Such was her fervor) and peppering my face with kisses.

I caught the woman at a good time, she was just about to leave for one of her orchestra rehearsals and that she wanted me to accompany her to see both herself and her colleagues in action, which she promised was ‘sublime, you’ve never heard anything like it’. The building where the Royal Symphony Orchestra practiced was a stylishly made creation. Those walls that you would find in an anechoic chamber lined all sides of the auditorium so that there would be no reverberation or echoing effect as the orchestra fine-tuned their instruments. She introduced me to her closest friends, none of which were in the string section, which I found interesting. I was also gladdened to know that almost none of the members partook in the fashion scene, so nobody recognized me right off the bat. 

I took a seat closest to the stage and watched eagerly as sound of tuning instruments gave way to silence before the conductor started with a sudden series of crescendos that gave me the impression of crackling thunder and lightning. Throughout the whole of the practice session, Octavia’s face was that of purest focus. Focus that remained rock solid as all other instruments silenced themselves and made way for a solo that relied all on her quick finger work to keep the intense feeling of the composition alive while lending it a unique and singular voice.

Have you ever seen a beautiful woman play the cello with the spotlight raining down on her? It is…something else. Eventually her moment in the spotlight was over as other musicians got their turn for an instrumental solo, but my eyes stayed glued on Octavia who was likewise looking in my direction and judging my reaction. I gave her a thumbs up to let her know that she was the bomb and she smiled back to me. Once the large-scale recital was concluded, I gave them a standing ovation (clapping quite loudly in spite of being the only audience present) before quickly excusing myself for the restroom. 

I wasn’t expecting to be cornered by a woman on the way out that would seem attractive at first glance, but one look into her eyes and you instinctively knew that she was ‘mad cray cray’. She pompously introduced herself as Marvelous Melody and began shamelessly flirting with me, even when I politely turned her down she did not let up. When I confronted her about it, she explained that my ‘girlfriend’ was doing a wonderful job of mucking up her limelight, gaining more and more attention as she steadily improved her skills with the cello and promising to undermine her own carefully bought supremacy, so she wanted to knock her down a few pegs by ‘stealing away her inspiration’. 

I responded by snidely telling her that I wasn’t interested in sticking my key into a rusty lock and she flew into a rage, threatening multiple injuries against my person and that of Octavia, as well as to our livelihoods with the influence that her parent’s commanded. I was tempted to reduce her to a red smear on the wall but wisely reined in my fury, knowing that she had already certified her own downfall. I pulled out a spare recording crystal that Neon gave me and revealed to her that I had been recording our entire conversation using a jury rigged version of the sound sphere to record sound and inscribe it into the rock. I also heavily implied that I was working with the Crown, and that no one threatened an agent of the Princesses with impunity. 

The skank panicked and actually tried to snatch it out of my hands, but playing keep away was made easy with my superior height and immovable bulk. The once proud Melody relented and asked me what I wanted in exchange for staying quiet, I told her that I could overlook her careless words if she stepped down from her first chair position and promised to never to disturb Octavia again. She whined at what she saw as unreasonable terms but was persuaded when I told her that I had a direct line with the Moon Princess herself (when I was asleep, but she didn’t need to know that) and could land her ass in hot water faster than she could blink.

Knowing she was defeated, by her own big mouth no less; Melody slithered back into the shadows, promising retribution as she did so. I shrugged to myself and put the crystal away, in case I ever needed to blackmail her again. With Melody’s chair empty during the second phase of the rehearsal, Octavia was automatically selected to fill in until further notice. Knowing that Melody had no choice but to resign, this until further notice was not a temporary arrangement, and Octavia could tell that I knew something based on the smugly satisfied grin on my face. She asked me about it after another round of brilliantly rehearsed compositions were over with, she seemed appalled that Melody was so far gone but was glad to be rid of her, taking me by the hand and shepherding me to the very same jazz restaurant where we first met to have lunch. We got a nice table close to the band and located so that it was overlooking the valley below. 

Smooth Jazz himself got up on the stage and began rocking the trumpet while singing to the familiar tune of ‘La vie en rose’, which was just that impeccable timing that this universe seemed so fond of acting up again. Our drinks arrived and I made the most out of that moment.

“A toast!” I proposed, “To your ascendancy and the inauguration of a brand new and beautiful relationship, long may they both last”  

“I can most certainly second that motion” She replied with a lovely smile.

Our glasses clinked together and we downed the spicy sweet tasting port wine. This was a moment worthy of committing to memory. Not only were we officially together now, but Octavia finally achieved her goal and even no longer had to put up with her nemesis anymore. All it took was a woman with more teeth than brain cells and some strong-arming on my part. But hey, if it’s stupid and it works, then it’s not stupid.

We had a few more glasses until the musician’s cheeks were tinged with pink and her gait was wobbly. Her speech stayed coherent though and she invited me back to her place, only she didn’t explicitly say under which context she meant it. I accepted and carried the woozy woman home. Thankfully she fell asleep in my arms on the way there, I had no idea what excuse I would have to use to escape scot free if she stayed awake and expected me to ‘perform for her’ as she had said it with an incorrigible grin. I tucked her into her own bed, reflecting on how she informed me that she purposely left her door open as a test of my character over the duration of our lunch, which I had passed with flying colors. I leaned down and kissed her on the forehead and wished her sweet dreams, sitting by her side and running my fingers through her hair. Before I got moving again, I left her a note explaining that my presence here was sadly temporary and that I promised to return to her again to make good on ‘performing for her’ when the timing was auspicious.

I revisited the manor some hours later to find some kind of Great Gatsby sized party being held on the grounds. Streamers flew through the air, party goers whooped and hollered as they had a good time, and people drank like it was going out of style. Like Nick Carraway, I was reasonably confused as to what the hubbub was about as I squeezed my way through the crowd in search of Rarity. Knowing that it would take forever to find her the hard way with this many people in attendance, I engaged a spell that I called True Sight: which automatically filters out any visible objects that do not match the criteria I set them against and highlights the one’s with the highest probability of being the person or thing that I’m looking for. With the spell’s assistance, I narrowed down her possible location to that of two people, one of who was currently in the lavatory puking her brains out. Knowing that Rarity would never indulge in enough alcohol to begin praying to the porcelain God, I began walking towards the one sitting at the table with someone else.

I found Rarity engaged in idle chitchat with someone who carried herself as though she knew that she was very important. I took a seat by them and Rarity introduced me to a famous pop singer named Sapphire Shores, who examined me in a way that felt…tantric for lack of a better word. Sapphire Shores was another one of those larger than average women who had the voice of a soul singer, despite looking very much Caucasian. She explained her connection to Rarity as her go to designer for exuberant stage wear that would get ‘heads a’turning and lips a’flappin’ as she eloquently put it. I had two very simple words in response to such a claim that I decided against mentioning for good reasons: meat dress. She loved to talk about herself, ranting on about her liberated spirituality and lucky animal being the dolphin, praising them for many overinflated reasons. I hadn’t the heart to tell her that dolphins were actually terrible creatures.

I came up with a good excuse that pardoned both Rarity and myself, (one that Photo Finish would know very well) and dragged her away before she could voice her complaints. After she had gotten over how we rudely ditched Sapphire, she invited me over to a secret bar that Fleur had showed her on the third floor and insisted on me trying a drink that she would mix herself. With nothing better to do, I went along with it. I cradled the shot glass in my hand and gave it a once over after the seamstress/bartender hopeful slid it over to me.

‘Huh, is it me…or do those fizzy bubbles look like miniature Valentine hearts?’ No matter, the pinkish fluid went down the hatch and Goosebumps immediately prickled my flesh.

“Well…how was it?” Rarity asked with muted anticipation.

“It’s…good” I lied with a squeak.

‘That tastes like moose piss mixed with petrol!’ Don’t ask how I know that, it brings up memories I’d rather forget.

Rarity frowned heavily at this, maybe she saw past my lie?

“I see…” She shook her head and smiled again, “Well, that’s why my Mana mark is in gems and not bartending”

‘Clearly’ I remarked as my insides churned.

I spent the rest of that night retching in the bathroom.


⁂






It was Friday night by the time we finally decided that we needed to return home. Rarity made a passing comment about how much Sweetie Belle hated being left behind with their parents and that her return was very much looked forward to by the young girl. Fancypants graciously offered us the use of his carriage again as he escorted us with his lover to the station. Fleur had gotten over whatever funk she had sunken into and was on speaking terms with me again, although she taken to smoking something mind numbingly thick with a theatre length cigarette holder and wearing evening gloves to prevent getting any ashes from soiling her gown. We had a great deal less bags to carry back since Fleur wanted to keep all of the ones that Rarity had made for her, which just left my garments really. We were dropped off at the station and we bid a bona fide farewell to the man who made our stay here consistently interesting.

After we had purchased our return tickets, we stood on the platform patiently waiting for our ride home. Rarity was staring up at the night sky in wonder while I was looking up for entirely different reasons. Much of them surrounded the future of Arcania in regards to the prophecy, there must be something very powerful looming over the horizon if it threatens the sanctity of the very world. I was pondering my own role in things to come when Rarity interrupted my thoughts.

“How was your time with the cellist?” She sounded…envious? I dismissed how she knew I was with Octavia, this is a city where the walls have eyes and there’s an ear under every doorsill.

“Now now Rarity, just like a lady never kisses and tells, a true gentleman never shags and brags. What happened between Octavia and myself is between Octavia and myself alone. But I can say that we enjoyed each other’s company”

“You might want to reconsider that” She said amusedly as she handed me a pair of magazines, one was titled ‘Starman magazine’ and the other ‘Dashing Debonairs’. The thing both magazines had in common was my unenthused face plastered all over the cover, staring back at me with those piercing crimson irises.

“With you being the focal point of the top two fashion articles for men, women all over the country are going to want to know all about you” Yeah, no thanks to you, squiggle hair. That reminds me.

‘Crap, I guess that means I have to go see Aloe and Lotus again’ Somehow, I don’t feel bad about this.

I don’t think I’ve ever been so happy with the concept of paying triple for a spa visit, evidenced by me unexplainably grinning like a twit who just won the lottery.