Clang clang clang clang clanggggg!
“Up and at 'em, sunshine!” A deep voice chanted from pillowside, accompanied by the deafening metallic percussion.
Clang clang clangggggg!
“We've got ourselves some jagged clumps of me to find! Well, one clump, really, but every second wasted is another piece wanted! Heh... you like that? I thought it up myself.”
Rainbow Dash's bleary eyes opened. She made out the hazy image of a wormy little statue with horns perched on her bedside table, a metal pot in his grasp.
“Oh, good!” Lancie grinned from cheek to stone cheek. “You're awake! Did you dream well?” He stood still, smirking.
WHAM!
His body flew like a granite cannonball across the room, embedding antler-first into the wall beside the door.
“Hmmmm...” He folded his arms from where he dangled while the metal pot rattled to a stop beneath him. “Lemme guess. The classic 'sitting in the middle of class and not wearing a saddle, being laughed at.'”
“Mmmmffnnnghhh...” Rainbow rolled over, suffocating herself with a fluffy pillow. “Gnnnghhhh—I didn't stay long enough in school to have stupid dreams like that... mmmfffghh...”
“Well, that explains why you never learned the value of keeping an alarm clock!” Lancie said with a smirk. “Well, praise the stars you have me! I'm both... Hnnnngh!” His stone face tensed as he yanked and tugged at the wall. “Handsome and... hrnnnnngh...” Plop! He fell loose and slammed into the floor, embedding upside down by a horn. Sighing, he nevertheless folded his arms with an upside-down smirk. “...punctual!”
“You're a puissant,” Rainbow Dash spat into her duvet.
“Hmmm... seems like you took at least one vocab lesson, though.”
“Just...” Rainbow yawned and stirred into her covers. “...a little while more...”
“Sparky, with where we need to go... Hnnnnngh!” Lancie thrashed, struggled, and finally unpinned himself from the floor. Dusting himself off, he bounced towards the bed like a demon squirrel. “...we can't afford 'a little while more!' Now come on!”
He yanked at the covers, fully exposing Rainbow's curled, fuzzy figure atop the bed. Rainbow shivered, gnashing her teeth with paper-thin eyes.
“Just take a look!” Lancie perched on a bedpost and gestured out the wide open window. “It's morning! The start of a brand new day! A day full of shard-gathering, opportunity, adventure, prosperity—but mostly just the shard-gathering!”
“Nnnnngh... wh-what...?” Rainbow tilted her head up and squinted out the window. “Bite your tongue!” she hissed, pointing towards the dark sky being serenaded by crickets. “It's friggin' night still!”
“Nope! That, my little pony, is what's called six o'clock!”
“Buck that.” Rainbow turned over and slapped her pillow over her head. “An hour like this is for bats, zombies, and momos.”
The statue raised a granite eyebrow. “Momos?”
“Mmmf... mule hobos—look, if we're going to do this...” Rainbow Dash peaked her frowning face from beneath the pillow. “...we're going to do this my way, which means only when it's light out!”
“Alas...” Lancie held a talon over his “fuzzy” chest. “You've dealt me a fine blow with the piercing arrow of superior debate. I concede to your greater wisdom, Madame Sparksalot. You're absolutely right.” He jumped off the bed and lurched defeatedly across the floor. “After all, daylight is the one thing you want illuminating you as you sneak stealthily beyond the city limits of Ponyville with a tiny animated golem in your saddlebag while you embark upon a questionably treacherous journey to steal something ancient and suspicious under other creatures' noses...”
Silence.
More silence.
Rainbow Dash groaned.
Rainbow Dash groaned again.
She tossed one hoof over the bed, then the other. With molasses motion, she sat up, grumbled under her breath, and flapped her limp wings. Like a dangling piece of meat, she swung across the room and made for the door.
Lancie glanced up, his eyes lighting up. “Change of mind?”
“Shower,” Rainbow Dash hissed. “Not another word.”
“Oh! I love showers!” He scampered towards her, raising a talon. “I'll be a dear and grab you some soap! What's your favorite scent? Mine's lavender—”
The metal pot flew across the room and slammed into him. He toppled back, landing awkwardly against the base of a wardrobe. A beat. He looked up with an easy grin.
“Alright! How about you just warm it up for me, first?”
Part Eight: Dig Dash Dug
(Where the Shipping Story Turns into a Fetch Quest)