Very early the following morning, after waking up at the break of dawn and eating a quick breakfast, Applejack is already out in the fields, specifically an empty one that they need to plant more apple trees in. She's currently fastening herself to one of the plows, rather focused on getting the old harness to close properly.
Suddenly, in typical Discordian fashion, the Spirit of Chaos shows up precisely when he wants to. Which is to say, rather late and at an inconvenient time. He appears on her plow, gripping the bindings and grinning to himself. "So, one tug means go and two means stop, right?"
As quiet as it was before he came, and as focused she was on getting herself set up, she really doesn't expect him to just suddenly BE there. She lets out a yelp and jumps, whirling to face him. "Consarnit, don't do that!" She lets out a huff, busying herself with hooking herself up to the plow, which she finally manages to do. "An' yer late."
"My dear little pony. Spirits are never late. Neither are they early. They arrive precisely when they mean to."
She rolls her eyes at his response. "Yeah, sure." She faces forward, about to move ahead when she pauses, glancing back at him. "Ahem. Wouldja mind gettin' off?"
"I don't know. Would I~?" He reclines lazily, folding his arms behind his head, closing his eyes as a smug grin appears on his face.
Applejack narrows her eyes. "Discord, this early in the day ain't the time for yer nonsense." She stamps a hoof into the dirt. "Git off or I'll buck you off."
Discord rolls his eyes, slithering off of the plow. "Fine, fine. It was awfully uncomfortable anyhow."
"Thank you kindly." She turns her head to look forward again, walking ahead. The plow pushes into the dirt behind her, and she hesitates before looking back at him. "Look, 'm sorry for snappin' at ya, Discord. I jus' didn't get much sleep last night, is all."
He blinks, the apology actually rather...unexpected. "That so? Head too full of visions of apples dancing in your head?"
"I wish that's all it was." She huffs again before she looks ahead again, keeping a nice, steady pace as she plows. "Ya probably don't care anyhow, so I won't bother ya with it."
He walks alongside her, plucking an apple from a tree as they pass it. "Try me. I'll have you know I'm an exceptional listener. Of course, that might have had something to do with the fact I was encased in stone for several thousand years..." He shrugs, downing the apple in a single bite.
Applejack looks up at him. She still hesitates, biting her lip before she speaks. "...Well, if'n you must know. I kept thinkin' 'bout my folks all night."
He quirks a brow. "What, they dropping by for a visit or something? I could dress up a bit nicer if you're worried about me embarrassing you in front of them." In a flash, he's in an incredibly stereotypical "cowboy" outfit, with his signature garish, unusual flair. "I'll have to work on the accent a bit, though." He clears his throat before he dives into a bad impression of her drawl. "Howdy, y'all! Mighty fine seein' you here in these parts. Git along, little pony! Yeehaw!" He grins, obviously pleased with his decidedly terrible interpretation of western culture. "How was that? Do be honest, now."
She stares at him, entirely unamused. "It could use a bit of work." They get to the end of the field, and she turns the plow around, walking back towards the other side. "An' no, that's not it. It'd be nothin' short of a miracle if they could show up."
"Then what's the fuss? Whatever they're up to, it's not your problem, right?"
As hilariously as he's missing what she's getting at, it's starting to grate on her already soured mood. Her lack of social grace makes itself known as her bluntness forces her to stop walking and blurt it out. "The fuss is that they're dead."
This actually gives the draconequus pause. He stops in his tracks, expression rather dumbfounded at her outburst. "...oh. Well. I can see why that would, ah, be an issue then."
The scowl that's crept onto her face slowly fades as she realized she snapped at him again. She lets out a frustrated sigh as she resumes her work, not waiting up for him to follow her again.
Discord, meanwhile, doesn't follow her right away. He's never had friends before. So death has never really been an issue he's had to worry about or talk about or even give much thought about at all. Ponies are born. They die. It happens so fast, he usually doesn't care much about it. How do friends talk about these things exactly? Do you...annoy them until they forget about how upset they are? Or do you try to...do the feelings thing? Like Fluttershy does with him when he expresses frustration in his letters?
Whatever. He's going with the first one because it's what he knows. He catches up to her, leaning over her so he can look her in the face. "So, would you say this is the highlight of your day? Feeling that work satisfaction yet? Or does that come later?"
Something in the back of her head is saying this is his attempt at actually trying to help her feel better, even though it was like he usually was. She looks up at him, pushing her hat back to wipe her brow with a fore hoof. Instead of ignoring him like usual, she feels bad enough about yelling at him that she decided to humor him. "Nah. That comes at the end of the day when all the work's done."
"Never was fond of delayed gratification. But, a deal's a deal." He folds his arms behind his back. "What else IS there to do around this dull little patch of dirt, anyhow? I'm bored."
Applejack stops walking. "You wanna do the plowin' instead? This whole bet WAS to see if you could do what I do in a day, after all."
"Hmm." He looks it over with a critical eye. "You sure this thing is up to regulations? It looks a bit. Well, it looks awful, to be entirely frank. When you said you did things the same way your ancestors did, I wasn't aware that included using the same ancient artifacts as well."
She actually allows herself to chuckle at his joking. "Well, bits have always been a might tight 'round here, so we haven't bothered ta get a newer one. Don't worry, it ain't gonna break an' kill ya or anything."
His hand goes to his chin, as if he's thinking. "How is it you manage to pal around with one of the most successful protegies in Equestrian history -- who happens to be a PRINCESS now, no less -- and you're still living in squalor? One would assume there would be some perks to such a situation. Some gains to be made, you know?"
"Well, I ain't one to accept handouts, even from friends. 'Sides." She pats the plow behind her. "This plow works jus' fine, ain't a need to replace it."
She looks up at him. His expression suggests he clearly isn't getting it, and he looks the plow over and privately decides after the no-magic rule is up, he'll be doing a bit of fixing up around this place. Because he's embarrassed to even LOOK at this thing, so naturally he feels it's his place to fix it. "Whatever. Let's just get to it, shall we?" He drops down to all fours so he can pull the plow, clearly not as comfortable on his forelimbs as the ponies are judging by his posture.
Applejack unhooks herself from it before moving over to him. She notices his odd posture, but doesn't say anything as she straps him into the harness. "Now, plowin' is simple enough of a task, ya just gotta have the endurance to finish it." She starts ahead, looking back as she talks. "We gotta plow this whole empty field here. Shouldn't take us more 'n a few hours, and that's if we take our good time with it."
Discord sputters. "HOURS??"
She almost laughs at his reaction. "Y'all see how big the field is, don't ya? If you dilly dally, it'll take a while." She grins, clearly enjoying this a little. "So come on, Discord, let's see if'n you got it in ya."
His brow furrows, and he huffs, steeling himself to pull. The weight of the plow surprises him, and he damn near falls face flat in his first efforts to pull it. When he finally DOES start to move, it's pretty obvious this is a lot harder than he was expecting it to be. He's going pretty slowly. Applejack doesn't say a word about his pace and just walks along with him for a while, making sure he won't hurt himself from the new chore.
When they get back to the other side, she trots over to some saddlebags lying on the ground, putting them on her back. "Now while you're doin' all the manual labor, I'll be followin' behind ya, puttin' seeds in where ya plowed." She starts from where she originally started, tossing seeds into the ground before covering them up with dirt again. "An' yes, if'n you get tuckered out, we can switch places, no harm, no foul."
He growls. "Well--of course you--say that /now/--you--stand to win--a considerable--sum of my--time--if I fold--" Quietly, he wills the plow to be a bit lighter. He figures that's still within the rules; after all, it's not his usual brand of chaos. And that was all he promised not to do. It's a basic spell at best, subtle enough that he hopes she doesn't notice. His pace picks up a bit, and he seems to have an easier time of it. "See? Already getting my second wind."
"No, I say that because I don't want you gettin' yerself hurt. Even when Big Mac and I do this, we switch so we don't strain ourselves." She keeps tossing seeds down, and she notices he's suddenly going a bit faster, and doesn't look like he wants to die. "Hmm." She trails after him, keeping a nice pace as she keeps at her task.
Meanwhile, he's confident she doesn't notice the spell and picks up his pace, willing the plow even lighter. The problem is, as it becomes lighter, it actually starts to lift up from the ground a slight. But he's too busy showing off to notice. As Applejack glances up at him to see how he's doing, she stops in her tracks as she sees the plow lifting into the air. She opens her mouth to yell at him, but instead, she lets it be, silently hoping that maybe the plow will take off and lift him into the sky. That would learn 'im. Probably.
"I don't see why you make such a big fuss about this. It's hardly a challenge at all. Why, I could probably do this in my sleEEP --" And lift off he does, the plow floating up into the air and yanking him up with it. He briefly forgets he's a very talented magic user and flails ineffectually in the reigns in a vain attempt to pull free. The plow floats on. Like a beautiful metallic rusty balloon of death.
All the self control she's used so far to keep from laughing at him doesn't work here. She absolutely loses it, falling over onto her back as her loud laughter cuts through the quiet morning air. In a hurry to salvage the scraps of his pride, Discord wills the plow back to its normal weight. It crashes to the ground, dragging him down with it. He lays in a heap, little winged apples literally flying around his head.
Applejack's forehooves hold her stomach, and her lungs hurt from how hard she was laughing at the ridiculous display. However, when she hears him land with a crash, she gets back to her hooves and gallops over to the heap that is the Spirit of Chaos. "Hey, are ya alright there, sugarcube?"
He answers her rather dizzily, his eyes spinning around cartoonishly. "I assure you, ladies, I'm absolutely peachy..." He shakes his head hard, gaze coming back into focus. He sits up, rubbing his head and pulling a broken piece of the plow from his back. "...can't say the same about your old plow though."
She looks back at said plow, confirming what he said: the plow was a wreck, and there was no way they could fix it to be any kind of useful. She sighs, rubbing at her eyes with a hoof. "Yep, ya sure can't."
He produces a handkerchief, dabbing at his eyes and sniffling dramatically. "Alas, the poor thing. Taken well after its time. Its noble sacrifice shall not be forgotten." He blows his nose before snaps the handkerchief out of existence. "WELP. I suppose that means that's it for plowing, eh?"
"Yer powers of observation are frightenin'." She trots away from him before stopping and looking back. "C'mon, I got a few morre things we gotta do."
He follows after, giving the plow one last spiteful kick before he catches up to her. "Will THOSE take hours too?"
"Again, depends on if you dilly dally with 'em." She looks at the barn as they walk along. "We gotta fix the roof on the barn, and we could work on repaintin' it but that ain't needed. Besides that, there's always apple buckin' ta do."
"Oh yes, we mustn't forget about that." He scratches his chin thoughtfully, muttering to himself. "I wonder if breaking something else will cut down on work time..."
"ALSO." She whirls around to face him, jabbing his chest with a hoof. "If'n ya break anything else, or use any of yer magic powers ta cheat again, I'm callin' it a win fer me right there. Got it?"
The draconequus holds his hands up peacibly. "Alright, alright. No need to go into conniptions, my dear."
She nods. "Good. Glad we're both on the same page." She turns and trots towards the orchard. "We'll go with buckin' apples. Nothin' much you can break if we're doin' that."
He glances down at his itty bitty legs. "Not so sure on that one."