Chapter X: Conviction
“Twilight! I’m so happy to see you again.”
“Me too, Celestia! How was your trip?” Twilight’s smile shone like sunlight on snow.
Princess Celestia reached for her protégée with both forelimbs and wings, rolling her eyes as part of her reply. “Diplomatic, and by that I mean boring.”
Both mares giggled as they shared a warm hug of fur and feathers. After several moments and a contented sigh, they returned to the real world. As Twilight pulled back to her relaxed sitting posture, she could feel Celestia’s long white forelimbs still resting on her shoulders.
Even as she drank in the reassuring smile that she knew so well, Twilight was sure that her mentor could feel the apprehension gnawing at her heart. She smiled back uneasily, a sight she was sure that Celestia was expecting to get in return. As always though, just being in her presence was enough to work wonders on Twilight’s nerves, and soon she was certain that everything would be all right. They both turned to the trembling stallion who had been watching their silent conversation in what appeared to be abject terror.
“Flash Sentry, I believe we have met before. It’s wonderful to see you and Twilight sharing such a beautiful thing as love.” Princess Celestia smiled broadly, her mane hypnotically reinforcing the message of good will she delivered. “If you don’t mind, Flash, could you please step outside for a moment?”
“Y-yes, your highness!” Flash bowed smartly before trotting through the door, which Princess Celestia closed quietly with her magic.
She continued to face the door as if still watching Flash walk away. “I can see why you like him.” Turning back to face Twilight with a big toothy grin, she said, “He has a very cute bottom.”
Twilight blinked wildly as her mouth opened and closed like a fish. A deep blush reddened her face as she stammered, “I, uh, P-Princess…” Her eyebrows rose in mock surprise. “You… you’re totally right!”
The pair giggled like schoolfillies for a moment before allowing the seriousness of the situation to once more take hold. As they settled onto the red chaise lounge, Twilight felt like a vulnerable kindergartener again, looking up at the benevolent white face that had guided her life’s path for as long as she could remember. Twilight knew that she was about to be graded on the biggest and most important exam of every mare’s life: choosing a special somepony to marry.
She didn’t realize she had been hyperventilating until she felt gentle feathers on her back, methodically smoothing the ruffled hairs and the turbulent thoughts that boiled out of her head and pooled in her wide eyes. Twilight didn’t bother to fake a smile, she just tried not to pout like a scolded child.
Celestia left her wing on Twilight’s back, and her eyes smiled as she spoke. “Twilight Sparkle, my most faithful friend, you are about to start a journey to discover the magic of a whole new kind of friendship. I wish you could understand how proud I am.”
Her ears perked up, and Twilight basked in the light of the sun’s praise. After a moment, when Celestia’s smile did not grow in return, Twilight started to deflate again. She prompted Celestia, “But…”
Celestia’s mask melted and was replaced with a real smile. “Oh, Twilight! There is no ‘but.’” Glancing theatrically back toward the door, she added, “Well, except for that juicy peach waiting in the hallway. Don’t you just want to take a bite?” She halfheartedly raised one regal eyebrow.
“Heh,” Twilight grunted with a fleeting smile. “I’m sorry, Celestia, I’m just not in the mood for jokes right now.”
Letting her own smile follow after Twilight’s with a sigh, Celestia said, “Of course. I was just trying to lighten the mood a bit.”
“Were you trying to distract me, or just yourself?”
The regal alicorn sat up a bit straighter and pulled her wing out of its comforting embrace. She hummed softly and looked to the ceiling, searching for a memory, or at least the right words to express it. “Twilight, you know I care for you a great deal. I want you to be happy, and I do not wish for any concerns of your station to interfere with your happiness.
“Your brother’s wedding was nearly a disaster. I should have been more vigilant. I missed some signs that I should have noticed, and I neglected to listen to a very wise and perceptive pony who tried to tell me something was wrong.
“You are very dear to my heart, Twilight. I just want to make sure that nothing goes wrong for you. Even as a simple royal apprentice, you faced perils that an average pony could only imagine. But you are a princess now, and that puts you in a whole new category of danger.
“Marriage, and its subversion, have been used as weapons for as long as nations have existed. As a young, beautiful princess with a bright future, you are a target for every terrorist, scheming baron, ambitious diplomat, mysterious creature, and, well, every stallion with a pulse. For you, for your happiness, I need to be sure that your marriage is not more political than romantic.”
Twilight’s teeth showed through her apprehensive grimace. As she looked up from underneath her pinched brow, her bangs formed a second brow that reinforced her concern. Taking a break from the conversation that clearly made the young princess uncomfortable, Celestia chuckled again, asking, “Does Flash know how cute you are when you’re nervous?”
Casting her eyes aside, Twilight mirthlessly mumbled, “I’m always nervous.”
The Regal Sun raised an eyebrow and smirked, tilting one cheek upward, while she waited for Twilight to make eye contact. When she did, and realized the implication of her own words, a blush and a genuine smile graced her visage. She unenthusiastically gave Celestia a gentle punch in the shoulder.
Celestia relaxed and used one gold-shod hoof to lift Twilight’s chin. “I hope you let him see you relaxed as well.”
“Getting this test out of the way will certainly help in that department.”
“It is not a test, Twilight. Though I hope you continue to learn throughout your life, you have surpassed the need for me to give you any exams. I am glad that you still value my input, but I like to think that it is the opinion of a more experienced friend, rather than the instructions of a teacher.” Celestia took a moment to let them both breathe. “It is an interview.”
Twilight glanced at the door again. “An interview to make sure he’s not a changeling, or a spy, or…”
“Or simply a libidinous stallion with a one-track mind?”
The last comment, though half in jest, caused Twilight to blush and fold her ears back. She wasn’t sure for whom she was blushing, but she smiled sheepishly anyway. “I…” Twilight smirked, then changed her mind about that train of thought. She shifted her eyes left and right before raising them to Celestia and asked, “How can you find that stuff out just by talking to him?”
Celestia sucked in a breath through her teeth, then looked apologetically at Twilight. “That is why I asked to talk to you before the interview. I wish to look inside of Flash’s mind. I intend to give him an illusion, and offer him a choice that will reveal his true intentions. It will not be a serious violation, just a modest invasion of his privacy.”
Twilight narrowed her eyes and twisted her jaw to one side, pinching her lips together in a grimace of disapproval.
The polished marble floor returned Celestia’s gaze as she searched her own face for reassurance. “I would never invade a pony’s privacy in such a manner without permission, but I obviously cannot ask him.” She tore her gaze away from the pink eyes beneath her hooves, and lifted it back up to meet Twilight’s. “As his intended wife, I believe he would consider you capable of providing consent for such an interview.”
Without breaking her frown or lifting her eyebrows, Twilight icily replied, “I am also capable of declining consent.”
The almost-frustrated sigh that Celestia let escape her lips was a sign that Twilight took as indicative of their more reciprocal relationship and the decreased need for the elder’s mask of calm confidence. At that moment, it also felt like condescension.
Twilight gritted her teeth. “This is Shining’s wedding all over again, but in reverse. This time, you’re as paranoid as you accused me of being last time.”
“And last time, you were right to be paranoid.” It almost seemed like she was conceding a point, even when she was arguing one.
With one purple hoof in the air and her mouth hanging open, Twilight squinted as she tried to decide whether arguing against that last point would be arguing with herself.
“Last time,” Celestia continued, “you were the outsider, coming into the situation with fresh eyes, and I was the one who was involved, entangled, and too close to see what was really happening.”
The heavy wooden door stood mutely between Twilight and her beloved. So did Celestia. Twilight wished she could talk to Flash, hold him, make him a part of this decision. And that was the problem.
“Twilight, you need an outside perspective. I can provide that with a simple interview.”
The lump in Twilight’s throat grew out of the battle between her autonomic nervous system, responding to increased stress by trying to expand the glottis muscle in her neck to increase oxygen flow to her lungs, and her conscious effort to control her breathing. The muscle responded to conflicting input by tensing up, which made it feel like she had swallowed a walnut.
“That’s not simple. You’d be going into his head. I’ve read about this, it’s dangerous. Besides, what you want to do is more than a ‘modest invasion’ of his privacy.” Twilight stood up on the lounge, nearly as tall as the larger alicorn was sitting, and pointed an accusing hoof at Celestia. “It-it’s unconscionable!” She plopped back down onto the chaise, heavy with reasons to deny the ‘interview,’ but with even more reasons to allow it weighing down her shoulders.
The same weight pulled Celestia’s gaze down. “It is necessary, Twilight, and I can see in your eyes that you know it too. For a normal unicorn, it might be dangerous, but I assure you that Flash Sentry will be perfectly safe in my care. I would avoid searching any deeper than necessary. I would learn of his motives, and leave him be. I have no interest in snooping, only in protecting you.”
“I still don’t like the idea of lying to Flash. Isn’t honesty important enough to, I dunno, have its own Element of Harmony?”
“It is, and I want to be sure that Flash is being honest with you. Besides, the deception would be short-lived, and then we can continue with a more pleasant conversation over cucumber sandwiches and tea. What do you think, Twilight?”
Her purple hooves kneaded the red upholstery forcefully as she looked toward the door and bit her lower lip. “I-I don’t know? What if he doesn’t pass the test?” Her eyes came back unfocused as she explained to herself, “Then I’ll be glad that I’m not marrying a changeling, or… something.” Her eyebrows came back together as she continued her internal debate externally. “But what if he passes the test and then he’s angry with me about it?”
Celestia nodded. “That is a concern, yes. But are you intending to marry a stallion who would be angry about such a common-sense precaution?”
“I… Of course he wouldn’t be angry.” Her thoughts turned to an illusion she suffered deep beneath the Crystal Empire, one that still haunted her nightmares. “I think. I’m still worried about him though. I just want to be sure he’ll be okay? I suppose if you’re sure that it’s safe, then…” She searched for any sign of doubt on Celestia’s face.
There was no sign of doubt, only that brilliant smile. “My little pony, you have trusted me to guide your life for so many years. Do you trust me to keep your husband safe?”
Twilight’s moist eyes darted every direction, searching the room for an answer; painted on the walls, scrawled on the ceiling, anywhere. As she danced nervously on hooftips, her gaze focused on the pony in front of her. Twilight let out the breath she hadn’t realized she had been holding, and lunged forward to bury her face in Celestia’s soft white neck. “Of course I trust you, Celestia.”
Celestia warmly returned the hug with somewhat less aggression than it had been offered with, stroking Twilight’s mane with her feathers. “I’ll keep him safe, I promise.”
The hug lingered for just a moment less than Twilight wished. She swirled her nose around for one last breath in the comfortingly smooth white fur, then plopped down onto the lounge with a great deal more weariness than she expected. The red upholstery exhaled a cloud of white feathers into the air, prompting Twilight to lift her forelegs and look at the shredded fabric under her hooves with wide eyes. Her desperate apology was cut off by Celestia’s magic as it swept the fluffy down out of the air, stuffing the feathery mass forcefully into the torn cushion.
“Don’t worry, I’ve been meaning to get rid of this garish crimson anyway. Perhaps I’ll have Rarity come and try to do something more fashionable.” Both princesses giggled as Celestia picked up a pillow and smashed it over the holes Twilight’s fidgeting had worn in the cloth.
Celestia levitated a trio of plush cushions down to the marble floor. “Why don’t we sit down here? That should make things feel a bit less formal.”
Twilight settled onto a pillow and watched the doors creak open in a field of yellow magic. She took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and pushed her misgivings out with the stale air. Flash said something, but she didn’t hear it. When she looked up, she saw that Celestia was smiling politely, that fake smile that she plasters on at state functions and boring galas.
That smile made her uncomfortable. As far back as she could remember, Twilight felt that Celestia had always been genuine with her, but she knew that it was important to put on a face for the public. The Saddle Arabian delegation didn’t need to know that Celestia’s coffee had gotten switched for decaf. But Flash was not an ambassador, and this was not official business. She understood the need for such a temporary deception, but she didn’t have to like it. And she did not like it.
It hurt her to see Flash’s face droop along with his ears when he saw Celestia’s plastic smile. Twilight was letting one pony she loved lie to another pony she loved, and that felt like betraying them both. Twilight caught the glint of extra moisture in his eyes when they made eye contact. He had to have seen the guilt on her face; he’d spent long enough just drinking in her eyes to be able to read her like a book. She almost grinned at the thought of being a book. His book.
She was his book of lies.
Twilight tried not to whimper as she looked around the room, desperately concentrating on anything to keep her eyes away from his. She knew the names of every pony in these paintings, the date of each battle or ceremony, the artist. She knew that these tapestries were extremely boring and Rarity would jump at the chance to supplant them with something more fashionable.
“Flash Sentry, as you may be aware, marriages in Twilight’s family have been a bit… troublesome.”
Twilight’s ears twitched at hearing Flash chuckle, and she allowed herself a bit of a smile. He’d been wounded in the battle with the changelings, but Celestia’s understatement was carefully calculated to ease tension. Thousands of years of practice must make perfect; a perfect wit and a perfect poker face. Twilight tried to avoid wondering what other manipulative skills Celestia must have perfected. She failed.
She thought back to their discussion about the ‘interview.’ How much of it had been planned out? Had she even been a part of the discussion, or did she just play the part that Celestia had scripted for her? Had she ever made any real choices in her life? Maybe Celestia—
No. Now she was just being silly. She turned her focus back to the interview. All those letters she had written to Celestia about Flash must have given the ancient ruler enough insight into his personality to approach the problem directly.
“In light of such events, I proposed a modest invasion of your privacy. She agreed that it was prudent.”
Twilight blushed a bit in shame for perhaps having shared too much information in her letters, and blushed a bit more, this time with pride for having given Celestia something to study for a change. And again in shame, for having given her permission for the invasive mind probe that was about to begin.
Princess Celestia leaned forward with her regally long neck. Flash closed his eyes as she tilted her long horn down toward his head. “Don’t worry my little pony, this will be over in a moment.” Twilight held her breath, hoping that his peachy fur didn’t disappear in a flash of green fire.
A tiny spark, like static electricity, passed between Celestia’s horn and Flash’s forehead.
Twilight waited, as nothing happened.
Flash’s silence filled the claustrophobically large room. Twilight wasn’t even sure that he was breathing. He hadn’t lifted his head since Princess Celestia had begun looking inside his mind. She wished she could see his eyes, she wished that she could leave her seat and comfort him, talk to him, tell him everything was going to be okay. In the silence, Twilight became acutely aware of her own breathing and how rapid it was. Taking a few deep lungfuls to slow her pulse, she just watched the quiet nothing that was happening.
Upon closer examination, Twilight realized that Flash was in fact moving. His facial expression had changed from apprehension to relief. Confusion, panic, relief, confusion. Terror.
She barely restrained herself from lunging forward to comfort the quietly panicking stallion. He had teased her about watching her emotions play across her face like a film when she got lost in her own thoughts, and now she was reluctantly watching him go through the same thing. She wondered if it scared him as much as she was scared now.
This was all part of Celestia’s plan, and there was nopony in the world that Twilight trusted more. A forced smile. He looked like he was about to cry. Confusion. An audible whimper broke the stillness of the room, its echoes making Twilight realize just how silent the room had been.
Twilight gritted her teeth and wished that Celestia could see the anger in her eyes. Yes, she was going to write a very stern letter. She chided herself for overreacting. She rolled her eyes, but her body was telling her to fight, to come to his rescue. Flexing her jaw and trying in vain to slow her breathing, she continued to watch Flash’s face cycle through fury, despair, and defiance. Determination. Mortification.
Duty.
A blush with a tiny grin. She mirrored this last expression of his, though he couldn’t see it. Maybe this was working. Any moment now, they would both open their eyes, and Twilight could hold him and tell him that it was all a dream, she would apologize for the few seconds of mendacity, and they could live happily ever after, without having to fear another untru—
Confusion. Anger. Duty.
Terror.
Confusion and an explosion. Twilight used a fetlock to shield her eyes from the blast, but a negative image of Celestia’s horn touching Flash’s grimacing face was burned into her vision. Somepony screamed, and Twilight briefly wondered if it was herself.
Her ears were ringing, casting the chaotic scene into a false silence as she frantically sat up and surveyed the room. Twilight spotted Flash leaning like a rag doll against a chaise, eyes closed and jaw slack. Celestia was climbing to her hooves slowly, as if finally suffering from long-overdue arthritis. Her head was waving as much as her mane should have been. The only illumination remaining in the room was the shower of sparks slowly drifting toward the floor, lending a strangely peaceful and romantic feeling to the scene of destruction.
Twilight dithered for a moment, her eyes darting from her mentor to her betrothed and back. In the second it took for her to choose Flash and gallop two steps to his side, the falling sparks had begun settling to the floor, extinguishing themselves against the cold marble. She cradled his head, burying her muzzle in his electric blue mane, grateful for the fact that she could feel his muscular chest expanding with each shallow breath.
Without pulling her nose away from his hair, Twilight squinted with minor concentration, reigniting the torches with a burst of magic. She blinked away the tears that threatened to drown her vision as she leaned back and used one hoof to brush away the stray hairs that had fallen over Flash’s face, breathlessly inspecting his forehead for any damage. Finding no burns or injuries, she frantically covered his face with kisses, using her lips to smooth out the fur that had been ruffled by the explosion.
After one more look at his blank expression, she softly pulled his head into her neck and held him there, rocking gently as she let her tears drip off of her chin and wet his ears. As she murmured her desperate apologies, Twilight became aware of a pastel rainbow worming its way into her peripheral vision. Kissing Flash’s forehead once more, she lay him down on the cushions that had been piled against the furniture by the blast, then turned to face the sun.
Celestia was silent. She had abandoned her poker face upon seeing Flash’s state, and was plainly frightened. The Princess of Friendship questioned whether she could remain friends with the Princess of Suspicion and Deception.
Twilight gathered up her trembling muscles and stood as regally as she could manage. She enunciated each letter as sharp as a knife: “What happened?”
With a glassy look in her eyes, Celestia spoke without moving. “I…” She licked her lips and looked down before making eye contact again with the furious princess. “H-he kicked me out. Out of his head.”
Celestia shook her head, pupils shrinking and growing as if trying to focus on some illusion that she couldn’t locate. “No, he… he fell in. He fell so deep into the illusion that I lost my grip on him. I couldn’t pull him back up to the surface.” She looked up at Twilight, pleading with her eyes. “He loves you so very much, my little pony, please let me get him back.”
“NO!” Twilight growled as she backed toward Flash. “I’ll do it myself. I’m not going to let you touch him.” She kept her horn aimed toward the surprised alicorn at the other end of the room as she began to backtrack toward her unconscious fiancé.
As Celestia cautiously stepped closer to the engaged couple, she put on a concerned face that made Twilight wonder if the emotion in her eyes was real or just another mask. “You can’t do that, Twilight, it would be a violation of trust. He would always wonder what you ha—”
“Violation of trust?” Twilight hissed. “And what was it when you did it? A lobotomy of kindness?”
“Please, Twilight, you know what I mean. An impartial third party—” She stopped herself, pinched her lips together, and breathed deeply with her eyes closed. When she opened her eyes, they were soft and wet, shocking Twilight with the genuine vulnerability they displayed. “Princess Twilight Sparkle, I have violated your trust. One day, soon I hope, you may forgive me; but right now, for Flash’s sake, I need you to trust me. One. More. Time.”
Lavender eyelids narrowed suspiciously, unsheathing amethyst daggers. “No.”
Celestia shifted her long neck to the side and shot an urgent glance around Twilight, to the drooling stallion. “Twili—”
“Not until you tell me — EXACTLY — what you did to him!” she screamed, spit flying from her lips.
“I lied to him!” Celestia cried urgently. “I gave him a choice, and he gave up everything for you to be happy. His wings, his freedom, even you, to give you a chance of happiness.”
“What lie did you tell him?” Twilight asked, the tension in her neck and eyes easing slightly as she grinned piteously at the sweet colt who loved her, before turning her scrutinizing glare back to Celestia.
“I didn’t give him the lie, he built it himself.” Celestia sat down and looked at her awkwardly-squirming hooves like a foal forced to confess to a cookie jar raid. She raised her eyes to Twilight, admitting, “He thought you were pregnant.”
“But, we never…” Twilight began.
“Yes, he pointed that out. It was a central point of his—”
“Why would he think that?” Twilight asked through gritted teeth.
Celestia closed her eyes, squeezing a tear out onto her dingy gray cheek as she whispered, “I suggested to his mind that the worst possible thing had happened, and let him build the dream from there. Then I gave him a choice.”
Twilight’s eyes grew wide as she began to hyperventilate. “Oh no, no no no no NO! Y-you can’t tell Flash to imagine the worst possible thing, because he will! Didn’t I write to you about the zombie fortress in the Crystal Empire? He has a very vivid imagination,” she explained. Her eyes darted left and right nervously, as she recalled, in a flood of words that came even faster than her sobbing breaths, “When I took him to the doctor after the big boxing match with Rainbow Dash, the doctor asked him to rate his pain on a scale of one to ten with ten being the worst pain imaginable and he turned pale and got this far away look in his eyes and said ‘one’ even though his nose was broken and bleeding everywhere and the doctor was confused and Flash just said that the doctor had an insufficient imaginat—”
A white hoof on her shoulder cut off the story, but Twilight could tell from the sympathetic smile on Celestia’s face that she got the idea. “Twilight, I’m sorry. I made a mistake. I need to pull him out of his dream so he can wake up. Please let me bring him back to you.”
Twilight shuffled backward, stumbling over the pillows that Flash was lying on. She looked down at him, then lowered herself to the floor and pulled him into an embrace. Her eyes met with Celestia’s, pleading silently for her to wake him up.
Celestia nodded wordlessly. Twilight closed her eyes and wrapped her forelegs under Flash’s chin, propping up his head. She inhaled deeply, the scent of his mane filling her with hope and terror. After a moment, a surge of subtle magic signaled the start of Celestia’s rescue effort.
Twilight waited for Flash to wake up.
______________________________________________
Flash sat up. There were no walls. The entire world was an endless desert; a black starless sky stretched over white dunes as far as he could see in all directions. He licked his lips, then spat out the blood-crusted feathers he’d pulled into his mouth.
“There you are!”
The voice filled Flash with anger, and guilt, and fear. He froze, wishing he had the courage to writhe his way down into the teeth and hide. Or even just to turn around and look at her.
She stepped closer, her light hoofsteps barely making any indentation in the loose surface. Flash could see the pastel rainbow of her mane as it preceded her approach. He felt her perfect, white feathers touching his own; gnarled, misshapen and bloody.
“Oh, Flash! This was never supposed to happen. It’s time for you to wake up.”
His view of the teeth dunes was obscured by a warm yellow glow, and he felt a tugging sensation. All of his senses experienced something like static as the world spoke to him in a foreign language. Meaningless shapes and colors resolved into paintings and cushions. There was gasping and talking. The smell of lavender, and somewhere there were scones coming out of an oven. Somepony had been holding him, but now he was being hoisted to his hooves and turned around.
Twilight was smiling at him. He turned his head and extended his wings, staring blankly at the feathers. In the corner of his eye, he could see the sky billowing in pastel blue, pink, and green. Twilight touched his face with a fetlock, and said, “Flash, I love you.”
Flash lifted his left forehoof, and tenderly placed it under her chin. His right hoof he pulled back, tensing the muscles in his abdomen. She looked confused, just for a second.
Her face was far more solid than he remembered. Somepony screamed. It was like punching a tree; actually, very much like the time he tried to buck an apple tree. Flash wondered whether he had actually hit the tree, probably at night when nopony was around, talking to himself and hearing voices, or if he had imagined the event along with the ponies in his memory.
It was difficult to see through the tears, but he could tell that she wasn’t on the ground. The floor disappeared, and Flash couldn’t walk to her. He tried to look down, but all around him was the same strange, golden glow. He blew out one of the candles, which lessened the glow enough to see that he had somehow been trying to walk on the couch.
Flash gingerly stepped off of the couch and looked around the living room. Luckily, Night Light and Twilight Velvet did not witness his little “couchwalking” episode. It’s one thing to ruin an expensive couch; it’s another thing entirely to ruin a comfortable couch with that much nostalgia in its fabric.
He looked up just in time to see Twilight disappear around the corner, toward Night’s study. One step forward and he was already in the study, dodging stacks of papers and precarious mountains of books, as he tried to catch up to Twilight. All Flash could see was an occasional sliver of purple between the obstacles, but no matter how fast he dodged and jumped, he could never get any closer.
Twilight got away. There was nothing he could have done. With a scream, Flash swept his foreleg across a desk in front of him, pushing a dozen piles of books and papers to the floor, uncovering a stovetop in front of him. He tried to find some pots, but none of the cabinet doors had handles.
Flash stood back up and looked for a way to turn on the burner beneath the big stock pot, but all of the knobs were tiny and impossible for use by hooves. Stupid unicorn kitchen.
Velvet reached out with her magic, and turned on the stove. Flash watched the oil shimmer from below, and slowly turn brown, then black as it heated and finally began smoking. The drawers had no mitts or hot pads, and the pot itself didn’t even have any handles. Stupid unicorn kitchen.
Smoke rose from Flash’s hooves as he tried to lift the pot of overheated oil from the stove. Velvet smiled. Flash pulled the pot into his chest and wrapped his forelegs around it, filling the kitchen with the overpowering scent of burning hair. “I’m so sorry, Velvet.” He heard a gasp from behind him as he tilted the pot over towards her.
Hot oil splashed on the floor. The foamy liquid washed over Flash’s hooves, cold and salty, sinking him an inch into the sand. He looked up. The moon hung in the sky, and in the sea, while the stars did their part to illuminate the beach.
“Flash Sentry, we need to talk.”