//------------------------------//
// Bless You, Derpy! Warm Hugs on Cold Nights! 
// Story: The Adventures of Derpy, Lyra, and Octavia 
// by IsabellaAmoreSirenix 
//------------------------------//

"Stay, my love, it's a magical night."

Hoof in hoof, Derpy and Lyra ran singing through the backstreets of Canterlot.  They passed by concerned shopkeepers, disgruntled tourists, and the occasional amazed mare or stallion who left humming along.  But it wouldn't have mattered even if they were met with the hostile glares of a changeling hive.  (Well, except maybe Lyra, who'd go searching among them in the hopes of finding if the vampire changeling myths were really true.)  All that mattered was the blur of indigo over their heads as they spun faster and faster around each other, dancing in rhythm of the song and the world flying under their hooves.

"Wait, Lyra, I..." Derpy paused to lean against a wall to catch her breath.  It was an effort that soon changed from trying to recover from exertion to trying to find air between fits of inexplicable laughter.  Lyra soon joined in, for what reason, neither of them knew.  Perhaps they had surpassed even song, and now could only express their thoughts in giggling.  Perhaps it was something in the air.  Perhaps Octavia's fears really had come true, and the two mares had finally snapped.  Whatever it was, it didn't matter.  All that matter was that Derpy and Lyra were left in fits of hysteria.

Lyra wiped away the tears of joy from her eyes as she looked up at the sky.  Then, ever so gently, with the carefulness of handling china and the meaning behind Derpy's more exciting hugs, Lyra pulled Derpy close.

"Look, kid," she whispered, pointing at the clouds.  "Look."

Derpy looked, and her face split into a smile.  Above their heads, flakes of white danced in the wind.  They swirled down from the heavens to brush lightly against ponies' fur before rising back up to settle along rooftops.  Within minutes, the entire capital was covered in a silk blanket of white.

"Snow," she breathed in awe.

Lyra smiled.  "Happy First Snowdrop, Derpy."





"I'm a horrible pony."

"Oh, don't be so dramatic," Octavia chastised as she came over with a mug of steaming cocoa.

But Lyra was already far down in her own little world.  "What if she doesn't make it?" she whispered to herself in horror.  "If... if she doesn't make it..." She buried her head in her hooves.  "I'll be stuck with... with you!"

Octavia just rolled her eyes and walked away.  "Here you go, Derpy," she said, giving her the mug.

"Thank woo, Ot-a-vy," said a pile of patchwork blankets with two gold goggly eyes.

Lyra looked up with a start.  "She speaks!"

"Of course she does, you dimwit," retorted Octavia.  "She has a common cold, not the cutie pox."

"There's nothing common about this mare," said Lyra, moving to the blankets' side.  "Derpy?" she said quietly.  She placed her hoof where she assumed Derpy's head would be.  "I... I'm here for you, okay?  Don't worry.  I'll stay until the very end.  And then, after... after you... I'll put you in my book!  Will that make you happy, Derpy?"

Octavia facehoofed.

Lyra burst into tears.  "Oh, what have I done?" she lamented to the above powers of the ceiling fan. "Was one night of bliss worth this tragedy?  Can mistakes as grave as mine ever be truly atoned for?  Will this emotional experience lead to my first bestseller?"

Octavia facehoofed harder.  "It's your own fault, you know," she reminded Lyra.  "Galavanting through the streets of Canterlot on a Monday, honestly.  You save that kind of silliness for the weekends.  Didn't you say you had the first draft of a short story due Friday?"

"What does a petty thing like my academy grades have to do with this travesty?" Lyra snapped.  "Have some respect for the mourning!"

"Have you even started on it?"

"Ha, as if!" Lyra laughed.  "The key part of being a writer is doing pretty much anything else than writing.  Inspiration comes through living life, you know."

"Not if your grades rely on it," Octavia said sternly.  "Dear Celestia, I'm calling an intervention.  Gather your inspiration, let... let the sick rest in peace or whatever, and go to bed.  Tomorrow afternoon, we're going to the library."

"No good, I'm busying enjoying the wonderment of mocha ice cream with Bon Bon that day.  'Tis an occasion I'd chop my left leg off for.  Though I'd be happy to chop off yours instead!"

Octavia was too tired to argue.  "Fine.  Thursday afternoon, you, me, and Sniffles here.  Academy life isn't just about fun, you know.  It's time we got to work."

"Oh, fine," said Lyra, crawling into bed and turning out the lamp on her bed stand.  "Good night, Derpy.  Don't kill me, other one.  Or at least, let me be awake for it.  If I can write fast enough, it can be the ending to a great murder thriller."

"I'll be sure to throw in that consideration," Octavia deadpanned. 

"Good ni... i... achoo!"

"For the love of Celestia," Lyra cried in happiness.  "Even her sneezes are adorable!  Oh, it's too much!  Come here, you!"

"Ahh!" the pile of blankets screamed as a shadowy figure attacked.  "I wanna live!"

Octavia smirked in the dark.  "Justice is a sweet, sweet thing."