//------------------------------// // Never Say "Good luck!" on Opening Night // Story: Springtime for Sombra // by GreyGuardPony //------------------------------// Newspapers make a satisfying swat when they hit the wall. Nouveau Riche was growing increasingly fed up with the alien running around in a pony coat, that had managed to sidestep another one of his plans. His influence had seen all of the advertising that he had initially paid for was pulled and his bits returned. Then reports had been scattered in the entertainment sections of most of Manehatten’s major papers, all of them detailing various behind the scenes chaos that was unfolding with the new production. He particularly liked what The Daily Jewel said on the third day about Skitch being so crazy Nocturne had left for more reasonable waters. The fact that they were all lies was inconsequential. He didn’t care what they made up, just as long as he won and she lost. But Skitch had been oddly resistant so far, a fact that made him grind his teeth in frustration. He had dug up that gods awful Nocturne. He’d pried him out of his family’s shame mansion. He’d carved out his empire with his bare hooves; no magic, no flight, just his brilliance and will. But now...now…. The doors to his office swung open, Blueblood strolling in, rolled up copy of the same paper in his aura. He opened his mouth to say something but stopped at the sight of the scattered headlines, whipped against the far wall. “So, you’ve seen it already then?” Riche tore the new newspaper from Blueblood’s grip, glowering as he stared at the front page. The infuriatingly serene smile of Princess Celestia beamed up at him, right above a bold headline. Celestia and Cadance to View First Human Inspired Media! The following piece was mostly fluff. Mostly. But Celestia had slipped in more than a few comments about how she was eagerly looking forward to seeing what Equestria’s “visiting guest” had to share “in the bonds of cultural exchange and friendship”. It quickly joined its sibling on the other side of the room. “Her naivete disgusts me.” “I’m sure that fact will break her heart,” Blueblood said. Riche gave Blueblood his most furious, subordinate crushing glare. The Duke remained quite blase, a slight roll of his eyes the only response. Riche snorted and began to pace behind his desk. “Give me your take Blueblood. You’re always interacting with Celestia while attending to the affairs of government. What do you think we should do?” “Give up.” “Excuse me?” Blueblood shrugged, gathering up the scattered pieces of newsprint. “Celestia has obviously decided to stop being neutral in this and she’s come down on the human’s side. Which means that it’s possible that she’ll testify on Skitch’s behalf in her lawsuit. Settle, move on, and get back to running a business.” He paused for a moment, then shrugged, “And maybe keep a plan or two in your saddlebags if she does turn out to be a monster.” Turning away, Riche’s eyes roamed over his bookshelves, not really looking at anything. His mind was mulling over Blueblood. What was his game? So gung at the start of their little conspiracy, but all of the sudden...hesitant. He was either running some kind of game or Celestia had managed to cow him into giving up the plan. “No spine at all, eh? Just going to roll over?” Riche said. “Show some common sense Riche! If you keep going after Skitch, you’re just going to add fuel to her accusations against you. Unless she spontaneously drops dead, I don’t see how you’re going to drive her out of Equestria.” “If the production fails tonight, I’ll have all I need,” Riche said. He banged his hoof off the desk for emphasis. “A disastrous production in front of two of Equestria’s princesses? Her reputation would be ruined.” “Maybe in the theater world, yes. But until you dragged her into this, she seemed perfectly fine not being a part of it. Besides, how would you actual sabotage anything there without it being tied back to you?” Blueblood asked, his voice about as deadpan as Riche had ever heard. Riche frowned, stopping his frantic pacing. “There is still Quill. He’s been pestering me about the situation for the past three days. I think he’s going slightly mad at the loss of his ‘great work’. It probably wouldn’t take much prodding to push him over the edge. You know the stories about how unstable the Sombra line is.” That caused the first crack in Blueblood’s impassive mask. He raised an eyebrow, nervously dragging a hoof across the carpet. “That could go very poorly. You can’t control Nocturne if he goes nuts.” “If he goes too far, that’s his fault and he will pay the consequences,” Rich said, adding in a dismissive hoof wave for good measure. “Besides, you’ve seen the stallion. Are you honestly going to tell me he looks capable?” Blueblood’s eyes narrowed and he tugged at the collar of the immaculate suit, the same color as his coat. “And, just like that, you are on your own. I will have nothing to do with a pony that is engaging in such suicidal stupidity! You are giving that human just enough rope to hang you with!” “My granddaughter lives in the same town as that thing!” Riche roared, slamming both hooves down on his desk. “And I am not going to let this go! Not without one more try! Tonight’s the premiere. This is my last chance.” “So...what is your plan?” “A well written note, supposedly coming from Skitch, should push Nocturne into trying to wreck the play.” Again, Blueblood’s reaction was slight. A simple flick of his ears. “...You’re playing a dangerous game here Riche. And it is one that I have no desire to be a part of.” So, Celestia had somehow gotten to him. “Blueblood...I would think very carefully about what you’re about to do.” “Already thought and come to my conclusions. You have lost your mind, I will not be involved, and if you come after me...well, I would recommend against it.” “You’re a spineless traitor Blueblood! You’ve been just as worried about her as me!” “Maybe. But I’m more confident with my own ability to handle the situation than I am with following your...plan.” He gave the briefest of nods to Riche before turning and heading for the door. “Good luck Riche.” “Don’t you walk out on me!” Riche barked. When Blueblood ignored him, he grabbed a paper weight off the desk and hurled it at the smug unicorn. It impacted against the door, a few inches away from Blueblood’s head. He spared the slightest of glances back towards Riche before slipping through it and leaving him alone. Growling under his breath, Riche angrily slammed the button on the intercom. “Daisy! Get in here! I have something I need you to do!” - - - - In his carriage, now that things were falling apart, Blueblood worked quickly. Carriage writing was always sloppy. Blueblood simply could never get the paper to hold still. It has to be tonight. His horn flashed, the paper vanished and the noblestallion sank back in his seat. They’d forgive the ink stains. - - - - There was an odd relationship between a writer and alcohol. At least that’s how it felt from Quill’s point of view. Usually, he’d have a glass while working on his latest play, letting whatever drink he had chosen from his stores help stir the creativity and get his mind wandering down the myriad paths of creativity, where he would build towering creations to the depths of a pony’s soul! Tonight’s chosen bottle was vodka, imported from across the sea. From the snow bound lands of the wolves. Some ponies looked down their snouts at drinking in the morning, throwing disapproving “tut-tuts” about like so many slings stones. But when they had never climbed so high, or fallen so low, how could they possibly make an informed decision? Snorting, he reached for the bottle to fill his glass again. Hoof clinked against glass, badly aimed and shaking, which sent the bottle toppling over. It smashed against the tile, the remaining vodka lost on the floor. Perhaps he had drank enough. His ears flicked towards the front door, a truly deafening cacophony playing out on the wood. An angry chorus of knocks, surely delivered by some manner of deranged harpy. Or perhaps it was the traitor skin-stealer come to rub her victory in his snout? Or Riche with some new half baked scheme of absolute madness that would see his heart dashed upon the rocks once more. Flopping out of his love seat, he wandered towards the door in a circuitous pattern. One had to be careful to avoid the furniture when supping on vodka. So, walking slow was the order of the morning. Slow and steady. Very steady. He was almost there when his hoof caught an edge of one of his floor rugs, throwing him forward in a tangle of legs. He was back up a moment later, rubbing his bruised snout as he stumbled to the doorknob. Yanking it open with a curse, he frowned at the complete lack of a pony on the other side. But there was a folded piece of paper just lying on the floor. Picking it up and unfolding it with a flick of magic, Quill recoiled from the words within. They were cut and pasted together from newspaper and were clearly a threat. No matter what you do, you are nothing but a discarded piece of trash. Get out of town, you failure! His body was trembling with rage now, his magic slowly crumpling the note into the tightest ball of paper possible. Somepony threatening him? Somepony else who had a problem with his family line? Buying into the lies and propaganda about the Crystal Empire like mindless little windup toys! But who sent this one? Who would call him a….failure…. “Skitch-Sketch.” She knew how much his play meant to him! And in retrospect, she had been far too eager to kick him from the production! She hadn’t even tried to work with him! And she had admitted to meeting Cadance, the one behind the the disappearance of the Empire! With that realization it all became perfectly clear. She had been a plant for the beginning! Pacing the width of the living room with a drunken sway, Quill’s anger seethed . “Do those royals have no sense of shame? Will they stop at nothing to destroy the truth? Cadance! Celestia!” Still infused with his morning drinking, he collapsed onto one of his couches, limbs half sprawled over the edge. As he seethed away, mind locked on the betrayals he had suffered, a nimbus of black, purple and green danced around his horn, as turbulent as his mind. Gritting his teeth, Quill reached out for one of his notebooks. For now, he would sate his anger by turning his creative mind towards writing truly brutal piece about the errant human. Somepony would pay. Somepony. - - - - “Remember, you need to be on that spotlight to call out Marigold and Blue Bell in the stands after the first verse of the Springtime for Sombra number,” Skitch said. “Can do!” Bright Light said, one of the twins that ran The Palace’s lighting systems before galloping off. The stage was a chaotic flurry of energy with stagehands and actors running every which way. Looking about to see how everypony else was doing, Skitch quickly shuffled to the side to avoid the oncoming office wall, pushed by a stallion with a mission. Quartz’s sturdy glare kept everypony on the set crew running at top speed. On the other side of the stage, Rarity almost threw costumes to actors while they ran through warm up exercises to get into the right mindset and smooth our problematic lines. Skitch stood in the middle of it all, burying her anxiety under a bunch of bluster and bravado. She knew full well that she was- to borrow a phrase- punching way above her weight class. Speaking of bravado…. “Quartz! Do we have that section of seats roped off yet for our fake crowd?” Quartz nodded from her perch atop a stack of boxes, from where she directed the flow of stagehands like an army commander. “That it is. Went with the section right behind the music pit.” Music. “Flash! When’s the rest of the orchestra getting here? I want to get at least one dry run in before opening tonight.” “They know when to show up. They’ll be here soon.” Soon. That word hung in Skitch’s mind for a moment before landing like an anvil. “Soon? Flash, we open tonight! How are we supposed to do a dry run without the fuc-” “Language, darling!” Rarity called. Skitch grit her teeth, ears and tail twitching. Flash sighed, placing a hoof on her back. “Skitch, they’ll be here. I know these ponies. Some of them were my teachers. They’re professionals.” “...Alright Flash. I’ll trust you,” she sighed, her eyes wandering over towards Rarity. “Rarity, any problems with the wardrobe?” “None at all darling,” she answered with a casual toss of her wavy mane. “We are as ready as we can be on that front.” “Right! As soon as our music gets here, we’ll do a full dry run. Take five for now.” Trotting backstage, she wove through the various ponies and out the back doors. Picking one of the crates scattered near the doors at random, Skitch sank into a seat. Squeezing her eyes closed, she took a deep breath and held it as long as she could, before letting it go. Celestia and Cadance were coming. She was glad and terrified at the same time. Celestia’s declaration had lead to the premiere being sold out. Her gamble that ponies like Quill were vastly outnumbered by those with good taste. Of course, now the pressure was a hundred times worse, with the ruler of a whole country to impress. ….And if she was being honest with herself there was certain amount of Brony pride at the thought of being able to entertain the princesses. Though she wasn’t sure if she should be relieved or disappointed that Luna wouldn’t be arriving as well. A few more deep breaths to calm the nerves and she’d head back in, try her best and let whatever would happen, happen. Before she could though, her ears swiveled instinctively towards the sound of approaching hooves and a scrabble of claws; a pony and something else judging by the rhythm of the mixed steps. Opening her eyes, Skitch looked towards the alley entrance. “Twilight? Spike?” Hopping off the crate she galloped over to her friends, exchanging a friendly nuzzle with Twilight. “I wasn’t expecting you two to show up!” “We had to after your telegrams,” Twilight said, the slightest hint of “I told you so.” in her tone. “Yes, you were right, I shouldn’t have done this,” Skitch sighed. “I just really wanted to try and get a home back.” “I know. You just focus on your play. Spike and I will be here for moral support.” “”Yeah, assuming she doesn’t run off to help foil the robbery,” Spike snorted. “Spike! I will not! The city guard will handle that.” Spike rolled his eyes. “You were thinking about it though.” The way Twilight fidgeted told Skitch everything she needed, so she stepped around the issue instead. “Come on in. I’ll show you where we are and what I got planned. You’ll love the musical bit I’m giving Pinkie at the start of this thing.” A few hours later, the orchestra had indeed arrived and the dry run had gone about as well as it could have. Everyone seemed to know their lines. At this point, there was nothing for it but to go for the actual production. It was late afternoon at this point, with four hours to go till the premiere. The actual staff and owners of the Palace Threater would be spending that time getting it ready to have ponies in it. That left cast and crew time to rest, freshen up and get dinner before the eyes of a nation would be on their efforts. Skitch, Rarity, Pinkie, Twilight and Spike left together, through the front doors rather than the alley this time. “Oh, I do wish that we had the time to have a nice sit down dinner together! I heard Marigold talking about this delightful little place that he frequents. They have caricatures of all the famous ponies that have eaten there on the walls!” Rarity said. “Aww, save that appetite for the wrap party! They’re always super duper fun! All the food and sweets you can eat, talking, laughing, and jokes!” Pinkie grinned bouncing slightly ahead of the group. Spike perked up at that. “Really? You think that they might have some gems?” “Of course they would! Why wouldn’t they?” Pinkie said flashing her radiant smile. Twilight gave her friend an odd stare. “Because there aren’t any dragons in the show? Just how many professional wrap up parties have you been to?” “Oh, zero. But I know my parties! I’m sure that I’ll be able to talk Marigold out of retiring then!” “Actually, Pinkie, there’s not going to be a wrap party on this one,” Skitch said, her ears flicking back nervously. “WHAT?” Skitch felt herself get bowled over and found herself looking up into wide, panicky blue eyes. A tired sigh escaped her lips, the weight of the day's work dragging her down like an anchor. She really didn’t want to dash Pinkie’s hopes but- “How can there not be a wrap party?!” Pinkie practically whimpered. “There’s always a wrap party! It’s a wrap, now party! It’s in the name!” “Pinkie, there’s no money,” Skitch slowly explained. “We basically just covered the costs with what Riche already invested as part of his trap. I had to basically beg to Princess Celestia because we have no cash for advertising.” “Pinkie dear, could you let her up?” Half pouting, half wincing Pinkie backed off Skitch, letting the unicorn hop back to her hooves. “Sorry Pinkie,” she shrugged. “I mean...let’s face it. Even with Flash and my’s re-writes, this isn’t exactly a legitimate production. There’s no budget for anything beyond this one showing. I’ll be happy if this whole thing breaks even.” She rubbed her forehead sighing even deeper. “I don’t even know if this will work. We’re talking about a play adaptation of a forty five year old movie, that I’m hoping will sell across cultural lines, and that had a mixed reaction when it came out!” “Skitch dear, I thought you said it was a classic?” Rarity asked. “Yeah, it is now. But that’s because it’s had those forty five years. It influenced new generations of comics and Mel Brooks had a bunch of other hits since then. Me? I’m just...me.” “I’m sure you can do it Skitch, you’ve come this far,” Twilight said, only to trail off and look past Skitch. Skitch followed her friend’s gaze, wondering what exactly was going to happen now. - - - - For two of the ponies working their way through the Manehattan streets, the city’s usual glitz and glamor just didn’t appeal. They were ponies with a mission. A drive to find one specific pony in the city for reasons of their own. The mare of the pair was stern, with the kind of sweeping glare like gaze that teachers used to quell unruly students the world over. Her brown mane and tail seemed like they were trimmed using a straight edged ruler for a guide and her cream colored coat looked as if it was brushed one hair at a time, it was so immaculate. Even her beige vest had an unnatural order to it. It made the shiny red apple on her flanks look almost comical with how...normal it was. Her stallion companion was much more nervous. His wavy black mane was neatly brushed as was his white coat, but not to the level of sheer nit pickery that his companion had somehow managed to pull off. His cutie-mark was a collection of sheets of paper, neatly stacked. She was angry and he was wary as they approached the Palace Theater, having come to the city for a reckoning. “Dear,” Black Marble asked, pausing to rub the back of his head, “I’m still not sure what you’re expecting to do here.” Apple Polish stalked forward, head lowered and back arched. Her tail thrashed about like a whip. “An explanation. I want an explanation from that thing wearing my daughter’s body.” “And then what?” Apple Polish didn’t answer, her eyes having locked upon a group of ponies that had just stepped out of the theater. The purple unicorn at the lead was quite familiar to her. But as she had been part of the team that had administered Twilight Sparkle’s entrance exam to Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns…. Well, Apple Polish doubted that she’d ever forget that unicorn, nor the baby dragon that was her constant companion. The pink earth pony and white unicorn were also familiar enough to anyone who paid attention to the newspapers. But it was the last pony that made her heart want to break. Coat the color of spring leaves and mane the mirror of a clear blue sky, just like her grandmother’s. Her horn- slightly longer than the unicorn average- poked out above amber eyes that always sparkled with life and energy. That was her daughter but not. Twilight had noticed her so now there was nothing for it but to do what she came here to do. Now holding her head higher, Apple Polish trotted straight for the group. Twilight perked up right away, the recognition clear on her face. “Professor Polish!” Twilight smiled. “I haven’t seen you in ages! Do you-” “Yes, Miss Sparkle, I remember you well. It’s not every pony that manages to plant their parents during their entrance exam.” While she addressed Twilight, she kept one eye on her “daughter”. For a moment, those amber eyes that had always looked up at Apple Polish with love, sparkled with recognition. Despite what she knew, Apple Polish’s heart rose in her chest. But as quick as it was there, it was gone again, replaced with other things; fear and guilt. And as Skitch took a nervous step behind Pinkie Pie, Apple Polish it was like her daughter died all over again. Setting her jaw, she casually glanced towards Rarity as the Element Bearer addressed her. “You taught Twilight? Wasn’t she Princess Celestia’s student?” Despite her anger over the situation there was a slight sense of bemusement at the back of Apple Polish’s mind. The rumors surrounding those few ponies that Princess Celestia had taken as students over the centuries were a never ending topic. It was something of her duty to see that the truth was known. “While that did indeed entitle her to a great deal of special tutoring, Twilight still attended many regular classes as well.” The thing wearing his daughter’s body tried to make herself look smaller, nearly cowering behind the Element of Laughter now. “Human. Stop cowering back there and face me.” The human peeked around Pinkie Pie’s poofy mane, biting her lip. Then she began to talk, very fast. “MissApplePolishIamsosorry-” “Quiet!” Apple Polish hissed. “I am not here to listen to your insane ramblings!” Through her anger, she felt the hoof of her husband on her back but her rage was unabated. “I want an explanation from you about why you’re continuing to trounce around in my daughter's body!” The human half cowered behind Pinkie again, now silently mouthing “I’m sorry.” over and over again. Before Apple Polish could unleash another round of insults upon the human Twilight Sparkle stepped between the two of them. “Professor Polish, while I understand that you’re upset about what happened to your daughter, there’s no reason to take it out on Skitch.” “Don’t call her that!” Apple Polish snapped, stomping a hoof so hard that she could feel it threaten to crack. “She doesn’t have the right to use my daughter’s name! Doesn’t she have a name of her own to use? Why is she even dancing around as a pony anyway? Is her own species not good enough for her?” The venom just flowed, spilling forth in a torrent that she couldn’t even begin to stop, even if she wanted to. All that she felt was a blind fury at the thing that was daring to puppet around her daughter’s body. Her daughter’s grown up body! Her daughter who hadn’t even had a chance to grow up! Pinkie Pie frowned, taking a step back to wrap a foreleg around the human. “This is the Skitchy I know. That’s who she is to me.” “Well, I’m so happy for that bit of wisdom from the bubblehead brigade!” Apple Polish shouted. She was practically roaring now. The Element Bearers wanted to support the human? Then to Tartarus with them as well! “Do not speak to Pinkie or Skitch like that!” Rarity snapped. “Especially considering that Skitch is trapped here through no fault of her own!” “But she had to come back to Equestria! She had to move into a town a few hours away from us! She has to run around with you, landing in all the headlines,” she shouted, now whirling on Twilight. “You! You actually knew her back in the school! She should be your friend! Not some...alien!” “You vindictive little harpy!” Rarity shouted back. “What does her origin have to do with anything? We are Equestrians! We embody the principles of friendship and harmony! That should be the case no matter what somepony is!” “Save your sanctimonious ideals for when a member of your family has been replaced by somepony else!” Apple Polish shouted. The human was gaping now, trying to stammer out some kind of excuse or explanation. Not that Apple Polish was interested in hearing whatever it was she had to say. But Twilight interrupted before more shouting could begin. “Professor, what exactly are you trying to accomplish here? Skitch- our Skitch that is- literally can’t do anything about her situation. She can’t even change her appearance with magic. Whatever the Collector did to her damaged her internal magic field so badly that any transmutation magic might make her fall apart!” She nervously bit her lip. “Professor Polish, I know that you’re angry. But you can’t want her...dead.” “Yeah,” Spike said. “That would be seriously messed up.” Apple Polish’s stomach twisted, Twilight’s comment cutting through her rage. A thousand horrific images of her daughter’s body, twisted by all of the horrific possibilities of transmutation magic gone wrong, flashed through her head. She couldn’t...no..she couldn’t be responsible for her little girl’s death again. Not even if it wasn’t her, really. Squeezing her eyes closed, Apple Polish sighed, trying to ignore the tears that were leaking down her cheeks. “Please. Just leave. Leave Equestria. You were gone for months. Why did you have to come back and remind me of everything? Couldn’t you just leave an old mare to her misery?” “Because I can’t go home,” the human whispered. “I have no place else to go. No other people or ponies to lean on. I’m just...I’m just trying to find a place.” “Find it someplace else. Please. “They’re all I have,” the human answered, motioning to the Element Bearers with a hoof. “They’re all I have.” The sadness in her voice- in her daughter’s voice- drilled right to Apple Polish’s core. More memories floated up, like unwelcome visitors. Memories of her Skitch-Sketch, running to her with a scraped fetlock or some other minor injury. And just like that, the fire was quenched. She couldn’t bring herself to yell at her daughter’s face anymore. Her husband’s hoof rested on her back again, his voice calling through the haze. “Apple Polish...we should go. We can’t do anything more here.” Numb to the world, Apple Polish let herself be lead away. - - - - The alcohol had stopped working. When, exactly, its ability to blunt his dark mood had started to falter was lost on Quill. All that he knew was that he would have started to destroy his surroundings if they didn’t cost so much. So, he had turned to music. A record of one of his favorite musicals spun away on its player, flooding the townhouse with horns, strings and all the other pieces of an orchestra. Not that it was helping either. Nor was the writing. Right now....right now…. Rolling over on the couch, he peered up at the clock. The play that should have been his would be starting soon. There had to be something he could do. Skitch had insulted his work and stolen his production. He had to…. ...punish her. The thought had just popped into his head, but it made such perfect sense. If she was so willing to be a tool of the royals, then she should be prepared to face the consequences! It wasn’t like the human had any real right to be here either. “Yes.” Horns swelled, the record neatly rolling over to the next movement. Quill pushed himself off the couch, the churn of black, purple and green around his horn growing all the more violent. With the music now feeding into his dark mood and his love of theater, Quill stalked towards his bedroom. Had Quill been more lucid as he walked down the hallway, he might have noticed his reflection in one of the mirrors. And he might have seen the way the whites of his eyes were replaced by a sickly green light. Instead he burst into his bedroom, rushed to the closet and began to rummage through his costumes, collected from years of chasing his chosen profession. Discarded choices quickly stacked up in a haphazard pile as he searched with a growing manic glee. A dark cloak from a horror production was pulled loose and- with an embellished flourish- snapped neatly around his neck. It was joined a moment later by a fine tophat, to cut a dashing figure. Spinning away from the closet, he rushed back into the hall and to the steps that lead to the rooftop garden. Bursting through the door, he didn’t slow down, instead galloping all the faster towards the next building on the block. The moon was beginning its journey into the sky, propelled by Luna’s magic to join the stars in illuminating the night. Fueled by an energy that he couldn’t identity, Quill kicked off from his building as he reached the edge. His cape flapped in the night air, billowing out almost like the wings of a thestral. His hooves slammed down on the other side, a small burst of black crystals rising up, before they fell away again. It was as if the blood of his ancestors was being stirred. Once he was done dealing with Skitch, he would show the world just how wrong they were about his family line. House Sombra would be respected! House Sombra wouldn’t have to hide in their lands for daring to take a stand! So, he ran on and on, bounding from room top to roof top with a renewed vigor. - - - - Rarity looked down at Skitch-Sketch with a frown. Her friend was slumped in a chair, head hung, ears slicked back. Truly an embodiment of misery if Rarity had ever seen one. She approached her moping friend, manebrush at the ready. As sad as her friend was, Skitch still had a production to put on tonight. And that would require her to look her best. Skitch reacted somewhat predictably to the brush. “Rarity!” she hissed, pulling away. “Is that a hairbrush or a rake?” “Stop squirming darling! Your mane is a mess! Have you not been brushing?” Skitch blinked back a fresh round of tears as Rarity’s comb found a large tangle. “I’ve had other things on my mind. Besides, it didn’t look tangled to me.” Rarity hummed her disapproval, looking up from the knot that was the current target of her ire. “Spike, would you be a dear and fetch my overnight bag? It should be in the bathroom.” “Sure thing!” The young dragon hopped off the bed where he had been sitting and wove past Pinkie to the bathroom. Pinkie was rummaging through her bag for a dress to wear for the night. Watching her efforts out of the corner of her eye, Rarity raised an eyebrow as Pinkie pulled two different dresses from her suitcase. “What do you think?” she asked, holding up two different garments. “Cotton candy or gingerbread?” Cotton candy was a powder blue affair, with puffy shoulders that were probably the direct inspiration for its nickname. It worked well with Pinkie’s mane, reflecting the round shapes in her mass of curls. Gingerbread…. Rarity wrinkled her snout at the nearly obsessively plain affair. A rich brown color both sleeves and skirt were long enough to fall just to the top of her pasterns. Also utterly devoid of frills or other ornamentation, it reflected a very, very conservative nature that was uncharacteristic of her friend. “Cotton candy. Honestly Pinkie, I don’t know why you keep the other one. Brown is not your color. At all.” “But my dad sent it to me after we got the Elements! I can’t just get rid of it.” Rarity mentally sighed. Far be it for her to come between Pinkie and her family. “Very well. But I insist that you wear the blue one for tonight.” Spike emerged from the bathroom with a pink colored hoofbag. “Here you go Rarity.” “Thank you Spike.” Humming to herself, Rarity rummaged through the contents before picking a perfume bottle from among a few others. The scent of freshly picked rose petals began to fill the room as she sprayed down Skitch’s mane. “What is that?” Skitch asked, wrinkling her snout. “Mane and tail detangler,” Rarity said, giving her brush a little twirl and jumping into it again. Now each stroke glided simply through Skitch’s mane. “Hmm. How do you want your mane...up or down?” Ah, that pout. While Skitch did seem to be quite happy with her new gender she was hardly what Rarity would call...feminine. But not rough and tumble like Applejack or Rainbow Dash either. More of what Rainbow would call an “egghead”. “Do we have to do it at all?” she asked. “I’m going to be backstage the whole time anyway.” “You are putting on a play for two of the princesses in an official setting!” Rarity huffed, beginning to braid Skitch’s mane, deciding to go the “down” route. “The press will be there, and you’ll have to give a bow at the end. I can not abide the thought of you going out there not looking your best!” Skitch looked towards Twilight, who was comparing her own dresses, almost asking for help. But she looked quite distracted herself. “I’m sorry I made things awkward with your professor Twilight,” Skitch said, fidgeting again. “It’s...not your fault Skitch.” Twilight said, with a half sigh. “If it’s anypony’s fault, it’s The Collector.” “No doubt. But I’m still causing her pain just by being here.” Spike rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. “Aw, come on Skitch. Are you really going to go back to beating yourself up every time something happens that you can’t control?” “Maybe? It’s hard to look at my place in this world sometimes and not wonder...what am I doing here? What am I doing with my life?” she muttered, sinking a bit deeper into her chair. “All of this insanity? It’s just to get a place to live again! If I had any common sense, I’d just find a new apartment or something. Like a normal person or pony.” With her mane styling done, Rarity turned her attention to her makeup case. “There is nothing wrong with fighting for a home, friends or family darling.” “I’m sorry, but I’m just so tired of this! I feel like I keep hurting ponies just by being around and I have nobles trying to ruin my life and...and…” “Skitch! You’re not responsible for Professor Polish’s feelings about you!” Twilight said, with a firm stomp of her hoof.. “Especially since we can’t safely change your appearance.” “Twilight’s quite right. Now, close your eyes please dear.” “What?” “Eyes. Close them please.” Skitch fidgeted again but closed her eyes. Her coat was green, so Rarity chose a pale yellow blush and began to lightly dust her friend’s cheek bones. Then came the eyeshadow and lipstick, both blue to complement her natural mane color. She would make sure that her friend would be a beautiful mare for her directorial debut. Perhaps even have her catch the eye of a stallion or two. More social contacts would do her good. “Pucker please,” Rarity said. It would help apply even coverage, after all. Skitch did so. “Lipstick?” “Of course.” “...I’m a pony with lipstick. That’s...weird right? Why is that weird?” “It is most certainly not ‘weird’! It is chic!” As soon as she had made the decision to come to Manehatten, Rarity had also decided to bring a few extra dresses, just in case. Skitch only owned the one she had made for the Grand Galloping Gala and she really wanted it to be saved for that. Picking a daisy yellow affair from her suitcase, she pulled it down over Skitch’s head before she realized what was happening. The ruffled yellow draped loosely across croup and rump, it’s light blue trim matching both mane and lipstick. As Skitch opened her eyes, Rarity held up a hoof mirror. “There we go! Thankfully, we’re about the same size.” Skitch stared at herself, wide eyed, for a good minute before managing to find her voice again. “Jeese, Rarity,” she said after her mind ground back into action. “Am I supposed to be meeting a princess or going on a date?” “Meeting a princess. But if you happen to catch the eye of a dashing stallion, it can’t hurt.” “....I won’t get into how weird that would be for me.” Rarity slid on her own sparkling blue dress, while Twilight picked a simple pale pink one and Spike pulled on a baby dragon sized tuxedo. Rarity plucked a flower from the vase in the room and tucked into Spike’s jacket. “Alright everypony,” Twilight smiled, “It’s time for a play!” “Yeah,” Skitch nodded. “Let’s finish this.”