//------------------------------// // 4: Sunset Shimmering // Story: Sabbatical, or the Study of Garden Gnome Anatomy in South Perjina // by Casca //------------------------------// The forest had been pretty meh on all accounts. Same old trees, same old brush, same old insects—nobody ever mentioned the insects in books or stories or motivational speeches about journeys of self discovery. A very convenient omission that helped to romanticize what was actually a sweaty, sticky, itchy process. It was the flies that were the worst. Equestrian flies were literally horse flies, and horseflies were the worst sort. These just ran into her snout, flitting in and out of her sight, up and down her skin, triggering the slightest of itches in the highest of frequencies. And it wasn't as if she could just brush them away with a hand any more, because trying to walk with three feet—hooves—while the other arm swung uselessly was somehow so much more difficult than walking with four, or walking with two. Sunset had really not given her humanization the recognition it deserved. Being human for so long had made her forget certain things. It was so strange, when she thought about it—how the phrase was "it's like riding a bicycle, you never truly forget". There were no bicycles in Equestria. Walking on fours was somehow easier to forget than riding a bicycle, which required her to change species and dimensions. It wasn't just being a pony that was taking getting used to. It was being a unicorn too. It was the odd weight between her eyes, and the fact that she could now actually use magic. She had grieved over not having it for the longest time. Suffered jealousy, rage, despair even. Tried to rationalize it away, tried to distract herself from the... the hunger, of missing power, by replacing it with silly high school clique politics. She remembered distantly the Friendship Games, and the fear she had felt when Twilight had sucked away the trace amounts of magic from her life. The little that she had, the change in a pauper's can, rattled down the drain while bystanders stood with their phones out, ready to capture the next viral video. They were paupers too—these faceless figures in the scene in the world of this unnecessary metaphor—so poor of, so desiring a different sort of commodity. Being a unicorn wasn't difficult, honestly, it was just remembering to be one. It wasn't even about being aware that she could use magic—her old unicorn self didn't need to be aware, because she just was. Something that went along the lines of: if observation was even to be considered, then it wasn't as natural as nature, since nature did not observe itself. Nature didn't observe, period—not these trees around them or the insects. They just were, and did what they did, and in one very particular case, bee what they bee, without ever knowing or realizing. Starlight Glimmer evidently had no such troubles. "Stop fidgeting," she had said, and a ray of heat sizzled the fetlocks off an irritated hoof as collateral. She had looked so pleased as the ashes fell to the ground. "Gottem." "Whoops—hold still, Sunset." Bzzt. "Another one?" Bzzt. "Gosh. Persistent creatures." Bzzt. Starlight Glimmer had tremendously accurate aim. Honestly, it was impressive, though also concerning at how callous she was towards life. Not that Sunset wouldn't have killed the pests with a can of Begone or a handy electric swatter, of course. "I'm so sleepy," mumbled Starlight, as they drew near to the edge of the forest, and orange light spilled from the heavens, forcing Sunset to squint. It was another cliff—the rest of the forest was spread below them, boring irregular patches that led to a wide horizon. The sun in its fiery glory was retiring and making a grand fuss of it, burning the cloudless sky as a last hurrah. The two sat down on the grass. Starlight curled up and leaned on Sunset, sighing contentedly. "Sunsets always make me sleepy," said Starlight. "Never knew why. Don't like orange light, I guess." "Do I make you sleepy?" said Sunset. "I'm orange." "You're more of a goldie. Golden Shimmer. Makes more sense." It was the nicest thing anyone had called her in a while, even if it was delivered in a drowsy slur. It was a bit sad. Yet Sunset couldn't help but feel warm inside. "You like sunsets?" asked Starlight. "They're okay," said Sunset, truthfully. "Why do I feel so sleepy when I see the sunset?" asked Starlight. "God knows," laughed Sunset softly, stroking Starlight's mane. "Who's God? And why does she know?" "I'd rather not go down that road." Sunset exhaled. "It's a human thing. You know, they teach you that there's three things you don't talk about: politics, religion, money. And God's in the second bit." "Why don't you talk about politics?" Sunset frowned and said nothing. "Or money?" This one was easy. "Maybe it's uncomfortable. You know, if some ponies are poorer and they feel ashamed of it, you don't want to push them into a subject they don't like." "But everypony has everything they need. Money's just for extra stuff. I mean, we're in Equestria. Who'd feel ashamed of not having more money?" "I dunno. Other ponies." "And what's religion anyways?" "It's... like Celestia. She rules the sun and the world and can do whatever she wants. But she always chooses good." "Why can't you talk about Celestia?" Sunset bit her lip. "I don't know." "Did you talk to Celestia?" "No. I haven't spoken to her since, well... since she sent me away." "Good riddance then." Sunset Shimmer was about to make an excuse to get up—probably about setting up camp for the night. But then she looked at Starlight's sleeping face. It wasn't smiling, and there was a bit of tension around the jaws, but it was relaxed. Maybe she could let Starlight rest just a little longer before she pushed her off her lap. This wasn't a bad thing. Yes, this was just fine, as Sunset closed her eyes and waited—waited for the humid warmth of dying day to pass into whispering breeze and twinkling stars and the noise of waking crickets. Soon, they would retire, into a small palace constructed from conjured crystal and barricaded with spikes to ward off bears and the like, but it didn't have to be now. For now, they could wait on the cliff, bugs and all, and it was okay.