Celestia frowned introspectively, pausing to listen to the sound of pattering rain and distant rumbling of thunder outside the cafe. She sipped her tea gingerly, before returning her attention to her newspaper, doing her best to ignore the tittering alicorns in front of her.
"You laugh now," she said without looking up. "...but you'll be sorry when you find yourself in dire need of a lucky number and do not have one at hand."
"Celly, you do know that horoscope gibberish is... ah, gibberish, right?" Luna giggled. "By far the dumbest thing to come out of the past millennium. They're like fortune cookies but with more nonsense and 100% less cookie."
"Oh hush," Celestia stuck out her tongue. "I find them fascinating."
"Honestly Luna, I'd think you'd be flattered by astrology," Cadance said, idly swirling a piece of toast in egg yolk. "'Appreciate my night, lowly peasants' and all."
"Careful." Luna pointed a french fry threateningly. "And no, I don't consider turning my night sky into a superstitious sideshow flattering."
"Oh, lighten up!" Celestia huffed. "It's entertaining! And sometimes the predictions are pretty accurate."
"Of course they are," Luna retorted. "It's because they're statistically bound to be eventually. They are the same thing every time."
"Nonsense!"
"Oh? What is the Capricorn horoscope, Celestia?"
"I am a Virgo!"
"Oh, we all know you are. Especially the Princess of Love," Luna winked. "Fine, Madame Celly. Read me the Virgo horoscope."
Celestia narrowed her eyes, aggressively cracked the newspaper open before her, and recited proudly;
"There are big changes in the future for you! Be on the look out for opportunities, in your everyday life or in the actions of friends or co-workers! Your lucky numbers are 45, 46, and 47."
"Hm. How very particular," Luna sniffed. "Alright. Now read me last week's Virgo horoscope."
With a confident nod, Celestia withdrew the horoscope page from the week prior and once more recited;
"You are on the precipice of new developments! Be attentive, or you risk missing signs of subtle change in the actions of your friends or..."
Celestia trailed off.
Luna smirked victoriously.
Cadance peered at the paper. "Her lucky numbers are 42, 43, and 44, by the way."
"Well, admittedly they can be pretty repetitive," Celestia rolled her eyes. "But to be fair, our lives are pretty repetitive."
"No arguments here," Luna sipped her coffee. "Even our boredom has schedule and calculation. Anyways, back to astrology, it is possible that the stars we see have been burned out for millions of years. So I wouldn't trust their otherworldly predictions. Just a friendly reminder of how cosmically insignificant we are—'pale blue dot' or whatever."
"How ego-boosting," Celestia drawled sarcastically. "Nothing quite like an existential crisis to start our days off right. Thanks Luna."
"Eh, I try my best," Luna shrugged. "What about Cadance? What does her horoscope say? Probably something about her being on the brink of adjustments or something."
Celestia shrugged, too, and passed the paper to Cadance.
Cadance took one look at the Aquarius horoscope, and then her expression became one of complete horror. Celestia and Luna could have sworn they saw her bright pink coat fade several shades as shock rippled through her. For a moment the only sound was the rumbling thunder and pouring rain outside.
The sisters shared a glance, and then Luna nervously prodded.
"Well? What does your horoscope say?"
Cadance gulped. Thunder rolled in the distance.
"You're pregnant."
"Wait, what?!"
"That's what it says! Two words! What kind of horoscope is that?!"
"Huh," Celestia frowned. "Well, it's probably nothing. Luna's right, after all. These things are just a load of gibberish."
"Yeah," Cadance chuckled awkwardly. "You're probably right."