Pinkie Prowling
The first thing that Pinkie did when she left The Palace was to dive behind a few crates to the left of the doors. She didn’t really know why they were there. Maybe so that the crew ponies could have a place to rest outside? Peeking over the edge of one crate, her eyes swept across the immediate area. No sign of Quill waiting to yell at Skitchy or anything. Satisfied with herself, Pinkie zipped forward to follow Skitchy as she began to cross the street.
Skitch did not turn around. “...Following me?”
Pinkie blinked, then giggled. “Ooo! How’d you know?” Just as quickly as she asked that question, a thought popped into her head. “Do you have Skitchy sense?!”
Skitch twisted her head about, raising an eyebrow at Pinkie. “What would that even be like?”
“I dunno. It’d be your sense silly!”
“Pinkie, you’re one of a kind.”
Pinkie’s heart jumped happily higher at the smirk that appeared on Skitch’s muzzle. She fell into step at her friend's side. “Soooooo~ooo, why are we going to a telegraph office?”
“Gonna send Twilight something. I think we’ve hit the point where I need to appeal to a higher power.”
Tilting her head slightly, Pinkie tried to puzzle that statement out. Twilight wasn’t a higher power! ...Well, maybe she was when it came to the Elements of Harmony, since they needed the crown to work, but she didn’t see how they would help Skitchy make a play. She was about to ask what Skitchy meant by that, when a shiver up her spine turned her eye.
A pale blue stallion with a balding white mane was just down the block from where they were standing. His hind legs were supported in a wheelchair and he shook a cup in his hooves, begging for bits and jangles. But something about him just make the roots of Pinkie’s coat itch and her ears flop.
Hmm. Itchy coat, shivery spine, flip-floppy ears. Something’s up here.
Humming to herself, Pinkie watched the mystery stallion closely. There had to be some reason she was feeling all squirmy about him. The stallion would occasionally glance their way and glance towards the The Palace amidst his panhoofing. After two glances though, he turned and rattled off through the crowd.
“Pinkie? Are you okay?”
“Oh!” she blinked, snapping back to reality. “Yuppers, I’m okay! Go on ahead Skitchy. I gotta go see something. See you back at The Palace!”
Taking off with a hopping skip, Pinkie began to follow the wheely blue peeper. She’d figure out what he was up to, or make a new friend!
Or both!
- - - -
The Riche empire seemed like a massive, monolithic thing to most ponies. With the banks on one side and Filthy Riche’s Barnyard Bargains on the other, it was easy to think that it was all one united front of money generating excess.
In reality, the two were completely split. Filthy ran his business out of Ponyville and Canterlot, from his home in the former and some offices on the highest ring of the latter. They blended in with the communities that they were a part of, despite being larger than what your average working pony might have.
But Nouveau was a Manehattenite in addition to being- in Skitch-Sketch’s opinion- a total asshole. Both of those facts had a hoof in why his offices took up the top three floors of the Horseshoe Building. First National crossed the breadth and width of Equestria and beyond, reaching into most of Equestria’s immediate neighbors and investing in real estate wherever it could. That decision had been a very deliberate gamble on Nouveau’s part many years back, one that had panned out well. His company owned a great deal of the land that Equestria’s burgeoning industrial neighborhoods were now growing.
But none of that was what was on his mind today. The business was set up to largely run itself by design, letting Nouveau get involved when he wanted to and otherwise letting him reap the rewards.
The human dominated his thoughts today.
Driving the snake that lurked in Equestria’s midst away was of paramount importance. Manehatten had been visited by chaos as well during The Collector's attack. In the panic a few riots had broken out across the city, one of which had trashed several retail stores that he had just finished investing in. They had been effectively gutted and cleaned out by looters. And while his accountants were quick to remind him that it was only a few hundred thousand bits- a fraction of his true value- he saw the truth. Everything that he had built was already threatened once by a human and he would not see it happen again. Not to mention, the human was living in Ponyville with his granddaughter and he wouldn’t see Diamond Tiara hurt either.
Discrediting Skitch-Sketch was a nice start, but it was just that. With the Element Bearers backing her up she would be hard to dislodge. Not without driving a wedge between the human and her "friends". A half dozen plans of how to do just that were scattered across his desk, while a half a dozen others lay safely tucked away in a drawer. Off limits thanks to the pony that sat across from him.
Blueblood, despite being very gung ho about their plans at the beginning, was now beginning to show a bit of uncertainty. Or at least he had been. A few well placed words had seemed to bring him back on board. Still, best to table any actions against the Element Bearers for now.
“So, are you satisfied Blueblood? No plans against the Element Bearers.”
“Yes, I am satisfied for now,” Blueblood sighed, dropping one of the thick envelopes back to desk. “Now that you're not declaring war against the Element Bearers.”
“To be fair, I’m quite sure that the human would have folded before it got to that point,” Nouveau shrugged, “but once we ruin her reputation, running her out of Equestria will be a lot easier.”
“Where did you dig this Quill up anyway?”
“I’ve been trying to buy some property from his family for a while now. Some of their insults directed my way have compared me to the dear Quill. They don’t care for me much.”
The sounds of arguing began to intrude upon their conversation. Feminine pleading mixed with a aggravated male voice. Riche got to his hooves as the door to his office burst open and the aforementioned Quill stormed into the room, his brown furrowed, frown almost baring teeth, ears folded back and eyes watery. Riche’s secretary was right on his tail, incensed as she jabbed at the stallion’s side.
“I told you that you can’t just burst in here! If you don’t leave right now, I’ll send for the guard-”
Riche waved her off. “It’s alright Daisy, I can handle this.”
Daisy looked from boss to new pony, still glowering deeply. But she nodded and backed out of the room, pointing to her own eyes and then to Quill before stomping back to her desk. Quill didn’t pay attention to her, instead keeping his glare fixed right on Riche. The two had met exactly once before and that was when he approached the stallion with Flim and Flam about using his play.
“Did you fund my production just to make a fool out of me?”
“Now, why would you ask something like that?” Riche asked. It was a legitimate question. There was really no reason for Quill to be here, questioning their arrangement, unless something had gone wrong.
“Because the producer role was just signed over to my director! And when I tried to warn her that she was being set up to fail, she laughed in my face and told me that had been happening since she was stuck with my play! And now she’s doing something completely different!”
So, something had gone wrong. Flim and Flam had obviously gone rogue, though the reason why would have to be worked out later. At the moment, Riche had to salvage this situation.
“Skitch-Sketch might believe that, yes. But how much does she really understand? She’s not from Equestria. She doesn’t know our history.”
The frown didn’t leave Quill’s face. “None of the others disagreed with her. They just stared.”
“And here I thought you were used to your family being oppressed.”
Quill bit his lip hard enough to draw blood before responding. “None of this is adding up! I’m not sure who’s playing me, but I’m pretty sure that somepony is!”
“Oh? And you assume it’s me?” Riche pressed a hoof to his breast in mock indignation. “I am a legitimate banker and a pillar of Equestria! She is a creature from outside this world, wearing the form of some other pony!”
“What, exactly, would be her goal? If she’s behind this, all she’s done has doubled her work load and possibly made herself look a fool!”
“How am I supposed to know what thoughts slither through her alien mind? Quill...you have to understand, she may look like a pony, she may talk like a pony. She is not a pony. Don’t assume she has the same thoughts and desires as a pony. But I promise you this. I had nothing to do with this sudden change of events.”
Quill scuffed a hoof along the floor, his frown giving way to a furious pout. Blueblood, by contrast, decided to speak up. “What are we supposed to do then? Skitch might actually slip loose unless we take action.”
Blueblood had a point, of course. But if Skitch-Sketch had been given authority as a producer, forcing her to do the Cadance character assassination piece was out. The only other option to damage her reputation would be to make the current production fail and fail spectacularly. Riche rubbed his chin for a moment. He had already put some bits towards the physical aspects of the production. Nothing that could be done about that. Marketing was likewise locked in place. All of the pieces in the upcoming newspaper releases would discuss Quill’s production and he was quite sure that Skitch didn’t have the money to replace them.
The human’s only option would be to offer interviews to Manehatten’s newspapers about the production, an offer that most would jump at thanks to the fake interview “she” had already given. But, if he could block that, then Skitch’s production would most likely fail financially. Then he could twist the knife.
Really, it was a long way away from what he wanted, tieing her to a scandal involving the royals. But it would have to do.
“Alright Blueblood, Quill, let’s go pay the papers a visit. Then perhaps send a message.”
- - - -
“I really should have brought Rarity along.”
Everywhere Pinkie Pie looked, she was surrounded by nice looking buildings, full of trendy shops selling clothes and jewelry and sweets and what looked like coffee and- “Oooo! Cupcakes!” she said, zipping over to the shop that had caught her attention. The glass was cool against her snout as she examined the small forest of fluffy cake, topped with delicate and lacy drizzles of frosting. “Mmmm….frosting…”
But almost as quickly as her mind had seized upon the delicious cupcakey goodness, her memory spoke up.
“No! Focus Pinkie!” she said, pulling herself aware from the delicious looking sweets. “You’re here for a reason!”
That reason had disappeared into one of the other buildings down the block, so Pinkie pushed the thoughts of cake from her mind and skipped her way towards the square, white stone (limestone unless she was mistaken), green roofed building. Sitting at an intersection of two streets, it sat on the corner, it’s thin tall windows and intricate carving making it look like a doll house. Or something that Rarity would build.
Slipping through the entrance Pinkie was greeted by a few doors and some stairs, leading up to a second floor. The wheelchair that the mysterious stallion had been using lay discarded in the hall, near the base of the staircase.
“Ah ha! So he was up to something!”
Hooking a hoof over the edge of the chair, Pinkie pulled it along as she hopped up the stairs. Hitting the landing, she moved to the first door and knocked. The door creaked open a few moments later, an older mare poking her head out. With a pale lavender coat and peach colored mane that was pulled back in a bun she reminded Pinkie of her mother.
“Hi!” Pinkie grinned, “My name’s Pinkie Pie! I’m looking for a pony. Blue coated stallion, might have had this wheelchair?”
“I’m afraid not dear.”
The door was quickly snapped closed. Pinkie shrugged and moved down to the next door. This one was answered by a younger stallion, about her own age. A dark brown fedora mark offset his golden-wheat colored coat and dark brown mane and tail. Said mane was kept cut short as to not interfere with the actual dark brown fedora he was wearing.
But, more importantly, Pinke could see past him into the living room, where the strange stallion from before was sitting, rocking back and forth on the cushions slightly.
“Ah ha! There you are!” Pinkie declared, jabbing a hoof at him. “Why were you watching us at The Palace?”
“Oh, I’m sorry. Did my uncle bother you?” the new stallion asked.
“Your uncle?”
“Yeah…I’m really sorry if he upset you at all. He’s just obsessed with that place, Miss…?”
“Pinkie Pie! Who are you?”
“Fancy Hooves,” he answered with a very friendly smile. “Again, just let me apologize for my uncle’s actions. Tried to make it as an actor before his mind started to go.”
He twirled a hoof to emphasize his point which seemed to set off Fancy’s uncle. “I will not accept anything less than a full dressing room to myself, four dozen purple hydrangeas! HOOVES! HOOVES MARCHING ACROSS ZEBRICA!”
Pinkie blinked, taking a half step back from the door. Despite the fact the hallway was empty it felt like a few dozen eyes were suddenly on her. Maybe her Pinkie Sense had been wrong this time?
“Can I have his wheelchair?” Fancy asked. “I know that he doesn’t actually need it, but there’s kind of a sentimental value attached to it.”
“Uhh...okay….”
She pushed it forward, Fancy Hooves quickly pulling it back into the apartment. “I’ll make sure he doesn’t bother you again.”
He clicked the door closed, leaving Pinkie feeling very confused. She had been so sure that pony had been up to something. But he had looked pretty out of it just then….
“No! I have to know for sure!”
There was a window at the end of the hallway, so Pinkie trotted for it, slid it open and peeked out. A little veranda was clearly visible past another window, a pair of doors made up of a lot of little panes of glass leading back into an apartment. Ducking back in, she glanced towards the door she had just been at. They looked like they lined up evenly.
Returning to the window Pinkie leaned forward, half crawling through the gap. Scrunching up her face and sticking her tongue out Pinkie reached for the ledge of the next window over. As her hoof landed on the stone, she kicked off with her hind legs, swinging herself out and over. Hind hooves landed solidly against the side of the building, she began to shuffle towards the veranda, one inch at a time.
“Hop, skip and a jump!” she said, pulling herself up and onto the veranda. Diving behind a pair of chairs, she peered over the back of one and into the apartment. Fancy Hooves and his uncle were talking, and Pinkie could just make out their conversation through the open doors.
“You went and staked out The Palace, didn’t you Mozz?” Fancy Hooves asked.
“I wanted to be thoroughly informed of all relevant players! Unknown variables lead to chaos in plans.”
“And did you factor in the chaos value that one of the Elements of Harmony would add to this plan? And what’s with the wheelchair?”
He motioned to the device in question with a hoof.
“...What can I say, I love the classics.” Mozz shrugged.
Fancy rolled his eyes. “Well, if the classics are done almost getting us caught, can we work on planning the actual job now? We need to be ready when we get the signal.”
Pinkie bit back the urge to gasp. She was right! They were up to something!
Mozz trotted over to a table, tapping a hoof against a stack of papers there. “I’ve been thinking about that actually and I think we need to change the plan. If we really want to derail Riche’s banking empire, then arranging the sales of shares to other companies isn’t going to cut it. Riche can always just stop the sale before the transaction could pass the Celestia’s regulatory laws.”
“And since you’ve been thinking about this, you have a replacement plan?”
“That I do!” Mozz grinned. “The simplest way to bring down the metaphorical elephant is with a bigger elephant or, in this case, alicorn.”
“You want to use an alicorn to wreck the business of one of the most powerful bankers in Equestria?”
Fancy’s tone was quite deadpan but Mozz grinned a bit wider. Pinkie just stared. She might not know Canterlot and the princesses as well as Twilight, but this sounded super duper crazy!
“In this case, the law is actually on our side. Equestrian statutes are quite clear that when a bank finds themselves short of funds to cover withdrawals, that a crown audit must be conducted to ensure that the bank isn’t engaged in any malfeasance.”
Fancy tilted his head slightly, but Pinkie could see his eyes light up. “That sounds vaguely familiar….So, you want to arrange a bits shortage and let things go from there? Mozz...there’s no way we could steal enough money from the banks to make that work.”
“All we have to do is hit the largest branch in Manehatten. It not only serves the nobility but, more importantly, there’s a slight flaw in the design of the vault. Can I borrow your sketchpad?”
Retrieving both it and a stick of charcoal from the art supply shelf, Nickel passed both over to his friend. Mozz quickly set to drawing as he continued to explain.
“It was built out of an old set of barracks before they were expanded. I dug up some old plans that show an old drain pipe, with the entrance to the stack right under the floor, that runs down into the closed off sections of the sewer system.”
“So, what, we pry a section of the floor up, dump the gold into the sewer and collect it later?”
“I have some acid that’ll eat through the seal of the flagstones and some glue that’ll let us put it back. We steal the gold, tip off the crowns, and let nature take its course.”
“Your own personal blend?”
“Like I’d use anything else.”
Fancy considered the drawn plans for a moment before nodding. “So, we were hired by nobles to ruin a banker, that we’re going to do by stealing from nobles?”
“An irony upon which we’ll have plenty of time to ruminate over while we count our ill gotten gains.”
Fancy considered things for a moment, before nodding. “Alright. Let’s go case the place out.”
They headed out the front door, leaving Pinkie on the veranda with a whole bunch of questions and conflicting feelings kicking around her head.
“Ohhhh...now what do I do?”
- - - -
Skitch-Sketch looked at what she had written for what felt like the third time. A small mountain of crumpled pieces of paper lay scattered across the writing counter of the crowded telegraph office. A few impatient ponies, waiting for some space at the crowed table to open up, tapped their hooves in an rapid patter to try and make her hurry up. Ignoring them, she focused on the letter in front of her. This was her Hail Mary Pass. The word of her new status would inevitably work its way back to Riche and then he'd start to get creative. Jacoby Flynn, griffin extrodinare, had summed up battling nobility quite well. It was not a sprint but a long, grinding war of attrition.
This was her calling for help.
It was a message within a message. The first section was addressed to Twilight and cut straight to the point, asking if she could forward the next part directly onto Princess Celestia and reiterating that it was really, really important. The section where princess part had taken some thought.
Dear Princess Celestia,
It’s Skitch-Sketch. I...had a great deal of consternation over whether or not to write you this letter. After all, ponies that have done a lot more for this country haven’t called upon you directly for help.
The long and the short of it is that I’ve been lured to Manehatten by a pony named Nouveau Riche, the pony who controls the deed of my house, supposedly to do some special effects work on a play. I’m also sure that reports of “my” statement to the press about making some kind of grand production over the history of Princess Cadance has reached you by now.
I would just like to say, that wasn’t me. I’m pretty sure that Riche hired a Changeling or something. But I do find myself now directing and producing a play. Someone has jumped off Riche’s script, so I’m quite sure he’s going to try and retaliate somehow and from where I’m sitting, the only option I really have is to make this thing a success.
So, I am officially inviting you, Luna and Cadance to our grand premiere in three days time to see an adaptation of one of my favorite movies on the stage. It is called The Producers and is the story of a producer and an accountant who- as part of an attempt to make a great deal of money- try to make the worst play, EVER MADE! Naturally, the play turns out to be loved and their plans fall apart. I like to consider this one a bit of a showcase of human media. Maybe kind of show all my detractors that I’m not like The Collector.
I would be honored if you could join us.
Your visiting alien,
Skitch-Sketch
Satisfied that it was as good as it was going to be, Skitch slid the message and a decent stack of bits across the counter to a bored and grumpy looking stallion in a dark blue cap.
“Send it as soon as possible, please.”
“That’s what the extra bits are for lady. Where can we find you if they send a response?”
“Either at the Palace Theater or the Royal Hotel.”
Sweeping the bits into a drawer, the employee swept off to send the telegraph. With her part done, at least for now, Skitch turned and headed out. Now it was time for the final rush towards the finish line. Head down, smash on through, and let the dice fall where they may.
- - - -
The needle dove into the fabric again, propelled by a flick of magic and expertly aimed from years of experience. As the seam was stitched into place Rarity lifted the jacket up, examining it for any flaws or missed stitches. Between herself, Coro, Suri, and the few ponies that had been waiting for their costumes to be fitted, the small wardrobe room had been rather cramped. Thankfully, the three of them were getting the work done quickly enough, and were done to one more fitting for now. Satisfied that the jacket was without major flaw, Rarity waved Marigold over to her.
“See how this fits dear.”
Marigold slid the jacket on, rolling his shoulders a few times to see how the cloth felt on his figure. Rarity watched, keenly observing the way it moved, making sure that it wasn’t pulling too tight, or otherwise restricting the actor’s movement.
“Feels fine to me Miss Rarity.”
Rarity beamed, neatly taking the coat as it was passed back to her. As Marigold left, she neatly folded the garment and set it aside for now. “Smashing! Suri, Coco, how are yours coming?”
Coco smoothed out the skirt of an elegant gown intended for the brief appearance of Princess Cadance in the new play. It was supposed to be a minor appearance, near the end. More of an in joke that Skitch had thrown in at the last moment for those familiar with the behind the scenes story.
“The gown is done,” she said with a nervous smile.
Suri looked over the racks of other finished a clipboard and list in hoof. “M’kay, so are the other suits and our smoking jacket for our leads, and most of the bits for our extras. Really the last big thing is our fake Sombra outfit.”
Rarity frowned. “Ah, yes. For the play within the play.”
From what Skitch had told her so far, it was a part of the production that was supposed to read as funny to the audience for the sheer audacity and absurdity of it all. Indeed, she described it as “crossing the line twice”, though Rarity wasn’t entirely sure what the line was in this situation. Expectations, perhaps? Either way, it called for the right kind of costume.
While her first instinct was to create a historically accurate copy of Sombra’s costume, she wasn’t entirely sure if that was right. Over the top needed something….more. Maybe some glitter and sequins to make the lord of shadows and darkness sparkle like a gem?
Idly reaching out with her magic, Rarity yanked her sketchbook over and flipped it open to a blank page. She was surprised to find herself looking at her designs for the World Cup uniforms-
No.
Her eyes narrowed as she examined the sketches. These weren’t hers. Similar, perhaps, but clearly not her line work. Before she could consider that much further, the book was ripped from her grip by a pink hoof. Frowning deeply now, Rarity looked up into the wide eyes of Suri Polomare.
“That’s your book, I’m assuming.”
Rarity noticed the harshness in her voice and the almost accusatory tone, but she didn’t particularly care at the moment either.
“Yes,” Suri said, after a few uncomfortable moments.
“And you decided to steal my designs because?”
“I didn’t steal your designs! Those are my own! One hundred percent!”
“Why are you doing them then? My father hired me for this particular job.”
It seemed that Suri was considering what to say at first, as she bit her lip. But then with a new sense of resolve, she nodded once.
“Not anymore. Now I’m doing the job.”
“...What?”
“I don’t know what to say if your father hasn’t told you, but we spoke and he’s letting me handle the designs from here on out.”
Rarity blinked, then stomped forward, a truly furious sneer appearing on her muzzle. “You followed me? You convinced me to speak to my father and followed me?! All to steal a contract?”
Suri snorted. “That wasn’t my plan or anything, m’kay. I just wanted in. You’re the one who decided to have a fight with your dad! Besides, this is probably better for both of you, since you obviously need time apart.”
The sting of embarrassment burned its way through Rarity, her ears flicking flat as bile rose in the back of her throat. “You-”
“Don’t blame me for driving your family away! I don’t know what you did, but you’re the one who hurt your father enough to make me a more attractive candidate!”
That argument slapped Rarity across the face, making her take a shocked step backwards. She dearly and truly wished to argue that point, but the fact remained that she had gone there to try and make up over a previous outburst and had instead made things worse.
“Leave. Please.”
Suri seemed ready to argue but the objection died in her throat as Coco rushed for the door. So, she followed her assistant with a huff. Once they were gone, Rarity kicked the door closed behind her, flopped down onto a pile unneeded costumes, and cried.
She wasn’t sure how long she had been trying when there was a series of rapid hoof knocks on the door. The rapid and disjointed pattern was a dead give away to the identity of her guest.
“Go away Pinkie! I want to be alone!”
“But Rarity! It’s really important! I found ponies who are planning super bad stuff!”
“Oh, go talk to Skitch about it! I’m sure she’ll have some marvelous ideas on how to handle it!”
“But-”
“Pinkie, leave me alone!”
Slowly and with great hesitation, Pinkie’s hoof falls slowly moved away from the room. Rarity returned to her misery, great sobs wracking her body, memories of every fight she had ever had with her father playing through her mind. The tears flowed and flowed and flowed, until she was hiccuping on dry sobs, the dress under her hooves thoroughly soaked. The sound of hoof falls approached again, quickly this time, and three sharp knocks echoed against the door.
“I said, I want-”
The door was forcibly swung open and Rarity twisted to see Skitch-Sketch stride into the room with a determined look on her face. Sitting down next to Rarity, Skitch draped a leg over her body and pulled her friend close.
“You’re back,” Rarity blinked, leaning into the hug all the same.
“Yup. Pinkie told me you were down here.”
Pinkie’s head peeked into the room now, uncharacteristically nervous and downtrodden. “Rarity? Now can I come in?”
“Get in here Pinkie,” Skitch said, booking no argument.
With a relieved smile, Pinkie belly flopped onto the dress pile, also throwing a leg around Rarity and hugging her as well.
“Hug sandwich!”
Rarity giggled in spite of her misery, the warmth of her friends coats and bodies almost a blanket. Rubbing at her eyes with the back of her hoof, she took a shuddering breath, grappling with her emotions.
“What happened?” Skitch asked, maintaining her hug.
“I ruined my relationship with my father and then that charming Suri Polomare swooped in and stole the World Cup contract. Because my father and I need ‘distance’. Because it’s all my fault.”
“Why is it your fault?” Pinkie asked.
“And Suri is totally fired,” Skitch said.
Rarity snorted. “Please, spare me your nonsense Skitch. What Suri did was despicable but it wasn’t tied to anything we’re doing.”
“Okay, first of all, now that I have authoritah, I’ll fire whoever I want. And two….”
Skitch peered at her for a moment, before reaching down, grabbing Rarity’s tail in her teeth and giving a sharp yank. Rarity’s yelp was quite undignified as she was unceremoniously dragged back to her hooves.
“What are you doing darling?”
“We’re going to get some ice cream and talk.”
“Really? Ice cream?”
“Yeah!” Pinkie grinned, bouncing right out the door. “ICE CREAM!”
Skitch nodded, throwing a leg over her withers and beginning to guide her towards the door. “Ice cream.”
An argument was halfway out of Rarity’s mouth already. But Skitch resolutely pressed a hoof to her lips and began to steer her towards the door. Misery still clinging to her, Rarity didn’t offer much resistance as she was lead upstairs, past the groups of still practicing performers and towards the doors. Skitch paused only long enough to wave the crowd down.
“Flash, you’re in charge while I’m gone. Run them through some of those musical numbers you’ve written so far. And check with Quartz to see how we’re doing on the sets.”
“You’re leaving again? You just got back.”
“I won’t be gone long. My friend needs me,” Skitch answered, before her eyes swept through the crowd for her next target. Suri was standing near the back of the group, almost like she was hiding. Not that it saved her from Skitch’s angry glare. “Polomare. You’re fired. If you have any brains in that skull of yours, don’t be here when I get back.”
“What? Why?”
Rarity felt Skitch’s muscles tense under her coat, the hug growing a little tighter. “Just...don’t. Don’t try to weasel out of what you did to my friend. I am serious. Make yourself scarce.
Rarity smiled to herself, following Skitch with a little more cheer. At least her friends were there when she needed them.
- - - -
Chocolate. A balm for the spirit.
Pinkie Pie had honed in on a delightful looking ice cream parlor in quick order. Quick enough that Rarity wondered if her friend had a seperate sweet sense in addition to her Pinkie Sense.
Grabbing another full spoon of her rich chocolate treat, Rarity wolfed it down. She was showing very little of her usual lady-like poise in her attack of the chocolate sundae, with chocolate sauce and perfectly fresh cherries for the toppings The bowel was already half empty, and they had just gotten their treats a few minutes ago. Pinkie’s face was partially obscured by her collection of ice cream flavors as she ate away. Skitch was leaning back in in their circular booth, a dish of vanilla and mint bobbing in her aura.
“Feeling better? Ice cream heals all wounds.” she said.
Rarity sighed. “Well, yes, perhaps a little. But I still don’t know what I’m going to do about my father.”
Skitch’s spoon poked at her treat, the human turned unicorn pointedly not looking at Rarity. “I’m not sure I’m really qualified to talk about this Rare. Things weren’t exactly serene between my family and I before I…left.”
“Darling...if anything I’d say that makes you more qualified. You’ve been here before.”
For a moment, Rarity feared that she had pushed too far, for Skitch’s half hearted stabs at her ice cream grew more intense, spoon clacking loudly against the bowl. But then she put both down, straightened up in her seat and gave a simple nod.
“Okay...like I said a few days ago when we first got here, I am Jewish. We’re...kind of a religion, ethnic group and nationality all rolled into one. ….It’s complicated. But the important thing is that there’s a nation of Jewish people called Israel. To paraphrase a whole bunch of very complex history, it owes its existence to a colonial empire pulling out of the area it was in and telling two different groups that they could both have the land. My own people and the followers of another one of the world’s great faiths, Islam.”
Rarity wrinkled her snout. Some of the other powers on Equis engaged in colonial ambitions, something that Celestia had spoken out against multiple times.
“It was really the starting point of a bunch of conflicts that would span the next fifty plus years. Jews and Arabs fighting each other over who deserves to stay there. And because it’s all tied up in already volatile subjects like religion, nationalism and ethnic pride it quickly became a ‘my people, right or wrong’ kind of thing. And for my dad...being Jewish was a really important part of his identity. I was raised to be a good Jewish boy and he even had me take Hebrew lessons when I was younger. Never mind that the number of people who speak that language in the United States is statistically insignificant!”
Pinkie reached over and rubbed her friend’s back. “Calm down Skitchy.”
“...Sorry. It’s just…,” Skitch sighed, giving a helpless shurg. “Look, as I grew older, I started to stop believing in the existence of God and the whole Isreal and Palestine conflict started to just look like real black on black morality, with the poor people who just wanted to live their daily lives caught in the middle. So, I stopped going to temple. I stopped really doing Jewish things...at least the ones tied to the religion specifically. And my dad and I fought all the time about that.”
“I have to ask then darling...were you able to solve that?”
“Kind of…. Eventually, it became a topic that we both agreed to just not talk about. At all.”
“I don’t like the implications of that darling. I...I want my father to accept me. Not avoid me. I want him to trust my decisions.”
“He helped you become a mare though,” Pinkie said. “He cares.”
Rarity pouted. “But he thinks that I’m lying to myself about what I like.”
“Not to start up a game of misery poker, but that already puts you way ahead of a lot of transgendered people back on earth,” Skitch said. “He could have put you in a camp to try and have your deviant lifestyle prayed or beaten away.”
The knee jerk reaction came fast and furious. “Skitch! How dare you say that my father would do something so...so horrible!”
Her friend’s expression was impassive. “I’m not throwing slings towards your dad Rare. I’m saying that by the standards of some of the horror stories I know from my own country, you’ve had a very...good experience transitioning.”
“That doesn’t mean her feelings can’t be hurt Skitchy.”
“I’m not saying that either! I guess what I’m saying is that….well, he might not ever really understand it. If you were a sporty little colt, reconciling that with the fashionista is just going to be hard. I can only imagine how my family would react to me right now.”
“So, am I supposed to just give up? Let us...drift apart?”
“Of course not! But take a little bit of time for things to cool down and then try to reach out again. It might never work out, but it can’t hurt to try.”
“Yeah! And you’ll always have us, and Applejack and Rainbow Dash and Fluttershy and Twilight and Spike to help!” Pinkie said, almost bouncing out of her seat.
Sighing, Rarity nodded. “I suppose that you are right. At least I can always count on my friends.”
A current of magic raised Skitch’s dish. “Here’s to friends then.”
“To friends,” Rarity responded, raising hers.
“Friends!” Pinkie beamed, brandishing her boat like sundae in both hooves.
The clink of dishes rang through the booth and Rarity smiled, feeling a little bit better. Returning to her dessert, the chocolate flavor stirred another memory in the back of her mind.
“Pinkie darling, didn’t you have something you wanted to tell me earlier?”
“Oh. Yeah.”
Pinkie’s mood fell back into a moping downcast as she drummed her hooves off the edge of the table. “I followed a pony that was watching the theater. I heard him and a friend talking about stealing a whole lot of bits from that Riche meanie.”
“Really? Why?” Skitch asked.
“They want to wreck his company and force Celestia to take over. I didn’t know if I should tell anypony, so I wanted to ask Rarity for advice.”
“Why ever would you not tell somepony? What they’re doing is wrong! And what about all the ponies that would be hurt by losing their bits?”
“I know, I know! But he took Skitch’s house! He was going to ruin Marigold’s career just to ruin Skitch’s reputation! He’s a horrible pony!”
“Maybe so,” Skitch frowned, massaging her temples. “But as much as I’d love to see him crash and burn...it isn’t right. And I’m not going to make one of my friends and an Element of Harmony be so...under hooved.”
Any further comments from Skitch were cut off by Pinkie, who threw a leg around her and yanked her into a hug.
“Thanks Skitchy.”
“We’ll telegraph Twilight on the way back, and she can message Celestia. Probably best that she know what some ponies are planning on using her for. And then...we put on a show.”
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Pinkie seems a little off:
She seems too distracteble. The thing to remembers is that she is an eccentric genius. She has an eidetic memory and can rapidly do complex mental mathematics as seen in S02E18 "A Friend in Deed". You can have Pinkie climb up walls like SpiderMare:
All ponies can use magic for manipulating objects using their hooves, manes, tails, and wings. The Earthen direct far more magic through their hooves than the other ponies, giving them agromancy (the ability to make plants grow) and geomancy (the ability to make magical gems grow (RockFarming) and EarthBending). Pinkie can direct to much magic into her hooves that she can walk on walls (S04E14 "Filli Vanilli"). You can have her walk up the wall to the window for easedropping.
Oh this build up to the play is good!
I spotted a few typos and other errors not caught via spellchecker while reading.
First:
Statutes. Note the third t. Big difference.
In the letter to Princess Celestia you have .., instead of ... in the first line.
Last, not mast. Also, in-joke is, I believe, supposed to be hyphenated.
I may have missed a few more that someone else sees.
6394492
I suppose you are correct there. Somehow though, that doesn't feel quite as amusing as Pinkie going all Mission Impossible like she did at the beginning of The Cutie Map.
6394836
He's that, wrapped up in a kind of saccharine naivete that comes from living in Celestia's Equestria. He's had it so good, that he doesn't know how bad nations can go.
6395550
Doh! Thanks again for catching this stuff.
Hey, that's a thing that I wrote! I'm in the media, ma!