3 - How to Spend a Day Off (And Learn the History of Magic)
Razzle scratched her head in a “what?” sort of wonder.
Though she had come to the right address, the place didn’t look like anyone’s house. The signboard over her head clearly stated Gabriel’s Emporium which, judging by the shopwindow, was some kind of a general goods store. The filly looked to the two ends of Ivory Street soaked in the cold, morning drowsiness, failing to suppress a yawn. For the first time in the history of weekends, she had woken up before ten o’clock, but her heroic deed was going to go in vain if she had ended up in the wrong place.
She peeked through the window again. Perhaps she got it wrong. Maybe Glavia just wanted to meet up here and didn’t mean she lived anywhere between the shop shelves.
“Up here,” she heard a calming voice from the overhead window. “Hello, Razzle.”
“There you are! I almost thought I got the address wrong! Why did you want to meet up at a store?”
“I live upstairs. Please, come in. I’m coming down.”
Inside, Glavia led the filly around the counter and through the beaded curtain to the backstage of the store. It felt exciting in a way, as regular customers weren’t supposed to walk where only the employees were allowed to go, but the charm waned when the store turned into a typical house with a corridor, some doors, and a staircase leading straight to Glavia’s room.
The decor struck Razzle with its simplicity. Just a bed, desk, chair, and a single cupboard standing next to a chest, none of which looked new but matched nicely with the vintage old feel of the floor.
Then she turned around.
The entire wall had colorful drawings pinned to it. They featured a variety of topics in great detail, from still nature through the architecture of Canterlot up to the citizens and their everyday lives, often depicted as seen by someone sitting on the rooftop level. Although there were no two similar pictures anywhere across the dozen rows of different scenes, they all had one thing in common. They were expressive and colorful, exploding with a variety of hues bringing the captured moments to life. Among the white sheets of paper one drawing was framed. It presented Glavia herself in the company of a pegasus and a thestral and must have been especially important to her, for the amount of artistry poured into it made it hard to tell from a photograph.
“Did you make all these?” Razzle asked, to which the griffon nodded. “I knew you were into drawing and stuff, but this is… just wow.” She walked along the wall. “Let me see… Chariot Plaza on a rainy day. A baker taking the buns out of the oven. Oh, and here’s the jinn at the library, nice one. Shouldn’t you be taking commissions from the Princesses, or, I don’t know, everyone? You could probably find a lot of high society ponies who’d love to decorate their houses with these. Oh! That’s the Gibbous Moon Plaza, I live nearby! Like, here.” She placed her hoof right on the Royal Castle in winter. “Well, not here here. But seriously, you should have a cutie mark in drawing.”
“Thank you for saying that. But drawing is a hobby and I would like to keep it that way. For now. After school—we’ll see.”
On the desk, Razzle found a stack of unfinished pictures. “Hey, is that the Element of Harmony you were drawing the other day?”
“It will be my fifth or sixth take,” Glavia replied. “There just doesn’t seem to be a crayon red enough to fully represent the ruby shine. Here, and here”—she pointed to the sides of the gemstone—“I’m thinking about adding us and the boys, looking over the pedestal. It shouldn’t be too hard. I am also thinking about adding flames around, here, like we’ve seen it. But it is difficult to separate the red of the fire from the red of the Element. I tried a yellow halo, but it didn’t seem right for me.”
“Have you tried using paints, maybe?”
Glavia’s soft grumble was as far as her exasperation went. “No, it would be even worse. With a crayon it’s simple because I can tell what kind of hue I will get depending on how strong I press it. In painting, it is also about the thickness of the brush, amount of water, paper quality and the drying time. I tried painting a few times, nothing too serious. But it was fun. I’m sure there are other things to make pictures with, but most of the time they are not as quite available as crayons and pencils.”
“This one’s really sweet,” Razzle said, stopping by a lone figure staring into the sunset. “I like how the pony sort of mixes but also completes the rest of the sun.”
“I call it Sunset at the Terrace Avenue,” Glavia said and took the picture off the wall. “You can have it if you want.”
“No way. It wouldn’t be fair if I just took it. How much is it?”
“It wouldn’t be fair if I charged a friend. Please, accept it as a gift for your birthday.” She chuckled lightly at the filly’s bewildered stare. “It is next week, is it not? I remember you mentioning the day on some lunch break when everyone was still getting to know each other. Well, almost everyone, but I myself was nearby, at least. Around the corner and behind the table, nearby, but it’s not like it is ever a problem to hear you.”
Razzle melted down momentarily. As much as she was ashamed to admit, she had been way too eager to judge “that weird griffon girl who talked to nobody but her doodles” in the first few weeks of the school year. Now, as she stood mesmerized by the art gallery and had its piece handed to her, Razzle knew that she, too, would be quick to pack her things right after the bell if it meant sparing more time on her hobby. Shame and blame—she could hear her guilt screaming at her for being a jerk of a filly. Of course she hadn’t been the only one who considered Glavia an odd bird, but that didn’t justify her backwards attitude. She should definitely work on walking in someone else’s horseshoes, or in that case, her friend’s fur and feathers.
“I guess you really were hiding something. Thank you,” Razzle said. “So, you said you wanted to stroll around the city? Or are we staying in?”
“I was thinking about visiting the harbor if that’s okay with you. There is little to do around here anyway. Unless you want to help with running the store.”
Razzle snickered. “Yeah, I’m not that bored,” she said. “Let’s go see some airships.”
Glavia grabbed her talisman and sketchbook and threw a simple denim jacket on herself. Unlike Razzle’s wear for the day, the jacket had a lovely ragtag appearance—the sleeves were rolled up and the stonewashed material looked very natural, as if the white markings were actual signs of it wearing out. Razzle looked upon herself. She didn’t pay much attention to clothes, she relied on professionals in that. Mrs. Sassy Saddles from the Canterlot Carousel understood that a filly might not like fancy skirts or dresses and was always ready to recommend something practical, like the orange, boiled cashmere funnel neck sweater with a big silvered zipper from the autumn collection. Its only downside was that it came from some limited edition or something equally meaningless. But hey, at least it was warm and fuzzy in touch, like a bunny!
When the girls went downstairs, ready to storm the city with their casual couture, a big-boned griffon crossed their path.
“What in four winds—oh, a little pony?” he said with a voice that would split a faraway mountain in two if voices could crush stone. “Are you the one I’ve been hearing so much about lately?”
“Yes? No? I-I don’t know?” Razzle looked to her friend for help. “Am I?”
Glavia giggled. If laughter could mend tears and what’s torn, then those two halves of a mountain had just joined back together promptly.
“Razzle, meet Gabriel, the owner of Gabriel’s Emporium,” she said. “Gabriel, this is Razzle Lulamoon. From school.”
“Pluck my feathers, you ponies are getting smaller and smaller every year. Give it a few months and I won’t be able to tell you from breezies. You miniature,” he teased.
“Hey! I’m no miniature!”
“Ouch, and you’re a feisty one!” he guffawed. “So, G., here’s the thing. You won’t like it. I need you to take care of the orders.”
Glavia actually frowned. “I thought we settled that today was my day off,” she said to the towering griffon like she was his equal. “That’s why my friend is here.”
“I know, kid. It sucks and I’m sorry about that, but I have to finish the paperwork for my meeting with that bottled soda baron. You remember him, right? Fizzy’s father? He dropped by after hours yesterday and asked if we could reschedule and seal the deal today. Something came up and he has to be back in Manehattan by tomorrow.” He reached under the counter and placed two parcels between himself and Glavia. “You said you two were going out. Do you think you could deliver these on your way?”
“And to whom exactly?”
“This one goes to an old lady living in the Northridge,” Gabriel said and scribbled something down. “Here’s the address. She’ll be there, she never leaves her house. The order is twenty-seven bits, anything more is yours to keep. Just throw the money in the register once you’re back and we’re good.” He moved over the second parcel. “Now, for the good news. This one is already paid for, and it’ll be just your way if you cut through Chariot. It’s for Doctor Hugs.”
Glavia withdrew her talons. “Is it… necessary to deliver this one today?”
“Yes. It’s hard to compete price-wise nowadays, so customer service is what we fight with,” he said. “Hey, what’s with the frown, G.? It’s just a regular delivery, it’ll take you twenty minutes if you rush it, more if you step in for tea at Hugs’s. I bet he’ll be glad to see you too. Unless…” He threw a quick glance at Razzle who was scouring through the magazine display. He leaned in on Glavia and murmured, “Oh, I get it. Your choice, but I wouldn’t worry if I were you. And if you do worry… then you’ve got another reason to drop by Hugs, perhaps.”
Glavia grabbed the parcels and left the store without a word.
“Goodbye, sir!” Razzle added on parting and followed her friend outside. “So, uh, the miniature part aside, your dad seems like a nice guy.”
“Gabriel is not my father.”
“Whoops, sorry. But wait—let me guess. Don’t say anything. He’s your… brother. No, brothers don’t talk like that to younger siblings. Not that I would know, of course, I am the only child. It’s just you are gray from the neck down, he was kind of silver, so it would make sense. Alright, then he must be your uncle. Or maybe he’s your parents’ work associate? A butler? Because you’re technically like Merrot, right? A student from abroad?”
“Razzle.” Glavia’s eyebrows furrowed. “You are asking a lot of questions.”
“Yeah, I go there sometimes. Sorry.”
Razzle’s adventurous conditioning told her there was something going on in the air. If she didn’t know Glavia, that oasis of calmness, she would say she was irritated, but then again, she had no idea how irritated Glavia looked like. Yet she could still feel it and relate—Glavia wanted to have a morning of smooth sailing to the harbor when sudden chores emerged right in front of the bow, and it was Mr. Gabriel’s fault. How familiar! Razzle wasn’t always on good terms with her mom, either, especially when it came to having to do the laundry without getting a one week notice in advance. Maybe Glavia needed some time out from her custody, too?
They walked in silence for a while.
“Hey, is everything alright, girl? You look more serious than usual.”
“It is nothing. I simply wish Gabriel had stayed true to his word.”
“Do you want to talk about it? Because I happen to know all there is about old folks who don’t listen.”
“I sincerely doubt it.”
“No, for real!” Razzle assured. “Take my mom, for example. She never listens. Since the semester started I’ve been telling her that I don’t want radishes in my lunch box, but she keeps adding them to everything. She’s telling it’s good for me. I’m telling her that she’s not right, because if it was good for me, I would like it. If I don’t like it, then it can’t be good for me. So we go on and on until she agrees to drop the radishes, but then adds them anyway. How hard can it be to remember that I don’t like something?”
“Have you thought about making your second breakfast by yourself?”
The filly snickered. “Yeah, like that’s going to happen. I would have to wake up, like, ten minutes earlier, and you know that these count tenfold in the morning. So I’d still rather leave it to my mom or dad since they’re already getting up half past night, so it’s hardly a difference for them to make that extra sandwich for me. They only have to learn to make it right,” she concluded. “So that’s what I have to put up with. How about you? Anything keeping you up at night?”
“I am well, thank you for your concern,” Glavia replied, her voice regaining its gently calming tone. “I simply wanted today to be a day off for you and me, that’s all. I did not want you to be stuck with my chores. Actually, if you so desire, we can meet up later on once I’m done.”
“So that’s what’s worrying you? Relax! I’m totally down for delivering packages, it may be fun. Besides, the point of a day off for me and you is to spend it together. So wherever you go, I go,” Razzle assured and took the corner into Marble Street, but Glavia did not. “Hey, where are you going? Chariot Plaza is thataway.”
“Let’s visit the other one first.”
“But this one’s closer.”
“But the one in the Northridge is”—Glavia hesitated—“paying. It’s the store’s policy to take care of those customers first. Gabriel’s policy.”
Some old stallion from the Canterlot Elite had once told Razzle that griffons were good with making profit. He used different words of course, like “greedy” and “immigrants”, but the filly decided it would be for the best to let Glavia lead the way.
The Northridge was known primarily for its noticeable lack of fancy, bits-sucking stores and its abundance of households. Not everyone living in the capital had enough means and influence to afford a place on Rimway Avenue or by the Promenade, so for the regulars, the main residential district was a place to be. Situated on the northern side of Canterlot and thus of little importance as most of the city’s depictions presented it from the south, the Northridge was neither dangerous nor repulsive—only boring to some, thank you very much. Yet if someone wasn’t into hustle and bustle, it was without a doubt the best place to stay alive in the city without also having to live for the never-dwindling city life.
For Razzle, the Northridge was just too quiet, but it reminded her of a tongue-twister from her foalhood.
A batch of gall midge outmatched a patched hatched partridge by a detached and abridged Northridge thatch drawbridge.
The natural follow-up held the answer as to where had the poor bird gone next, but Razzle couldn’t recall it for her life. As they went deeper into the district, she made a game of counting the birds which were yet to flee from the upcoming winter. She played alone in case Glavia didn’t appreciate calling out her… half-cousins, were they? While most of the birds were cooing on rooftops, no partridges sadly, Razzle made sure to check under the bridge which fortunately wasn’t made of straws. Perhaps that’s why she got nothing. The narrow stream slicing below splashed without much conviction and would make a poor witness for the mysterious, albeit poetic adventure of the hungry fake pheasant.
The patch of ground addressed as 14 Copper Road had a peculiar house attached to it.
The first and only floor was framed with eerily purplish timber and had been grown rather than built if the clusters of twisted plants surrounding the structure had anything to say in the matter. They remained in unnatural symbiosis with the house, using the wood as their personal climbing walls to keep their twigs straight and steady, and seemingly nourishing it back with their succulent juices—hence the faint, purplish glow in the timber’s veins. The roof was at least three stories high, cone-shaped, and resembled a pointy hat with three bulges on different heights with murky windows nestled within. The front door lacked a welcome mat. Instead, the girls were greeted by a string of garlic hanging on the window and a cracked cauldron serving as a pot for a blooming fern.
Glavia threw a quick glance at the parcel. “Mrs. Mist?” A gentle tap-tap on the door. “Gabriel’s Emporium—I have a delivery for you.”
“I don’t think she heard you,” Razzle said after roughly three seconds of waiting.
“I knocked, didn’t I?”
“Of course you did, girl.” Razzle stepped in and banged a few good ones of her own. “Hello! Mrs. Mist! Gabriel’s Emporium, there’s a package for you!”
“It’s more of a parcel.”
“A parcel for you!” the filly shouted. “There. Now we’ve knocked.”
“And how exactly is your way better? No one’s coming, still.”
The door opened to the accord of unoiled hinges, presenting a single round room with low ceiling which constituted the entirety of the floor. There were several bookcases squeezed along the wall, arching a round table littered with parchments, some of which were held by a decorative paperweight made of a crystal orb embedded in a silver setting. On the opposite side of the room, behind a wooden screen stood a stool with a washing bowl, the household’s apparent baths of crude quality. The center had a steady-looking pillar with stairs leading around it, disappearing somewhere in the hut’s hat. The rest of the residence was dim at best and dark to the point of distress at worst.
“Looks like we’re expected,” Razzle said. “Maybe your customer is, you know, rooting weeds in the backyard or something.”
The untrimmed grass and sprawling bushes hadn’t gotten a gardener’s love in a long time, but the fern by the door raised its tips and looked at them inquisitively. No, the fern had been only disturbed by the wind and it just looked like it was doing something ferns weren’t exactly famous for.
“I think this is the backyard,” Glavia remarked and grabbed her friend’s shoulder. “Wait. Please. We shouldn’t come in without permission.”
“Didn’t Mr. Gabriel say she’s an old lady who never leaves the house? She must be around here somewhere. And if she wasn’t expecting us, she would have left the door shut tight,” Razzle said, inviting herself in. “Come on! She’s probably a nice granny type that’s too tired to get off the bed. You wouldn’t have her dress up for us, would you?” she asked, dragging the reluctant griffon in. “Mrs. Mist, hello! We have something with your name on it and we think you’d like it!”
The fern fluttered menacingly behind their backs.
When no answer came, Razzle and Glavia ventured further into the hut. They went past the pillar into the kitchen space, or a storage of sorts with a hefty collection of labeled jars, pouches and little boxes arranged on the shelves. The contents of some, solid or liquid, would find use in every master chef’s armory, but between thyme and cardamom there were also belladonna, henbane, or datura that probably wouldn’t make a soup any tastier—only smellier if the overwhelming mix of scents was any clue. Just below the jars stretched a long counter with a copper kettle, a mortar and pestle, and some glass apparatus made of two conjoined bulbs and an unlit burner under one of them.
“Is it common for pony grandparents to keep things like that on”—Glavia took a sharp breath—“on… on displ—achoo!”
“Good health to you! Well, my grandparents, mom’s side, have a cherry farm so they almost always have some home-made preserves laying around. You never tasted cherries until you’ve had some Lulamoon Cherry Jam,” Razzle said proudly. “I’ll get you some on Monday, you’ll love it! This—this is much like their cellar but with more, you know, everything.”
An empty clang came from the side and bounced twice before rolling across the floor, taking the shape of a copper goblet by Razzle’s hooves. A quick flicker to retrace its path revealed that it had fallen from the counter not by its own effort, but with the help of a strangely looking critter—a fluffy rabbit of coral pink fur with dark floppy ears and a tail to match. The rabbit stood upright on its hind legs, looked at the girls with interest, then dashed along the counter toppling everything on its way.
“No! Bad rabbit!” Razzle yelled while Glavia was doing her best to catch the flung and falling tableware. “Breaking is bad! You’re cute, but cute will only get you so far.” She slammed on its path. “Where’s your owner, furball?” The rabbit turned. Razzle responded appropriately. “Or better yet, where’s the money, hmm?”
Bouncing off Razzle’s forehead, the rabbit skipped back to the end of the counter. Its eyes shined deviously at the uncorked flask of orange liquid.
“Whoa, stop—you won’t—let’s talk about this, okay?” she said, approaching as careful as possible. “So how’s that: you stop making a mess and we won’t turn you into a pillow. You’re a pretty-pretty rabbit, aren’t you? Yes, you are. Yes, you are! Surely there’s no need to blow it out—”
A powerful kick sent the flask straight at Razzle who, instinctively, captured it with the help of her magic. Yet the lob was accurate and the filly’s telekinetic field far from sure, so stopping the flask didn’t prevent the liquid from spraying all over her muzzle and neck.
“Razzle! Are you—achoo!—alright?”
“And good luck to you!” Razzle’s first response was. Her fringe was held together by the dripping droplets as she wiped her face. “Yuck. I smell like a bucket of carrots, and my sweater—oh, mom’s going to kill me!”
She glared angrily at the rabbit. It looked bleaker than before, and so did everything around it aside from shelved greens and blues which, in turn, had become more vivid. At the same time, Razzle spotted several things that had escaped her attention before, as if the dim light was suddenly enough to notice a broom in the dark corner or read the labels off the top row of jars. The rabbit disappeared from her field of view, obscured by her twitching nose. Up and down, then up and down again, the nose refused to stop its new favorite motion. On the plus side, Razzle could see Glavia—who was standing almost right behind her.
The realization she should not be able to see her without turning her head freaked her out.
“Glavia,” she tried to sound calm. “I think there’s something wrong with my sight.”
Shocked to her core, Glavia pointed her talon and squawked something akin to “face”.
Razzle grabbed her muzzle. Her eyeballs wanted to look to the sides in a divergent squint so badly she could not fight them. She felt her ears dropping on her cheeks. They were twice, thrice as long as before, and so was her fur.
“Wah! What is happening? My face! My ears!”
The flask fell and shattered once her horn retracted. Her teething morphed into a pair of incisors, perfect for nom-nomming carrots.
“Glavia! Help!” she squeaked when her sweater grew so big she lost herself in its vastness.
“Hold on! I’ll think of something!”
“You better!”
All that was pony about Razzle Lulamoon subsided momentarily.
* * *
Twitch-twitch, went her nom-seeker. She smelled carrots in the air. More importantly, she smelled adventure.
Bunzle clambered out of her warm and fuzzy lair, taking a moment to bask in its softness. She loved the smell of carrots in the morning. So refreshing! She possibly loved it even more than she loved nomming on carrots, because once nomming was done it was all over, but with the smell came also the anticipation of a fresh, crunchy treat just waiting around the corner—now that was something to live for. Therefore, in order: Bunzle loved adventures, the smell, and nomming on carrots, so waking up to such wondrous scent with a hint of approaching enterprise was easily the best thing in the whole flat world.
Her heart thum-thumped like a toy hammer. Above her lurked a vicious predator, half bird and half cat more commonly known as the bird-cat, screeching words Bunzle could not understand. She didn’t speak predator. She spoke rabbit like a rabbit she was, and like a rabbit she was she knew she should be wary of the big and bad predators. She quickly hopped behind the counter. The bird-cat noticed, but didn’t try to catch her and instead took interest in the sharp, crystal tears littering the backyard. What a strange predator. She looked as if she had misplaced her favorite carrot. Hopefully she knew those tears weren’t for nomming!
An old rabbit of shaggy looks was watching them from above. Hop, skip, and jump—Bunzle joined her on the counter in no time.
“Hello!” she uttered. “It is a nice day we’re having, isn’t it?”
“Cheese-on-bread!” the other rabbit replied. “Dere still nuh cure for yuh poppits?”
“Excuse me?”
“Yuh hard-ears or wuh? Dere a predator in ‘ere in case yuh haffin’t jarred. Jarred! Wit yuh eyes!”
Bunzle parked her fluffy bum next to her funny-speaking kin. She must have been one of those proud and industrious Bunshire bunnies.
“Oh, yes, I have, uh, seen her,” Bunzle said, “but she doesn’t seem that predatory to me. I think she’s just looking for something to nom.”
“Yuh mekin’ sport? She lookin’ fuh prey like we, yuh duncey fluff duster!”
“Hey, the name’s Bunzle, for your information! Bunzle the Tricksy Rabbit,” she introduced herself, thinking about her mom all of a sudden.
“I—Flural,” the other whispered. “Less-noise again. I tink she nuh jarring we in ‘ere.”
Bunzle focused her attention back on the bird-cat, putting the hazy memories of her mom at the backstage of her mind. Her unimpressive brain concluded that the predator had failed in her quest for treats but wasn’t smart enough to continue the search. She only looked at some white leaves laying on the table trying to count the black beetles and butterflies stuck to them, but then she shook her beak and wheezed a fuzzy sound through her fur piercer. She sighed and took a rectangle off the wall in which a miniature creature was trapped.
Their eyes met. Flural buried her face in Bunzle’s messy mane but she withheld the gaze.
She felt she had nothing to fear and that the bird-cat would sooner bring her the best of carrots than do anyone any harm. Instead of feral instincts, hunger, or other equally predatory things, Bunzle read a sad truth from that yearning stare—even if the bird-cat had found that ultimate treat, she would lack someone with whom she could share it, not to mention adventure with or talk over white leaves or rectangles.
It was unfair, and Bunzle was this close from hopping forth and giving her a warm hug, but then the bird-cat snapped her throat rippers. She sat down, closed her eyes and clenched onto a strange triangle which didn’t look edible. Soon she was fast asleep.
“It’s alright, Flural. She’s napping.”
“Tank da Great Carrot!” Flural discarded her camouflaging herb hat. “Leh we gah outta ‘ere. Again dat we may live long enuff, howabou’ we find sumtin’ to nyam?”
Bunzle eagerly agreed. She was in a mood for a whole stack of carrots, or a few cabbages. Or some radishes. No, she remembered she didn’t like those. It may have something to do with her mom, she assumed.
They barely made it to the treat country when a silver silhouette arose—literally—in front of them.
“Woi! Blista bline, duppy!” Flural yelled and hurled a jar lid at the apparition. When it came right through, she wasted no time fleeing into a breadbox. “In ‘ere, quick! Dis a duppy! A demon!”
“Are you for real? We’re bunnies, not buns! You can’t spend the rest of your life hiding in there!”
“I can and I will. Haff fun dis ting nyam yuh,” Flural muttered and locked herself inside. “Yute dis days, I swear!”
The silver fellow looked like a fox, but as far as Bunzle knew foxes weren’t usually that shiny. Perhaps he was some kind of a super-fox, maybe an angel, but definitely not a demon. Her mom—why was it so hard to call back her face, again?—used to tell her stories about angels when she was younger. She said they were watching over them from their invisible castles in the sky, though on occasion they would get bored and come down to help bunnies in their adventuring. Or was that offer limited to ponies? But why would it be?
Bunzle, existing somewhere between the extremes of bravery and recklessness, hopped closer towards the figure.
“Hello, glowing friend! Sorry about Flural, she’s not from around here and also a little hare-hearted. And you are…?”
“Like you said, a friend. You may call me Furiel,” he replied without moving his muzzle, his voice echoing gently inside Bunzle’s skull.
“Ooh, nice trick! I didn’t know you guys could do that. And I didn’t know you spoke rabbit.”
“I speak what I spoke when I have been walking amongst you, which is the tongue of all animals—and so do you, for the time being. Razzle Lulamoon.”
There was no one else Furiel could have addressed. How did he almost know her name? Razzle, Razzle Lulamoon, she chewed on the words. They sounded dangerous, like a mighty predator’s name. Perhaps even magical in nature, with a tendency to be loud and boisterous. Bunzle kind of liked it, minus the Lulamoon part which felt redundant. She would drop it entirely if it was her choice to make.
“Have we met?” Bunzle asked.
“In a way. I am Glavia’s spirit guide. You do remember her, right?”
“N-not really?”
“This is Glavia.” Furiel nodded at the sleeping bird-cat.
“The predator? Aw, but Glavia sounds way too nice to be a predator’s name!”
Furiel closed his eyes for a moment. “I feel Glavia appreciates that. Between you and me, she appreciates your company more than you think. And she needs you… she will need you more than you can imagine. But right now, it is you who need her help. Our help,” he said. “Your true form is that of a pony, Razzle, not a rabbit. Glavia suspects that your new friend is a pony too. A one Mrs. Mist to whom you two were meant to deliver a package. Do you know what I’m talking about?”
“We were meant to deliver… a parcel, I think,” Razzle replied, remembering things from a vague, distant dream. “Hey, Flural, you’re hearing this? I’m a pony, and you’re a pony too!”
“Yuh bazodee?” the breadbox barked back. “Dis just another fuh-lie of dem predators. He and the bird-cat workin’ all-two a wunna, he wants to nyam we o-dasame!”
“I wish no such thing.”
“Buh! Such a predator ting to say.”
Bunzle shook her head. “You’re not making any sense, Flural. If they wanted to harm us they would have done it already. What if he’s telling the truth? What if we really are ponies? Look around, this is hardly a rabbit hole, this is a pony house. All those funny plants growing in the jars? They’re not even good for nomming. Eating. Everything’s huge and there’s no carrots anywhere. It’s just… wrong.”
In a few bounces there and back again, Bunzle brought the picture from the table. She kicked the breadbox open, barely evading a baguette swing. Flural came out next, wearing an eaten out slice of bread like a lucky necklace.
“Look at this!” Bunzle said. “This pony looks just like you. See the mane? Look at yourself—do you think rabbits are normally that color?”
Flural disregarded the picture at first, but after one peak she was unable to look away. “I admit… dis equine does jar like she me sistah. Nuff yute red-skin ting, probably, but still. Yuh tink a rabbit can haff a nuh-rabbit sistah?”
“I would think so, yes. We’re all of this one world and we’re living in this one world together, like a family already.”
“Hmm. Dis wise words for a bunny dat yute. A’ight. Leh say I believe you two bazodees, leh say we equines fuh-real. How we endup fluffy?”
Furiel opened his eyes again after a longer while. “Glavia apologizes if her choice of words is insensitive, but judging by your hut’s appearance and decor, she concluded you are a practitioner of witchcraft, and it is you and you alone who’s responsible for your current state. She found a recipe for a transfiguration potion of which you are the most likely creator, but the ingredients list for preparing an antidote is incomplete.” He closed his eyes again. “If you provide her with proper knowledge, however, she should be able to concoct the counter-potion.”
Flural stood before the shelves, one ragged ball of fur against at least a hundred different smells, tastes, and purposes.
“Eh. O-malife I want to bubble a pot, yuh know. I—Flural—a rabbit chef. I guess again da time,” she chuckled. “A’ight, duppy. Wat yuh gat dere on da menu?”
* * *
And one more for the laundry pile. Still, three-and-a-half days without an incident wasn’t a bad score. Most of her new clothes rarely lived long enough to see the dawning of the third day.
“Whoa. Hey, I just remembered a dream I had,” Razzle said. “You know that feeling when you’re warm and fuzzy inside because something good happened to you? In that dream I felt like that, but on the outside instead. Pretty crazy, huh?”
“Razzle!” Glavia pulled her into a hug. “You’re alright. You’re back!”
“Oh—uh—hey there, girl. I’m fine today, and how are you?” she played along her friend’s unexpected good mood. “And I’ve been here the whole time, you know, looking for the witch. Where are we on that, again?”
A shadow fell upon them. It belonged to a unicorn mare whose pale coral coat betrayed her grandmother-tier age. If she ever possessed the boon of beauty, she’d lost it decades ago. The tight braids of her mane were held together by a turquoise scarf rich in beads and filigree chains, and her foggy blue stare, hidden between deep wrinkles, appeared cold and unforgiving, yet still unsure with the strange visitors who had come to her place of seclusion.
“Your witch is right here.” Hints of an ousted exotic accent were ringing in her parlance. “Partial memory loss? That’s interesting. Tell me, child, do you like fantastical stories like breezie tales and fiction?”
“Uh, yeah. Why?”
The mare swooshed her long robe, the tangle of way too many necklaces ringing as she inspected the counter. “In addition to its main purpose, the potion is rich in substances that will blur the line between what’s real and what’s not. It affects the mind by dampening the most of who or what you are, leaving only that which constitutes your true nature. So much for the big city life for this old islander.” She turned back to Razzle. “As for those who do not have all four hooves on the ground, who already have trouble discerning what the world is from what they want it to be… those may lose themselves in the experience.”
“But what potion? I don’t remember any of that!” Razzle said but was promptly ignored.
“You’ve done good enough, little bird,” the mare told Glavia. “You will never be a potion master, I’m afraid, but at least you and your pet pal can follow instructions.”
“I’ll take is as a—achoo!—compliment,” She wiped her beak for the umpteenth time, her eyes bloodshot from excessive sneezing. She picked up the parcel. “Mrs. Coral Mist? Your delivery from Gabriel’s Emporium.”
“Hello! Questions inbound! What are you two talking about? What was—wait a minute, did you say Coral Mist? Why didn’t you tell me we’re delivering a parcel to someone named Coral Mist?”
“I didn’t think it was important?”
Razzle looked the old mare in the eyes. “Are you the Coral Mist who graduated from Princess Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns in the late sixties with eight accolades on her account?”
Coral Mist stepped back in slight apprehension. “Who are you, kids?” she asked.
“Razzle Lulamoon, student at the SGI and part-time adventurer. This is Glavia, also from the SGI, the most talented pencil-and-crayon artist in the city,” she introduced them both. “I’m currently following the trail of a unicorn who, according to one of our teachers, possessed greater magical talent than Princess Twilight Sparkle by the time he or she also attended the school sometime during the last century. I have a list of names—a long list of names—and I’m trying to find out all I can about them in my spare time. Yours, well, you are at the top of my list just over Radiant Dust, Ember Spire, Sour Grape—“
“What kind of stupid goal is that?” Coral Mist snarled. “You could have as well come to the Northridge to seek for a pony more royal than Celestia! You better find yourself a sensible hobby.”
Razzle’s ears, no longer rabbit in shape, flopped along with her enthusiasm all the same.
“B-but it’s following the trail that counts for me…”
“What counts is not wasting my time,” Coral Mist said dryly. “Am I at the top of your list? Then here’s a fact for you: I neither am nor ever have been more magical than Princess Sparkle. I don’t know more spells than her, I haven’t been saving Equestria when I was her age, and I rather not compare my academic prowess with hers. Nopony on my year would ever come close to matching her. Can’t speak for others, forgive me for not caring, but the chances are still slim. My only card is knowing more potion recipes, perhaps, but in the end I am still but a simple witch. Now, where is my purse…”
“If I may,” Glavia cut in, “I thought that traditional witchcraft died out centuries ago.”
Coral Mist continued her search, spinning a yarn as she lead Razzle and Glavia through the strange world that was her hut.
“Not at all. It’s not entirely dead, only rarely practiced these days.” She snorted. “You can thank the changelings for that. Them, and the folk from overzealous orders who couldn’t tell the difference between a bug and a witch. Hundreds of years ago, when somepony saw a changeling transforming into a pony and back, the common assumption was that it was a pony becoming some kind of a monster, not the other way around. It was well before the changelings were recognized as an actual race, you see, nopony knew them back then. What they did know, however, was that the ponies practicing witchcraft could transform themselves, and others, into other beings. With the help of potions or otherwise. So when a changeling was spotted breaking a vase at the Crystal Princess’ bedroom, guess who was to blame.”
“The witches?”
“The witches,” Coral Mist echoed after the griffon. “We were held in high regard once, as healers and advisors in the matters of love. But no, all that remains are lies about us kidnapping foals, opening the gates of Tartarus, and overall rejoicing in evil deeds.”
“But you’re not evil,” Razzle said. “Are you?”
“Bah! I am registered, I have a valid license and I do not overuse any ingredients forbidden by the law. I say that classifies me as a good witch. Although, maybe if I got myself some white mallow and monkshood, my practice would pose a threat to the Princess’ position!” She cackled herself into a cough. “But that’s not for me. Never was.”
“But you won the Capricious Comet Contest,” Razzle wasn’t letting go. “That’s got to count for something!”
“Only for more lies.”
“What do you mean?”
Tired with the constant open-close routine of her drawers and cupboards, the mare sunk into an armchair.
“They made me feel like a winner,” she sighed. “Yet I was not the best.”
Razzle shook her head. “No, the SGI yearbook clearly said that a Coral Mist—”
“The yearbook? Bah! Don’t tell me about the yearbooks, I was on the editing team. I bet you’ve done most of your research on the graduation pages, haven’t you? Handy, but they only show you the students who completed their education in a given year. Which is why you will never find Glowstar Glint amongst them.”
“Who?”
Coral Mist gazed into the crystal paperweight. “I didn’t even know her. She was older—a fifth year student, if memory serves. Like me, she qualified for the final round of the Comet, and you know what that means.” She smirked. “Yes, I imagine she was excited much like myself. Maybe a bit scared too. I guess that in a way we were right to be scared,” she said, then threw the girls an unforgiving stare. “Quiet! Don’t you have any respect for the old mare talking?”
Caught in a mid-whisper exchange, Razzle had a fierce protest on the tip of her tongue.
“We apologize,” Glavia said on her behalf. “The Capricious Comet Contest has been discontinued many years ago. We are not clear on the rules.”
“Has it, now? Most intriguing,” Coral Mist replied. “So, in short—first, Princess Celestia nominates someone to prepare a mix of trials for the participants.” She bit her lip. “Actually, now that we have more Princesses to spare, maybe she will make her sister do that. Anyway, the trials are meant to measure your control and flexibility over magic. You will need to feel its flow around you, not only be able to describe its movement if you want to impress your professors. In your favor—you don’t have to pass all of the trials. Two out of three, three out of five, the exact number varies contest to contest.”
Razzle raised her hoof. “How many have you passed?”
“Not all of them, let’s leave it at that,” the mare retorted. “How well you do on that stage determines the order in which you will present yourself in front of the committee. That is the Comet proper, your time to shine. It has to be something unique, a real talent to awe them.”
“Then it’s like our entry exam,” Glavia said. “It doesn’t sound too difficult.”
“The Princess serves on the committee.”
“Oh.”
Coral Mist cackled, once again ending in a cough attack. “Yes. But at least you don’t have to perform in front of the entire school. Not yet. It’s only you, the ponies you hate, the pony that rules your life… and a bored witch who happens to always carry a raven potion on her,” she said, eliciting grins on her listener’s faces. “I was bored and curious, a dangerous combination if I ever brewed one. After my presentation I flew back into the room and watched my colleagues showing off. They were all terrible, if you’ll excuse my vanity, but among them one filly seemed to know what she was there for. She was also a witch like me, but where I chose to study plants and animals as my specialty, she enjoyed meddling in the magic of love.”
The girls listened like enchanted.
“When she was showing her magic, a complex spell of sorts, she went overboard. The streams centered on her and started flowing towards Princess Celestia, then towards the members of the committee. Then between the Princess and them, then between them and myself, like an intricate web of magical relations. I tried to discern the nature of the spell, but the next thing I saw was Celestia flying to her and blinking them both away.” She grunted and took a moment to sit up more comfortably. “She returned after a while, alone—I know not how long it was—and asked the committee to consider Glowstar Glint disqualified.”
“And then?”
The mare shrugged. “Nothing of consequence. The official gala was held by the end of the year. The Princess asked the best to present their talents for all to see. Then she announced the winner of the hundred-and-tenth Capricious Comet Contest—me.”
“What about Glowstar Glint?”
“I have never seen or heard of her again. The rumor was she was called home right after her presentation and then moved due to family matters. Maybe she did so. Maybe she didn’t. What I know for sure is this: the greatest talent of that Comet was denied to present herself, and from what I saw she had more skill than my class combined. Still no more than Twilight Sparkle, mind you,” she said to Razzle. “But she was definitely aiming for something extraordinary. For something great.”
“If Princess Celestia had to intervene then it couldn’t have been anything good,” Glavia noticed.
“I never said it was going to be good,” Coral Mist concluded, allowing herself to a tired sigh. She took a pouch from under the pillow. “Keep the change. Don’t squander it on silliness.”
Thus the absolute best half-fledged delivery team in the northern Canterlot had completed the first of their appointed rounds, and neither wind nor rain, nor barriers of language and form had stopped them from doing so. As they were leaving soon after, Coral Mist didn’t bother to see them to the door but gazed into the crystal paperweight, mumbling something about having to check the weather. At least the fern by the door waved them goodbye—or perhaps it was just a random gust lifting its leaflets again.
On their way back from the Northridge and towards the other end of Marble Street, Razzle was wondering about way too many things at once. She was so deep in thought Glavia had to manually point her in the right direction before she walked under parked carts and cars. If she was getting it right, and she asked Glavia numerous times to make sure, than she had participated in an actual adventure, of a smaller caliber, warm and soft on the outside, but an adventure nonetheless straight from her bedtime stories. It was a shame she could not remember enough details from her fuzzy time. In all honesty, if it wasn’t for her friend’s solemn assurance she would have thought it was just a dream. And if it wasn’t for Glavia’s quick-thinking and her spirit’s help, Razzle would be nomming carrots for who knew how long. Did she say nomming? She meant eating.
That’s when it struck her. Spike was her friend from day almost one, Merrot was, well, her friend, but for the longest time she thought of Glavia as the former two’s friend and only a colleague by proxy of hers. Oh, they talked during breaks—sure they talked, their class wasn’t that big, but Razzle had been haunted by that conviction she was going to say something offensive and ruin the pony-griffon relations for the next couple of decades.
Alright, maybe she was giving herself too much credit with that one, but she couldn’t even get Glavia’s name right at first! And that first lunch they had together? So awkward! The school trip to the Castle of the Two Sisters helped, but she was still more likely to greet Spike or Merrot first.
That clever bird deserved better, but before Razzle could start formulating a plan, a different winged creature occupied her mind.
The hatched patched partridge outmatched by the batch of gall midge abridged Northridge thatch drawbridge to snitch your detached fridge!
A clever bird indeed.
Another thought surfaced in the storm. Coral Mist’s claim aside, maybe Glowstar Glint really was the mysterious pony Professor Inkwell implied. Either way, Razzle had a new name topping her list.
Before long she realized they were trespassing on someone’s property, trotting towards a massive house. The fittingly extensive yard stretched up to the cast iron gate had only a few perky bushes planted in strategic locations, but no trees or otherwise more ambitious garden ambiance. Clearly the owners wanted to impress their neighbors, but in the end weren’t patient enough to take care of all the small things growing under their watch. Though gardening wasn’t among Razzle’s fortes and the sum total of her experiences hinged on that few times she helped her grandpa water the orchard—he put her in charge of filling the watering can!—she felt that taking half the plants from Coral Mist’s house and sticking it here would greatly raise the property value of both.
“Phew, that’s a big house,” she said. “Somebody important lives here?”
“Among others? Doctor Sunlit Hugs with his wife. She used to be a Wonderbolt Captain. I suppose that may count as important for you.”
“I’ve never been a big fan, but yeah, you could say that.”
They were greeted by a filly shorter even than Razzle on her worst days, who much like Razzle on those days also had a plaster across her nose.
“Good morning,” Glavia said, taking out the second parcel. “Would you hand it to Doctor Hugs, please? With compliments from Gabriel’s Emporium.”
“He’s in the common room, ma’am. I’ll call him,” she offered before Glavia could refuse. “Doc! Some Mrs. Gabby Semporium to see you!”
Razzle wondered if she’d heard it right and the filly really called for a doctor instead of her dad. Yet she and the stallion who turned up in the doors couldn’t possibly be related. The apparent Doctor Hugs’s coat was that of bright yellow, and his muzzle, while no older than her dad’s, had its share of smile trenches already. He seemed to be in good enough mood and his grin grew wider when he saw Glavia—who, in turn, looked like she knew him well. He must have been a regular customer at Mr. Gabriel’s store.
“Glavia!” Doctor Hugs beamed. “So good to see you again! How’s your magic training going?”
“I am definitely more in control than I used to be!” Glavia laughed. Like, actually—heartily, honestly, and more laid-back about the delivery than she should be. What was that all about? Glavia was never like that at school. “This is my best friend. Razzle Lulamoon.”
Razzle’s cheeks burned at the “best friend” tag so generously granted to her. “Morning,” she mumbled.
“And good morning to you, young lady. Please give my appreciation to your mother. My better half and I loved her in Dirty Prancing,” he said. “So, more in control, you say? That’s a relief. Has she told you that story yet, Miss Lulamoon? When she was eight, I think, Glavia was sitting on a tree…”
Something eluded her, but not for long. Armed with tactically tactful chuckles and nods, Razzle faked participation and took a peek through the wide open doors. The doctor’s family was most unusual. There were ponies glimpsing in the corridor, but she also spotted two griffons and a buffalo. She wasn’t that bad at sciences to not know it was impossible for the stallion to have them. Was he running some sort of a special school? Not likely, the common room in the back really was a common room with a fireplace and couches and zero blackboards. And on Saturday? Cruel! But even if, what about the teachers? There would be the doctor, that fiery-maned pegasus—whom Razzle saw only for a second, but long enough to know she totally ripped off her trademarked messy hairdo—and maybe, just maybe one more adult.
Confused to no end, Razzle heard a keyword she needed.
“…or drop by the Orphanarium sometimes, if you’re not too busy, that is,” Doctor Hugs said. “Take Wind and Nutsie with you. Come to help the kids with the homework, stay for a movie night, you know what I’m saying?” Someone yelled his name in panic. “Ah, the lady of the house is calling and it would seem she’s in trouble. You of all should know that her mane is the best place to sit in. I should say you started a tradition no less!” He took his parcel and sighed. “Time sure flies. You were all so little and now, look at you! Keep up the good work, Glavia. I’m proud of you.” Another shout. “We both are.”
“Thank you, doctor.”
“Say hello to Gabriel for me!”
When he closed the doors, Razzle read a plaque she had missed earlier—and it all made terrible sense.
“Are… are you…”
Glavia turned to her neither sad nor overjoyed. “I am an orphan. I was found by Doctor Hugs right here”—she trailed her talon along the concrete step—“at the Orphanarium’s doorstep, with just a scrap of paper and a scone.” She opened her sketchbook on the back cover where a makeshift pocket had been attached. She fished out a piece of yellowed, creased paper with her name written on it. After a moment she slid it back in. “There’s a chance I was born in Griffonstone, but I think of myself as a Canterlotian. At least that’s how I feel. I don’t know who my parents were or why… why they chose this to be the best way. I doubt I will ever find out.”
“What about Mr. Gabriel?” Razzle asked, joining her on the step.
“He is my legal guardian. He is good for me but I would never call him my father,” Glavia replied. “When I was coming of age, my closest friends, Chestnut and Wind Whisper had been long adopted and I couldn’t be happier for them. But myself, I was alone, and the chances of finding a family for me were diminishing. There’s not that many griffons in Canterlot to begin with and most come here for seasonal work, rarely to settle for life. So I wanted to run away, but before I gathered enough courage, Doctor Hugs introduced me to Gabriel. I didn’t have to run. I got a place to live and a chance to grow under the wings of my kin. In exchange, I’m working part-time at his store. Sometimes I tend to the counter. Sometimes I do deliveries.”
They sat in silence.
“So drawing’s not the only reason you’re always in such a rush after school.”
“It’s one of the reasons. Yes.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
Glavia walked a few steps away. “I… I don’t know. I could never figure out how to talk about these things. I consider myself lucky, you know. I only never knew my parents, but it’s easier than what my two friends had to go through.”
Upon consulting her teary eyes, Razzle learned something new: she was an emotional pony.
“I am so sorry,” she whispered, chocking on the words. “It’s just—gah, I’m so dumb. Earlier I was complaining about my mom and the stupid sandwich like that’s even a problem, and all that time, you were… while you…”
“While I have to do my second breakfast myself.” Glavia reached out to the filly and helped her up. “Razzle. Please don’t worry about me. There’s nothing either of us can do about it. Maybe one day I’ll have a chance to visit the Griffin Kingdom and ask around. Maybe then…” She trailed off. "For now, you could do me a favor."
“A-anything!”
“The next time you see your mom today, give her a hug and tell her how much you love her. She’ll appreciate it more than you think.”
“I will,” Razzle sniveled. She walked into Glavia’s embrace like she was the one who needed consolation. “You’re darn right I will.”
“Could you also cheer up for me?” she heard over her ear.
“Cheer up, yes! I can do cheerful.” She wiped her tears away with her free hoof. She tried bringing her casual smile back, but her lips just warped awkwardly. Thankfully her friend couldn’t see that. “Uh, hey… I know it must be difficult for you, not having a mom and dad, so if you’ll ever need a sister… I’m here.”
Glavia broke off the hug and chuckled, sincerely amused by the offer. “A pony sister for a griffon?”
“Well, you know.” Razzle shrugged. “I’m just saying. We’re all of this one world and we’re in this world together, so we’re like a family already,” she said and immediately pondered, surprised by her own words. “Huh. Somehow, that sounded way better in my head.”
“I think it was very nice. It made me, oh, how did you put it? Feel all warm and fuzzy on the inside?”
“That makes sense. Because, you know, you’re warm and fuzzy on the outside already,” Razzle chuckled, wasting not the opportunity to lift the spirits. Glavia giggled and looked away, stealthily drying her own tears. Razzle looked away as well, wondering if she wasn't only on the receiving end of that friendly hug. It seemed like Glavia needed it too. More importantly, she needed a friend to fill the void after her what’s-their-names co-orphans. “So, you’re still up for that trip to the harbor we’ve talked about?”
Glavia nodded, smiling radiantly. “I’m up for it if you’re up for it. Watching the airships slowly disappearing beyond the horizon is relaxing,” she said. “Come to think of it, relaxing is just what I need after how weird this day off has been so far.”
“You said it, girl!” Razzle giggled. “You said it.”
Hello there! Thank you for reading my story. I am no longer writing pony fiction, but if you want to support my current creative endeavor, check out my content on Twitch! 
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Hello everyone!
The next chapter is up, ready to be read and hopefully enjoyed. This one's shorter than the last one but only because going with my original plan for it would mean making it (possibly) twice as long. If you're not in a mood for a long read, be advised that there are scene breaks - but I sincerely hope you wouldn't be able to walk away to have a a break at those points!
Have a good read!
Huh, interesting little take on the particular aspect, but a lovely side note for the two here, are spike and his companion going to be covered in the next for their day?
7679698
Certainly! I intended to cover Razzle/Glavia and Spike/Merrot in the same chapter (seeing as both of their respective adventures happen on the same day) but I felt it would be too long to be edible, hence the split.
7679707 Thank ya kindly, and always enjoy your take on the changelings, so this should be fun. though this chapter reminded me of that nightmare inducing witches movie for the bunny aspect, nicied up.
7679711
Keep to that witches- changelings connection and its context in this chapter as it may come into play next time.
Huh, the only people who use such poisonous plants are...
SHE'S A WITCH!!
Oh wait, gotta test. *throws the pony on a scale with a duck. The duck sinks.*
A WITCH!!! BURN HER!!
Also, and intelligent, devious rabbit... sounds like...
FLUTTERSHY'S ALSO A WITCH!!! BURN HER!!
Suspicious... could this have been Chrysalis' FIRST invasion attempt?
A scone. Gilda?
7688788
I suppose it's safe to say that the scone was made by Gilda. Can't say the same about Glavia, though!
Took me long enough to get back into this, glad I finally remembered the species of the characters. It's great to read a story that's just that, a story, not clichéd by silly and predictable plotlines, with one-dimensional characters. I love this quite honestly, and your development for the characters, as well as the writing of strange situations that would likely occur in Equestria yet not be noted anywhere else, is quite impressive. Glad to see it update again, schedule notwithstanding!
7699765
Thank you so much for your kind words! Those strange situations are definitely the spine of the story for me and I can only hope the characters will be able to withstand whatever magical object, creature, place or phenomenon they encounter in future chapters.
Nice to hear you're remembering the what the characters are too, it's a good sign. This time we've had a unicorn and a griffon. Coming up next: a dragon, a changeling, and a slightly out of place crystal pony!
This made me realize that Canterlot faces west where the sun is supposed to set. Because it's always show from the south jutting out to the left. Question is then where did Twilight watch Celestia raise the sun that first time if not in the city facing away from the sunrise?
7700572
It's an interesting question indeed! If we assume that Canterlot is attached exactly on the western slope and that it is placed not too high, then for the first half of the day its citizens should not see the sunlight due to the mountain's shadow. Quite literally, there should be no mornings in Canterlot, however grim that may sound.
In the show, the view from the south shows Canterlot as two layers: a gate part to the right, placed in front of the mountain, and the city proper behind that mountain and also to the left. That leaves us with three options: (1) either the mountain is rather narrow and Canterlot proper stretches to the northern slope as well so that it can catch some morning sunlight, or (2) the mountain behind the gate is as high as depicted, but it goes down fast and does not obscure the sunlight (it would be a weirdly shaped mountain), or (3) there are actually two peaks of the mountain the city is attached to, with no mountain mass obscuring the view to the east.
Or maybe there really are no mornings in Canterlot. The sun could go up (everypony but Canterlotians wake up and begin the workday), then quickly up to the noon position for the nest (Canterlotians wake up and begin the workday), then quickly down for romantic evenings and all that jazz (everypony finish their workdays, Canterlotians included - so what they've worked four hours instead of eight?).
Of course the fact of having a city plastered to a mountain while all others are quite regular is questionable enough and is likely just a narrative shorthand to tell that this particular settlement is important and above the rest, if you will.
Thanks for making me think on that!
7700933 also kind of a subtle note to Celestia's mindset after sealing Nightmare in the Moon, she abandons the Everfree castle and moves the Capitol city high up close to the stars facing away from her mornings.
Very Harry Potter. "After all, He Who Must Not Be Named did great things – terrible, yes, but great."
A scone? Who the hell abandons a child with baked goods? A seal, yes, a magical amulet of some kind, yes, but a scone?
I think this made me laugh more than any other part of the chapter. The sheer unexpected weirdness of it, you know.
I honestly can't quite decide if this is trite or profound. I think I liked Watership Down's rabbit philosophy better, but then again that's a tough act to beat.
7762832
To be fair, the trope of a "darker" character having some degree of greatness in them isn't anything new and came long before good ol' Voldy. What interests me the most is finding and isolating the triggering moment that lead to their inevitable downfall.
Sorry, we were all sold out on seals and amulets. But that's okay - Glavia is not that kind of a chosen one.
I've never read/watched anything related to Watership Down. Is it good?
7763024
True enough, I just like the sound of that one in particular. It has a nice cadence to it. One of the best-written and most complex lines in the series, in my opinion.
It's amazing and you're doing yourself a disservice if you don't read it as soon as possible. People usually write it off as children's literature because of the animal theme, but it really isn't. It's a proper character-driven drama about a persecuted group of exiles trying to make a living on the frontier... except they're all rabbits, with a rabbit's understanding of the world. It's incredibly well-realized, you won't believe it until you see it.
--the god Frith giving his blessing to El-Ahrairah, mythical First Prince of the rabbits, during their creation
The various included Lapine myths and legends that are told in-story are what really sells it, in my opinion. The rabbits have an entire history and culture, of sorts... but they're still rabbits, who can only count one, two, three, four, many, and who only very barely understand the concept of crossing a stream by floating across on a tree trunk, while still having a kind of functioning society that makes sense for their constraints. It's incredibly underrated and one of those books I think everyone should read at least once in their lives. I could gush to you about it for paragraphs more.
7763072
Oh, alright, sounds neat. I'll put it on the list, thanks for sharing!
7763093
I'm sure you'll enjoy it, just be aware that it's a lot more mature of a story than it seems at first glance, in terms of violence and heavy themes. I know the movie sure gave me nightmares for days when I was a kid.
This was not a bad chapter, i guess, but it was not about spike nor it advance the story.
I'm unfolliwung this one because i was expecting to read a story about spike.
Keep the good work and good luck!
7817196
Sorry to see you go - may you find many stories exactly up to your expectations in the upcoming year!
On re-reading this chapter I was particularly struck by the description of the witches house! Very easy to visualize in my mind's eye. Looking forward to the next.
7848536
Funny you should mention that, because I based my description on an actual picture and adapted it to a little less gloomy urban landscape. As for the next chapter, I'm kind of back in writing mode again after pretty dry December, so it's definitely heading our way.
7867200
Ah! A new reader! Color me pleased! I hope you'll find reading this enjoyable and I apologize in advance for the sluggish rate at which I'm producing content.
Well, that was a cute scene between Razzle and Glavia at the end.
You're doing a lot better job in these last few chapters with the background setting development, dropping the occasional hint as to family status and the like, such as that Trixie apparently went on to participate in plays (or films if they actually exist in this setting), as the Dirty Dancing ponification implies, and that her own parents had a cherry farm. Trying to describe a significant amount of your magic system you have set up in the first couple of chapters was certainly a bit of a slog to make through.
That said, the accent when Razzle and Coral Mist were rabbits was very difficult to follow at times.
7868473
I hear you. One of the things I want to do with this story is to include a sort-of scientific approach to magic, which is why some descriptions of spells and casting may feel dragged out. But obviously I'll be saving those for significant moments.
7869177
Yup, as far as I'm concerned they live in a great underground cave, but they managed do dig a tunnel for a train and connect it to Equestrian railroad. It was well-hidden at first, but after the Cultural Exchange Treaty with the ponies became binding they revealed their tracks.
Now the Friendship Express can get you to the heart of Hive Chrysalis in no time!
7907543
Good catch!
A little behind-the-scenes now: in the first draft she'd say "philosophical", but then she realized the talk beforehand didn't qualify as such. Naturally, Razzle had to use another word, but things like "agaposophy" and "erosophy" felt too obscure and also too advanced for her level. Thus she came up with "lovosophy", hopefully presenting herself as a character who doesn't know a lot about the world due to her young age, but is still open-minded, flexible in her thinking, and willing to try out new things and solutions - a true explorer she strives to be.
So, yeah. It was very much intentional.
wasn't
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Razzle would make for an awesome sister XD.
Wait, she's THAT Glavia?! Why didn't I think that she was that cute griffin chick/cub from Operation Wonderbit?
8295801
The very same! In OW, Doctor Hugs calls her a "talented doodler", and in this chapter we could observe how her talent has grown since then. Also, when Spitfire and Glavia were visiting the animal section of the Candledrops wax museum, our little soon-to-be-magical griffon chose one animal that she liked in particular: a fox. And remember what kind of a spirit guide she has today? Exactly!
It's a little known fact that most of my stories, especially more recent ones, are all compatible with each other.
Oh really?
7685318 Could be, it could also (depending on the timeline) be the witch that Cadance defeated when she earned her Princess status.
8969554
They got together, yes! I like to think that when they first met in the Operation Wonderbit they were both adults married to their jobs, and didn't have time for casual dating and finding a romantic partner (or didn't want to). Their similar situation, and the common interest in music they share was their excuse to meet up "from time to time" to unwind, like friends. But it turned out they liked being friends enough to take their relationship a step forward.