Look Before You Sleep [Remake]
Golden roofs shined in the stillness of noon. Birds swooped in, perching on the roofs, and among them a robin flew. It rode on the gentle breeze of passing pegasi, rustling the flowers by glistening windows; their color danced to the beaming sun. Beautiful: perfect for a delightful flight for the robin.
Shame that a storm will encumber the entire day.
Pegasi streaked the skies, pushing dark clouds like cotton to a growing, gray sea. Electricity crackled on contact, but to the ponies it's just another day in Ponyville.
The fearless robin finally landed on a grand branch from a wise tree. It tilted its head, left and right, before darting forward to steal a single twig in his beak and flying away.
Watching this through a window, I reminded myself again what today was.
With the accidental skip of last week’s rain—thanks to a certain visit by a sleepy, smoggy dragon—the ponies planned a heavy rain storm to supply the water for the town’s agricultural health before engulfed it in snow.
Over four pony weeks—translating to 20 human days—since the start of season one and I’m already one-third of the way through. And in all that time, I’ve spent it reliving canon, musing in fanon and indulging beyond either.
It was funny. Here I was, just sitting by the window like in some anime trope. I would be pondering deeply about the nostalgia of life and its questions...but I had other concerns.
Likewise: cupcakes with a side of science.
“Tori? The counter elemental agent, please.”
“...yeah.” My hoof snaked past a wild array of tools and test tubes toward a beaker of bright red liquid. With my grip true from the faint sensation of earth pony magic, I slowly passed it to Twilight. “Here.”
A clutter of lab equipment laid on the circular table at the center of the library. Delicious cupcakes sat before us on a wide plate to the side, away from science and ready to satisfy, like a reprise of the gathering of outcasts days ago.
Twilight took the beaker from my hoof with her magic while observing a tube of green, sizzling substance through goggle-protected eyes. She liberally poured the beaker’s contents into the tube and, slowly, the solution’s color faded into a luminescent white. Pale wisps suspend in the tube, bouncing with ethereal grace as if alive. A clipboard and quil floated beside the unicorn, rapidly jotting down every detail.
“And now it’s back in its neutral state.” Twilight’s lab coat flourished with childish glee, the tube in her magic. “Pure mana: beautiful, isn’t it? It’s what makes up everything, what governs our world… Through willpower, it can be used in many ways—yet there are so many mysteries to solve. Like where it came from! Or when the world began! Great minds have relentlessly sought to find such truths for centuries.”
“Just remember to rest, okay?” I droll. “You’ve been at it single mindedly ever since the Ursa Minor incident.”
Twilight giggled. “Since when do you worry?”
“Sensei Spike tasked me to care for your well being with all the hidden arts of Babysit Twilight Jutsu he taught me. Thinks you're hopeless without him.”
“Please. I can’t be that bad.”
“Twilight,” I deadpanned, “what day of the week is it?”
“Oh.” She fidgeted. “Uh, um…”
I scratched my mane in a lazy gaze. “And that there is Twilitus Sparkus, an endangered species preyed upon by it’s own ditziness. I am honored that Professor Spike allowed me to observe such a fascinating creature.” I held my hooves together, eyes closed in prayer. “Top Kek to Spike.”
“Oh hardy har har…” Twilight glared before clearing her throat. “Now! Back to magic! What do you think?”
I raised a brow. “You’re asking a pegasus?”
“You know so much, I wonder why you aren’t a unicorn,” she said smiling. “Surely you’re curious about something.”
“Well...” I gazed thoughtfully at the clock on the wall. A lone strand of confetti hung on its side, a remnant of a party long past. Time seemed to slow as I stared. “The magic of friendship for one.”
“Oh. That’s right.” Twilight followed my gaze. “I can’t say how the magic of friendship could fall under any science. Maybe sociology’s correlation to magic but…”
“Assuming friendship is measurable in cold, scientific diagnosis.”
“Exactly. But I know something,” she whispered. Her eyes glazed, as if living in a different time entirely. “Meeting you all was the best thing to have ever happened to me. Rarity, Applejack, Pinkie, Rainbow, and Fluttershy…” Each name said brightened her smile. “It’s just...magical. Unreal. I don’t know how to describe it.” She glanced my way. “You ever feel the same?”
I remembered a fandom. Obnoxious idiots—gay with color and relentless screeching in the very depths of 4chan. Of fanfiction, of music, of animations… An endless flow of content that saw no end as if capable of ruling the whole Earth. At some point, I thought it actually did. “...Maybe.”
I gazed to the side. Beside the plate of cupcakes was a book, fresh out of the dragon mail. Mood and Magic: A Study of the Magical Science of Emotion, an essay by Professor Snuggle.
We snacked in deep thought, the lab set left alone as I chewed through my creamless cupcake and Twilight nibbled her lime-scented one. She was about to take another bite—but then stopped midway.
Ding!
As if an idea had just came over her, she retreated from her cupcake and said, “Spike won’t be home for about two or three days. So tell you what: Be my assistant as you are now and let’s learn the ways of magic and friendship together!”
I blinked. “I...uh… What’ll make it worth my time?”
“I’ll pay for your food when we eat out. Celestia knows we deserve more than just sweets everyday.” Twilight tilted her head, lavender hair swishing across a soft shimmer of her smile and eyes. “Deal?”
A thoughtful gesture—completely ruined by the green cream that painted her muzzle and cheeks. It took all my mastery of poker faces to not twitch at the disastrously adorable sight, if only so that I could keep on appreciating it.
“...Yeah,” I replied stiltedly. “It’s a deal.”
“Great! Then we can start now!”
My wings bristled. “...Now?”
“Sleepovers~!” Twilight sang as she trotted to one of the shelves and magically pulled a book out, turning to show off its cover. Sleepovers 101. “This book on the subject is just waiting to be read! It even includes a checklist!”
I cringed at the pink, flowery title that blatantly advertised its intended audience. “In exact descending order, no doubt...”
Twilight tilted her head. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s like breaking down social activity into a set of instructions for repeatable experiments,” I said airily, rubbing my neck with a wing. “You know how to describe the relationship between a pony and the world, but not between pony to pony. Rarely the same way.”
Twilight frowned. “The scientific method hasn’t failed me yet.”
“Nothing wrong with that. You can analyze a self-help book, let it give you perspective. But books shouldn’t think for you. And besides,” I said, “don’t you remember that I already have plans tonight?”
It took a moment, but the lavender unicorn blinked in realization. “O-oh. Right. Pinkie needs your help at Sugarcube Corner.”
“Speaking of…” I glanced out the window, and through the window, Celestia's light failed to pierce the sky. Licking my teeth, I washed the sweet touch of crumbs, stood up and marched to grab my saddlebags. “It’s time.”
Twilight’s book sagged. “Already?”
“As much as I like to laze around indoors all day, a promise is a promise. Pinkie wants me early to prepare food before the weather team arrives to celebrate the storm.”
It was a good excuse to leave Twilight alone so that “Look Before You Sleep” would proceed with the girls-only sleepover. Far be it for me to stifle a significant part of Twilight’s social development, Rarity and Applejack’s especially. From one intellectual loner to another, it was the least I could to do for my library landlord.
Twilight nodded, but her eyes and ears drooped. “I wish we could do more...”
For a few moments, I stared. “Will you be alright? You’ll be alone here.”
“I-I’m not some baby like Spike said! In fact, he is!”
“...If you say so.” Bouncing the bag along my flank, I felt the familiar weight of my disguise and the book I stuffed inside. “Let’s hope your common sense doesn’t go through exponential decay.”
“It’s more of a linear function,” she grumbled. “But really, I’ll be fine.”
Already, My hoof met the doorknob, but then I paused. “...Hey, uh, Twilight?”
“Hmm?”
“Look after Applejack and Rarity. They are like...science and religion. They view the world differently. No doubt they’ll waste too much time over methodology to get themselves out of the rain.”
“That’s...rather specific.”
“Been watching them.” I pointed. Beyond the window, specks of ponies were clearing broken branches off of trees. In particular, two dots of orange and white-purple squabbled. “They’re cleaning up by Town Square.”
“Oh. Well, I’ll be sure to look after them.” With an amused smirk, Twilight winked. “I’ll pass along that you care.”
“Don’t. They’ll take it the wrong way.” When I opened the door, a gust of air greeted me. I pushed through. “Later.”
“Good luck!” Twilight waved goodbye, like a child seeing off her parent to work. I wasn’t sure how to feel about that.
After one last gander of her cupcake-stained face, I closed the door and marched on with renewed motivation. I wonder how long before she notice her creamy predicament?
The wind and drizzle stung my fur, the clouds threatening to burst into a hurricane. If I was still alive on Earth in the Southern states, I would’ve believed it.
Fucking hurricanes.
The treehouse grew smaller as I trudged on, but after twenty strides I came to a dead stop, blinking. “...wait. Did she just ask me ou—?”
The sky roared as if forbidding me from finishing that sentence at the risk of divine retribution. Startled, I resumed my trek toward Sugarcube Corner, and for a time, I had forgotten who the god of this world.
Revisiting Lessons: Chapter 9
Season 1. Ep 8
Look Before You Sleep
Sugarcube Corner was silent.
The lights were on, but through my shades there was not a soul or sound save for the faint pitter-patter of drizzle and the occasional rumble of thunder. The air was chilly, forsaken by lack of sunlight. The wooden floorboards knocked at my every step. But rather than disturbed, I savored it.
I entered the kitchen. Different place, same feel. Pointless to wear my disguise with no witnesses.
But maybe that’s not quite true.
Striding my way toward the other side of the kitchen, I followed the sounds of kazoos and accordions, stifled as if from a distant place. I stopped and stared at the oven...and opened the drawer right under it.
Blinking back were eyes of the ocean blues, shimmering with laughter and a smile hidden under childish hooves. The pony looked snug.
For a few instances, I stared before grabbing the muffin pan beside her, flicking her poofy tail back in, and shutting the drawer. Why Pinkie Pie decided to abuse cartoon logic just to squeeze herself in there, I didn’t care.
Soon, I compiled all the necessary ingredients onto the kitchen table. Rapid blurs of pink moved in the corner of my eye, and Pinkie was already stirring batter in a bowl as if she was there the entire time. Music blasted into full swing.
“Well if it isn’t my ‘special’ friend!” Pinkie winked as she saddled up beside me, batter miraculously not spilling. “Glad you’re early~!”
“...you’re never going to let that go, are you?”
“Nopers!”
“Figures...”
I slid up a muffin pan primed with wrappers and Pinkie Pie poured the surprisingly smooth batter into each. The muffin pan entered the oven, a single batch soon to be many as we repeated the same motions for the next. My eyes were solely on my task, but Pinkie…
She yammered on. And on and on and on...
“...and it was sooo windy out there! I thought I’d wear my umbrella hat today, but I found out I would just fly off! Crazy, huh? I bet with this wind, I can fly from Sugarcube Corner all the way to Fluttershy’s—!
“How are Mr. and Mrs. Cake?”
“Oh, them? They’re checking up at the hospital. The storm is keeping them until it’s over.” She giggled. “Good thing they have beds over there!”
“That so…”
“Betcha you don’t know what for~!” But then, Pinkie’s eyes crossed. “Oh silly me! Of course you know! They’re checking if they're having a baby! A baby, Tori! Doesn’t that sound adorable~?” Pinkie squeezed her own cheeks, lips puckering in a cutesy face. “Bwaby bwaby, hashty lazshy!”
“Uhuh.”
“I hope it comes out positive! Would it be a colt or a filly? Maybe Twins? I hope there will be twins! Even better: Triplets! Or quadruplets! Or quintuplets! Or Sextupl—!”
“Twins.”
"Huh?!" Pinkie whipped a look at me with a dramatic gasp. “How do you know?! Wait! Don’t tell me! You can see into the future!?”
I shook my head in exasperation, but mirth threatened to spill. “Math and statistics. If the mother is over a certain age, healthy, and overweight, chances increase considerably.”
“Oh ho ho!” Pinkie narrowed her eyes as her snout poked my face. I inched my head away when her breathing brushed my cheek. “Think you can shake me off that easily with that kind of reasonable excuse?! I’m on to you, mister fortune teller!”
“Pinkie, the next batch?”
“Oh! Right!” Pinkie scooped more of the muffin batter into the pan I set up for her. I breathed easily, but it was short lived when the party pony made a sudden quip. “What about you? Think you’ll be having some...Tori Juniors? Eh? Eh?” she suggested with a bump on my shoulder. “The more the merrier!”
“No.”
“Oh, come on! Not even a Mrs.?”
“Never considered it." Maybe old enough to have a kid of my own before I died, but I never imagined such a future. Adulthood had too much to juggle.
“Then maybe we’ll a get glimpse of parenthood when Mr. and Mrs. Cake brings somepony new to town! It’ll be a loooong 12 months.”
Ding!
Pleasantly gasping, Pinkie opened the over with a watery smile at the piping hot muffins inside. Equipped with an oven cloth, she grabbed the muffin pan with her lips and set it on the kitchen counter. She slurped from one corner of her smile to the other. “Don’t mind if I have one!” she said and lunged to consume a muffin in one gulp.
Her teeth sank into nothing.
“...huh?”
High-browed, I pushed the tray back only to quickly pull it again to foil another attempt. “No,” I admonished. “Bad Pinkie. Bad. Only until the job is done.”
"Pleeeaaase! Just a nibble?"
"Denied."
“Hmph!” Pinkie crossed her hooves. “Meanie.”
My eyes rolled. “Grow up.”
Pinkie Pie pouted before sporting a devious grin. That was all the warning I had before being swept into a glomp, muzzle still warm from being close to the oven. “Heeheehee!”
Amazing how the mare could easily close the distance between one’s heart and her own. We’ve only known each other for a month and half by my calender—three in hers—and hugs became the primary ritual between us. Sometimes, I wonder how much was because of her own initiative versus my easy acceptance of it.
It was a mystery why Pinkie’s treatment of me was different from Zecora’s. I thought it was because I was a pony, always in close proximity, and her nature to spread joy took over. She already threw a party thrice in my honor despite my abhorrent reputation. But sometimes, it’s just too much.
“How many times do I have to tell you?” I grumbled. “I’m not the hugging type.”
“Pffft! Not like you refuse! My sister Maud is the same you know? I know how it is.” By the mention of her sister, the hug tightened. “Fuzzy wuzzy warmy McSofty ponies, the both of you!”
“Heh. Trixie would argue otherwise.”
Pinkie gasped and pulled away. “You mean you and Trixie hugged?! You cheat! I thought we had something special together!” she wailed, the dramatic woe brimming in her tear ducts.
“You mean squeezing the life out of me wasn’t special enough—Urk!”
“Better step up my game then!” Pinkie resumed the bone-crushing hug, teasing and purring. “Hugs to the morning till night, hugs for breakfast till dinner! 24/7 for your lonely self!”
“I’m a recluse, not lonely,” I wheezed under the duress. “I just so happened to like thinking. And I do it best...alone.”
“But why not get out of that noggin of yours and into an adventure? Just imagine!” Pinkie waved a hoof. “Bonding time with our friends, pranking and laughing and talking...”
“Our friends? No—Pinkie, we’re not…” I sighed. “We’re only acquaintances who happened to have somepony in common: You.” Scratching my scalp under my marine mane, I looked away. “And I’m not like you. You can close the distance between ponies at the drop of a hat. But for me? Things just...take time.”
“Hmm...” Moments later, she finally said, “Okey dokey lokey,” before releasing the embrace. “But Tori? Will you promise me something?”
When I lazily gazed back, I met a pleading stare that wavered under pastel color. “What is it?”
“Enjoy the little things. Actually live a life besides waking up, working and then sleeping.” Pinkie’s eyes twinkled in a soft whine. “Pinkie Promise? Pretty pwease?”
“I don’t think that’ll—”
“See, that’s the thing!” Pinkie shushed me with a hoof. “You think, but not have fun! Just what’s got you so edgy that you can’t enjoy the moment?” She patted my forehead. “You might get wrinkles!”
“I can’t exactly ‘have fun’ without ruining it for everyone else. You know this.”
“Duh! It’s easy! Make some friends!” Pinkie was sunshine and smiles when she proposed that to me.
But I beg to differ. “Geez,” I sighed, “expanding my friends list isn’t going to make it anymore valuable. Have you learned nothing from Gilda? Not everyone can be open-minded, let alone compromise their values.”
In fact, it was the sole point of today’s friendship lesson. It was a good lesson, about people with differences like Applejack and Rarity getting along...but they were only two ponies. They don’t speak for the rest of town.
“But you and me happened.”
I blinked.
“We’re, like, complete opposites,” she admitted. “But we get along fine! We talk, we bake together, and you…” She paused uncharacteristically. “Would anypony else be any harder?”
“You’re…you’re something else.”
“Come on. Try?” As she leaned closer, Pinkie’s icy orbs seemed to melt, glistening as they stared into mine. "Don’t you feel Ponyville is worth it in the end?”
Before I knew it, my hoof ran across my scar. It was almost unfair. After a few breaths, I sighed. “Fine. For you.” Pledging with a hoof up and the other over my heart, I decreed, “I hereby promise to exchange good times whenever appropriate.”
“Aaaand?”
“...And get along with others, new or otherwise.” And thus, I followed the sacred ritual in a deadpan manner. “Cross my heart and hope to fly, stick a cupcake in my eye.” The deal was sealed.
“Oh thankyouthankyouthankyou!” Pinkie’s body clamped around my barrel, and I anticipated it well enough to let loose only a grunt. After one last, pop-inducing squeeze, she relinquished my life. “I just know you won’t regret it!”
“The hell is there to thank—?”
“I even prepared flashcards to help you out!” Pinkie pulled something out of her mane with an audible pop—a stack of index cards held together by a rubber band, and thrusted it into my chest. “Complete with opening phrases, branching responses, and many more! This way you can make friends in, well, a flash!”
“Uh...“ I yanked the rubber band out and shuffled the index cards. And stared. As I took in the contents, befuddlement set in. “Half of these are just doodles of...smiley faces.”
“That’s what you're supposed to do when you get the card: smile!”
“Why so many?!”
“All the more chances to do it, of course!” Pinkie’s eyes narrowed. “And one more thing…”
“Huh?”
“Yoink!”
The moment I felt the cool air along my hair and the light in my eyes, I darted around to lock gazes with the pink pony skirting toward the other side of the kitchen. Hanging on the hook of her mane was my fedora and shades.
“A drop of hat, just like you said~!” Pinkie bounced in place. “That’s how new friends are made!”
Slowly, I circled around. “Pinkie. Act your age and give them back. I need those.”
Pinkie Pie blew a raspberry, inching the other way. “No! You act your age! I’m reaaaally sure you’re too young to be my dad. Heeheehee!” With a flick of her head, the articles flew and landed perfectly along her mane and face. “And I don’t know...these look pretty good on me. But if you want it that bad…” A grin inched past the shadow of the hat, and she bounced out of the kitchen. “Come and get it!”
By the time I processed the doors comically swinging from her disappearance, I sucked my jaw back up and chased with all my might. “Pinkieee! We still have a job to do!”
“Boing, boing! Can’t catch me!”
I chased her down to a corner, but she bounced off the wall, sailed over me, and skipped off without a care. Instead of stopping, I braced and kicked off the wall. The boost was negligible, but any way to get even an inch on the impossible pony was welcome.
Pinkie Pie scaled over a table. Having no such luxury, I ducked under and slid onto my belly before scrambling back to my hooves.
On and on we lept and dove across the tables along the main room of the bakery. Pinke snortles and oinks and giggles trailed from corner to corner in summersaults and lapses of perception. My cries of exasperation lagged behind each time.
But as if to mock my efforts, Pinkie skidded to halt, glancing back with a grin. I caught up, breath heavy. Standing between us: a table. My frown matched her smile.
I jerked along the left. Pinkie ran opposite. I was quick to pivot and dart toward her path, but she was too fast, whizzing back around. We danced back and forth until, eventually, the only sounds in the bakery were our breaths and the heavy tapping of rain. Nothing progressed, the both of us still separated by the table. Swallowing saliva, I knew I was outmatched. No choice but to negotiatiate.
“If anyone sees me, they’ll freak out. I can’t stay bare like this.”
Pinkie stroked her chin. “Hmm… The Tori I know doesn’t care what other ponies think.”
“I still don’t. But in the last few times, businesses lost customers too afraid to come back. Rather not do the same to your home.”
“Wait. Waitwaitwait—hold it!” Pinkie slammed her hooves on the table, shades ajar. “Oh. My. Gosh! You can care! And you care about me!”
I sighed. “Gee, is that really much of a surprise? Fine. I do. Happy? Can I have them back now?”
“Nope!” she said happily. “You Pinkie Promised!”
“God dammit, Pinkie—!”
Suddenly, she spazzed: An ear flopped, an eye fluttered and a knee twitched, all in a combination that incited meaning to my mind.
“Uh oh!” Pinkie squeaked. “You know what that means…”
The ‘watch out for an opening door’ twitch!
“Shit!”
Abandoning any hope of retrieving my concealment, I rushed behind the counter and haphazardly took out Mood and Magic from my saddlebag. With my blank flank behind a barrier and my eyes peeking over my open book, my cover was set. It was shit stealth, but my shitty disguise worked wonders before.
“Heeey! That’s cheating!” Pinkie whined, hopping to my side.
It was tempting to nab back my stuff right then and there, with her being so close, but it was too late for that. I could already hear music.
Hoof steps grew louder beyond the rain. But not wings, I realized. The entrance opened, the arrivals illuminated by bakery lights. It wasn’t the weather team.
One mare ahead two stallions. The theme a melodious flute leading a heavy bass and a humble guitar.
A sharp horn glinted over the mare’s long, peach mane, damp and straight. She ruffled her pure white coat once. Droplets flew yet she still had the ladylike grace to wipe her dainty hooves on the drying mat, as if her disheveled state was merely in fashion. “Hm. Warm and cozy… Charmed.” Her voice sounded the bakery like flutes and bells of honey.
A pegasus strutted in, his bright green mane as stylish and slick as the rain, accentuating his wispy, white coat. “Booyah! Wassup!” the boisterous stallion hollered, and his golden eyes drifted about. “I hope nopony is in the gloom under the rain here today! Or else we’d be the ones bumpin’ up the party! Ain’t that right, Thera?”
“Again, it is Doctor Sound...” the unicorn muttered, dismissal clear on her face. “Mr. Contrail, mind the volume. You’re in a public establishment.”
“Sorry, babe, but I got this charisma just burstin’ to show its stuff! Ya dig?”
“Hmph!” The mare haughtily turned away. “I do not ‘dig’. Digging is only for the savages of the earth who find joy in dirtying their hooves,” she spat before coughing politely. “No offense to you, Mr. Roadmane.”
The third pony sighed, the stallion’s coat as colorful as cobblestone. His throaty voice rumbled the air. “None taken. But Doctor, ‘dig’ was just an expression.”
“Oh.” The mare gracelessly blinked. “I-is that so…”
The earth pony’s brick-colored mane billowed under his dismissive snort. Crimson orbs were unveiled from the parted bangs as he leisurely trotted, saddlebags lining his sides.
Not of fanon or canon. Completely new... New for a certain party animal.
Pinkie Pie inhaled dramatically—to the point her mane ate my hat and shades—before zooming away in a blink.
“Huh.” The pegasus’s brow furrowed. “What’s her deal?”
The door behind me swung back and forth before matching the stillness of my face. I set my book aside, relieved. They won’t recognize me. I slapped the menu and a large towel on the counter. “Welcome to Sugarcube Corner. What will be your order?”
“Thank you.” The mare held the towel in a glow of magic, gently drying her mane as if it were a brush as she appraised the menu with peachy eyes under bored lashes.
No one spoke. In the silence of rain and rumbling skies, I understood well enough that they this company was a reserved sort.
Except maybe for the pegasus.
“So,” the pegasus began. “Mr. Bakery Dude, what about you?”
“Uh…” I pointed at myself. “Me?”
“Yeah, you. Whatcha got there?”
“...A book. And flashcards.”
“Well, duh! My brother, you’re too good for that kind of crud!” He waved a white hoof above. “You got wings! You should be out there free, flyin’!”
“The weather begs to differ.”
“Don’t sweat the small stuff!”
“Mr. Contrail,” Dr. Sound said through grit teeth, “you can’t bother the good stallion for being a good study. After all, knowledge is a respectable pursui...” For only a moment, she trailed off upon seeing the book’s cover before clearing her throat. “A-anyhow, we’d like to have strawberry milkshakes.”
“All three of you?” I asked.
“Yes.”
Odd. Don’t the other two have a say?
“Alright,” I turned and sauntered into the kitchen. “Please enjoy the show while you wait.”
“...enjoy what?”
“Hello, new ponies~!”
Just as the kitchen door swung closed, the room behind me exploded with the startled cries of Pinkie Pie appearing right behind them. A certain welcome song played, muffled in the background, my memory echoing along.
The supplies were ready on the kitchen table, and I went in motion. Strawberry ice cream was scooped, strawberry syrup was poured, and a few mixes of the strawberry variety were dumped—I turned on the blender, watching as the thick substances transformed into a smooth liquid in a loud whirl.
I emerged out of the kitchen, just in time to feel the tail end of the 25-second song’s explosive ending of airy confetti. Three glasses of milkshake laid on the counter, cold dew condensed on transparent surfaces. Some whip cream, strawberries, and straws later, it was finished. Like magic. I looked up from my work.
The new ponies’ coats and manes were ruffled, faces stoked in shock. On their heads were party hats for the occasion, the unicorn’s in slipping off from her horn. She sneezed. Out came confetti.
The pegasus made a noise, blinking rapidly from the doozy performance. “Uh…that was…something.” He gave the milkshakes an amazed look. “Fast, too!”
I laid my crossed hooves on the counter. “McDonalds: Years of practice.”
And I was the ice cream machine.
“...what?”
“Nothing. That’ll be nine bits total.”
“Thank you,” the white unicorn politely said. Even with the unicorn’s dry reaction, the other two gulped as they stared at diabetes incarnate. The mare produced the golden coins onto the counter, of which I collected. “A fine establishment under this dreary weather. Are you two perhaps the owners?”
“Nope!” Pinkie saddled up beside me, a limb around my shoulder. “We’re the employees. I’m Pinkie Pie, and this definitely-friendly-and-caring pony is Tori!” She shook me. “Say hello~!”
“Hi.”
“See?” Pinkie smiled enough for the both of us. “Friendly!”
“I…see.” Dr. Sound slightly bowed. “A pleasure to meet you both. As for us...”
By an invisible cue, the stallions flanked each of her sides, standing at attention so that their marks were in full view in practiced rehearsal. A wagon and wrench for the wordless earth pony. An emerald marking a patch of pale blue for the bold pegasus.
The unicorn stepped back and stood parallel to the counter and then posed dramatically in a way that accentuated the image on her flank: A cute syringe surrounded by dancing musical notes.
Combined, their marks almost seemed to glow from the enthusiasm in cartoony effects.
“We are the Church’s Marked Pilgrims!” the unicorn proclaimed. “Fate has it that we come down and spread our message from Canterlot to Ponyville. I’m quite sure you know all about our cause.”
I did not.
She smiled, white forehooves spread wide in welcome. “I am Sound Therapy, but call me Dr. Sound.”
“Name’s Gem Contrail!” The slick pegasus puffed his furry chest. “Jewel of the Skies!”
Then, we looked at the earth pony of the group, who simply stood silently.
Dr. Sound coughed. “Excuse him. His name is Thrush Roadmane.”
“Oh, this is so exciting!” Pinkie was quivering. She elbowed my side saying, “It’s like fate wants you to make new friends!” Standing on hind legs, she leaned over the counter and gleamed at the three. “What do you do? Do you like pie or cake? Cupcakes or muffins? What are your favorite colors? Where are you all from? Why are you here? ...why are we here? WHY DO WE EXI—?!”
A book met Pinkie’s lips and then silence. Wordlessly, she got off the counter.
Placing the book down, I gaze toward the trio. “Anything else you’d like?”
“As a matter of fact, yes,” Dr. Sound said. “I don’t suppose you know the...Flightless Blank?”
My ears twitched. “...I’m sorry?”
“We’ve heard rumors spreading in Canterlot. They speak of an undead stallion who wanders the rural village of Ponyville, with wings that never flap like a forgotten decoration, his face as blank as his bare flank—like an unfinished statue.”
The more she spoke, the less of a mystery that she’s talking about me. Canterlot? Seriously? If I were to guess, it had to do with the Ponyville citizens who originally came from the prestigious city.
“Turns out he was quite real,” she continued. And as if the sugar in her voice wasn’t enough, the unicorn leaned in with fluttering lashes, breath husky. “We just thought...to sate our curiosity. Care to clear this mare of her doubts?”
Am I being…seduced?
The stallions behind her gagged.
Pinkie, however, gasped. “You mean him?!” When she looked my way with a bombastic grin, I slouched. “Well, yeah! I know him! But he’s totally nice—”
“He supports genocide,” I interrupt. “Sometimes, he goes out shouting, ‘death to earth pony scum!’ while standing on two legs to show superiority.”
“U-um. He can read minds and see into future!” Pinkie continued. “He could tell how many kids a mom could ha—!”
“He frequents this place so much that he’s, like, yay wide.” I spread my hooves across their full length. “So fat that he can feed an entire village of cannibals for a whole day.”
“And he also has this really, really bad obsession with hats and shad—”
“Especially the hats. Definitely hats. The weirder the better, most preferably with a swastika.”
Gem and Thrush slowly shared a look, utterly confused.
“Uh…” Dr. Sound looked back and forth between us. “Is the part of being markless at least true?”
I paused. “Yeah.”
In a solemn nod, her eyes were casted in shadow. “So it is true… Adulthood without a mark… Unbelieveable.” She cleared her throat. “Then I suppose our visit has even greater purpose. During our stay here, no matter whoever—or whatever—he is, he will be saved and become a loving member of society. The Canterlot Church of Harmony swears it.”
Pinkie squealed. “You’re staying?! Neato! I can’t wait to get to your welcome party! You’ll love it here!”
I frowned. “...what do you mean by ‘save’?”
Before Dr. Sound could answer, lightning roared. A pair of terrified screams followed. In that instant of whiteness, the mare disappeared. The rain intensified into a symphonic drumming against the bakery, a sign that the pegasi finished their work.
Glancing about, it took no time to find Dr. Sound shivering under the a table. Her horn sparked of mana. And beside her...
“E-ehehe,” Gem chuckled. His wings were shaking as he laid under the table along with her. “To tell ya the truth, we were lost when we came down here. We didn’t know it was going to rain and...Thera here doesn’t like sudden loud noises. Ironic, huh?”
“You’re afraid of lightning, too, you oaf!”
“With pride, Doc! With pride!”
Thrush’s eyes met mine beyond his bangs. He grunted. I grunted back. It was...an enlightening exchange. Nodding, he dragged the two shivering ponies to a table on the far side of the bakery.
I glanced beside me. “So, uh, how’s that for exchanging good times?”
Pinkie Pie answered with a pout.
The bell rang as the entrance sailed open.
Wet pegasi murmured in, finally back from the latest of their weather work. A dull roar entered the atmosphere as they sat and filled the tables. Under Pinkie’s watchful eyes, the time to upholding my Pinkie Promise came earlier than comfortable. However, the wide-eyed look the new arrivals had upon seeing me didn’t help. I slouched. It was the first step of a long, long 500 miles.
It was an astounding venture.
A scholars of magic, psychology and other fields gathered to scientifically determine and quantify the link between mood and magic. It began with over 300 subjects, 100 ponies of each race, and it would one day scale to thousands upon thousands.
And so I, Professor Snuggle, shall chronologue this for those of curious minds. For the snuggles.
In the corner of my eye, at a table where the Marked Pilgrims sat, Sound Therapy leaned on her hoof with a befuddled look this way. When she gazed down toward my flank, though, her eyes widened. She nudged the others and, quickly, so did the other two.
I would’ve chuckled if it didn’t scare the skittish ponies in front of me.
Flitter and Cloudchaser nervously smiled as I passed down to them a tray of chocolate cake at their table. Flitter flinched as I produced the cutlery for them, particularly the knife. I made sure to be quick.
When I turned to leave, Pinkie Pie’s serious face was mere centimeters from mine.
Slowly, I faced the twins again, shuffling a wing to take out my flash cards. With an appropriate (and eligible) response ready, I spoke it’s contents and looked up.
Their mouths were already full.
Flitter slowly chewed with puffy cheeks, fudge on her nose and some on the tip of her pink bow. Cloudchaser was a complete mess after abandoning fork and knife to face plant onto her cake, enough chocolate interlocked with her wild mane to make Rarity scream. They’re trying evade small talk.
Pinkie’s pressuring gaze held.
I shuffled to the next card.
Everything is magical in nature and are thus made up of mana—originating from the individual’s soul or nature itself—alongside water. Mana and elemental activity generates body heat as a byproduct.
Mood changes mana. All positive emotions express warmer body temperatures in the subjects. The opposite was true: negative emotions cool their bodies, as found through ample snuggling.
The exception, however, is rage—making elemental heat as determined by a great number of subjects having the ability to produce steam through their ears. This phenomenon was due to the interaction of excess elemental heat and the body’s water. Maintaining such a state for long periods would lead to dehydration. Such subjects were calmed via soft hugs before it endangered them.
Thunderlane boisterously laughed with his friends. I approached their table with a tray of milkshakes over my wing. To the side, Pinkie Pie mimed and stretched her lips to a goofy, exaggerated grin with both hooves. My brows furrowed, but she nodded encouragingly.
So, I broke into my best casual smile. Stiff, but good enough as I approached Thunderlane’s table.
Pinkie shook her head and stretched her smile even more.
Eyes rolling, I pulled the corner of my lips as far up my cheeks as possible.
Pinkie blinked and her expression morphed into horror.
Thunderlane’s friends noticed, gasped and pointed behind him. The charcoal pegasus turned, opening his mouth as if to say a witty quip. His mohawk wilted. What he saw was so terrifying that whatever he was going to say died in his girlish scream as he slugged me in the face.
His pride probably hurt more.
Gem Contrail stopped flirting with a few pegasi nearby to see what the commotion was all about, raising an oblivious brow.
There is nothing more puzzling and groundbreaking than the discovery of the Neutral Heart State, or NHS. By definition, it is the natural body temperature of a pony in exclusion of the effects of emotions. This mimics the known concept of pure mana assuming the properties of given elementals.
As surveyed through various instruments and bodily contact, a vast majority of subjects have warm Neutral Heart States. Further studies detected the same for ponies and other creatures all across Equestria.
Cloudkicker looked up and down at my figure in trepidation as I settled the banana split ice cream bowl before her. I avoided her gaze, laying a silver spoon wrapped in a napkin. Her muzzle scrunched, a bead of sweat dropping.
Maybe it was the frivolously pink apron Pinkie made me wore, matching perfectly with my blue color scheme. Maybe it was the ice cream slathered over my black eye as a creative substitute for ice. Or maybe it was my deadpanned expression as I wore all of the above, giving no less damns than before.
The dam broke. Cloudkicker bursted in laughter, trying but failing to hold it in with a hoof over her mouth.
I rolled my eyes. I don’t know, but it was the most positive reaction thus far after six times.
Early on, only two studied ponies had a cold Neutral Heart State. Both were chronically anxious and apathetic. In case of immoral treatment, the team was barred by royal law from using excessive or prolonged social experiments, such as frequent glomping sessions, for their value. Regardless, there was very little data to be obtained.
For a time, the mystery of the cold NHS remained as such. However, the study evolved and popularized, garnering a vast array of subjects and volunteers.
Derpy Hooves, or perhaps I should say Muffins, looked at the mountain of muffins before her and then at me.
I shuffled uncomfortably under her gaze.
Her lazy eye drifted up the length of the muffin pile while her mystical right eye of truth judged me with deathly stillness. In agonizingly slow motion, she took a muffin. And ate it. She chewed at a snail-like pace. Not for an instant did her expression change. Even the ice cream on my face sweat from the pressure… Oh wait. It’s just melting.
She swallowed. Five seconds. Ten. Sixty.
Then, there was a glimmer in her eyes.
I passed.
...just what the hell would’ve happened if I failed?
When I left the mistress of memes to her munchies, I passed by a certain table. Thrush was stone stiff from where he sat, but my eye didn’t fool me. I saw the drool under his lip as he stared emotionlessly at Muffin’s fine dish.
The cold NHS was common in criminals and individuals with a history of repeated cruelty or apathy. However, “common” is relative in this case, for criminals are very, very few. In the time the study was conducted, 1 out of every 4000 offenders were diagnosed as cold-hearted. The general public had a far lower ratio with 1 out of every 20,000. In a survey Equestria’s total population is roughly 800,000.
Cold-heartedness is thus extraordinarily rare.
Finally over.
I stood boredly by the counter, haggard from the constant moving. All the ponies have been served and there’s no more orders left to fill. My left eye felt sticky, though. I looked around.
Pastel colors resonated throughout the flash-esque world. Everyone was happy with their sweets, bellies filling with sugary goodness of all shapes and sizes. Lively lines, thick and thin, formed a carefree atmosphere that brought a lazy smile in every pegasus in the room.
Eventually, I retreated into the kitchen where the happy noises obscured into the background, finding a sense of peace...alone.
At first, the suspected root cause was long-term negativity. There were problems with this notion. In the millennium of peace and harmony under Celestia’s rule, the general population is exempt from harsh states of living, never enough to permanently alter a Neutral Heart State. Even those with rough, crass, unapologetic or otherwise unpleasant personalities would still have a warm NHS. Reversely, even happiest of ponies can be cold-hearted.
But an interesting theory came about: rather than emotion, the NHS is defined by a jaded perception of the world.
Most notable was when the team interacted with the cold-hearted subjects. Despite attempts for social openness, they remain elusive. A disturbing divide existed between the common pony and the cold-hearted.
My metaphorical bubble bursted when Pinkie Pie snuck behind and glomped the life out of me for a job well done. After seconds of fruitless struggle, I gave in, allowing Pinkie to snuggle up closer.
Not like I could refuse.
...that, and their odd aversion to snuggles both voluntary and involuntary. Through many trials of snuggles, this was confirmed.
The air shuddered from the crack of thunder. Lights flickered on and off.
It may or may not be my fault that Sugarcube Corner was now quiet. The weather team didn’t stay long after finishing their food. Once the last shred of ice cream was eaten, they left to brave the blistering rain in swift order, heading home. A cold meal and a cold leave… Didn’t sound healthy. The only customers left were the Marked Pilgrims.
In front of me, Mood and Magic was open. Between orders and baking, I read a few pages whenever I had the chance.
Pinkie and I rewarded ourselves with some pie. Although, right beside me, she noisily gobbled her’s like an animal, muzzle deep in the warm crust and a mess on the counter. Three guesses who she was imitating... When she was done, her tongue circled around and cleansed her face of all pie debris in one fell swoop.
Humming, Pinkie leaned toward me. “Pssst!”
“Hmm?”
“Do you know when Dashie will finally come, oh-so-great mystical fortune teller?”
“I heard she’s held up by weather watch in case the storm spills out of control.” I grimaced. “She’s gonna be pissed when she finds out no one stuck around.”
"Oh... Say, are you going to eat that?"
I looked at my own pie. I barely touched it. "Later."
"Uh uh." Pinkie shook her head. "You're eating it now, and I'm going to see you enjoy it with my own two eyes!"
"...that's...not creepy at all," I said slowly. At this rate, Pinkie will force me to eat my own pie.
But then I was saved by the bell, the bakery welcoming in the storm outside through a creaking entrance.
The sweet ring had Pinkie gasping, looking toward the door. “Dashie?!”
I squinted. No. It's not her.
Light and deliberate steps—too soft to be a daredevil’s—crossed the distance toward the counter. Shivering with dripping hooves, her mane drenched over her eyes, the little thing kept on trotting. The meek innocence of her gaze barely peeked through...and yet, somehow, had no intention to complain.
Pinkie’s jaw dropped. “Fluttershy?”
I respectfully laid down my book to rummage under the counter for a towel.
When Fluttershy spoke, it was all a whisper. “O-oh, um, I'm sorry. Are you all closed? Should I leave?"
"Nonono! Come on in," Pinkie cheerfully said before flashing a look of concern. “But what are you doing out here? Shouldn't you be inside and away from the rain?”
I stood up, a thick, folded towel now in my hooves. The delicate mare hesitantly accepted my offer and muttered a thanks, wrapping the towel around herself to dry. I said nothing and backed off. Silence for silence. That was the way between us.
“H-have you seen a, um, robin around? Loves to collect sticks, wanders around Ponyville and-and…” Fluttershy gulped. “He hasn’t returned to the cottage. I’m worried.”
I blinked. A robin? As a matter of fact, I did. It was when I watched out the window while doing science with Twilight. A robin was picking out a twig, as I recall. If the world's narrative functioned as how I understood it, he's likely our bird.
"Awww! Little birdie got lost? Let me think..." Pinkie posed with a hoof under her chin—and she thought and thought and thought... "Nope. Got nothing.” A sheepish shrug. “Sorry, Fluttershy.”
"O-oh..." Eyes downcasted in disappoint, her voice wavered. She began to turn to leave. "Then I can't stay for long..."
"W-wait!" Pinkie’s brow creased in concern. “Are you really going to search out in the rain?”
“If I have to.”
“Whaaaa? But that’s crazy!” Pinkie protested. “You could get really, really sick!”
“But what if, um, Mr. Robin is in trouble?” Fluttershy’s eyes watered. “What if he’s scared? Or hungry? Or-or…”
Just watching was a pain... “He’s a creature of nature,” I said suddenly. “He can take care of himself.”
“But can he really?” Fluttershy found the energy to look at me straight for only a moment before shying away, her lips pursing. “I can’t risk it.”
"Not every little critter is weak and helpless."
"Then neither am I."
I blinked. At the soft determination that challenged me, at the way she stood straight and carried herself… I stared evenly at her, and she held. Or rather, it’s her who stared evenly at me. I understood completely how far she’ll go for a single lost little bird. Hell, from a phoenix to a draconequus—it’s simply in her character. And besides...
“...You’re not letting this go, are you?”
She said nothing.
This girl… And so, I sighed. “...to the east. Probably by the park.”
Pinkie looked at me, surprised.
“O-oh!” Fluttershy brightened, sweet as a peach as though her sorry state mattered little. “Really!?”
"If Mr. Robin collects sticks, there's some still left over there,” I continued. “Plenty of cover for him to work with, too.
Fluttershy smiled at me, but it didn’t feel deserved. “Thank you.” And in equine grace, she began walking out the door.
I resisted a grimace. It felt undeserved. "Just go home if you don't find him," I muttered. It's been hours since I last saw the robin. He could be gone for all I knew—and I’ll be leading Fluttershy to a dead end.
Pinkie waved, smiling with a cheer, "Good luck!"
At first, Fluttershy hesitated in front of the exit as the sky grumbled, but after a deep breath, the little pony braved the open storm...and then she was gone. A used towel laid abandoned to the side like the flag that started the race.
Pinkie nudged me by the leg with a wink and a smile. "Using your psychic powers for good, eh?"
I felt even worse.
A trio of hoof steps closed in on us. The Marked Pilgrims approached with serious faces. Gem Contrail’s the grimmest of all. He slammed his hooves onto the counter.
“Who. Was. She.”
“I…” I blinked. “What?”
“That mare!” Gem pointed out the door. “T-that...angel! Oh golly!” He pressed his hooves over his heart, because wherever it went, it multiplied and sparkled in his eyes as he stared out the door. “Fluttershy, right? This must be the doing of fate...I…” A dumb grin crossed his face. “I think I’m in love.”
Dr. Sound shook her head in exasperation. “Don’t you say that to every mare you flirt with?”
“This is different!”
Thrush hoarsely grunted, piercing our conversation.
“Ah! Yes,” Dr. Sound said. “Mr. Roadmane is absolutely right. We have business to attend to.” A spark of telekinesis, and something floated out of Thrush’s saddlebag. “Here. A tip for your service.”
But placed on the counter was a silver medallion attached to a thick string.
I gazed at it and then back at her. “This isn’t money.”
“Surely you know the token of the Church of Harmony!” Sound blinked. “Right?”
“Tori.” Pinkie tugged my apron, her face oddly serious. “This...this is an invitation.”
Sweeping the medallion with a hesitant wing, I squinted at it. And then my heart went cold. A marked caricature of the sun behind a smooth impression of a tree was along the metallic surface. It was a masterful craft, complete with a hexagon of six tiny jewels...
The Tree of Harmony.
I gazed up at the Marked Pilgrims. “...what do you want?”
“Now that we know who you are, Flightless Blank, it’s really simple.” Sound smiled sweetly. “We want you to obtain your mark.”
I considered my words carefully. “...And the catch?”
“No catch!” she said happily. “The Marked Pilgrims merely wants to help.”
My brow raised.
She blinked, glancing side to side.
I narrowed my eyes and held.
After a few ticks, Sound bit her lip. “W-well… Yes. There is a catch.” She sighed. “You will be...rehabilitated in Canterlot.”
Pinkie bristled in the corner of my eye.
“Of course, that’ll be after me and the boys here are done with business and you settle your goodbyes. But it’s a small price to pay for a lifetime of purpose and prosperity.” Dr. Sound brightened and smiled down on me like an angel, welcoming me with open hooves. “Accept, and we will be happy to accommodate.”
“No.”
“Wonderful! Now we can—!” The mare froze, a hoof to her chest as if offended. “E-excuse me?”
“No,” I repeated and gave a wry smile. “Sorry, but this isn’t much of a big deal for me. Besides, I already have Lord Kek watching over—”
“How can you say that?!” Sound sputtered, slamming her hooves on the counter. I winced when there was a slight crack. “We heard of the things they call you—how they treat you like some creature of fiction! Why, even in Canterlot the rumor isn’t this deranged! One of them called you a literal piece of the sky! This is unacceptable!”
“Eeeeeh…” Well I did fall from the sky... “It’s fine. I’m kinda like a meme now.“
“I don’t know…” Pinkie stroked her chin, eyeing me with an appraising look. “I thought the things about you were pretty realistic.”
“...ignore her.”
Gem frowned. “Not to be blunt, pal. But your life from what we saw is treating you like garbage.”
“Frankly,“ I drolled in dismissal, “I don’t give a damn.”
“Don’t you want a cutie mark?” Sound said, dumbfounded. “Don’t you care?” She searched my expression for any inkling of change. She looked and looked and looked... but when I held firm she backed off...and nodded, eyes closed in understanding. “...I see. I’m sorry to hear that.” When they opened, however, they glinted. “Because you don’t have a choice.”
The medallion felt cold under my wing.
“Duuude, what a downer,” Gem drawled, shaking his head. “Can’t take the gift from the horse’s mouth…”
Thrush only grumbled, stepping menacingly close. If it weren’t for the counter, it would’ve been much closer.
Pinkie squeaked, huddling up to my side. “U-uh, this isn’t funny, you guys...”
“No, it isn’t,” Dr. Sound tersely said. “Fate isn’t kind to those who stray from their paths, not when lives are in the balance. The Church’s prophecies have been proven true and just for the last thousand years, but it can easily be undone by forces out of fate’s control. Harmony must be maintained, and so we, the Marked Pilgrims will protect it.” The light in her eyes glinted as her horn glowed. “So I implore you once more, come with us. Or else.”
There we stood, in a bakery under a rainy siege, about to implode by a storm brewing from inside. The Marked Pilgrims held an intimidating formation. Pinkie ears drooped, her hind legs shaking, ready to flee. And I...simply stared.
I broke the silence. “Or else what?”
Gem’s chest met the counter, wings wide open. “Or else we’ll be serving you misery and pain! We’ll pour it in and, like, make you drink it! Like—like a smoothie!” He scrunched in intense emotion, hooves closing as if crushing something into bits. “We’ll smash you into pieces until you become sprinkles to a desert! Until your mane and tail are inside out! Until you walk backwards...forever!”
Pinkie Pie gasped, horrified with ears splayed back.
Even Thrush and Dr. Sound gave him a look.
“Why? Because love is waiting for me!” Gem proclaimed. “And I’m not gonna let anypony get in the way of my destiny!”
...
It’s decided. These three have no idea what they’re doing.
“...okay,” I began, “how about we just calm down and—”
Bang! Bang!
Confetti and air sprang as Pinkie’s party cannon sang twice into their faces. The first on Gem Contrail, who flew by sheer force and tumbled against the tables, and the second on Thrush Roadmane, who sputtered and fell to his flank, bangs blasted back to reveal the shock in his face. And for good measure, Pinkie took my pie and slammed it into Sound Therapy’s muzzle!
Pinkie yelled over the unicorn’s muffled scream, “Run, Tori! Run!”
“Pinkie?! What are you—?!”
She pressed her head against my chest, pushing me along. “Go, go, go! Through the back door!”
“Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck!”
The splash of rain hit us like a wall. In an instant, my bangs draped over my eyes. I sputtered, slipping into a puddle I failed to see. Pinkie caught and pulled me upright and we pushed our way through the drudges of the night, risking a direction or two without the moon to light our way. I was half blind from my accursed shaggy mane, so Pinkie took lead.
Her intuition led us to the alleys, and so we stopped, huffing and puffing while leaning against a wall.
“Did—” I gasped for another breath. “—did it had to be the pie?”
“Sorry! But it was for a good cause!”
“Yeah but it’s—it’s cream pie!”
“Oooh... I didn’t know cream pie is your favorite.”
“No—I just... Ugh. Fine. Let’s go with that.” Once I steadied my breath, though, I looked at her and frowned. “But Pinkie, I had that handled.”
“Nope! No, no, no!” Pinkie wildly shook her head. “That pony really meant what he said, and I’m not waiting to see you become a cupcake!”
“But—”
“No buts! They’re going to hurt you! They’re going to steal you away from...from...” Pinkie hissed and walked at me, her hoof jabbing my snout. I backed away, but she pursued in a rare moment of aggression. “A-and you Pinkie Promised! Promised that we’ll have good times together! If they catch you, I’ll never forgive you!” And then my eyes widened, for she suddenly hugged me tight, whimpering under the rain. Cold. So very cold. Pinkie sniffled. “...okay?”
And in that moment, in the blistering rain and under the rumbling clouds, my heart dropped.
I pushed her away.
...and pivoted around, stole a lid from a nearby trash can, and braced myself against the improvised shield as Gem Contrail swooped down.
Clank!
My grip was too weak. I spun from the collision and fell, the lid falling with me.
“Tori!” Pinkie gasped as she struggled to her hooves, mud icing her coat and mane.
“Go! I’ll be fine!” I shouted. Eyes wide, I rolled over just in time to avoid the stylish pegasus’s diving sweep, water flying from the resulting wind. “Get help!”
“I...I…!” Pinkie shut her eyes tight and turned away, running as fast as she could. “I’ll be back in a jiffy! I promise!”
The moment Pinkie turned the corner, my thoughts shifted. I have to take care of myself now. “I know you will,” I whispered.
It’s another variation like any other. There’s no choice but to deal with it.
I slapped myself against the wall, covering my blindspot in case Gem Contrail comes swooping in again. I began to run the other way, but just around the corner, a certain crimson-eyed pony stepped in. I cursed. Thrush must’ve circled around while Gem had me distracted.
Behind me, Gem landed with a splash. “End of the line, bud.”
The two closed in.
I snarled, grabbed the trashcan I took the lid from, and threw it between me and Thrush before he could get any closer. I spun around, only to fall to my belly to let Gem fly over me in blazing speed.
Gem crumpled like a paper plane upon crashing into a brick wall. He flopped to his flank with swirling, dazed eyes. “I-I’m seein’ starzz…”
Thrush flared his nostrils and charged.
Scrambling to my forehooves, I bucked the trashcan in Thrush’s way, the action making me slip. But Thrush simply hopped over the trash can and made me eat dirt in a flying tackle to my back, his forehooves locking around my mid barrel.
I choked, gurgling in the puddle of mud before animalistic fury took over me. My wing freed itself from his grip and pushed on his face, allowing me the decency to crane my neck, face him, and spit the mud into his eyes.
Thrush roared in disgust, but I didn’t let him off easy as I peeled him off by stomping a hind hoof into his chin. I was free...!
Only to be caught instantly when Gem pounced, slamming onto my back. The left side of my face sank into the muddy ground. I swung my hind legs to kick him off but Thrush, having recovered, took hold with a growl.
I wasn’t strong enough. I wasn’t fast enough. I desperately struggled with all I got anyways as my heartbeat intensified, dirty water leaking into my nostrils.
“O-okay!” Gem shouted. “We got him! Tranq him already!”
Pale manalight shined over us, and a dainty, white hoof stepped into my view. Shining plastic caught my eye. In Sound’s telekinetic grasp, a syringe with a long, sharp needle floated between her eyes. She shakily raised the tranquilizer and stuttered, “It’ll be all okay—all okay! It may h-hurt now, but it won’t in the place we’re going...”
I thrashed even harder.
“Keep him still, you two!” Dr. Sound shrilled. “I might hurt him!”
“Oh for the love—” Gem bit his lips. “Are you seriously worrying about that now?! We are already in deep when we accepted the Priest’s mission!”
“I’m a doctor! Not a savage!” Sound hissed, “This isn’t just about our mission—this is about what my cutiemark taught me. So excuse me if I want to end this clean!”
Are they seriously doing this?!
“We’re all wet and muddy! Nopony is clean!”
“There’s nothing stopping me from trying!”
“Listen, doc, we’re lucky that this guy is as flightless as a penguin. We got him now. Job’s gonna be done. It’s as clean as it gets—!”
A sound—a whisper. Something jiggled and rattled, and the weight of Gem over me disappeared with a yell. Sound shrieked and backed away with wide eyes. I twisted along the ground just in time to see a blur slam four hooves into Thrush’s side. As soon as I was free, I yelped as pink hooves dragged me to the wayside and away from the Marked Pilgrims. I gazed up in awe.
“You know, it’s been a wild day,” a scratchy voice said. “I get called to put some clouds together, stay all hoofing night to watch over it, and just when I thought I could chill with a milkshake with today’s pay, I run into one of my friends begging for help.” A jiggling bag of bits landed beside her like the sound after the flash of lightning. “And now I see somepony cracking fun on a pony for being flightless?” Rainbow Dash whisked her colorful bangs to the side, gracing the Marked Pilgrims a full view of her smouldering, ruby-eyed glare. “Not. Cool.”
Thrush mumbled incoherently as he examined his now dirt-stained coat. He sneered in indignation.
Gem moaned, struggling to stand up. “Ooooow!” He eyes were still swirling from the impact as he nursed his muzzle. “What hit me?!”
“The best flier in town!” Rainbow Dash smirked, ferocity in her eyes. “Look me up on the dictionary under the word ‘awesome’ if you’re bird-dead brain still doesn’t understand.”
I wobbled to my hooves, leaning against the wall, gasping, “R-Rainbow?”
Hopping hooves splashed behind me. “And Pinkie~!” my pink saviour said as she hopped to her side, her back facing me. “Back in a jiffy, like I said.”
I chuckled weakly. “Never doubted you.”
“And what’s up, Tori?” Rainbow glanced over her shoulder with her signature grin. “Having fun without me?”
“Hardly.” Grunting, my hooves had enough feeling to stand without support. “I expected help, but not this neighborly.”
“Oh please. Out of the ponies I stuck out for in my life, you’re the least coolest.”
“What happened to hanging out with the cool kids?”
“Gilda happened,” she said bluntly, before facing Gem with a snarl, “and this reminded me of how she and I first met!” She pounced, hooves flying.
Gem squeaked like a toy the instant his snout snapped inwards for the second time tonight.
Thrush snarled and stepped forward, only to take it back when Pinkie Pie appeared right up to his face.
“Ooh ooh! I can do that, too!” She snapped to a steely glare. “Grrrr!”
Thrush opened his mouth but then closed it.
Dr. Sound looked at her companions, at their opponents, and then at me. Her stance lowered, nostrils flaring as she scraped the ground with a hoof, ready to engage in close quarters combat. Her horn sparkled dangerously. “En garde!”
Legs firm, I snorted and got ready.
I admit to have felt no shame when I turn tailed and ran the other way.
“Wha—hey! Wait!” The unicorn disappeared and reappeared in front of me, syringe poised. “Face me like a stallion!
I squinted through the rain and thrusted my wing.
Sound gasped when the medallion flew her way and caught it with her magic.
Taking advantage of her distraction, I slapped my wing across her face as I ran past, smearing mud on what was once immaculate. Shrieking, she scrambled to wipe her eyes.
I turned a corner by then, weaving to and fro the alleys of Ponyville homes in random combinations, utilizing every shortcut Pinkie Pie taught me. I winced each time a sticky, muddy strand of my hair touched the edge of my eyes. There was no way I would risk tripping to shake my mane off.
I heard magic sparkling, and I hastily grabbed a corner of a building and dragged my momentum into another alley, just before Dr. Sound reappeared. I heard her magically materialize again and again, hunting for the alley I was running in.
I found myself out in the open of Town Square. But instead of finding cover or a place to hide, I ran and ran and…
I skid to a stop, leaning at the base of the tree of Golden Oak Library with a shuddered breath, my eyes closed.
Inside, it was dark. I didn’t need to see. I could hear it: the background music in sync with the scene of Rarity and Applejack waging tug of war with a blanket in my perfect memory.
My ears flickered to a familiar series of notes in Daniel Ingram’s music score, matching key by key to the mental image of Twilight interrupting their fight, complaining about their behaviour. I smiled.
Magic sparkled and hooves splashed as Sound Therapy reappeared into reality. I didn’t bother turning just yet. Out in the cold rain, our breathing barely registered among the steady roar of falling droplets. I spoke.
“Overzealous, loyal, and persistent… I was like you once, a part of a social order, stupid and irrational. Scientific studies dedicated themselves to figure out why we exist. Religion and tradition refused to even accept us… But neither could figure out why people of different lives and views fell under a banner meant for an entirely different demographic. Honestly? I belonged anyways.” I chuckled humorlessly. “When you invited me, a chance to let me experience that again, I admit… I felt happy.”
“Then why not accept?” There was hope in Sound’s voice.
“Because deep down I already knew...it wouldn’t be as good.” Letting loose an uneasy breath, I continued. “And besides. The number two of my heart wanted me stick around. And—I loath to admit it in front of her—me too... There’s still so much I’ve yet to see in this town.”
Twenty-Five. Twenty-Four.
“...I’m sorry,” Dr. Sound said sadly. I heard tapping...she’s readying the tranq. “Then this must be done.”
Sixteen. Fifteen..
I sighed, bowing my head. “Harmony plays no favorites, huh?”
Ten. Nine..
“You won’t be lucky again like with that pegasus.” Hoofsteps squished the wet earth as Dr. Sound approached. “Lightning doesn’t strike twice.”
Three. Two.
“That’s fine.” I turned around. “Because I don’t believe in luck.”
And the very world went blind—immense light. Lightning. Dr. Sound froze up and screamed in terror. But no sound. Not rain. Not even the sundering and falling of a tree when, instantly, the deafening cry of thunder followed, silencing the realm like an alicorn princess to her subjects.
In that exact instant, I darted forward with eyes awake in fury.
My shoulder slammed her chest, knocking her off her legs. The magic around the syringe flickered and disappeared. It unceremoniously splashed into the mud. My hoof followed.
Snap!
The syringe, now in two, spilled into the muddy ground.
It ended in less than five seconds.
Sound Therapy was curled in a fetal position, hyperventilating in a cartoonish fashion as mud caked her sides. She muttered incoherently, eyes the size of prinpricks. Even so, she still gathered the wits to try and struggle to a stand. It took two tries slipping in the mud before succeeding, hooves wobbly.
“N-no!” she shouted. Violently, her horn electrified. “No it’s not!”
Peach light sparkled by my blindspot. I skittered away but she tackled me to the ground. I hacked and coughed, my soiled wings twitching in pain from the blow. Our limbs wrestled, but I was in the losing end of the battle. In the rain, I swore there were tears as she glared down at me.
“Don’t you understand?!” she cried hysterically, pushing my hooves to my muzzle. “If the prophecies change, you’ll only hurt those around you in the end! Our happy ending will become nothing less than a dream! Y-you—!”
Something rustled in the branches above and came plummeting down. Down and down it went...until it landed on Sound’s head.
Sound went cross-eyed, her tongue sticking out mid sentence before tumbling aside with a blunt splash.
The log that Applejack dropped from the upper window rolled, splished and then stopped. Beyond the leaves and branches of the tree that obscured Applejack’s vision, the farmer retreated back into Twilight's room, oblivious to what happened below.
“H-how…?” Sound croaked as stars circled around her head, eyes swirling. “I-it’s as if f-fate...o-on...y-your side…!”
I stood up, wiping my muzzle with a feather. “Look before you sleep. Maybe then you could tell your reality is already a dream.”
Sound only had enough energy to squeak in reply before going limp, lulled into a deep sleep. I stared for minutes on end, at the frazzled locks in her peach mane and at the haggard rise and fall of her chest.
The lights in the library turned on. I peered through the window and watched as three giggling mares restarted their colorful slumber party to enjoy a slice of life that I chose not to partake in. The episode finally reached its resolution, like a second trial to confirm the first. A Saturday rerun.
Grimacing, I turned away.
My ears flickered to splashing hooves rushing toward me before stopping. Thrush breathed heavily, a his usual composure compromised as he eyed Sound’s fallen form. I could hear him in the verge of hyperventilating.
“Chill,” I eased. “She’s just unconscious.”
Erratic wing flaps joined us, and I looked to see Gem flying in, landing beside Thrush. His haggard face sported black and blue bruises, as if he just fought for his life. With Rainbow Dash, it was believable. Thrush, however, had not a single injury on him, having instead dazed eyes and spazzing ears.
“Thrush?” Gem whimpered. “W-we need to go, now! I-I don’t think it can keep those crazy any longer!”
“N-not like she’s crazier than the pink one!” Thrush retorted. “I can’t feel my ears!”
“At least you can still feel your face!”
“Hey,” I called. The two winced, remembering I was still here. “Stick around here any longer and she might get sick.” I nodded at Sound. My eyes hardened into fierce slits. “Unless you consider me more important than your own ethics?”
Thrush looked between me and the helpless mare. His crimson gaze steeled.
“She’s one of us, so duh!” Gem skittishly glanced over his shoulder. “Now, come on!”
Thrush grunted, eyeing me as he trotted forward. He shuffled the sleeping therapist onto his back. And with her in tow, they all sprinted off. When they faded into the blistering rain, so did their hoofsteps. Gone.
Like a puppet whose strings were cut, I collapsed to my hooves, sighing. But as much as I wanted to sulk in the rain, I needed to if Rainbow and Pinkie were okay. So, I slouched off to find them, my hooves splashing carelessly and staining my coat. The heavy rain baptized me as I trudged through town, lulled into a dispassionate stare toward the gray sky. This time, I remembered.
I am sorry, Faust. It’s not you this time.
The bell sang in a warm welcome as we entered soaked, muddy, and cold.
Rainbow Dash soared inside with wings flared, landing grandly as she outsped the wetness itself. An actual rainbow condensed over her glistening frame. It would've been impressive if it weren't for the stink lines from the bits of trash stuck to her mane.
“Sup everypony! You’re awesome team captain is… here...” She trailed off, for there was no one to bear witness, the bakery as empty as we left it. Rainbow’s ears flopped. “Jeez... can’t even stick around to wait?”
“...sorry,” I muttered.
Rainbow sighed. “Yeah, yeah… I still can’t believe those pony nappers got away. Stupid trash can… Stupid rain...”
Pinkie trotted in—not bounce—beside her and grumpily huffed. She also had the stink lines treatment, pink mane tinged with gunky greens and browns. “And who’d throw trash at other ponies? I mean, garbage is already stuff nopony wants, and those icky-meanie ponies just threw it u—“
“Look, Pinkie, can we not? It’s…” Rainbow sighed once again. “It’s been a long day…”
“...Okie dokie loki.” But then, slowly, Pinkie looked at the pegasus with a soft smile. “Sooo… To the baths?”
“Hehe…” Despite everything, Rainbow smirked. “Now we’re talking.”
It’s strange, really. They just arrived from the rain outside and only a few moments indoors was all it took to turn it all to sunshine again…
But as for me...I was drawn to the table the Marked Pilgrims last sat. There, abandoned, were the milkshakes consumed down to the bottom of their glass. All except one: not a single sign of it being touched since I made it.
“Can’t enjoy the little things in life either, huh, doc?”
I found myself by the counter. Mood and Magic still laid open. I reached for the cover to close it but stopped. A few lines near the end of the page stole my attention, lasting until I finished the entire passage.
I gazed around. Without my shades, warm colors pinched my eyes. Tables linger with the fresh scent of sugar in every corner, and in the middle of it all, the joyful glow of Pinkie Pie’s excitement lit up the room as she jabbered animatedly with Rainbow Dash, the two seemingly so close...yet so distant.
Pinkie blinked, noticing my gaze. Blue eyes smiled at me.
“Hey, Tori! Wanna join us for a slumber party? I don’t think any of us would want go back out there again.”
“Huh?” I made a face. “Seriously?”
“Don’t worry, dude,” Rainbow said, relaxing in mid-air. “We won’t be doing anything girly. C’mon. I ain’t snoozin’ after coming all this way to celebrate a job well done!”
I looked between the two, bewildered. And then, lethargically defeated, I choked a laugh. “I never had a choice, did I?”
“Um, Tori?” Pinkie tilted her head in deep concern. “Are you okay? Did something happen to you out there?”
“Eh.” I shrugged. “Nothing much. Just the same old story: Somebody’s fanfiction got edgy.”
Ponies are capable of reading the temperature, and thus mood, of the other pony through physical contact. It is a part of common culture. One will be perceived as ‘warmer’ and the other as ‘cooler’ along the temperature scale.
Fascinatingly, the same applies to cold-hearted pairs, which implies even Neutral Heart States go along a temperature scale.
For example, if a pony reads a cold-hearted pony as another as “cold”, that pony is also cold-hearted, except to a higher degree.
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HERESY! PURGE HIM! IT'S TIME FOR A CRUSADE MEN! ARM THE CATAPULTS!
THESE HEATHENS WILL NOT CONVERT TO HARMONY'S LIGHT! DEUS VULT!
asciify.net/ascii/thumb/5373/deus-vult.png
Not bad, but you didn't really change much. The biggest alteration I found was that Pinkie Pie was actually involved with the chase this time, rather than having it start after she and Tutorial parted ways. At this point I'm just hoping that the next chapter will address the issues I previously brought up.
They attempted to abduct him, and two of the Element Bearers were directly involved. There needs to be a strong response to this. Preferably something along the lines of an urgent letter to Celestia, followed by an arrest warrant.
Was it cross hooves? I always though it was cross heart.
Hopping?
nab back my stuff sounds odd to me, personally. I expected nab my stuff back. I can't say it is wrong, but maybe your thoughts on it?
interesting theory came?
Aren't they Magenta?
Now with those various bits out of the way. I like the rewrite okay. I don't really recall the previous one much to compare.
I question the use of a syringe. There's spells for teleportation, giving ponies butterfly wings, and turning oranges into frog abominations, but no spells to conveniently knock a pony out? A pony that can't block said magic either. It kind of feels like an excuse to add tension. Asides from adding a cutie mark cult. So if this story reaches season five are they going to launch a crusade on Our Town?
Oh hey, I was just thinking about this fic.
Isn't Trixie cold-hearted? Yet the protagonist feels exceptionally cold to her...
8503447
Gah... I was afraid the technical exposition would get lost in the translation somehow, even across the editing...
Okay. Think of it this way: two cold objects are 45 degrees and 30 degrees. Both are cold, but 30 degrees is "colder" and 45 degrees is "warmer".
I never specified which NHS Trixie has, but assume she is warm-hearted. She was not in a NHS at the time. She's happy, and thus warm, while Tutorial remains indifferent. Clarified in this revision, it takes a different perception of the world to be cold-hearted, much like Tutorial. I hoped for someone to get what I'm implying for putting that at the end.
8503494
In the original version, you made it seem like Pinkie Pie was a cold-hearted pony, just significantly less so than Tutorial. Not sure if you changed your mind on that in the rewrite, it got lost, or if I was reading it wrong the entire time.
Well, for being a 'church' of Harmony, I'd say it's more like a cult. Now of course, those could be the more radical fringe elements acting out, but I'd say it's about time for the law to be laid down on them. It's not like it was just Tori there himself: he's got two mares of good character and high standing to vouch for him. In any event, it's about time that his absolute perfect memory of the past comes to good use, as he manages to lure Therapy Sound perfectly into a trap by getting exact timing down for both the lightning strike and the branch falling down on her head.
I'm honestly not sure what element the whole subtext given by the book has to do with the story. I mean, it's reasonable to infer Tori is a cold-hearted pony given the multiple mentions by other ponies of how he's cold, and that he's apparently apathetic and jaded. But it's been something we've been seeing for awhile not. This seems more like beating us over the head explicitly, unless this is meant to lead up to some sort of deconstruction of some sort.
The funniest thing is...Tori mentions at the end somebody's fanfiction got edgy. But this version of Equestria was made for him. So technically, it's his fanfiction.
9089027
Indeed. Tori is beginning to see how his rejection to anything he was given is being ultimately detrimental for himself. How he's unhappy because he rejected being happy. But the appearance of the fanatics and that last passage of his book really subtly said that even while he was trying to ground himself down to that depressed non-commital person he almost worked to be, he still can pity those who actually fell further into the basement than him.
He realized that even when he feels like he turned into the wrong road, there's someone in front of him with closed eyes walking straight into the middle of a busy traffic.