Chapter 26
The mouth-watering, scrumptious cake beckoned like a siren’s song, but Twilight was wary for reasons she did not fully understand. Pinkie Pie—her laugh lines still damp, like desert arroyos after rain—made a come-hither gesture with her hoof while Applejack gave the pink mare a curious side-eye. Seville too, was standing near the table where Twilight had first placed the wedding cake when they had returned to their room.
For some reason, this felt like more than just sampling a slice of cake.
Eyes alight with a mischievous glow, Pinkie Pie somehow left Twilight bewitched. Cautious, the alicorn crept forward with a keen, anxiety-inducing awareness that this was a wedding cake and wedding cakes had their own mysterious, as-of-yet unexplored magic that caused hooves to experience the sensation of rapid temperature plunges, leading to a frosty, chilling effect.
“I put my heart and soul into this cake,” Pinkie Pie said to her friends in a somewhat phlegmy voice. Her mouth opened, her jaw muscles flexed, but whatever words she was about to say never manifested. Instead, she shook her head and a few tears, late for the party, joined their fellows in Pinkie’s crinkled laugh lines. “I needed my wedding cake to be perfect. Just perfect.”
“They almost gave you a silver.” A sour green Apple expression could be seen in Applejack’s eyes. “I think there mighta been a riot if they did that. I mean, it’s hard to give a gold when there’s no real competition, but I think public opinion had a lot to do with this one.”
“And for that, I am grateful.” Again, Pinkie Pie made a come-hither gesture to lure Twilight closer.
When Twilight stood near the table, she could feel eyes on her. Seville. Applejack. Pinkie. Bundt. The soft purr of the air conditioning resonated through the palatial Princess Suite, muffling sound, but also providing a pleasant white noise. Every earth pony present stared at her as if they were silent statues, the stoic, stony witnesses that watched as the ages continued their slow march.
Smiling, Pinkie Pie sighed the words, “Nothing about this is going in the proper order.”
This gave Twilight pause and she asked, “What do you mean, Pinkie?”
“Nuttin’.” Pupils now as small as pinpricks, Pinkie Pie cast a furtive glance that roamed from side to side.
Eyes narrowing, Twilight was not convinced by Pinkie’s response. Something in the back of her mind suggested that Pinkie Pie had said something else that was intriguing just before leaving, but that voice was silenced for the sake of the moment—Twilight wanted a slice of cake.
Moving with the greased lightning speed that Pinkie was known for, the notorious pink pronker swiped the cake with her hoof, scraping off a portion of frosting and delicious, rich, golden yellow cake. Before Twilight could react, Pinkie made another swipe—a quick, deft movement—and Twilight’s eyes crossed so that she could focus upon the frosted mess of cake that was now smeared on her snoot.
She blinked once, twice, and when she opened her eyes from the third blink, Seville licked her. This was quite different than a kiss, in which he had licked the inside of her mouth and the surface of her tongue; he had just licked her nose. The only pony that licked Twilight’s nose was Twilight, because noses had nostrils and nostrils had boogeys and the risk of an embarrassing social situation was just too much to bear.
“Hey, I was gonna lick that,” Pinkie grumbled while Seville slurped a glob of frosting from the corner of his mouth.
Twilight’s brain devoted all available cognitive power to process the fact that her nose had just been licked by another pony, and she struggled to find a valid frame of reference. Rainbow Dash had once licked her ear and that was cause for a major moment of squick. Ears had earwax! While central processing put all reactions on hold, Pinkie Pie slathered another dollop of cake and frosting onto Twilight’s snoot.
Knowing what was about to happen didn’t make it any better and Twilight was frozen in place when Pinkie began licking off the mess she had made. So still was Twilight that her tail didn’t even twitch, nor did her wings fidget against her sides. Not even an ear twitch. Smacking her lips, Pinkie cast an annoyed glance at Seville, no doubt still peeved about his dastardly theft.
“I made a perfect cake for a perfect moment,” Pinkie Pie remarked, her ears pivoting around to face both Seville and Twilight. “This wasn’t exactly the moment I had planned, but I did get the cake perfect, and I have proof. A gold chip. So I suppose that makes the moment perfect. I dunno, feels circular. Like a donut. Does donut logic apply? Does a baker have donut logic? Can you frost donut logic? Or glaze it? Is it just me, or have glazed donuts always been kinda lewd? I asked Maud about it once, and she just snorted. So I asked Marble about it, and she panicked and ran out of the room to find her hubby-wubby.”
Confused and lightly frosted, Twilight had no idea what was going on or what was being said. Her nose was sticky… damp with slobber… and her brain was still busy trying to sort out all of these fascinating new experiences, with a raging debate about what went on which shelf, and where, and why.
“You three make a cute trouple.” Bundt didn’t look at Twilight for long and the pregnant mare’s attention focused upon the glorious, delicious monument of bananatical devotion. “What’s our plans for din-din?”
Again, Twilight’s snoot was frosted and this time, she licked her own nose clean, all while thinking of the fact that her nose was drenched in Seville and Pinkie slobber. That was the way of things; the continued, logical progression to swapping spit. It was dipping your hoof into a pool to check the waters. Later, there would be exchanges of other bodily fluids, which may or may not end up in the proper orifices.
Biology was terrifying and gross.
Then, while Twilight was thinking about the flood of bodily fluids, Pinkie Pie frosted Seville’s nose and shoved him almost into Twilight. Did love mean you were comfortable with licking another pony’s nose? Was this a test? A ritual of sorts that broke taboo? It was easy to be in love, but it was hard to be committed. When you were in love, it was all pretty flowers and butterflies and sweet, swift pecks on the cheek. But when you were committed, it meant grooming your partner to help them remove parasites like fleas. Or helping them to apply hemorrhoid cream. Comforting them and ultimately kissing them while they were sick—all snotty and gross.
Shivering, Twilight licked Seville’s nose and tried not to think too hard about it.
When Pinkie Pie presented her own frosted nose, Twilight found her courage and gave her friend’s snoot an enthusiastic lick. An ‘I love you enough to risk communicable disease’ lick right on the snot squirter. The boogey bunker. While Twilight was collecting her thoughts, Pinkie offered herself up to Seville.
Unicorns had far more sanitary existences. Who needed dirty hooves that had been on the ground when you had magic? Twilight had endured real trauma when she learned how to clean her wings—preening them properly meant putting them in your mouth, of all places. Earth ponies lived with a constant connection to the ground. For the first time, Twilight considered what this meant; not as a passing thought, or a curious flight of fancy, but she gave it the thorough reflection it deserved.
Not only had she done her friends a disservice, but herself as well.
This tradition—gross as it was—prepared ponies for the horrors ahead. Thoughtful, Twilight leaned in and gave Seville a smooch on the corner of his mouth while Pinkie licked his nose. Then, before she could slip away to arm herself with more frosting, Twilight smooched Pinkie Pie as well. Applejack said something, something low beneath her breath, but Twilight’s ears were directed at Seville and Pinkie.
“What are we to one another?” Twilight asked, exposing her vulnerabilities before her friends.
Pinkie offered no reply; she was busy cutting what remained of the topmost tier of the cake with swift, but careful strokes, using a knife that she had somehow pulled out of her mane. With a turn of her head, Twilight looked at Seville, seeking an answer, some means of assurance. Seville’s eyes were green, almost like Applejack’s but different. This close, it was easy to see the family resemblance.
“That’s easy,” he said, maintaining eye-contact. “Three friends agreeing to face whatever the future has in store for them together.”
“It sounds so much simpler when you put it that way.” Twilight shook her head but continued looking into Seville’s cheerful green eyes. “But things are going to be complicated. Being friends with me isn’t easy, by virtue of who and what I am and—”
“Tell me about it.”
Twilight paused to ponder the meaning of Applejack’s interruption. Unsure of her friend’s intent, she continued, “I want things to work out between us. I do, really. I do. But I also saw what happened to Cadance and Shining Armor. And then there was everything that happened with Celestia, Luna, and Gosling. It’s one thing to be friends, but lovers? This is so complicated. The politics involved in my every action, my every doing, even my act of breathing is scrutinised by the public and I can’t turn away from it. I can’t escape it. I’m a princess and I feel as though I owe you better. Owe you something more. I feel like my loyalties are divided… because as much as I want to give all of myself to you, I can’t. I’m public property. The public owns me. I am their servant. Because of that, I have to hold back a part of myself from you… and every time I try to face that, I just… I just can’t Which is why I’m stuck. I don’t know how to sort all of this out.”
“Twilight…” Applejack leaned in, her eyes narrowed, her voice husky, and her drawl was the thickest it had been in a long while. “Remember what I said… let go. Call fer help if’n ya hafta, but let go. For your friends to catch ya, ya hafta let go.”
Closing her eyes, Twilight nodded.
Somewhat unsettled, Twilight squirmed and tried to get comfortable on her cushion. On the short, low table before her, the candles sputtered and flickered, no doubt because somepony was breathing on them, unawares. Tonight’s meal was Windian and even though the Moondust Resort & Casino was packed with ponies for the bake-off, this place was almost deserted.
“Daal gives me gas,” Bundt announced out of the blue. When Twilight turned to look at her, she quickly explained herself. “We’re sleeping together. Um, no… well, yes actually, but, um, no”—she made a gesture with her hoof—“we’re sharing the same sleeping space.”
“We’re sharing the same bed,” Applejack said while brushing her mane out of her face. “Those cots is awful. No support at all. And there’s that metal bar right in the daggum middle where they fold. Feels like it is gonna cut a pony’s spine right in half.”
“Corbie got a nest box.” Seville steered the conversation into new territory. “She’s started sleeping better. Now she’s not as stressed. It’s funny, and a bit strange how some pegasus ponies like to sleep in cabinets. She keeps all of her trinkets in there.”
“I’d be scared to have a little unicorn or a pegasus,” Bundt said to her table companions and she patted her stomach. “I’d want to raise them well, you know. But there are things I don’t know about… like sleeping in cupboards and unicorn stuff. I don’t want to be a bad mom, ya know? I wouldn’t want my foals to go play with unicorns or pegasus and not know squat about their tribal culture. That scares me.”
“That right there is why so many foals end up in the orphanariums and such.” Applejack’s green eyes glittered in the candlelight. “Good parents try to do right by it. They see it as a challenge to take on. But bad parents? Bad parents run from it. It happens right where I live, and it disgusts me. There’s more than enough unicorns and pegasuses and earth ponies around to help out, to pitch in and make right. It just chaps my hide that it happens.”
“You’re mad ‘cause of Fluttershy, aren’t you?” Seville asked of the angered apple farmer.
Pressing her hooves together, Applejack took a moment to consider the question before she answered, “Yes! It’s awful on her. I guess I hadn’t thought about it, but now that you mention it, I’m downright peeved that she’s the one who has to suffer. And it’s a small town, too. Flutters knows who those foals belong to. But she can’t say anything or do anything when yet another bundle of joy is left on her doorstep.”
After a disgusted grunt, Applejack added, “Change of subject.”
“Did Booker get squared away?” Twilight asked of her new assistant.
“Yes. Telegrams came from Canterlot. Vouchers, I guess? Not sure.” Bundt now wore an apologetic expression. “He was very helpful today. A really decent fella. I think he was a little wary of me at first. Hard to say. Once we got familiar with one another, he was a different pony. He acts like a knight, or something.”
“When bad things happen to Fluttershy,” Applejack blurted out, “it just leaves me sore!”
An unusually quiet Pinkie Pie reached out and patted her friend to comfort her.
“Boss—”
“Call me Twilight.”
“Yeah, but right now, I need to speak to my boss.” Bundt’s ears pricked in a cautious way, then resumed a more submissive position in a relaxed, rear-facing angle. “I was going over the inventories today. With Booker. Boss, you bought cameras and movie making equipment. When you co-opted the bake-off, you really did get everything. Boom mics, cameras, sound equipment, you have all of this equipment now.”
Twilight found this rather intriguing, and from the looks of things, so did Seville.
“Boss, you have ovens, equipment, appliances… you took everything required to run a bake-off… so I was wondering. What’s stopping you from throwing your own bake-off? Corporate sponsorship is nice, I suppose, but with all of this equipment, you have the means to run your own bake-off. Your way. Your rules. You wouldn’t need the Equestrian Baking League. Boss, before you say anything, please remember… I’m also a baker. It’s my calling. I also just so happen to have connections to the uh, shall we call it the film industry? Why not just run this yourself?”
Stupefied, Twilight sat there, blinking.
“But it can’t just be about earth ponies. Boss, I was thinking. You could run a show for earth ponies, another show just for pegasus ponies, and a third show for unicorns. One pony from each tribe could be made into an honourary princess or prince. Well, for that year. And then the three of them could work together for tribal relations… until they had to defend their titles for the next year. It’s a little exploitive, I’ll admit, but it is a good exploitive.”
“That”—Applejack took a moment to nod her head— “is a damn fine idea.”
“If we do it that way, we can snuff out the accusations of tribalism. They’re competing for a position of public service for the benefit of their own tribe.” Seville leaned in close to Twilight and clutched her fetlock in his own. “Boss—”
“Don’t you start!” Twilight tried to tug her fetlock away, but Seville did not let go. After a moment, she couldn’t help herself, she laughed.
“Sounds like a party.” Within Pinkie Pie’s blue eyes there was a seriousness that Twilight had never seen before. “And parties need a planner. Remind me again, Twilight, who has a secret underground lair just for the purpose of organising parties?”
“You do?” A little mystified, Twilight noticed that the pieces were falling into place already.
“That’s right, I do.”
“I’ll be your first corporate backer,” Applejack offered. “But only on the condition that you endorse Sweet Apple Acre apples. I ain’t asking for nothing else, and I don’t want you beholden to me in any other way. It’s an honest deal. In return, I’ll supply you with apples. That’s the length and the breadth of it. A bake-off needs apples.”
“Deals like that don’t exist.” Seville snorted in contempt while rolling his eyes. “A hundred pages of legalese later—”
“Seville, no jokes right now. I swear to Princess Celestia, I will squeeze the juice outta ya!”
“Sorry, Jackie.”
“Ya ain’t sorry yet, but one day you will be. All your future troubles will come squirtin’ out from the nethers you go nosin’.”
Blushing a little, Twilight glanced at the ponies gathered around the table with her one by one and began to wonder if they could really pull this off. These events had to start somehow, she reasoned. Somepony had to find a way to start the tradition and then hope it stuck. Bundt needed an official position still, and this, this was a tempting fit. Pinkie Pie could most certainly organise this. It would give Seville an endless source of stories.
“Can we really do this?” Twilight asked.
To which Pinkie Pie replied, “You get the right group of friends together and you can do anything!”
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Just seeing Twilight grow, and realise, and change throughout the entire story is quite cool.
I approve of this character development!
As long as whatever is descending lands right on top of that, 24 caret, spherical* female diamond dog, twit Bourgogne Blintz, then I'm good.
* that means she's one no matter which way you look at her.
...and the next day, they invaded China to get their pirated plushies back.
I don't wanna see the final descent!!!!! I want it all to be good and happy.
Licking the snot grot, the booger cooker.
I'm still hoping Blintz comes back for an encore screw over.
You know, based on the example of the race in Spring Broke I've been wondering for most of this story if the solution wasn't fairly obviously to just make three separate competitions.
think this should be removed
Sometimes and end is an end, and sometimes it's what comes before the next book begins. Tri-tribal bake offs sound ideal.
Well Applejack does have some experience with this I'd say.
9144664
Same
On a side note, does Twilight even have enough money to buy all the equipment and ovens and everything else?
9146352
The Crown does.
9144921 Separate, but Equal? Careful there, that can be called tribalist too.