Moondust

by Parallel Black

3 - Herding Cats

She awoke that day with the smell of rotten produce oozing into her nostrils. Adding to the faint scent of smoke in the air, some senseless youth had wandered onto the school grounds and set fire to a bag of trash right in the middle of the courtyard. The smell of mushy apples and browning lettuce had flowed right into the third stage dorms, prompting the entire class to hold their noses as they watched the scene unfold through the glass.

The perpetrator was a young earth-pony, perhaps only a couple of years older than them. “He was probably just jealous or something,” Moondancer had suggested with a huff. Twilight held little opinion for the stallion himself, but it seemed clear that what he’d done had been done out of apathy rather than anger. He hadn’t broken anything; he’d just trotted up, dropped the bag, and sat beside the foul smelling flames until the City Vigil showed up - though by that point their mentor had already dealt with him.

Petrification was a punishment normally saved for the worst of crimes, but it seemed the Princess was in a bad mood today in spite of the smile on her face. Celestia stood beside them, overseeing the process in silence. She had looked tired that day, like the weight of the world was upon her. Her actions were drastic, but then again she was in the middle of trying to hold all of Canterlot together, and a random stallion setting fires near her students was the last thing she needed during the one break she’d had from her ruling duties in the past three weeks.

The last few bits of nastiness were swept away as the officers finally managed to lift the statue into the cart. With the situation resolved, the Princess led them to the door of the classroom. They all filtered in and took their seats, but it would be over an hour before their mentor joined them…

-----

Twilight made a double-take as she and Spike passed by the courtyard of the local middle school. A stony face stared back at them, expressionless for its lack of facial features. It was another earth-pony, though thankfully a mere construction rather than a victim of the Princess’ wrath. Upon four strong legs it stood, the golden plaque at its forehooves dedicating it to the army of builders who raised Canterlot’s great foundations from which the city grew, and to those who died in the process.

More than that, it was a sign of the most major event in Equestria’s entire history; the War of the Night. Nightmare Moon’s birth brought decades of war as the very concepts of night and day broke down and the country’s legions were split between its rulers. Crop failures, uncontrollable weather and erratic seasonal shifts had brought the rest of the world to its knees, and Equestria, as the epicenter, had taken almost two centuries of careful management of nature to return things to normal. Canterlot itself was something of a lesson to all those who fought with one another instead of working together through such incredible hardships, but the smears of tomato covering the statue were a statement all to themselves.

Twilight could see a few ponies through the windows, but it seemed none of them had made the effort to come out and deal with the mess. A few rolls of toilet paper had been thrown over the school fences and the statue was wrapped up in makeshift bandages, with a spent roll stuck to its forehead like a horn. The golden plaque had been crudely painted over in bright red, obscuring its message of unity and determination.

Such disrespect of history felt like a slap in the face to Twilight. Times like these were when ponies needed to come together, yet it seemed some were either far too eager to ignore Equestria’s previous victories, or they were ignorant of them altogether. With a wave of magic she cleared most of the mess and removed the fake horn, crushing it with a little more force than she meant to.

“Is everypony just weak these days or something?” she heard herself say. Her jaw felt stiff with an anger she couldn’t quite articulate. It all felt so… unnecessary. Overblown. Nightmare Moon was gone and nopony had died. The only reason left to panic, then, were the chunks of moon dust scattered across the country, and even then, most had landed in uninhabited regions. To Twilight’s knowledge, the only structure that had been destroyed was the old castle, and barely anypony beyond historians even knew about the place.

Spike shrugged. “I dunno. I don’t exactly have much of a reference point to work with.”

Twilight rolled her eyes. “I’m serious. Why is everypony overreacting so much? Nopony even died!” She motioned again to the statue. “And yet…” How do I even put this into words? It feels like everyone just decided to go crazy. “And yet, look at what they’ve done!”

Spike leaned into her field of view, forcing her to rebalance. “Twilight, I know you’re feeling kinda loopy right now, but it’s just a statue.”

It wasn’t even close to being just a statue. Twilight could feel more righteous fury welling up from inside and she tore her gaze away from the monument. Placing a hoof upon her front, she bundled the anger up and released it in one long, calming breath. The fuzz in her mind went with it, but she looked back anyway. She wanted to clean the statue completely, if only to convince herself that, if it was clean, maybe that would mean the rest of Canterlot wouldn’t be in a similar state.

“You’re right,” she replied after a moment. “If I get distracted by every little mess we come across we’ll end up being out here all day. Can’t waste the sunlight.”

They continued on, leaving the depressing sight for the school to deal with.

It had all sounded so noisy only a short while ago, but now the streets were almost deserted. The local grocery store was still open, but the scent of produce wafted through the air for a few houses further than it should have. The shop was a home-run affair with most of the ground floor converted for storage and the shop floor itself. Through the open front Twilight met the owner’s gaze. For a moment he looked alarmed, but his expression softened as he realised who it was.

“Ms. Sparkle,” he greeted with a nod. “Feeling alright today?”

“Of course, Chestnut. Why do you ask?” Twilight responded, hiding the lingering stress still stuck to her tongue.

The stallion shrugged. “No reason. Haven’t seen you two around lately, figured you were packing up like everyone else.”

She smiled politely. “No, I’m not going anywhere. I have my studies to do, you know that.”

A humoured grin spread across Chestnut’s face, likely recalling the many times Twilight had waffled on at him about this or that. “Sure. You probably have a whole stack of hardbacks calling your name right now, huh?”

A familiar hint of nervousness flickered in Twilight’s throat. Conversation was easy enough when it consisted of little more than dictation of facts and interests. Actually talking about things the way other ponies did… Relax, he’s just telling a joke, Twilight told herself. Just come up with something to say. Bounce off of what he just said and it’ll be ok. She gave a half-hearted laugh. “Enough to teach a whole class of kindergartners, yes!”

The grin withered to the usual lopsided smirk and Twilight knew she had failed again. Dammit. I thought that was a good one.

Chestnut leaned back in his chair, half-hidden behind the baskets of aging apples and oranges. “Speakin’ of teachers, I don’t suppose you’ve seen the Princess lately?” he asked. “I know you’re close n’ all.”

The image of that petrified colt gave way to the Nature Magic textbook only Twilight had still been reading by the time the Princess returned. It had been a week since she had seen her, and as far as she knew, no one else had seen the Princess in that time, either. She had once thought to check with the ponies at the castle, but then she’d had the idea for that new casting method and everything else fell to the wayside. Princess Celestia was the busiest pony in the city on a normal day. With everything that was happening it was no wonder she was tied up in administrative work.

“I’m sorry, I haven’t,” Twilight replied.

Chestnut’s face changed and the atmosphere went with it. “Oh,” he said. “That’s not good. Do you have any ideas why?”

A little, worried frown appeared on her face. “I… I don’t know, sorry.” She hadn’t expected that. The last thing she wanted to be doing was fuelling other ponies’ worries.

“Hey, that’s ok. I don’t mean to pressure you or anythin’.” Chestnut scratched at the short, auburn tuft that was his mane. “‘s just a bad sign, is all. I don’t know how my business is going to survive through next month if things keep going the way they are. Half my customer base has already vanished into thin air and, if you don’t mind me saying, it looks like the Princess has done the same.”

Twilight shook a hoof. “No, no, she’ll be back any day now. She just has a lot on her plate with her sister returning and the riots and everything.”

Chestnut considered her oddly for a moment. “Hm. I’ve heard a lot of rumors goin’ around about those two. One of my friends thinks the Princess isn’t doing anything to fix Canterlot because she never actually came back in the first place.”

Spike leaned forwards. “You mean… from the old castle?” he asked. Chestnut nodded. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

“That’s what I said to him. Some other folks think Luna doesn’t even exist and that this is Celestia turnin’ on us, or somethin’.”

“That makes even less sense,” Twilight stated. But perhaps marginally more reasonable - though that wasn’t saying much - since Celestia’s sister hadn’t yet made a public appearance.

Chestnut cracked a smile, but it faded fast. “Just sayin’. Bein’ from the Rabbles I can smell when somethin’ bad’s about to happen. Somethin’ longer lastin’ than the riots. Even without any surveys I can tell a lot of ponies are gettin’ sick of the Princess’ handlin’ of all this, and considerin’ you’re so close to her… well, y’now. Stay safe.”

For a moment Twilight’s social interaction-starved mind thought Chestnut was threatening her. It didn’t make any sense to her that ponies of any great number would feel ill will towards the Princess that had built this city and kept the entire country safe for one-thousand years. Even less so given the aftermath circumstances they were living in at the moment. Before she and Spike continued, Chestnut added that it sounded like there were the beginnings of a political movement beneath the Princess’ nose. The last time such a thing had happened was a couple of hundred years ago when the concept of democracy was thrown off the mountainside, along with several political rivals who had orchestrated a major act of arson in an attempt to paint the Princess as a power-hungry monster. Such a punishment was out of the question these days, but ponies were still just as emotional and herd-like as they had been for thousands of years, so who knew what they would try.

“Are ponies really leaving?” Spike asked. “I thought everyone was just staying in, like us.”

“Looks like it,” Twilight replied. “It’s… very quiet compared to normal. This area should be teeming with people…”

There wouldn’t be much of an electorate to draw votes from anyway if things kept going the way they were. As they turned the corner Twilight could see that her favourite stationery shop was closed. Nosing at the gap between the shutters, all the lights were off and there wasn’t a soul to be seen inside. Across the way the mare who ran a small bakery out of her own dining room had placed a lock on the shuttered windows, the closed sign hanging limply from the door knob. A few other little shops in the area were quiet and dark, too. The Market District was true to its name, but it seemed only a small portion of the money stream was flowing today.

Twilight glanced back at her passenger. “Hey, Spike, I don’t suppose I missed a day or two while I was working on that casting method?”

“Huh? Why? What day is it?”

“That’s what I’m asking you. Either it’s saturday like I think, or it’s actually monday and this is way, way worse than I thought.”

A smile forced itself onto Twilight’s face. No. It’s gotta be saturday. There’s no way I missed two whole days just on one project. These shops are meant to be closed. They’re not- A mournful yell echoed through her mind as she turned the corner, an unwelcome memory glaring at her as it cradled its defeated queen. She had subconsciously made her way round to her favourite library, the one where Quilliam worked, who liked to collect strange and unique books from wherever he could find them. Beyond the ponies in her class, Quilliam was perhaps the one individual outside of the school Twilight considered a friend, and his miniature library of curiousities was never closed.

Whoever had smashed the doors in must have been of the lowest dregs of society to even think of attacking a library. Spike hopped down as they drew closer, neither of them saying a thing. It was always a quiet place with a warm, homely feel to it. Quilliam wasn’t a talkative fellow but he was an excellent listener, and he was extremely proud of his collection and loved showing visitors his favourite novels, guides and tomes. The thought of him getting into trouble filled her with rage and fear in equal measure.

With a flicker of magic Twilight opened the doors, clearing the path ahead of shards of colourful glass. The place was dark, but it had been visibly ransacked. Whatever had been used to smash the doors had been used on some of the shelving and a sea of books now covered the floor. The coffee table in the sitting area was more valuable than the entire building and everything else in it combined, but it thankfully didn’t have a scratch on it due to its composite nature of great oak wood and octite metal. Perhaps it had simply been too heavy to take.

Spike, ever the good book keeper, began moving a few aside and stacking them up. Twilight patted him on the shoulder and lit her horn once more. The room filled with amethyst light and the books rose from the floor all at once. Squinting with the effort, she shook a few to remove any remaining debris, cleared the floor with a secondary wave of light, and collected them all together. Only when the room faded back into gloom did Twilight consider how much time she had just wasted through sheer force of habit.

It was then that she heard the mumbling. Revealed from beneath the pile was a sharp, pale-yellow eye staring fixedly at her from behind a big, round spectacle. The hippogryph had drawn his little wings up to cover himself, but they barely hid his chest. Slowly, Quilliam unfurled, mumbling fading off as he directed his stress into the carpet, his talons digging in as he forced himself to stand.

“Sparkle?” he asked with the tone of a lost child. Whatever had happened he seemed little worse for wear beyond one broken spectacle and a lot of ruffled pink feathers.

Twilight stared at him, bug-eyed. “Are you… ok?”

“Mm,” he grunted in response.

Spike brought himself into Quilliam’s limited field of view. “What happened?” he asked.

“Mhn. They… came and…” Quilliam blinked a few times. His collection possessed a sense of organisation Twilight couldn’t quite understand and the hippogryph’s mind was often in a similar state. “They came and ruined everything,” he answered after a fashion.

“Yes. Who was it?” Twilight asked. As soon as the words left her mouth she could see him trying to curl back up. He looked like a beaten dog, hurt and scared of equines. “Sorry, it’s ok. You don’t need to answer that,” she quickly added. “Just tell me when this happened and I’ll make sure it won’t happen again.”

Another pause, this time longer. Twilight knew Quilliam could tell the time perfectly well, he just needed to sift his mind back through each hour of each day to find the correct event. “Friday,” he finally responded.

“You’ve been under there since yesterday?” Twilight asked, alarmed.

A tweak of the brow made it through Quilliam’s expressionless face. “Two days. Hours… fifteen,” came the correction.

Twilight attempted to do the same and wheel her mind in reverse, but she’d hadn’t done enough of any note to separate one day spent staring at parchment from another.

“It’s monday,” Quilliam added with a tiny smile, as if he was making sure it was ok to broach the subject.

“You’ve been there since friday?!” Spike exclaimed, causing the hippogryph to flinch.

Oh Celestia no, he’s starved himself, Twilight thought in a mixture of horror and aggravation. I’ve heard of burying yourself in a good book, but- Twilight cut off the belated response to Chestnut’s playful jibe and refocused her mind. There had to be some food for him here. “That’s an extremely long time to go without anything to eat. How about we go to the kitchen?”

Griffons were easy to feed if one knew the simple difference between herbivores and carnivores, but a hippogryph was a different matter entirely. Being an unbalanced fusion, they weren’t quite omnivores and most developed a variety of dietary problems later in life. Wheat and milk products were fine, but anything beyond that depended on the hippogryph in question.

Quilliam opted for ready meals and vegetable pies and not much else. He sat himself down, the slight wobble in his gait becoming worryingly pronounced in his present state. The dark purple patches of feathers that covered his front stuck out with a kind of bodily oil avians weren’t meant to be able to produce, and the lighter shade around them was all swept in a particular direction from how he’d been curled. Even the cute little curve of purple feathers between his eyes looked like it was trying to escape his face.

A set of orange gemstones in the back of the oven filled with magical energy, emitting a warmth that leaked through the gap between the door and the metal. Twilight cracked open one of the pies and smelled beetroot and spinach, a combination so healthy it would make even her stomach turn. She felt a small poke on her leg. “Hey, Twilight?” Spike asked.

“Hm?”

The little dragon patted his stomach. “Think he could spare a pack of hayfries?”

She sent him a scowl. “We can’t do that,” she hissed. “He’s starved himself!”

“I know, I know. I’m just hungry so I thought I’d ask.”

Twilight felt ready to bite his head off for this one. Instead she balled up the annoyance and released it, nice and easy. “That would be extremely rude, especially when there should still be plenty of food-y places open.”

Spike gave a shrug and a small grumble. “Fine.”

The sound of the oven heating up marked it as an older model, generating a noisy, rhythmic juddering that made it sound like the food was being pre-chewed. As Twilight managed to pry off the lid the door was held open for her by a shaking talon. “Quill, you don’t… thank you.” The pie went in, and before Twilight could protest, another tin emerged from the cupboard.

“Meat?” Quilliam asked, glancing at Spike.

The little dragon looked like he was having a moment. He poked his index claws together, a look of desperation slowly appearing on his face as he met Twilight’s gaze. The last time Spike had eaten meat had been when he chewed his way through half of a perfectly cooked lump of ham thrice his size. The smell had long since chased away the rest of the partygoers, and Spike’s impulsive actions made sure the visiting Rover nobility didn’t get to enjoy it either. He’d fallen into a food coma afterwards, followed by a full week of hyperactive and aggressive behaviour, as if he’d skipped straight ahead to the very worst of his teenage years.

Still, he was more responsible now and it wasn’t nearly as much meat. He was also getting a bit too good with those puppy dog eyes to resist. “Just this once,” Twilight stated. “What type is it?”

“Chicken.”

Perfect for a growing dragon, odd for a half-avian. It would do.

Twenty minutes passed without much conversation. Quilliam stared at the table between himself and Twilight, looking every bit traumatised, and she couldn’t blame him. This was his safe place away from the noisy, conversational world outside, and on a lot of occasions it had felt that way to Twilight as well. She couldn’t tell him much, but that one hope was all she had left, in spite of what others may have thought: “Celestia will be back in a few days,” she said, “and once that happens, she’ll make sure this sort of thing never happens again.”

“Speckle Weave.”

“Wh- sorry?”

Quilliam made a motion with both hands behind his head, flipping up an invisible hood. “She was here. They broke in and smashed everything.”

The name sounded somewhat familiar. Something to do with Canterlot’s art scene. “Who is Speckle Weave?”

He struggled with that for a moment, one hand clenching against the table. “She wants my collection. Rona Trough’s manuscript is worth one-hundred and seventy suns. Garland the Green by Ochre Brush, the original version, is worth ninety-five suns.” Another pause. “There are others.”

Twilight’s eyes went wide at the numbers she was hearing. Quilliam had upgraded his collection in a big way since she’d last checked. Owning Garland the Green by itself put him in the upper leagues when it came to collectors, but by the sound of the first price the manuscript was the original, which, while in a notoriously sorry state, held knowledge that had revolutionised agriculture and engineering and by all rights should have been locked away in a vault several hundred meters underground.

A face popped into her head, attaching itself to the name. The Weave Palette was what they called themselves. The current head of the family had been the one to paint the giant canvas that stretched from wall to wall in the lobby of the manor a number of years ago, and he’d brought his two children with him as help. A family with an income and a customer base as enviable as that would have no reason to steal. Twilight couldn’t help but tilt her head in confusion. Quilliam undoubtedly had a certain image in his mind, but whether or not that image was reliable was a question of how badly the event had affected him.

“Quill, that doesn’t make sense,” she began. “The Weave Palette is a family of artists, not librarians.”

Quilliam shook his head, starting to look stressed. “She came back even though I banned her, just so she could steal more and hurt me.”

“They were just thugs, Quill.” She placed a hoof on his hand in support. “These things happen, and I know it’s difficult to process, but it wasn’t her. A pony like her has better things to be doing than… this stuff.” Twilight knew from experience the process that went into trying to justify an unthinkable event. When she had been just a filly, it had been so easy to mentally paint the stallion who had robbed them as some kind of demonic entity who could phase through walls and hurt the ponies she loved, that to find out he was nothing more than a confused old care home patient felt almost unbelievable by itself.

Still, after learning of Quilliam’s latest additions it suddenly made a lot more sense why someone would target him. Collectors existed on the black market, too, after all.

Quilliam made a grunting sound, but gave no comment. Then, he caught wind of the food and Twilight could see the train of thought falling from the tracks. Spike placed three plates between them, two of which had a perfectly cooked pie resting on top. A few moments later he returned with knife and fork, drew up a seat, and carved himself a hefty slice of chicken pie. Glancing at her for one last check of approval, he popped the first chunk into his mouth and immediately looked like he was about to choke on it.

“Easy, Spike. One chew at a time,” said Twilight.

Spike made what sounded like a very tiny squeal as he held his cheeks, eyes shut tight as the flavour filled him up. With some effort he swallowed and immediately grabbed another slice. Twilight looked to her own beetroot and spinach meal and separated most of it to share with Quilliam. It smelled good now that it was cooked; a rich, healthy aroma rose from the plate, completely disguising that of the meat only a couple of hoofwidths away. She took a bite; it was drier than she expected, but tasty.

The meal went quickly, giving them all a chance to forget about the wreck that had been made of the front room. Twilight sat back in her chair and released a huff. The only window in the room was a short, wide thing with frosted glass that one would expect to see in a public toilet, giving a hazy view of the sky beyond the chimneys and rooftops. Beyond that would be the Moon, stuck in place to watch the chaos it had wrought.

The riots were over. Twilight wanted to believe that they were at the tail end of all this, but Chestnut’s words roamed around in her head, lighting up every little hint to the contrary. Another line followed it; a warning from Nightmare Moon’s golden-haired creature. The thought of having wronged someone badly enough for them to seek revenge on her friends was enough to give her nightmares, but Quilliam was still here, so it wasn’t her. “Hey, Spike, could you go upstairs and see if anything’s been damaged?” She looked to her friend. “I hope you don’t mind?”

Quilliam gave a nod and Spike eased himself out of his seat. “I feel twice as heavy as normal,” he whined, hand upon his belly. Before he left the room he looked back, forcing a smile past the discomfort. “Oh, and, thanks dude. That was awesome!”

Twilight smirked after he left. “I’m sorry about his appetite. He’s gotten into the habit of eating more since we’ve been cooped up away from everything.”

Quilliam nodded again, looking at nothing. “That’s fine,” he replied after a fashion. “You look scared.”

“What?”

The hippogryph clammed up and Twilight realised how abrupt she had sounded.

“No, sorry, go on. What do you mean?”

“You… look scared,” he repeated. “As scared as me. You could have looked but you sent Spike instead. Why?”

The reasons flashed through Twilight’s mind, only to be overtaken by the emotional implications of what she’d just done. She opened her mouth to respond, but nothing came out. Did she think there was something dangerous or stress-inducing up there? In that case, why send Spike into danger? It would be easy to say she just wanted to talk with Quilliam some more, or that this was to make up for carrying Spike around, but neither made enough sense. She was the one who needed to do more paperwork, anyway.

She realised she was looking at the door leading to the front room. When she and Spike first entered, she didn’t know if Quilliam was harmed or worse. Even then, she had chosen to put the books back into order first rather than search for her friend. Likewise, the ponies working at the school were fully capable of cleaning the statue without her help. She was fixing things to fool herself into thinking nothing was wrong, and in that state of mind she’d sent Spike upstairs just in case there was more evidence of the vandalism she so desperately wanted to avoid, without considering how he might be feeling about it all.

“I… um,” she managed before she lost the words again.

The look on Quilliam’s face was that of a kid getting the better of his parent for the first time. His eyebrows were high and his grin was wide, and he looked ready to tell everyone he knew that he’d just managed to leave Twilight Sparkle speechless.

Slowly, the edges of Twilight’s mouth twitched and soon she was smiling as well. A chuckle from across the table lead to them both laughing. Dear Celestia, I’m a fool. “Oh dear, does this make me a horrible person?” she asked.

“Huh?” came Spike’s voice from the doorway.

“Heh, it’s nothing, Spike. Don’t worry.”

“Uh, ok. Well anyway, the upstairs looks ok, I think.” He looked to Quilliam. “Are those dressers meant to be on top of each other like that?”

Quilliam nodded.

“And the exposed beams being used as bookshelves?”

Quilliam nodded with enthusiasm.

“Huh. Cool.”

Twilight hopped off her seat and pushed the chair neatly into position. “Well, if everything’s in order we’d better get on our way. Spike and I are heading to one of the lakes if you wanna join us?” she offered.

Quilliam shook his head frantically. “I don’t want to go out,” he said. “I need to fix the books.”

Twilight and Spike shared a glance. “Want some help?” they said in unison.

A smile flickered across his face and he shook his head again.

“Fair enough. I hope it’s all ok,” Twilight replied. She opened the door and looked back with a smile. “I’ll let Celestia know about this as soon as I get back home. Remember, if you need anything, Quill, I’ll always be here.”

The hippogryph seemed to stare at her for a moment before smiling as well, and he gave a little wave as his best friend disappeared from view.

Comments

[Comickook]

All I can say is definitely a great job on the exchanges, characterizations and future chapter set-up in this REALLY emotional chapter. Yeah, I can definitely understand the reflection on how the ponies have been acting (such as the manure-filled bag, the riots mentioned in the previous chapter, the general vandalism, etc.), Moondancer's observations at the beginning of the chapter, Twilight's chats with Chestnut AND Quilliam. It's ironic that Twilight, for all of her now-famous freak-outs, is actually seeming to STILL take this MORE maturely than most of the rest of Canterlot.

Definitely looking forward to more of this.

[Parallel Black]

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Thanks again! I'm really glad that you're enjoying the new version so far :)