In the Country of Posh Things

by Posh

12/19: Tough Crowd

It wasn't until the villagers of Brittlesworth ran out of fresh produce to throw, and started flinging compost, that Starlight Glimmer finally accepted that the performance was beyond saving. Up until that point, she'd remained optimistic, and even past that point, Trixie continued to perform, oblivious to the escalating barrage of garbage.

Still, this was definitely a "know when to fold 'em" moment. So, she zapped herself, and Trixie, and Trixie's stage/wagon/studio apartment, into the unknown, without a destination in mind.

Anywhere that didn't smell like rotten eggs was fine.

---

The stage rematerialized in the middle of a well-beaten dirt road that snaked through a rolling green countryside. Starlight turned to Trixie, who was frozen in a showy, bombastic pose, reared up on her hind legs and wagging her forehooves excitedly.

"Glad we made it out of there in one piece," Starlight chuckled. "Talk about a tough crowd."

Trixie dropped to all fours and shook her head. She glanced from one end of the road to the other, at the plains and hills stretching out toward the horizon on both sides.

"Beats the heck out of me where we are now," Starlight added, "but at least we’re not stuck inside a random cliffside. I gotta be honest, I was halfway sure that was how we were gonna wind up."

Trixie sputtered. "You–– you teleported us out of town? Mid-show?!"

"Well... yeah?" Starlight flicked her ear nervously. "I mean, the situation had kinda deteriorated—"

"It wasn't beyond salvage, Starlight Glimmer!" Trixie snapped, rounding on Starlight. But there was an audible, sickening squelch on the first step that she took. Trixie looked down, and found herself up to her fetlock in the squishy remains of what may have been a papaya.

Starlight raised an eyebrow. Then she gestured around the stage – at the floorboards, and the backdrop, and the marquee overhead that bore Trixie's likeness, all covered with splattered produce.

When the pelting began, Starlight thought quickly, and shielded herself and Trixie with a barrier, sparing them from the worst of the villagers' onslaught. The stage hadn't been so lucky.

And, it turned out, there was no escaping the rotten egg stink.

Trixie followed each of Starlight's gestures, her angry expression fading as she took in her badly defaced stage. Finally, she sighed, pawing at the gooey remains of the papaya. "Trixie could have turned it around."

"And if you couldn't? We have to live in this thing while we're on the road. You really wanna swim around in moldy tomato sauce until we get back to Ponyville, because you were too proud to throw in the towel?"

Trixie narrowed her eyes at Starlight. Then she hmph'd, turned up her nose, and hopped off the front of the stage without another word.

Starlight's ear twitched again as she followed Trixie, stopping at the end of the stage. She peered down at Trixie, who was examining one of the wagon's wheels, horn flashing intermittently.

"What're you up to?" she called down to Trixie.

After a moment, Trixie replied. "Making sure this old thing will still fold up and roll. Rotten tomatoes and moldy fruit have a way of gumming up the gears."

"You... know from experience?"

"Common sense." Trixie sucked her teeth, then added, "And from experience."

Starlight rolled her eyes. "Anything I can help you with?"

"Grab a mop and swab the stage." Trixie glared at Starlight. "Trixie does not, in fact, want to swim around in moldy tomato sauce until we get back to Ponyville."

"In that case, how about a thank-you?" Starlight might've asked.

But she bit back her comment, and headed backstage, toward the little nook that typically served as their living space when the stage was folded into the wagon. She rummaged about, but found nothing in the way of cleaning supplies besides the hoof-soap, toothpaste, and shampoo that she insisted Trixie carry while on the road.

Trixie didn't own a mop. Somehow, Starlight felt she should have known. Part of her felt like she did know, and always knew, deep down. Regardless, she had to improvise. She took a deep breath and scanned the countryside.

Not far away, off the side of the road, was the incline of a grassy cliff. Listening closely, and tuning out Trixie's periodic grunts and curses, Starlight could hear the burbling of water rushing past rocks. There was a stream down there.

Inspiration struck. Starlight stretched out with her magic, and groped about at the bottom of that incline until she found the creek. She shaped her aura into a sort of loosely defined, amorphous magical straw, and siphoned the water out in a long, thin filament. Then she drew it toward the stage, watching with pride and child-like wonder as it snaked up the side of the incline.

When she'd gathered a sufficient amount of water, she concentrated it into a sphere, half-again as large as a pony, and held it in a tight, telekinetic grip. Then she sprayed it, in quick, high-pressure pulses, on the stage, washing away the moldy gunk that the villagers of Brittlesworth had so graciously gifted to her. It ran, in thick, muddy streams and rivulets, down the front of the stage, splattering onto the road below.

Starlight rinsed, taking care to direct the run-off away from Trixie. The noise of the water on the floorboards drew her attention, though; Trixie poked her head over the side of the stage.

The wide-eyed look on Trixie's face as she caught sight of the floating reservoir made Starlight grin. "You don't seem to own a mop."

"Trixie does so." Trixie paused, frowning. "At least... Trixie did. She may have had to sell it to make room for more fireworks."

"Well, of course. As one does."

"Trixie does not need your sarcasm right now, Starlight Glimmer." Trixie's expression hardened before she ducked below the front of the stage again.

"I'm teasing, Trixie. Just trying to lighten the mood." Starlight trotted downstage to meet her, the reservoir floating beside her like a balloon. "Are you really that mad at me?"

"...You should have had faith in me." Trixie crouched low and pulled the brim of her hat over her eyes as she feigned inspecting the wheel. "I could have turned it around. I could have."

"It's not that I don't have faith in you, Trix." Starlight sprayed a quick gout of water over the floorboards in front of her; once satisfied that they were rinsed clean, she laid on her belly and dangled her forehooves over the edge of the stage. "But it was a bad situation – bad crowd. We were both bombing up there. I just wanted to help you out – you know, the way an assistant––"

"Sexy assistant."

"For the last time, I'm not calling myself that," Starlight said flatly. She blew a lock of hair out of her face, and huffed. "I'm sorry for bruising your ego in front of the villagers––"

"First of all, Trixie's ego does not bruise," Trixie snapped, bolting upright. "Because Trixie is not some sort of... common household... banana."

Apropos of nothing, Starlight glanced to her right, and noticed a well-oxidized banana peel with its segments splayed out like a rag doll. "Second?"

"...Trixie does not care about what a pack of unwashed, humdrum hayseed villagers think of her boundless magical feats. She has nothing to prove to them; she has dealt with public humiliation before, and is well used to running away from a hailstorm of moldy fruit." Trixie glanced away. "But Trixie has never had an assistant... sexy or otherwise... in front of whom she needed to look good before."

For a while, neither of them said anything. Only the distant noise of the creek, and the sloshing of the water in the reservoir shifting around in Starlight's telekinetic grip broke the silence.

Then, Starlight said, "Trixie?"

Trixie looked up, met her eyes. She quirked her head, her hat drooping to one side.

Starlight blasted Trixie in the face with a stream from the reservoir, knocking her hat from her head. It plopped to the ground like a damp rag. The stream continued for another few moments before petering out, leaving Starlight with very little water with which to clean the stage.

"I was trying to clean the papaya off your hoof," Starlight snickered.

Through a lank-hanging mess of wet mane, Trixie glared at Starlight. "You missed."

Smirking, Starlight fired another squirt of water at Trixie's hoof.

Trixie yelped and recoiled, stumbling backward. "Enough, Glimmer! You've made your point!"

"Have I?"

"...I don't know." Trixie dropped to her hindquarters, splashing into a puddle that was rapidly forming underneath her. "I don't actually know what your point was."

"Well, mostly, I just wanted to cut the tension," said Starlight, hopping off the stage and trotting toward Trixie. "Partly, I wanted to clean the moldy fruit off your hoof."

Trixie huffed and looked away. "Is that all?"

"No." Reaching out, Starlight cupped Trixie's cheek, and turned her head around, until they were looking eye-to-eye. "I'm new at this friendship thing, too. But one thing I've figured out is that, when you're close with someone, you don't care about saving face in front of them. You have nothing to prove to me. You never will."

Trixie raised her hoof and linked it over Starlight's own. But there was still a guarded look in her eyes.

So Starlight floated the reservoir over her own head, released her grip, and let the whole thing drop over her head like a bomb. Trixie yelped and stumbled back, again, as Starlight soaked herself from head to hoof.

"But if it means that much to you, then, well." Starlight lifted the curtain of wet mane out of her face and grinned. "Now, we're both soaking wet and clueless."

Whatever reservations Trixie still held seemed to melt away. She laughed, easily and naturally, and entirely lacking in her usual haughtiness. She had a beautiful laugh when she wasn't putting on a show. Starlight wished she could hear it more often.

Then the showmare persona took hold again. Trixie straightened, and strode up to Starlight, chin held high. "Not that it's a competition, but you're wetter and clueless-er than Trixie. You should straighten yourself out, sexy assistant."

Starlight sighed, and prepared to retort, when she felt Trixie's head bump the bottom of her chin.

"...Thanks, Starlight. For getting us out of there. You were right." Trixie pressed harder against Starlight, and Starlight closed her eyes, and leaned into her embrace.

Then a breeze whispered past them, past Starlight's soaking coat and mane, making her teeth chatter.

"Tell me you didn't sell your towels, too."

Author's Note:

Part of a Secret Santa swap with Carabas, with the requests being Starlight, Trixie, and Shipping Optional. Unedited since Christmas; take it up with my agent.

With acknowledgement to DannyJ for the village of Brittlesworth.

Comments

[Miller Minus]

Had a big smile on my face the whole time I read this. Sopping wet with character.

Also it's my personal headcanon that Starlight took all that water from Brittlesworth's drinking supply, the bastards. Wouldn't know a good magic show if it pulled rabbits out of their asses.

Thanks for sharing.

[Posh]

10057228 they all drink Estus anyway

[FanOfMostEverything]

Delightful friendshipping. They're figuring this out as they go.

[Flynt Coal]

Aww, I love these two

[Posh]

10058122
10057254

Legit my favorite pairing on the show. Not just in a shipping sense; they just have my favorite friendship out of everyone.

Also in a shipping sense.

[DannyJ]

Posh, you were banned from touching anything Fire Burning related after Sunlight for Life. Please cease and desist immediately.

[Posh]

10063309 i will not

[DannyJ]

10064065

My lawyer will be in contact.

[wishcometrue]

"First of all, Trixie's ego does not bruise," Trixie snapped, bolting upright. "Because Trixie is not some sort of... common household... banana."

Apropos of nothing, Starlight glanced to her right, and noticed a well-oxidized banana peel with its segments splayed out like a rag doll. "Second?"

This little section made me absolutely lose it.

This whole thing is just full of delightful interaction and banter between these two. Well done as always.

[Cerulean Blue]

Is there nothing that Trixie *hasn't* sold at one time or another for more fireworks, or smokebombs, or to repair her hat? I think not.

[Lurks-no-More]

Friendshipping with friends dripping!