Caverns & Cutie Marks: Our House Now

by TheColtTrio

Chapter 17: Stars, Hide Your Fires; Let Not Light See My Black And Deep Desires

“Greetings, and welcome to an Errant Drapes Company production of Testament Shudderstick’s MacHawk, a tale of ambition, intrigue, sound, and fury. Any recording via magic, camera, and the use of flash photography is strictly prohibited by Management. There will be two fifteen minute breaks over the course of this production, during which we invite you to partake of the refreshments cordially provided by Cheese’t Moi. Please, show respect to others and refrain from talking or using telepathic messaging during the performance. Enjoy the show.”

Two figures sidled into their private box high above the stage to the left, both applauding politely with the rest of the audience as the lights dimmed following the announcement. One sat, leaning over the front of the box to peer into the main body of the theater.

“Why are we here again?” Day Grass asked softly, turning to his companion. The thin, gray-coated stallion beside him sighed.

“Because it's a preview,” Coal Beard grunted, settling uncomfortably into his seat. “Preview performances are always free admission.”

“Only for relatives if I remember correctly,” Day Grass huffed, sitting back in his chair.

“Lucky for us, my niece is in the play,” Coal Beard replied.

“Lucky indeed,” Day Grass snorted. “Right. I haven’t seen a good play since that puppet theater closed down 30 years ago.”

“Yes,” Coal Beard agreed. “There have been some pretty shoddy shows lately.”

“I’ve never seen MacH-” Day Grass’s mouth was suddenly full of Coal Beard’s hoof.

“Don’t. Say. The name.” Coal Beard warned sharply. Day Grass blinked at his old friend.

“Maiy?” came Day Grass’s muffled question.

“Just don’t.” Coal Beard removed his hoof from Day Grass’s mouth.

“...What should I call him then?” Day Grass asked.

“Mack.”

“...Right...”

The pair fell silent in lieu of watching the play. Three female ponies dressed as griffons ’flapped’ their way down to the stage. Upon landing, they wove around each other, speaking of the battle in progress and the coming of MacHawk to the heath. Their prophetic dirge complete, they scattered, leaving the stage in a flurry of thunder claps and lighting effects.

“Who’s your niece playing?” Day Grass asked, eyes locked on the reddening of the stage. Sounds of battle built to a crescendo in the background.

“Clawmaiden to Lady Mack,” Coal Beard replied. The crescendo breached and so too did the players, falling out from both wings of the stage to charge at each other. Each side bore a banner in their midst, both depicting griffon claws and wings. One however held a sun in its grip while the other clasped an interwoven knot. Battle ensued as the two sides ‘fought’ for dominance over the other.

Day Grass blinked. “Isn’t that Rockhoof’s flank mark?” the dark coated stallion asked.

“On MacDonwing’s banner? Yes. Shudderstick did take inspiration from the Northern Tribes that existed back in the day,” Coal Beard explained.

Day Grass hummed and shrugged. The group of actors playing MacDonwing’s forces broke and fled, prompting Dunclaw’s forces to let out cries of victory, throwing taunts and jeers at the backs of the routed army. A large pegasus strode onstage, brown wings stretched high to show his coat of arms emblazoned on his body: a large sun over crossed wings.

“Celestia’s Sun. Interesting,” Coal Beard muttered.

“Something the matter?” Day Grass whispered, one eye on his friend and the other on the stage where Dunclaw was speaking to his troops with his two sons.

“Whoever ran costumes on this thing has got some stones to them,” Coal Beard snorted.

“How so?”

Coal Beard waved Day Grass’s question away with a hoof. “Give it a moment. You’ll get it,” the old stallion replied vaguely. Day Grass huffed, returning his attention to the stage. An injured ‘griffon’ had limped up to Dunclaw and his sons, and was conveying the achievements and accolades of MacHawk and his friend, Beakquo.

“I was hoping they’d gone with a name like Banqwark,” Day Grass snorted. “But Beakquo works too.”

Coal Beard rolled his eyes at the stag. “You do remember that this play is several centuries old, right? They can’t go changing names. Just like the Celestia motif isn’t something that Shudderstick thought of back then.” Day Grass blinked.

“Costuming isn’t dictated by the writer?” the larger stallion asked.

Coal Beard glared at him. “We’ve been friends nearly our entire lives. How could you think that costuming is all period based? Each production is a new take. No two productions are the same.”

“Huh,” Day Grass grunted. “What do you call the puppet shows with the same costuming?”

“Format skits,” was Coal Beard’s prompt reply.

“Huh.” Day Grass blinked at the stage. The witches were back and Dunclaw and his forces had departed. A dull drum sounded above them and the witches spoke.

“A drum, a drum! MacHawk doth come!” They scattered again, but stay on stage, only seeing fit to hide from MacHawk and Beakquo entering from the lobby, walking through the house to the stage.

Day Grass blinked again. “A moon?” He turned to Coal Beard. “Am I missing something?”

“Yes.” The short stallion didn’t elaborate on his answer. Day Grass harrumphed and turned back to the stage where MacHawk was being swarmed by the witches that told him he’d be Lord of Griffis, Cawdor, and then, King of Griffonstone. Then Beakquo stepped up, laughing at MacHawk’s expression of surprise and fear.

“Good griff, why do you start and seem to fear things that do sound so fair? In th’ name of truth, are ye fantastical? Or that indeed which outwardly ye show? My noble partner you greet with present grace and great prediction, of noble having and of royal hope that he seems rapt withall. To me you speak not. If you can look into the seeds of time and say which grain will grow and which will not, speak then to me. Who neither beg nor fear your favours nor your hate.”

A trio of ‘hail’s erupted from the witches who then proclaimed that Beakquo would be father to a line of kings. MacHawk bade them remain to tell him more of their prophetic viewings and chased the three witches across the stage, yelling as he ran. But before he could reach them, they vanished one by one.

“Nice use of magic for practical effects,” Day Grass commented.

“Indeed,” Coal Beard agreed. “Certainly a taxing activity, but doable with a unicorn of reasonable magical aptitude.”

“I must say, I’m surprised at the lack of pegasi performing,” Day Grass mused. “I’d have thought that, considering the source material, more winged ponies would be better casting choices. One would have less wing prosthetics to deal with and there’d be fewer flying harnesses.”

“The reasoning is indeed sound,” Coal Beard agreed, “but with magic and practical methods of flinging young ponies around, not much is impossible any longer. And it opens up for a wider range of actors. Not all pegasi are great at acting.”

Day Grass hummed, nodding along with the old earth pony’s words. “Makes sense to me.”

The pair were silent as they watched MacHawk receive his second fiefdom from Talonx and Roc.

“What’s your opinion on prophecy?” Day Grass asked. “Do you believe that…” he hesitated. “Mack is buying into the Witches’ words too much?”

Coal Beard scoffed. “We live in a world of magic,” the stallion replied. “When are there not prophecies?” He shrugged. “I think that prophecies are things that ponies will try to enact if it's in their favor, making them scrutinize the tiniest of worthless details to pull forth a solitary piece of meaning. Or… they’ll try to prevent it from occurring, wasting years of their life to avoid an unsavory outcome.”

“One often meets their destiny on the road they take to avoid it,” Day Grass agreed. “If they are taken in by a prophecy, they may not bring it to fruition in the fashion they were hoping.”

“Indeed. In lieu of your second question, I don’t think that Mack has completely bought in to what the Witches have proposed. Both Beakquo and him are being played as very skeptical of the Witches’ words, which I believe is excellent. The actors can develop their characters as the play goes.”

A royal fanfare bugelled from backstage, leading Dunclaw, his sons, and his coterie to enter. MacHawk, Beakquo, Talonx, and Roc knelt before their king. Dunclaw quickly greeted MacHawk and Beakquo, thanking and praising them for their defeat of the Northern Lord that had joined in MacDonwing’s rebellion against Griffonstone and its allies. All seemed well for the assembled lords, until Dunclaw declared Malcon the Prince of Corvierlund and his heir. MacHawk hesitantly applauded along with the rest of the coterie.

“This is where Mack starts questioning the prophecy, huh?” Day Grass asked.

“Not exactly,” Coal Beard replied as Dunclaw walked over to MacHawk, declaring that they would celebrate at MacHawk’s castle.

“Does he start planning something? Like offing Malcon?”

“...”

“You aren’t going to tell me, are you?”

“No.”

Day Grass sighed and shook his head. “Why haven’t I ever gone to see shows with you?”

“Because you’re busy lecturing about science and have no time to come with me,” Coal Beard snipped back.

A cry of joy interrupted the pair of ponies. Lady MacHawk dashed across the stage into her husband’s hooves and greeted him happily. Husband and wife shared a heartfelt reunion that turned hurried upon MacHawk’s telling of the king’s approach to their castle. Lady MacHawk was surprised for merely a moment before settling in to be hostess, chiding MacHawk and urging him to let her take care of the banquet for King Dunclaw. With a last second word of advice for MacHawk to ‘only look up clear’, they left the stage separately to prepare for the coming feast.

“Is the passage of time difficult to convey in stage productions?” Day Grass asked.

“Yes,” Coal Beard replied immediately.

Day Grass blinked. “Really?”

“Yes,” Coal Beard repeated. He looked aside at the brown stallion. “Have you been to one of those new moving picture halls recently?”

Day Grass frowned. “No… Should I have?”

Coal Beard turned back to the stage where Dunclaw was entering the MacHawk castle. “It's a new method of storytelling. I’m sure your science buddies will hear about it when it hits the mainstream.”

“Oi~!” Day Grass hissed.

“That aside, a play or stage production can have some difficulty in conveying the passage of time,” Coal Beard continued. “One can only change costumes and makeup so fast, and magic isn’t always the best solution. The original text for the Griffon Play is unclear in the duration of the tale. But, logically, the story of Mack seems to progress over the course of several months. Not necessarily something that can easily be conveyed.”

“And your point is?” Day Grass prompted.

“Time in written works and moving pictures is more readily quantified,” Coal Beard said. “Breaks in chapter or captions on a screen can easily tell a pony how much time has elapsed since the previous scene.” He gestured to the stage where MacHawk was wrestling with a wine bottle. “Here, only dialogue can assist you in keeping track of the hours.”

Day Grass stared at his friend for some time while Lady MacHawk entered and started arguing with her husband. As the two pointed and counterpointed each other’s argument, Day Grass snorted.

“You were always one for eloquence,” he chuckled, turning his full attention to the stage.

“I am settled, and bend up each corporal agent to this terrible feat. Away, and mock the time with fairest show: false face must hide what the false heart doth know,” spoke MacHawk.

After MacHawk and Lady MacHawk exited and while the audience was applauding, a voice sounded from a box across the theater from Day Grass and Coal Beard.

“This show is gonna be murder!” Antler called, shaking irritably.

“For the players?” Waldwarf asked.

“For me!”

“DOHOHOHO~!”

Coal Beard groaned. “Uugh. This is going to be a long show...”

* * *

“Where is he?!” Twilight demanded, blazing into the near empty theater lobby. Only a few volunteers were present cleaning up the lobby and concession stands. The ponies looked up in surprise and confusion, exchanging worried looks.

“Who?” one of the volunteer ponies asked.

“Discord! Where is he?!” the princess elaborated.

“Uhm… Up talking with the producer I think,” another pony replied, gesturing to the stairwell marked with a plaque reading ‘Crew Access Only’.

Twilight magicked the door to the stairwell open and ran up the steps, ignoring the squawks of warning from the ponies behind her. Her flight paused only briefly as she slammed open door after door, deaf to the cries of outrage as she interrupted the theater crew winding down from the first weekend of shows. Her incensed rampage increased in fervor the longer her quarry eluded her.

Twilight bashed open one more door, took a swift look inside, saw Discord standing across from a green and purple earth pony, and slammed the door back shut. She took two steps away from the door, only to balk. Eyes twitching, she slowly opened the door again and peered inside. Both the green earth pony and Discord were staring at her in surprise at her sudden appearance.

“Princess Twilight Sparkle,” the green earth pony greeted, inclining his head to her. “Is there something I can help you with?”

Twilight’s response was impeded by the arrival of several crew ponies voicing their grievances irritably and loudly for all to hear.

“Sir, she shouldn’t-”

“This is a restricted-”

“Crew only-”

“Clearly stated on the door-”

“Busts in here-”

“No regard for us-”

“Throw her-”

“Enough.”

All the crew ponies fell silent, watching the green earth pony as he stepped out from behind his desk. Twilight tried to edge herself out of the group only to be pulled forward by the green pony.

“Please, forgive me,” he said to the crew ponies. “I forgot to let you all know that Princess Twilight would be coming by this afternoon for a little chat. It seems I was also remiss in reminding the princess that I would be down in the lobby when I finished meeting with Discord.” He turned to the purple alicorn and raised his eyebrows. “My apologies.”

Twilight blinked once and nodded in agreement. “Apology accepted,” she said. “I ask that you accept my apology as well for causing such a ruckus in my arrival. I’ve had a pretty rough day and my anger got the better of me.” She turned to the crew ponies and bowed her head. “Please forgive me.”

Twilight kept her head bowed, waiting for a response. The green colt beside her coughed once and the crew ponies said, “we forgive you, Princess Twilight.” A frown creased her still bowed face. In harmony? Seriously?

“Thank you, all,” the green colt said, stepping forward to herd the crewmembers out of the office. “The Princess, Discord, and I have much to discuss.” Muttering abounded as the ponies left, shutting the door gently behind them. Once the bolt clicked, the green colt whirled around.

“Discord, what did you do?” he snapped. The draconequus gaped, reeling back from the now heated earth pony.

“What did I do?” Discord said, clearly distraught. “How could you ask such a question of your loyal director?”

“Easily! Shall I list the facts?” the colt barked. He held up his right hoof. “One: Twilight is here!” He sat on his haunches and raised his left hoof. “Two: you’re here!” He dropped his hooves to the floor and stomped up to the draconequus. “Convinced?”

“Not really,” Discord responded, crossing paw under claw. “Honestly, I haven’t done anything this time!”

“Oh really?” Twilight demanded. Her magic glowed about her horn and a newspaper popped into existence on the desk behind them. “This article in the Manehatten Times says otherwise!”

“Ooooh! Newspaper article!” the colt and Discord chorused. Twilight gaped as the pair dove for the paper.

“I think you’re both missing the point here,” she stated, watching the two open the paper for both of them to read the article.

“Aww piss biscuits,” the colt groaned. “The Oceaners lost again. Gosh darnit.”

“Honestly, I wish Waters Sun was still making comics,” Discord bemoaned, tossing the paper down onto the floor. “Equestria is lesser without him.”

One of Twilight’s eyes twitched as she glared at the pair of idiots before her. She stomped over to the fallen paper, eyeing the green colt. “Who are you again?” she asked.

The colt looked up at her for a split second, then rolled his eyes. “Obviously, you didn’t look at the name on my door when you came barging in.” He straightened and inclined his head. “Purple Patches at your service. I’m the humble producer of the Errant Drapes Company.”

“Aha,” intoned Twilight. Patches frowned.

“You haven’t any idea what I do, huh?” he asked.

“Nope,” Twilight answered, paging through the paper.

Patches sighed. “I sign the paperwork. And give the go-ahead on productions. And work with investors or donations.”

“He asked me to-” Discord mouth was muffled by Twilight shoving the newspaper in his face.

“Read,” Twilight ordered.

Discord plucked the paper from her grip, cleared his throat, perched a pair of reading glasses on his nose, and looked at the paper intently.

“Written by Testament Shudderstick well before any readers of this paper were born, it may be easy to assume that today’s article is a review of the aged texts that make up this classic work of the bard. However, the powers that be have decided that my skills as a BOOK critic would be best put to use by reviewing the latest interpretation of MacHawk to our local stage. Celestia willing, I will be discussing the merits of adding paprika to your hay fries by next week.”

Discord peered over the newspaper at Twilight. “So?” he drawled. “What’s got your tail in a twist?”

“Read paragraph four and five,” the purple alicorn indicated, pulling at her tail to get the snarls out of it.

Discord sighed and went back to reading.

“Perhaps most notably are the choices made for MacHawk himself. Under Discord’s supervision, the war hero turned mad king has been transformed into a figure not unlike that of our own Princess Luna. Whether this depiction comes from before Discord’s statuification or her more modern persona is unclear, although MacHawk’s descent into madness makes a good case for the former. Most interesting about this choice is the decision to clearly model King Dunclaw after Princess Celestia. It certainly puts MacHawk’s ascension to the throne in a new light.

“Other similar choices are scattered about the cast as well. Featherbane and Malcon have been reimagined as parallels to Princesses Cadenza and Sparkle respectively. If I were to make assumptions about this decision regarding character, the way I did in last week’s article on The Final Crystal Empire, this is a subtle jab at the Princesses due to both character’s relative uselessness after Dunclaw is removed from the picture. MacGruff stands out as well as a rather unsubtle allegory to Discord himself. The line ‘from my statuesque prison, untimely ripped’ comes and goes with all of the grace of a Sonic Rainboom.”

Discord blinked. “Ah.”

“‘Ah’ indeed,” Twilight echoed. “Care to explain all this imagery?”

Discord shrugged, grinning weakly. “A joke?” he tried. A halo popped up above his head. Twilight squinted at him and raised a skeptical eyebrow.

“A joke is when the Porter urinates onstage,” she replied. “Having the iconography of the Princesses of Equestria parallel a selection of nobles practicing regicide is lèse-majesté. Especially with you paralleling MacGruff.”

“Treason?!” Discord squawked, beak open wide in surprise. “Perish the thought, you fancy filly!”

“Excuse me,” Patches interjected, waving a hoof. “How is it treason? Does he hold loyalty of servitude to the Princesses?”

Twilight shook her head. “He doesn’t, but he is an ally of Equestria.”

“But this was just satire!” Discord said defensively. He snapped a claw and a small pamphlet appeared in his grasp. “I even made a disclaimer in the show’s program!”

Twilight snatched the program with her magic and flipped it open. “This performance is a product of fiction. Any correlation to ponies living or dead is completely coincidental.” She glared at Discord. “This disclaimer is for when a character matches with a real pony. Not a similarity in iconography.”

She threw the pamphlet onto the desk and pulled out a scroll and quill. “What you’ve done could be any number of things: conspiracy, defamation, malfeasance, sedition-”

“Schadenfreude?” Discord supplied. “Schmeckledorf?”

“Those aren’t even words,” Twilight snapped, “but I agree with you.”

“So what you’re saying,” Patches interjected again, “is that he should take a leave of absence for the foreseeable future? Until the dissent from the play’s reception dies down?”

Twilight hesitated, brow furrowing as she pondered her options. After a moment of rumination, she slowly nodded. Discord’s eyes popped out in surprise.

“You can’t be serious,” he gasped, falling to his knees. He pawed around, searching for his loose eyeballs, mouth agape. “What could have caused this reaction?”

Twilight rubbed her face with a hoof. “With three colts scattered across Equestria doing Celestia knows what, I can’t have you causing any distractions.” She looked at Patches. “I’m sorry for taking your director away from you. You have to-”

Patches waved a dismissive hoof and sighed. “I understand just fine. If it were somepony else, this might have had a different outcome. With Discord however, this is the best option short of imprisoning him again.” The green earth pony stepped around his desk to stand beside Discord. “I suggest you listen to the Princess, Discord. I’d hate for you to be imprisoned again. Despite your choices of costuming, you run a tight ship.” The colt offered his hoof.

The draconequus took the proffered limb and shook firmly. “Keep me in mind for next season,” he said. He turned to see Twilight walking towards the door. “Princess Sparkle, am I allowed to say goodbye to Fluttershy? I don’t want her to get worried.”

Twilight paused in the doorway to look over her shoulder at the downtrodden Discord. She gave a solemn nod of acquiescence and then departed, clicking the door gently shut behind her. Discord stood, nodded once to Purple Patches and popped away, leaving the producer alone in his office. The green earth pony stood in silence for a solid minute before the green in his coat leached away in favor of purple. Purple Heart grinned widely as one more piece was removed from the board.

* * *

Purple Heart waved again as another crew member passed him on their way out of the house. Cleanup had just finished during his conversation with Discord and Twilight’s surprise visit and subsequent banishment of the draconequus. The purple earth pony didn’t restrain the urge to laugh and promptly let loose a booming chortle that echoed around the now-empty house. Things had gone better than he’d planned. Originally, he’d thought to have Discord framed for some act of chaos against the Mane Six to get the entity deported or imprisoned. However, such a nefarious affair hadn’t been needed, thanks to a little leftover angst in the mismatched chaos god. Truly, he wouldn’t have minded blackmailing Discord with a little controlled framing, but the smaller, simpler schemes worked so much better and yielded results that left him completely in the clear. Nearly.

Purple Heart shook his head, dismissing such thoughts from his mind. He looked at the stage and sighed wistfully. In another time, he would have proudly stepped on stage to perform for the public at large. But, somepony needed to pull the strings behind the scenes. And he had just the skillset to do it.

“I must say, as much of a pleasure as it is to see you in another Macbeth play, I’m a little disappointed.” Light Patch said, standing next to Purple Heart. “And it’s such a wonderful variant too.”

Purple Heart blinked and turned to the short grey pegasus. “Do I know you?” he fibbed, hoping against hope that he hadn’t actually heard those words correctly.

“Oh, we’re playing that little game. Well, in that case...” Before Purple Heart’s eyes, the figure was suddenly covered in a heavy, obscuring cloak that shrouded any and all discernable features. “Lets just say that I’m a party operating independent of your actions. I doubt we share the same goals but I… I...”

Light Patch violently ripped off the hood covering his head. “Holy crap, it’s too hot for this here! Don’t make me play this little game, PH!”

Purple Heart huffed, rolling his eyes. “Where have you been, Light? Haven’t seen you… since the Hydra, right?”

“Around. Seems like I’m able to tap into Pinkie’s powers a little. So I’ve just kinda been popping around and seeing what’s what. That and occasionally annoying Twilight. Thought you’d be happy to hear about that,” Light Patch said, lazily checking a pocket watch.

Purple Heart snorted, letting loose a bark of laughter. “Ahh, anything that annoys the princess makes me happy,” he chortled. “Dunno about you, but she was a right berk to me during the ‘Friendship Lessons’. Did she make you take those?”

“I got ponynapped by Applejack as a part of those… failed too.” He frowned, putting away the pocket watch. “She had us all go through them, I suspect. Some kind of test or anti-boredom measure I think. Of course, all until she drove the three of us up the walls and out of the castle.”

“Yeh, she certainly pushed my buttons,” Purple Heart agreed. “Apparently, during the cross over from the Equestria Girls verse, I somehow learned how to use magic.” The colt snorted derisively. “Clearly, she’s never tried to make a Quality Miracle build before. It just isn’t possible. Regardless, my having magic fascinated her so much that she decided I was going to be her new experiment. So I thought, ‘if she’s gonna treat me this way, why don’t I act like it’ and promptly scarpered from the castle. As you can see, my plans have progressed rather well.” He gestured to the empty set on stage.

“Your evil plan is a play… about how mean she is? That's a little weak isn’t it? I was hoping for some grand spectacle of a rip roaring rampage to watch. At least Minty Witty seems to be building up to something interesting,” Light Patch answered, throwing his hooves out in a sweeping gesture.

“This is hardly an allegory for Princess Twilight being mean!” Purple Heart sniped heatedly. “Sure, it got her minorly skeeved, but that wasn’t the main goal of this enterprise!” A wide grin stretched the purple colt’s lips as he looked at Light Patch. “I got Discord out of the way.” A giggle snuck from Purple Heart’s mouth as the colt walked toward the stage.

He turned back to Light Patch, body shaking with mirth. “I wanted to get back at Discord for yanking us around at the beginning of this,” he guffawed, “show him what it's like to be the puppet for a change. I prodded here and there, nudging him into a place where I could capitalize on him simply being himself.” He giggled again. “I was planning on blackmailing him or framing him to get him out of the way, but then Princess Twilight showed up with all her righteous indignation and told him to leave!” Another giggle wracked the purple earth pony’s body and he leaned against the front of the stage to keep upright. With a sigh, he looked at Light Patch once more.

“For all the simplicity of my plan,” he said cheerfully, “it got the job I wanted done.” He paused, taking a few breaths to calm his heart. “How’s about you? How goes your little plan, if I may be so bold to ask?”

“Swimmingly. Mostly because I don’t have a plan. I’ve sworn off having a plan. I am strictly neutral… Well, mostly neutral. I may have helped you and Wits when Twilight pushed one button too many. But aside from that, I’m simply here to watch this all unfold. To put it in theater terms, I’m just a member of the audience,” the pegasus said, sitting in the air with a bag of popped corn.

Purple Heart arched an eyebrow at the floating pony. “The neutral party, huh?” he hummed. “No plan to speak of either.” He shrugged. “An unknown variable.” Purple Heart walked forward and patted Light’s shoulder with a hoof. “Then, my friend, I must insist that you enjoy the show.”

“Oh, I plan too. Speaking of enjoying the show, I have a small proposal for you and Wits. I’ll be sending an invitation to our other friend just after this. Here’s yours.” He held out a large stamp. “You can use that to get to the location, if you choose to hear me out.”

Purple Heart took the stamp with a hoof, frowning skeptically at Light. “How does it work?” he asked.

“It’s easy. First, you get a box.” Light Patch held up a box that hadn’t been there moments ago. “Then you lick the stamp and place it on the box. Then stand in the box and it will be delivered to the location. And I promise to not smash you with a hammer upon arrival....” Light Patch paused. “Well... I probably won’t anyway. This has been fun, but I’ve got a minty fresh villain in training to send an invite to before I can answer some more of the fandom’s greatest questions.”

Purple Heart chuckled and walked back to the stage, waving the stamp above his head. “I’ll keep that in mind, Yzma. Just don’t turn me into a llama.”

Light Patch shrugged, crossing his hooves behind his head as he floated on his back. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he said, popping away from the theater.

Purple Heart looked back into the house when he heard the soft ‘pop’. He snorted, looking down at the stamp marked with an image of a spinach puff.

“Wonder which shoulder he was supposed to be on,” he mused softly.

Comments

[Mix-up]

how the heck do I keep missing the updates?

[Mix-up]

Nice, I am liking hoe the conspiracy is starting to grow deeper and that my hunch on Wits seems to be pretty close. Purple Hearth definitely seems to be under the influence Beal if revenges and hatred is part of his MO. Still, I wonder if the Equestrian counterparts of of the three antagonists are any real in Equestria as they were created out of the colt Trio's minds in the first story and that would make me wonder if Equestria had already been subjected to the magic of the Hydra in the EqG but no pony realized it at all or is part of a larger scheme and the Colt Trio's counter parts as well as antagonists are more like byproducts of that effect, which might have happened long before they had even arrived in the EqG world back then. Still how can Discord mange run so much out of his control like that without him being area of it in some measure?