The Immortal Dream

by Czar_Yoshi

Lair

I stood, frozen, in the tunnels of the Ice District, Jamjars' door invitingly open behind me. The Composer's words rang in my head.

Halcyon. Welcome to my city.

My hooves kneaded the ground as I tried to come out of shock. I knew I was just thinking to myself how chasing down Aldebaran factored into my desire to come here, but... but... You were only supposed to jinx yourself by saying it aloud! Fate wasn't... This...

"Still there?" Jamjars poked her head out of the door. "Oh. You're fine. Just making sure you hadn't run off after that sociopath and her two new toys. All good!" She retreated back inside.

No, I wasn't all good. Or maybe I was, because I had suddenly been given a gigantic lead on what I wanted. I had also been shown a tiny clip of what I was up against with all the subtlety of a yak falling off a cliff.

Move, a voice inside me told my legs. There are better places to think about it than this hallway.

My legs moved, and like ice, the spell over me was broken and I started to breathe again. Time seemed to skip a few seconds as my senses caught up, and I gasped, stumbled, and was in control of myself again.

"Seriously," I muttered to myself, holding a wing to my forehead and loping back towards the open door. "Gotta get a better handle on myself. Clamming up when the pressure arrives is what got me where I was last time..."

When I entered, Corsica and Ansel were back in the living room, clearly torn between sticking together and keeping their usual distance from each other. Jamjars was still cleaning the refreshments she had brought out while Gerardo was here, and I couldn't see Kitty, but it looked like the cleaning was almost done.

"Well then," Jamjars said, turning to us after noticing I was here. "Down to business, I suppose. Apparently, I'm not your first pick for places to stay. Understandable, given your recent company, but there are two sides to every fight. My door is always open, if you'd like to walk out and take your chances anywhere else. But otherwise, let's sit down and figure out how we're going to live together."

"At least I can speak a little more freely, now that there are fewer ears in the room," Ansel said. "Two questions for you. First, what do you have against Gerardo?"

"Relatively little, on the grand scale of things," Jamjars replied. "Mostly just that our goals are the same, yet he adamantly refuses to work together."

"You mean chasing Writs of Harmonic Sanction?" I asked, curious.

Jamjars tilted her head. "Oh, he told you about those?"

"Sort of," I admitted. "Then he clammed up when he realized I was interested."

"Typical Gerardo," Jamjars sighed. "At least he's got half a brain cell. Yes, Writs of Harmonic Sanction. To make a long story short, we need them to be reunited with a long-lost friend of ours. Quite a lot of us were originally involved, but alas, I'm somewhat of an outcast because I actually tried to fight our fate instead of sailing into it with open hooves like all the rest of them. And no one else agreed with my decision." A shadow of anger briefly crossed her face, and then was gone. "But, Gerardo at least is still searching, so him among them I can forgive. If only it ran both ways, we'd be done by now."

Wait, what? "Gerardo said he was collecting them for a goddess to remake the order of the world," I pointed out. "What's that have to do with being reunited with old friends?"

"Did he?" Jamjars frowned. "Blabbermouth. He probably also told you he's a professional story-teller. Prone to embellishment and la la la..." She huffed, then raised an eyebrow. "What's it to you? You want some Writs of Harmonic Sanction for yourselves?"

I stood with my forehooves as close together as they would go. "Mostly, I wanted to meet his goddess..."

"Ah. Princess Celestia." Jamjars reclined in her chair. "She's certainly real enough. But dream big, kid. The spell inside those writs he's chasing is required to sneak into her realm, and every writ that carelessly flies into Ironridge is mine and mine alone."

"You already have some of these?" Corsica asked warily, her eyelids heavy with sleep.

Jamjars gave her an owlish look. "That's a little like asking a lady for the size of her bank account, don't you think? We're going to need to be much better friends before I tell you a thing like that." She sighed airily. "I've got enough that those others are idiots for not working with me, and let's leave it at that."

My mind was several seconds in the past. Writs were required for gaining access to this Princess Celestia's realm... Gerardo had made out like they were status symbols, that left an irrevocable mark on the user but otherwise did nothing. But if other spells could detect that mark... I was starting to put together what was going on here. Now if only I knew why.

"Where is Princess Celestia?" I asked. "There can't be that many places out there you need a special spell to enter, right?"

Jamjars chuckled darkly. "Wanting to put to the test whether you really need one? You'd get fried into crispy bacon, or else wander eternally until only your skeleton remains."

"Bacon? What's that supposed to be...?" Corsica sleepily tilted her head.

"Come on," I protested, "I know how to follow instructions! Don't go before you have one means don't go before you have one. I just wanna know where I'll be heading in the future!"

Jamjars got a little smile back. "Wait, this is really the part you don't know?"

"That is what I said..." I pointed out.

"You won't believe me," Jamjars warned, smiling harder.

I stood up. "Are you gonna play with me, or do you not know either?"

Jamjars whistled innocently. "Well... She's south of the Aldenfold."

Ansel just yawned. "Like anyone'll buy that."

"It's true," Jamjars smugly said. "Ever looked at a world map?"

I had. Plenty of times. Everyone knew the world was a crescent, with a round northern border arcing around the straight southern wall of the Aldenfold. Unless...

"It's a circle," Jamjars told me. "The whole thing. Our little northern slice is only a third or a fourth of it. From Infinite Glacier to the Griffon Empire? You could probably go that far south from Ironridge alone before you hit the real southern edge. Not that I've ever been remotely that far myself, of course."

"So you've got a friend down there you want to meet again?" Corsica asked. "Sounds like you've already got what it takes to go yourself. What's stopping you from just going?"

Jamjars' face soured. "It's very complicated. And really? You're not even going to question this?"

"We grew up in Icereach," I pointed out. "We're kind of resigned to knowing nothing about anything. Probably couldn't tell you what happens if you go too far in any other direction either."

"Is that so?" Jamjars perked up again. "Poor you. The south is more or less a myth here. Everyone's heard of it, very few both think it's real and worth their time. The Plains of Harmony, everyone calls them..."

Well, I guess I could see why Gerardo said I'd need an airship. Though could an airship seriously scale the Aldenfold? If it could, surely someone would have tried it before. Those mountains were mountains among mountains, their cliffs rising above even the tops of Icereach's range like a vertical horizon. "What happens if you don't have a writ?" I asked, curious.

"Bad things," Jamjars flatly told me. "Those mountains are a border wall. They're enchanted by a goddess to keep things out, and plenty of fools before you have decided to go try their luck and see if their big heads and dashing egos would make them exempt from her blacklist. Unless you get a writ, you do not want to follow their example. And neither do you want to encourage others to put this to the test. Which, come to think of it, might be why Gerardo wouldn't tell you..." She rubbed her chin in thought. "Huh. Surprisingly smart griffon. Not like it's the rarest thing for someone to know, but best not to give anyone any ideas. Let's keep this one between us, 'kay?"

Well, little did she know I already had three of them... which was probably a very unwise thing to mention when she was allegedly hunting these very same artifacts. Unless I was ready to voluntarily forfeit the two I had left in hopes of getting in good with her and any allies on her side of the endeavor.

"All this is very nice," Ansel interrupted, "but I think we're getting distracted from more pressing matters. Second question of mine: knowing that you've apparently got bad blood with a lot of folks in Ironridge, why did Graygarden and Elise vouch for you?"

Jamjars winked. "Bad blood? Oh, that's nothing new. Anyone who isn't a newbie to Ironridge has a very fair share of ongoing grudges, be it with individuals or groups. Graygarden likes me because he's hopelessly chasing my tail - spoiler alert, he's not going to get it - but the reason anyone with a real interest in governing thought I would be a good fit for you is that I'm very good at getting the powers that be to stay off my lawn. I could blackmail a windigo if I really wanted to. And you three have some feisty attention on your heads already, don't you?"

I swallowed, remembering the Composer in the hallway. Not to mention their imposing company...

"I'll admit, I'm not always nice," Jamjars went on. "But the golden rule of Ironridge is that you can't be nice, sane and powerful at the same time. And I'm a lot more concerned with accomplishing my goals than doing weird things to neutral strangers, unlike a certain changeling squad I've heard all about by now. Want to be safe from them and their ilk? Want to learn things no one else will tell you? Want to chase down dreams that are too grand for most mortals?" She blinked. "...Well, I probably shouldn't oversell myself. But still. Good luck finding anyone else who can even come close."

Ansel squinted at her. "Elise vouched for you because she thought you could help us dig up potentially dangerous secrets, screw over our enemies and write our names large on the world."

Jamjars snorted. "No. That's my own sales pitch! Elise vouched for me because, as was just demonstrated, I can tell creeps like Lilith to mind their own business. Which, I suppose you could come and live completely boring, ordinary lives operating out of my house, and everything would be fine and dandy..." She gave me a conspicuous look. "But do you really want that? Would you really grill me about Celestia and the Plains of Harmony if all you were interested in was safe and ordinary living?"

I tilted my head at her. "You really want us to stay here, don't you?"

Jamjars carelessly shrugged. "I think you'd make good understudies. But only if you want it. That's why we're here right now." She folded her forelegs over her chest. "To find out what each of us wants from this arrangement."

"How about if I want a nap?" Corsica asked, curled into a ball on the couch.

"I suppose that's a reasonable-enough place to start," Jamjars sighed. "It's a three-bedroom house. Lucky for you, Kitty is a basement dweller, literally, so I've got two rooms I use mostly for storage. Speaking of, stay out of the basement." She shrugged apologetically at us. "Not a rule, just very good advice. You three can divvy up two rooms between you, right?"

I thought for a moment about how that would work. I... really liked having my own room. Space I could make my own was beyond important to me. But Corsica and Ansel sharing... probably wouldn't fly with either of them. Maybe Ansel could take the couch? Probably not this time. I decided, given the choice, I would rather room with Corsica than with Ansel.

So, I voiced that. Neither Corsica nor Ansel seemed to care.

---

Not long after, I found myself in a room that was clearly being used for storage. Cardboard boxes lined the walls in heaps, and I was fairly sure there was a door to a closet behind a particularly imposing mound of them, not that I'd ever be able to reach it without shadow sneaking. There was a bed, but it was so covered in stuff that trying to bring it back into service was clearly a lost cause. Jamjars gave us two roll-up bedspreads and a promise to get something better later. I wondered what she was doing with things like portable beds. Maybe she was a pack rat. Certainly would explain how she had all this stuff.

"...Wow," Corsica said when we were alone. "Guess she keeps the rest of her place clean by shoving it all in here."

"Who has this much stuff, anyway?" I asked, staring at all the boxes. "In Icereach, even infinite money probably couldn't get you this much. There's just not that much you'd want to buy."

"Welcome to the rest of the world," Corsica replied, glancing at me and raising an eyebrow. "Wanna... see what's inside?"

"One of these boxes?" I tilted my head. "Well, she did say make ourselves at home..."

Corsica's horn lit, gently opening the top of a bigger box so that we could see. It had a metal bar just beneath the flaps, from which hung about half a dozen wedding dresses.

"Woah," I said, watching them sparkle in our combined blue and green light.

"Must be for her job." Corsica lifted one gently out, layers and folds of white silk stacked together and adorned with ribbons on the back. "I told you, right? She works as a wedding planner. Probably for well-to-do folk."

I admired the dress, thinking how pretty it would look on someone like Corsica or Elise. Not that I could imagine Corsica wearing a thing like this any time soon, and Elise's love life was a mystery I had never cared to chase down...

"Bet that's how she gets her connections," Corsica decided, putting the dress back in the box and closing it up, then trying a different one. Inside were a lot of smaller boxes, all labeled tableware. "So. You like her?"

"Jamjars?" I bit my lip, remembering that Ansel and Corsica had decided to leave while I was taking my bath. "I... Yeah. I do. In the same way as Leif." I looked away. "Unless you want to tell me she staged that whole thing with Lilith, she's not bluffing about having influence. And even if she did stage it, that just means she's got even more. Gerardo clearly thought she was dangerous. But it's the kind of dangerous that would be fine if she's on our side. So I guess I can't trust her, but I really want it to work out. Like I wanted last time to work out. Besides, I... like her house."

Corsica nodded, then exhaled.

"What happened while I was gone?" I asked. "You and Ansel were ready to leave. What did she do?"

"Nothing," Corsica replied, sounding as though it was very much not nothing.

Slowly, I undressed for bed, hanging my coat on a spare rack and setting my boots against a box, being as deliberate as I could about making the action say I trust you. "Really nothing?"

Corsica hesitated. "...Yes. And that's the problem."

"Tell me?" I whispered.

Corsica sighed, laying down on her bedroll. "It's... my... It's my special talent. Gerardo told me..." She swallowed, clearly not wanting to spit it out. "He told me mine resembles that of someone very important. On the flight here." She looked away. "He's the reason I was wearing that dress even though it was so hot out. Apparently, not many would recognize it, but if anyone did recognize it, it could get me the kind of attention I don't want. Beats me what's so special about a jumble of lines. Anyway, I forgot to put the dress back on when I finished my shower."

I blinked. "Jamjars recognized it?"

"Not that I could tell." Corsica shrugged. "But Gerardo sure acted like he expected her to. He didn't actually say anything. They know each other, so you'd think he'd know if she'd seen it before. Maybe she just forgot over the last twenty years, or maybe she hid her reaction? Seems like she'd have self-control enough to do it. I just dunno if I want to stay with someone who doesn't want me knowing they know something about me."

"Your talent doesn't actually do anything special, though, right?" I pressed, feeling like I probably shouldn't tell her Gerardo had let me in on this exact same information. "It's just for geometry?"

"And architecture." Corsica rested her chin on her hind hooves, curled up. "Only special thing is getting it while unconscious. But what's that got to do with anything?"

I frowned, thinking how to respond to this. "...What about Ansel? Does he know all this? He wanted to leave too."

"He's just Ansel," Corsica replied. "He's suspicious of everything. Probably has his own reasons."

"Maybe..." I closed my eyes, thinking. "Maybe Gerardo's just wrong about how remarkable it is? After all, anyone with a brain would be able to see the rest of you clearly isn't said infamous talent-holder."

"Maybe," Corsica agreed, not sounding at ease. "Either way, not like there's much we can do about it now. I just wish trusting Jamjars will work out for the better."

"Well, you can keep it covered around everyone else," I suggested. "Like when we go out in public. Keep this from getting any worse. No clue if it's worth the effort."

Corsica looked as though she hadn't considered this. "...I don't know. Maybe I should. But I don't even know what I'm supposed to be worried about. Just that I should be."

"Sounds like how I feel about showing my legs," I admitted. "Way more accurately than you'd think."

"Really?" Corsica raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah," I mumbled, rolling over on my side. "I couldn't tell you why. I've just got this thing that won't ever let me stop feeling like something bad might happen if the wrong pony saw them. I don't even have a good reason."

"...Huh." Corsica turned out her horn. "Neither do I."

I turned out my bracelet as well. "Well, if I ever find out what Gerardo was on about, I'll let you know. But your secret is safe with me."

"Doubt I'll ever find out why yours is if you don't even know yourself," Corsica replied. "But, same to you."

I nodded in the dark, feeling satisfied that I had said the right thing. And just satisfied in general. I couldn't exactly put words on why, but it made me glad to be here, and for that, I knew I had made the right choice.

---

I realized slowly that I was dreaming, a snowy world constructing itself and coming into focus around me. And then I realized, much more suddenly, that this was the first time I had dreamed since leaving Icereach.

Or was it? Thinking back, I couldn't recall more than vague hints of existence, as if during sleep I had somehow merely paused and resumed my life without remembering the transitions. If the memories had been there, they certainly weren't like this, well-defined visions with touch and feel and taste and smell, where I was a marionette to my past actions.

"Fine. But this doesn't leave this room, you hear?" Corsica's voice cut into my musings. "I have... motivation issues. When I get stressed, I stop caring. When I get frustrated, I stop caring. If I care about something too much, it's like I use up all the care I have to give. Which is too bad, because I've got skills and could get just about whatever I wanted if I could be bothered to try..."

I looked up, my brain quickly placing this event. Ansel and Corsica and I were in a conference room in Icereach, remnants of take-out sitting around us. My side was heavily bandaged. This must have been just after the Aldebaran incident.

Corsica currently had the floor, visibly drained and exhausted after the ordeal. "Some genius I am. Good enough to run off a windigo. Can't make myself care enough to apply it. What kind of a problem is that? Gotta keep everyone at length, just so I don't get too attached and tire myself out. The real reason I've been working with Halcyon this long on ether crystals is that she's passionate enough about it for both of us. She gives the drive, I just put in work. It's a life, I guess."

Was that really a life, though?

It wasn't consistent, but it wasn't rare that my dreams aligned with what I was thinking about during my waking hours, either. Back then, I had wondered if Corsica was overreacting from the shock and stress of what we had just been through. Now, I wondered if this hadn't been at the front of her mind throughout the entire night.

Ponies recognizing her special talent wasn't something she could control, and the consequences were completely unknown. They could be anything from benign to... well, wilder than anything I could think up. Who knew what the world at large had to offer?

This was the perfect thing for someone prone to worrying to worry about. But Corsica wasn't that kind of pony - usually she just ignored her problems instead. But Aldebaran gave us a precedent for getting in a really bad situation due to things completely outside our control, like this. Ignoring it could have consequences.

Was that what my friend was thinking? It was what I imagined her thinking, with what I knew of how she thought. But as much as I knew about how to copy her quirks and mannerisms - as much as I could do that to anyone - I had no idea what actually went on in her head.

I wished I knew, and I wanted to find out. Even though I lacked the power or courage to solve problems, noticing and understanding them could be half the battle. And if there was one thing I told myself, it was that this was the part I was good at.

---

A low, rhythmic thumping shook me from my sleep. After tossing and turning several times, I deduced that it was coming from beneath the floor, and also that I had slept for long enough to get up and investigate.

I dressed quickly and slipped under the door, following the sound out into the hallway. What was it Jamjars said, that Kitty lived in the basement? My suspicions were soon confirmed when I found the door the noise was loudest through: an out-of-the-way entrance with a paper sign taped to the front that read KITTY'S LAIR!!! ONLY GAMERS ALLOWED, three exclamation points and everything.

"Err... Can I come in?" I knocked, the thumping beats of what was clearly music drifting out from behind the door.

No reply. It also wasn't locked, and the sign would have been worded differently if it was completely private... so, I let myself in.

The door opened to the top of a staircase, as expected. It opened out into a room on both sides, lit from above by pulsing neon disco lights. To one side was a brightly colored bed surrounded by shelves, posters, and a large collection of pony plushies big and small. To the other was a machine that looked like a terminal on a stand behind a broad metal mat. Kitty was on the mat, and she was dancing furiously to the beat of the lights, her tongue hanging out in concentration.

I stared, speechless. A small part of my brain noted that it was nice and cool down here.

After about three minutes, the song seemed to conclude, and Kitty draped herself over a metal support bar, panting. Only after a moment of that did she finally notice me.

"Err, hi," I greeted when her eyes found mine. "Your music's kinda loud, and this room is right beneath mine..."

"Hiya!" Kitty chirped, putting her tongue away and waddling over. "This is Kitty's lair. You wanna be in-doctor..." She screwed up her brow, focusing. "indoctor-nated to a secret society?"

"You what?" I tilted my head at her. "It's certainly a fancy place you got here. I just wanted to see what all the noise was."

Kitty proudly puffed out her chest. "Its'a game! Paying members only."

"Paying?" I glanced at the machine. "For what, to play it? Does it, like, read your dance moves, or something?"

"Yup!" Kitty turned to show me the side of her hoodie, which still said gamer just like last time. "Price is cake. Kitty's hungry."

"I pay cake to play on your machine," I followed, feeling like I had fallen into a gravity simulation chamber with a two-year-old at the controls.

Kitty nodded vigorously. A tiny sliver of her tongue poked back out.

I was starting to wonder if the admission requirements on Kitty's door hadn't been meant to oppress the unworthy, but rather as a mercy to spare them having to process all this.

The longer I contemplated, the further her tongue protruded. "You know, I, err..." I took a step back. "I might be fresh out of cake... I'll go see what I can find?"

"Okay!" Kitty waved. "Bye-bye!"

Without even turning around, I walked backwards up the stairs and closed the door behind me. Less than a minute later, the music resumed.

Lesson learned. From now on, I would stay out of the basement.

---

"Well, you sure are early risers," Jamjars remarked over an hour later, emerging from the hallway to find me, Corsica and Ansel sitting in silence in the living room. The music had stopped a while ago, but not before all of us had been well and thoroughly awakened.

I just pointed at the floor.

"Oh!" Jamjars looked legitimately apologetic. "Right. Well, earmuffs for you three are probably on today's shopping list... Now, any last minute thoughts about staying here? If you're going to bum it on the streets, I'd rather know before I break the bank to get you all settled in."

"We get free stuff?" Corsica asked, looking like she had made a concerted effort to compensate for a lack of sleep through excessive grooming.

Ansel gave me and her a look that said is this really what you want? I realized I hadn't heard his objections yet to staying with Jamjars.

"Go ahead," Jamjars offered. "If you need to discuss your prospects, don't hold back for fear of my feelings. I've probably heard worse."

Ansel sighed, taking that as an invitation. "She reminds me of Leitmotif," he told us, apparently deciding that privacy was for losers.

Funny. I felt the same. Only, if it weren't for the betrayal, I would have really liked Leif...

For some reason, Jamjars chuckled.

"Got something to say?" Ansel raised an eyebrow.

"Oh, nothing." Jamjars waved a forehoof. "Just imagining who I could offend with that comparison."

Ansel's gaze turned worried. "You think about offending ponies for sport?"

"You know who Leitmotif is?" Corsica added.

"You know someone else who knows who Leitmotif is?" I pressed.

Jamjars shrugged. "Oh, Graygarden wouldn't have shipped you out here without informing me of your situation. As for the rest, let's say changelings are a prickly bunch who don't like it when non-changelings get good at what they do."

"You know other changelings?" Ansel's ears pricked in alarm.

"If you want to stay two steps ahead of everything, you can't pretend seedy underbellies don't exist," Jamjars said, unapologetic. "I've got sources in places that would make your skin crawl, not that you'd ever need to deal with them. Having someone like me around? All of the benefit and none of the dirty work. Unless you like to get your hooves dirty..."

All three of us shared a look.

I knew what I was thinking: Jamjars had just implied she knew someone who might be connected to Leitmotif. Not to mention she clearly had a history with Lilith, who 'employed' the Composer... If I wanted to get to the bottom of who Aldebaran were and what they were doing, this mare was someone I needed. Badly.

"Well, I vote to stay," I declared. "Even if the downstairs neighbor is... err... a little out there. Any strong objections?"

"Already paid the price." Corsica shrugged. "Not a lot of better options. Might as well take what we have."

Ansel glanced between both of us, clearly surprised by the speed of our agreement, and then nodded. "Can't say there's much that sounds worse than splitting up. Count me in."

"Excellent!" Jamjars giddily tapped her forehooves together. "Oh, I'm going to spoil you rotten, and you're going to love me. Shopping trip, anyone?"

"I like free stuff," I volunteered. "What are we buying?"

Jamjars got up and spun in a circle on her way to the door. "Whatever you need, whatever you want, and whatever you can't find in a small town off the edge of the map. Never had a night on the town for fun before, kiddos?"

I blinked. "Um, never."

"Lovely." Jamjars motioned for us to get up. "Of course, it probably wouldn't hurt to start looking for jobs for you three too. You're done with school, right?"

"By Icereach's definition of it," Corsica admitted. "We've been doing our own thing for a while now."

"Hmm," Jamjars mused, pausing and tapping a hoof against the floor. "Well, I assume hours of backbreaking labor in exchange for a few measly coins and something the higher-ups call life satisfaction isn't your style... Would your dream jobs be the kind that get lots of easy money, or the kind that come with a license to do whatever you want?"

Ansel hesitated. "That's an unusual choice to offer to a bunch of teenagers with no credentials or resumes..."

Jamjars grinned, showing teeth. "It's the kind of choice you get when you have connections. Think it over, but I'd rather you get employed sooner than later so no conniving opportunists come and snap you up."

I followed along, nodding blankly. By now, it was pretty obvious what Gerardo had against Jamjars: this was clearly a mare who did what she wanted with no respect for civic order or following the rules. I didn't doubt that she could be ruthless when she wanted to be, either.

None of that would matter if she was on our side. In fact, given my own goals, they might even be exactly what I needed. But if she betrayed us like Aldebaran... This time, I wouldn't hesitate to use my bracelet.

Comments

[alamais]

you're going to love me

?

I like grown-up Jamjars and her cringe daughter. Can't wait till her carefully constructed machiavellian empire of cards comes crashing down around her and our heroes. Also, inb4 Ansel ends up waiting tables, but at a really nice restaurant where he can overhear important conversations.

[KMCA]

Man, this is some great writing of a grown up Jamjars... Also TOW says don't trust her but this lets me think she's learned to direct her flaws in a productive way and I may end up liking her as opposed to having hated her from her introduction in TOW.
I am a bit let down that she didn't become a hair dresser but I guess if she's a wedding organizer she could get to play with hair from time to time.

[Boopers]

yak falling off a cliff.

Herman 2 confirmed :)

I've got enough that those others are idiots for not working with me, and let's leave it at that."

Heh, I'm soooo ready to see her face when she realizes that she has three less than she thought she had :D
Truly karma is a bitch.
(Not to be confused with Karma who is just Dangerous)

I could blackmail a windigo

I have no doubt of that.

Kitty is a basement dweller, literally

Kitty is a 100% fitting description of my niece so far, literally

Not a rule, just very good advice.

Yes, like I just said

A tiny sliver of her tongue poked back out.

Tabby!!!

From now on, I would stay out of the basement.

Oh come on! Just bring some cake next time! It'll be fun!

"Excellent!" Jamjars giddily tapped her forehooves together.

Jamjars is truly best villain :)

[PropsValroa]

Jamjars and Kitty are so cute together! Kitty is adorkable!

[Venlinelle]

I followed along, nodding blankly. By now, it was pretty obvious what Gerardo had against Jamjars: this was clearly a mare who did what she wanted with no respect for civic order or following the rules. I didn't doubt that she could be ruthless when she wanted to be, either.

An absolutely fascinating bias for someone who’s friends with Valey and Starlight to have.