The Immortal Dream

by Czar_Yoshi

Work

"Does this happen often?" Jamjars asked, standing at the edge of an intersection on our way back to the train station with Kitty's cart of cakes.

"Well," Ansel began, "let's see. Yakyakistani mare, thick coat, goes frolicking in snow drifts wearing barely a scarf? Check. Stuck in a tuxedo because we were picking out distinctly indoor outfits and then someone made us leave in a hurry without a chance to change? Also check. Extremely stubborn and complains a lot, except for when it actually matters? I'm not that sure on how she works, but it's as good a guess as any."

"Are your ears working?" I gave him a frown. "Because she was complaining a pretty lot about the heat."

Kitty was poking at Corsica with a hoof, her tongue poking out as she glanced at Jamjars with a worried look on her face. "Lady, why'd the mare fall over?"

"Also, she's been looking pasty all day, and it might have been because she got heatstroke last night," Ansel finished.

Jamjars shook her head in exasperation, the four of us standing around a fainted Corsica. "What do I look like, a mind reader? My intuition is laser-tuned for schemes and corporate chicanery, not kids who don't know how to ask for what they need. Back in my day, we erred on the side of taking what we wanted by force..."

Not getting an answer, Kitty turned to me instead.

I sighed. "She's got heatstroke, kid. Means it's too hot. All of us are used to the cold, but she's got it worst because Yakyakistan ponies have thicker fur. So we probably should be getting inside and finding her some water instead of standing around in the heat flapping our gums."

"Oh!" Kitty perked up. "Kitty can do cold!"

I blinked. Jamjars suddenly bit her lip. Kitty's special talent faintly glowed, and she stuck out her tongue further in intense concentration... and the temperature around us began to fall.

Before I could really process what was happening, Kitty poked Corsica again with a hoof. Corsica started. "Ah! Stings!..."

"You... alright?" I asked, trying to focus on the situation at hoof even though my brain was suddenly going WINDIGO WINDIGO WINDIGO. Seriously, there were talents that could physically affect the world. Most were like mine, and gave only expertise, but only about eighty percent. And what else was a snowflake talent supposed to do, anyway?

"Ugh, I..." Corsica tried to sit up, and then flopped back down. "Screw this. I wanna go home..."

---

Moments later, we were in the lobby of what I guessed was a bank. Corsica was out of her tuxedo - apparently, covering her talent was no longer top priority - and resting on a bench, with water nearby. Kitty was keeping attention far away from her regardless, standing next to her licked cake cart and waving energetically to each and every pony that passed by.

That left me, Ansel and Jamjars.

"Seems like a useful talent she's got there," Ansel pointed out, and I wondered if he might have been remembering the same thing as me. Kitty's eyes suggested it was mundane, but Ludwig was probably just as burned into his memory as mine.

"Yes, it is," Jamjars wryly acknowledged, keeping her voice down. "Especially in this climate. And both of us would very much appreciate it if you kept it on the down-low. She's not supposed to use it in public, but sometimes she decides otherwise."

"A secret?" I asked back, lowering my own voice as well. "Why?"

Jamjars sized me up for a moment, more like she was deciding whether to answer than how. "Cold Karma is a very... jealous organization," she eventually said. "The board of directors might not always get along, but one thing they all have in common is that they love their jobs. Their company is at the top of the heap, and they wouldn't have it any other way. That's not to say that they don't know I have a kid who does what they do for free, but... Well, let's just say some flames don't need to be fanned."

"What?" Ansel frowned. "How does that follow? Your filly has a personal air conditioner, and as a result you've got that company afraid that you could steal all their business? There's such a thing as scope and scale..."

"Hmm!" Jamjars straightened up. "Well, then I suppose they're all a bunch of 'fraidy-cats being scared of nothing. But whether it's a rational fear or not, strutting about and showing off might send some signals I'd have to spend effort smoothing over. There's trading barbs with someone you've got dirt on, and then there's threatening to upend the status quo."

I glanced over at Kitty, who was currently accosting a couple who looked, predictably, like they were only here to use the bank. "Hiya!" she was saying. "Wanna place bets on how much of this cake Kitty can fit in her mouth at once?"

She was summarily ignored, with a few mutterings about kids these days and their frivolous parents.

Jamjars was more interested in us. "Now that that's out of the way, I've got a question for you. Got any other potentially inconvenient flaws I should know about?"

"Flaws?" I frowned.

"Like not saying anything before you pass out from heat exhaustion," Jamjars sighed. "What else do you have that would be rude to ask about but I need to not get blindsided by if I'm going to look out for you? Any curses, major phobias, disabilities, self-destructive personality ticks, anything? I had a friend once with a faulty horn who sometimes went colorblind or even fully blind as a result of pushing herself too hard. I know how it is. But if you can't fly or have a crippling fear of insects, I promise it'll feel a lot better if we talk about it before it becomes a problem."

I stretched uncomfortably, and Ansel gave me a look. I shook my head. "I'm good."

"Same," he added.

"No pathological heroism or hefty grudges that will cause you to drop whatever you're doing to charge at something out of the blue?" Jamjars raised an eyebrow. "No extreme cowardice that could cause the opposite?" She lowered her voice. "I already know there's a legendary monster who may or may not want to kill you. You kids are in it deep. Just saying, not going to judge."

Ansel shuddered. "Yes, I suppose I might become very unpleasant if Ludwig was in the room. But who wouldn't? Listen, I've handled myself for years, and I've no intention of quitting soon. And Hallie's good too. Corsica is... doing a Corsica thing."

Ever so slightly, I resented him saying I was good, even though I had just proclaimed it myself. Someone who understood my flaws and complexities, who knew all the things about me even I wasn't allowed to know and yet still acted in my best interest... That was what I wanted more than anything. Jamjars wasn't it - at the very least, I needed to know and trust her a whole lot more before I even entertained the idea - but this was still my proposition to refuse.

I hugged my dress closer, that feeling from earlier returning, that I had forgotten something critical and this dress might be a reminder. What was that? Something about... the dress's color, maybe? Mother of pearl, mother of pearl... Or was it related to what I had just been thinking about? I wished I could go back and search through my memories, like dreaming, only deliberate. But, nothing came.

"Oh well," Jamjars sighed. "Fortunately, I've always been excellent at entertaining myself with my own head. Say the word when you're ready to get back to dragging these cakes home. Oh, and we need to buy some real beds, too..."

---

"Heave... HO!"

A muscle-bound unicorn wearing a sailor's hat and collar shoved a slate of long, flat boxes through Jamjars' front door, using both his horn and his strength to move them. When they were properly situated in the foyer, he took off his hat and wiped his brow. "Whew! Everything you ordered, Madam?"

Jamjars walked in a circle around the packages, then fluttered her eyelashes. "It all seems to be present. Thank you for your service..."

Had the stallion been around twenty years younger, I imagined he might have blushed, but apparently he had a better head on his shoulders than that. "Just doing my job, Madam. Sign this affidavit, and I'll be out of your hair."

A receipt was signed, and soon the door was closed, the lot of us back safe and sound in Jamjars' apartment. Kitty had spirited her entire cake stash off to the basement, and Corsica had shut herself in our room, leaving just me, Jamjars and Ansel.

"Well well," Jamjars said, appraising us. "Think you'll be able to set those frames up on your own? Not that I'm afraid of a little legwork, but someone needs to make lunch and neither of you strikes me as a professional chef."

I was about to announce that I wasn't half bad at cooking, when she rubbed her chin. "Although, I'm tired. I could just call in pizza..."

"Pizza?" I tilted my head. "What's that?"

Jamjars punched the floor. "Pizza it is! Alright, let's get these beds fixed up so we can kick back and relax!"

---

A short while later, I was on my back with a screwdriver in my teeth, trying to hold two parts together with all six limbs as I locked them into place. We had taken turns watching Kitty and wandering around in a mattress shop, but Jamjars was adamantly opposed to the idea of bumming it long-term with mattresses on the ground, and so now there were frames as well. Unfortunately, some assembly required.

Across from me, Corsica was using her aura to put together hers. She looked... about how I expected someone with heatstroke to look.

"Are you sure you shouldn't be resting?" I pointed out, transferring the screwdriver to a spare hoof.

"That's what the bed's for, isn't it?" she answered, not sounding in a mood to talk.

I let it drop, and went back to work. But work could only last for so long, and eventually my work was done: no sheets, pillows or blankets yet, but I had a bed and I could lay on it.

Corsica had the same. She immediately flopped onto hers.

"So... what's up?" I asked my facedown friend. "Something's clearly eating at you."

Corsica grunted.

"You wore a full-body tuxedo out in that sweltering heat!" I protested. "I know Jamjars made us leave in a hurry, but you didn't even ask for her to wait for you to get changed. And she was only in a hurry because Ansel wanted her to be. You heard her talking like Kitty could wait until we were done shopping."

"So?" Corsica mumbled.

I fidgeted with my forehooves. "Should I be worried about you? I know the climate's not great, but you haven't been yourself for a bit. And I'm kind of wondering if you... maybe did that on purpose."

"What, wore the tux?"

I nodded.

Corsica sighed, and for a long moment I thought she wasn't going to say anything. But then she beckoned me closer.

"This doesn't leave this room," she growled, grabbing my ear with her telekinesis.

"Ow!" I swatted her aura away, then swallowed and nodded. "Yeah. Promise."

Corsica rolled over and sat up halfway. "Remember what I told you, months ago, about me and motivation?"

I nodded again, remembering the talk. If she cared too much about something, she had said, it was like she only had so much care to give...

"I think I'm burning out again," Corsica admitted. "Probably this business with my talent. I'll get through it. I always do. But I'd rather not..." She hesitated. "I'd rather not have Jamjars thinking I do it for no reason, and I definitely don't want to tell her the truth. So, I need something to mask the symptoms. Not pleasant, but, it works."

I blinked owlishly. "You are letting yourself get too hot on purpose? You know you're gonna seriously hurt yourself, going on like that?"

"What choice do I have?" she asked, a hint of desperation in her eyes. "I don't like it either, but I need an alibi. Please, Halcyon. This is important to me. If you've got a better way, I'm happy to hear it."

"Well, first off, I'll cover for you," I promised with a nod. "But, if you're having trouble, and you don't want anyone to know about that trouble... is pretending to be in a different kind of trouble really what you want?"

"No!" Corsica growled, then deflated. "I just don't see what choice I have..."

I sat back. That she cared about this was obvious and evident, and I supposed it did explain her behavior with the tuxedo. But... it was hot enough already for me out there, even in a dress that turned out to be much airier than my usual garb. I wasn't sure I could subject myself to something like that in the name of putting on an act, and I was all but a professional actor. Was there a harsh disconnect between our tolerances and values, or did her motives not match the severity of her actions?

Maybe there was something else going on she wasn't telling me about. But, I had no idea what it could be.

Unfortunately, even though I wanted to give my friend the benefit of the doubt, I wasn't sure what that actually entailed. What would be more charitable, to assume she was lying to me about why she had kept that suit on? Or to assume her issues went deep enough that she really thought staying in the heat like that was a good idea?

...Probably the former. Maybe she legitimately forgot to take it off and was too embarrassed to admit it.

I sighed, wondering just what went on in Corsica's head. For all I knew, it could be just as weird of a place as my own.

---

"Going somewhere?" Jamjars asked, spotting me in the foyer, staring at the front door.

I shrugged. "Kind of want to take a walk, but I don't know all the good places to go." In Icereach, I had the chapel... "Where do you go around here if you want to be alone?"

"Ah, privacy. The sweetest ambrosia of a young mare's life..." Jamjars wistfully sighed, then snapped back to attention. "Why? Not tired from half a night of hiking the streets? You're in better shape than I thought."

"I worked out in Icereach," I explained, back in my coat and boots. "Just got some thinking to do. Big day and all. You know anywhere nearby? Like... I dunno, a maintenance closet or a crawlspace, even?"

Jamjars mused for a moment. "Well, I'd imagine you'd be better at finding such spaces than I am. Lunch is almost here, though. Sure it can't wait half an hour?"

For a moment, I hesitated. My own situation seemed more or less stable, and I hadn't seen indications that Ansel was in trouble, but Corsica... Maybe it was worth the risk of asking. If something was up, better to have it out in the open than remaining a secret.

"Hey," I said. "Might be a weird question, but Corsica's special talent... Have you seen one that looks like it before?"

Jamjars blinked in surprise. "What prompted that question? I've been a lot of places and seen a lot of things."

"If you did recognize it," I went on, keeping my voice down, "would it mean anything?"

"All cutie marks have meaning," Jamjars told me. "That's their whole point. They represent your hopes and dreams. If you saw two that were the same, it would probably mean there were two ponies with very similar purposes in life. Are you looking for meaning beyond that, or...?" She blinked in realization, then sighed. "Ah, right. You're from a sarosian colony. I can't imagine they wouldn't teach this stuff differently up there."

Several questions crashed together in my brain at the same time, and I filed away for later that she called them cutie marks just like Ansel. "What's me being a batpony have to do with it?"

Jamjars shrugged, waving me into the living room and taking a seat on the couch. "Well, as you'd know, batponies are born with their marks. Choice doesn't much factor into it. The rest of us, we get ours when and only when we do something... special. Making a major choice or promise that will define the future course of our lives, more often than not. Most ponies don't get one at all, and many find theirs when they're older even than I am. But, I can only imagine celebrating something as a symbol of hope and goals and whatever doesn't really fly among a people who have no choice whatsoever in what theirs get to be."

Again, I felt swamped, my curiosity going in all different directions as I got dragged further and further from what I originally asked about.

"Of course," Jamjars went on, "things get a little awkward when you move into the nitty-gritty science of what cutie marks actually are, but so do a lot of beliefs and cultural phenomena. That's just life, kiddo."

"So... what's your talent for?" I asked, glancing at her flank. Most of the unicorns in Icereach hadn't been marked, it was true. Jamjars, however, had a large, distinctive chess queen for hers.

Jamjars shrugged. "Truthfully? I've had it for more than half my life, and I'm still figuring out. There are a lot of ways I could interpret it, some more flattering than others. But if you play chess, you'd know that the queen might be the most powerful piece, but the king is what keeps you in the game. So long as they're still around, you haven't lost yet. But once they're gone, every piece you have on the board loses, no matter how strong their formation. So I like to think of it as a mark of devotion and service to my superior... and a commitment to keep them around."

"Your superior?" I raised an eyebrow.

"I might have mentioned her," Jamjars sighed. "She's the friend Gerardo and I have been collecting Writs of Harmonic Sanction for. Her name was Starlight."

Starlight.

"...Oh," Elise's voice echoed in my mind. "The Starlight rule. It's simply a rule that prohibits us from placing foreign refugees in potentially risky situations..."

Half a year had passed, and Elise had been vague in the first place, but I remembered her talking about a filly with that name, someone who had been given too much responsibility and power for some reason or another. Was this the same Starlight? Maybe it was.

"You've heard of her?" Jamjars asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Elise might have mentioned her." I shrugged. "I don't know a whole lot about what she did, or who she was. You knew her?"

"I was her best friend, until we were forced to part ways," Jamjars growled, squeezing shut her eyes and then sighing. "But, I'm... partly over it. Sort of. A little. Forgive and forget, they say, but that would be a whole lot easier if all the others hadn't gone their own way and then given up on searching for-"

The doorbell rang.

Instantly, Jamjars had a cheerful, professional mask back on. "Well, I'll bet that's the food! One moment, please...!"

---

Some time later, I had a moderately better understanding of the rift between Jamjars and Gerardo, a full stomach and a great new appreciation for flattened bread with spaghetti sauce and cheese on top. This pizza, I vowed, I was going to eat again.

As for my hostess... I wasn't sure. I was reasonably convinced she wasn't lying to me, or at least that she believed wholeheartedly what she was saying. I also really wished I could talk to Gerardo again and hear more fully his side of the story. He and Jamjars were feuding over something that happened when they parted ways with this Starlight, and it was hard to get details from Jamjars on exactly what had happened, but it was certainly bad enough that they weren't working together even though they were chasing the same nigh-impossible goal.

At least I had no reason to believe bad blood between her and him would reflect down on us. Whatever Jamjars was or had been involved with, it probably wasn't for the express purpose of kidnapping me and my friends.

Now, Jamjars was laying on her back on the couch with her huge poofy mane splayed out behind her, looking more like a lazy bachelorette than a refined socialite. Ansel was staring out the window, Corsica was next to me doing nothing, and Kitty had been licking the empty pizza box for about ten minutes without breaks. The air was ripe for something to happen.

"So," Jamjars said, taking initiative despite still being upside-down. "I took the liberty of submitting your resumes to a few friends and colleagues yesterday. Yes, I know you don't have resumes, I also took the liberty of forging some for you. You're welcome. That said, we never finished our conversation about what kind of jobs you three want, so I suppose we ought to get that out of the way before anyone comes to call."

I perked up. "How can you forge a resume? If you lie about what we can do, won't we just get fired when we can't do the work?"

Jamjars chuckled. "Only if you're in an honest, hard-working position or care about your career. So, same question as last time: are you more in this to make some free cash, or to get a license to stick your nose where it doesn't belong?"

Ansel raised an eyebrow. "I don't suppose 'be ordinary folks and stay out of trouble' is on the menu, there?"

Jamjars gave him a knowing grin. "Yes, yes, 'staying out of trouble'. Don't worry, I'll keep it covered. But you three came to Ironridge for a reason, right? This is your chance to be greedy and get what you want, no strings attached. It's a foot in the door."

"A door to where, though?" Ansel asked warily.

"Wherever you want." Jamjars shrugged. "That's why I'm asking."

Well, if it was an open invitation...

"I've got some stuff I'd like to learn," I volunteered. "How hard would it be to get a job that gives me free passes on the trains, so I don't need to walk around all the fare checkpoints or pay up? Plus free access to libraries, or a corporate archive if Cold Karma has one. And if there's any caves around here, maybe a license to go look inside them?"

Jamjars winked. "There's the kind of response I'm looking for! Caves are free but dangerous. Ironridge used to be a big mining town, but all the mines flooded when the glacier started melting. Only a serious daredevil would set hoof in there today. Corporate archives? Supposedly classified, but the right friend could let you into certain levels for free. Cheating the trains? Just about any Cold Karma job will do. Employees get passes. What else?"

I blinked. "I dunno. I'm kind of too new here to know all the obstacles I'll want ways around..."

"You're not taking this seriously, are you?" Ansel asked incredulously. "What do you need from the Cold Karma corporate archives?"

"...To look around?" I shrugged. "I dunno. Just seems like as good a place to start as any."

"To start what, getting a taste of city life?" Ansel stared at me. "I know we all decided sitting around in Icereach wasn't the way, but isn't the whole point of this endeavor still to live a safe and happy life? There's plenty of adventure to be had in the city that doesn't involve sneaking around in flooded tunnels or..." He sighed. "You know what? Forget it. I shouldn't be ragging on your for being who you are. Just take care out there, alright?"

Jamjars watched our exchange with interest. "Hmm. Some strong feelings, there. But, if what you'd like is a safe and quiet existence, I suppose I can arrange that too. And what about you, kiddo?" Her eyes found Corsica.

"...I'll stick with Hallie," Corsica said, looking like she had been caught off-guard.

Jamjars squinted at her.

Corsica shrugged.

"Kids are weird," Jamjars sighed, still upside-down. "Oh well. What's the responsible parenting move here, going along with the one of you who's enthusiastic or trying to persuade the rest of you to catch up?"

Ansel gaped at her. "Why are you asking us?"

"Who knows?" Jamjars lit her horn and swirled her aura aimlessly. "Maybe the uuuuniverse will answer..."

Music started thumping from below. Apparently, Kitty had finished with her pizza box.

Jamjars groaned. "Not the answer I was expect-"

The doorbell rang.

Instantly, Jamjars was on her hooves, and a moment later she was back, her grin fully restored. "Well, kiddos," she said, "the universe answered."

---

"We're going where, again?" I asked, sitting with Jamjars across from Corsica and Ansel as the train hurtled deeper into Cold Karma's headquarters.

"Visiting a friend who might be interested in your employment," Jamjars replied. "So, here's the scoop: I told you before that in this world, you can't be sane, powerful and nice at the same time. And, I stand by that. This friend... is the official Cold Karma janitor, and he's mostly lacking in the sanity department."

"A single janitor cleans this whole place up?" I asked, glancing out the window at the cavernous empty spaces, metal supports and rafters. "No wonder he's lost his marbles."

"Well, I suppose janitorial duties can't be too terrible," Ansel postulated. "Unless you're about to turn around and tell us exactly the opposite is true."

Jamjars chuckled. "No, no. The way I've heard it, it mostly involves sitting around doing nothing. That's why this place is such a dump. Nevertheless, you can't clean a place without knowing about the mess and then going to the mess, which makes it a very interesting job for anyone interested in going where normal folk aren't supposed to be."

The train slid to a stop, and Jamjars indicated it was ours. I followed her into a tunnel that looked like it was made from a hanging metal pipe, Corsica and Ansel trailing behind me. "I have to admit," Ansel said, "from your tone earlier, I was thinking we were being signed up as covert spies or the like."

"Hey." Jamjars shrugged. "So what if I advertised around? This is just the first one that's gotten back to me. Anyone come looking to hire you who you don't like the feel of, tell 'em to get lost and I'll smooth it over."

"What are you in such a hurry to get us hired for, anyway?" Corsica asked. "We've been here less than a day. You don't think we should spend more time settling in first?"

"Everyone's on a team in Ironridge, kiddo," Jamjars replied. "There's nothing you can be that's more attractive to the powers that be than unaffiliated. Trust me, it'll be far funner to go shopping for your dream job than to let all the employers out there come shopping for you."

I felt the fur on my back raise a little, remembering how Aldebaran had ensnared us.

"...Right," Ansel said, cowed. Clearly, he was thinking the same thing.

"Just think of all the places you could wind up," Jamjars sang, apparently not realizing that her point had been driven home. "Fraudulent insurance agency? Maybe. Money-laundering courier? Perhaps. Test subject? Hopefully not for Lilith. Rebel insurgency fighter? No clue if those are still around, but Ironridge sure has a history of them messing stuff up. Prophet of a doom religion? I hear they're hiring in the Night District. Literal-"

"Wait, doom religion?" I interrupted, running to catch up. "You actually have those here?"

Jamjars blinked. "Uh, yes? Why?"

"What do they worship? And how real is it?" I pressed, my brain helpfully more fixated on religion than doom. This was closer than I had ever got in Icereach to finding something supernatural, and it was just a casual conversation point?

Jamjars gave me a worried look. "Why do you sound interested? I think they just worship debasing themselves in the streets. Not that Ironridge is a prettier place for it... Oh well. I suppose I'd have been curious too, at your age. Come on. This is why we've gotta get you a contract you can point to and say no thank you when anyone else comes to call."

I wasn't about to let this drop, but I wasn't sure how to proceed without seriously worrying her about my intentions. "So forget the doom part," I said, trying to backtrack. "Are there any, like, more normal-"

Jamjars turned a corner. "Ah, here we are!"

We rounded a corner into the most grandiose, over-thematic janitor's office I had ever seen.

There was no denying what it was, of course. Another of the Ice District's cavernous interiors opened out before me, but this one played host to an incredible mountain of broken machines and refuse, all stacked in a pile in the center that was bigger than most buildings. All of it, at least, except for random chunks here and there that had been hung from the ceiling instead. The door in the wall we had entered through was high up, and a haphazard selection of hanging catwalks formed a bridge out to the mountain's illuminated top, where a single, orderly office cubicle sat, as if nothing at all was odd about its placement.

This wasn't a janitor's office. It was a janitor's throne.

"Are those safe to walk on?" Corsica eyed the swaying catwalks warily.

Jamjars stepped on them, and they bobbed with her weight, acting more like they were floating in water than hanging from the ceiling. "Oh, quite. It's magic. Come along..."

I followed her carefully, my wings spread out for balance, keeping my eyes on the destination. Who built a room like this? What was the point? It was a shrine to industrial garbage on a cataclysmic scale. Whoever did this had to have an ego the size of the moon...

"Yoohoo!" Jamjars whistled as we stepped onto the mountaintop platform, itself assembled from a mishmash of used metal plating. "Anyone home?"

"No," a stallion's voice called back out from the cubicle. "Just us disembodied voices, don't mind us-" A head peeked out from the cubicle's opening. "I say, is that Corsica, Ansel and Halcyon herself?"

I blinked, stopping in my tracks, trying and momentarily failing to identify the face before me. "You... know what we look like?"

"Yes, I could smell you a mile away." The janitor vanished back into his cubicle. "Come in, do come in..."

"No insult for me, Wonky?" Jamjars sniffed in mock offense, once again leading the way. "I'm practically offended."

"Good," the janitor replied. "That's the intent!"

I stepped into the walls, stopping short once again and blinking. Was it bigger in here than it was outside? And why was there-

The janitor stole my attention, lounging in a chair with his hind hooves on a desk for everyone to see. And now that I got a look at him, I realized why I couldn't place him earlier: he was half pegasus and half batpony, split in a perfect line right down the middle. One fang. One slitted eye. One leafy ear. And one of each wing.

"Greetings," he said, extending a hoof, sporting an impressive curled goatee, huge white eyebrows, a slicked-back mohawk and yellow eyes. "The name's Egdelwonk, but for some reason everyone just calls me Wonk. I'm a janitor."

Comments

[Mini-Joe]

Zamn! This story just keeps on givin'

[KMCA]

Just something that popped into my head.

[Boopers]

"Wait, doom religion?" I interrupted, running to catch up. "You actually have those here?"

Oh boy, Hallie is the perfect target for recruiting.
Superstitious? check!
Emotionally compromised? check!
From a foreign place with different culture searching for new connections? check!

They almost certainly already have a library full of manuals on how to recruit ponies exactly like her.

my brain helpfully more fixated on religion than doom

And don't worry about the doom part. They'll probably name it something different that sounds and feels like it's a good thing as long as you don't think about it too hard.

[cosmofur]

Interesting, now considering all his other responsibilities … DMing O&O games, hanging with Fluttershy, annoying Twilight … why would Discord be bumming around Iron Ridge?

[PropsValroa]

Interesting what Jamjar's perspective on Starlight is.

[Venlinelle]

Jamjars shrugged. "Truthfully? I've had it for more than half my life, and I'm still figuring out. There are a lot of ways I could interpret it, some more flattering than others. But if you play chess, you'd know that the queen might be the most powerful piece, but the king is what keeps you in the game. So long as they're still around, you haven't lost yet. But once they're gone, every piece you have on the board loses, no matter how strong their formation. So I like to think of it as a mark of devotion and service to my superior... and a commitment to keep them around."

Oh.

So she does care about Starlight. A lot. And she resents the others for giving up on her.
I’m guessing the way this plays out is that every member of the TOW crew wants to get Starlight back, and none of them can agree on how to do it or get over their biases. That is, without Starlight herself to hold them together, they fell apart. I’m willing to bet that Halcyon and her friends will play a part in convincing them to work together again, even if it’s a secondary plot.

"Greetings," he said, extending a hoof, sporting an impressive curled goatee, huge white eyebrows, a slicked-back mohawk and yellow eyes. "The name's Egdelwonk, but for some reason everyone just calls me Wonk. I'm a janitor ."

What are you doing here??

[sploopy slooder]

well jellyjugs has redeemed a great deal of any hatred i had thats for sure. She WAS just a kid, and kids do stupid stuff. Tho no matter how well meaning what she did was, it was also really messed up.

[Quinch]

I'm also wondering, who do we know that likes cake? *Really* likes cake?

[Quinch]

I'm also wondering, who do we know that likes cake? *Really* likes cake? And can also cool things down?