Sysop
She was trying not to kill their chances.
Twilight had felt that the camera's pictures needed to be developed at the tree. She still didn't know just how much time she had before Celestia would do something, and the library had far more security spells in play than the fix-it shop.
(She'd also tried to pay Ratchette for the half-used film roll, just before she'd remembered the total lack of bits in her saddlebags. The flustering apologies had been slightly more awkward than the mechanic's insistence that she didn't need the compensation for something so minor, and... at least that was another way in which they were speaking again, at least for now. One understood workings, the other fixed devices, and it felt as if neither was entirely sure how to go about repairing a relationship.)
So she'd brought the film home, because there was a seldom-used darkroom in one corner of the basement: isolated from the rest of the lab by carefully-hung thick fabric curtains, which included a dense, dark drape over the top. The appropriate chemicals were carefully stocked, occasionally applied -- and none of that had anything to do with Twilight, because photography had never been her hobby. She only took pictures when the need or whim arose and when that happened, she had to borrow a camera from the closest available source.
The closest available source usually responded to such requests with half-muffled grumbling, a frustrated repetitive drumming of claw tips against (and partially into) the nearest surface, and a muttered request for his sister to at least pay for replacing the film this time because when it came to fair compensation for supplies used, siblings just about always wound up on the wrong end of the reins.
Twilight only understood photography as a chemical reaction, and that just barely. Spike took pictures for the fun of it, and developed his own shots at home. It meant he ran the darkroom and Twilight, who usually recognized her unwelcome tendencies towards control two seconds after it was already too late, had seen this particular roll of film as being so important that she had to go through the entire process herself.
Spike had reminded her that she didn't know how to develop pictures. She'd countered that he could stay just outside the curtain and talk her through it.
The next too-calm question had been about how she planned to manipulate everything involved. A rather huffy librarian had gestured her left forehoof in the general direction of her horn, and that had been when Spike, using the excessive politeness exclusively reserved for when an older sibling had just been proven as an idiot, had told her exactly why the area was called a darkroom.
The basement lights had been temporarily covered with a special semi-translucent paper: something which gave the minimal remaining illumination a deep amber hue, stealing color from everything it touched. The little dragon was hard at work on the other side of the thick curtain. She could hear the sounds of bottles being opened and closed, strange fluids splashing just a little as they were poured into shallow trays. There was also a rather distinctive stink of vinegar.
She could hear all of that because Spike had told her that if her lit horn poked through the curtains to see how things were going, the instant answer would be 'Badly'.
The little mare knew he was capable. On the emotional and intellectual level, she understood that the pictures were pressed between solid hooves -- in good hands. But somewhere deep within a complex she could never quite manage to extract or solve, a frustrated desire to fully manage everything within her own extremely limited domain was muttering to itself a lot.
He was developing the pictures for her and because she'd made a promise, she'd had to tell him all of the why.
"How's it going?" Which, on that muttering level, had started out as How long is this going to take?
Unfortunately, a sapient who'd literally known her all his life spoke fluent Twilight. "It's going to be a while."
Her forehooves scraped against the basement floor: instinct stopped the tail lash just before it would have gotten near one of the more important vials. "How long is 'a while'?"
"Well..." A somewhat more solid tail momentarily poked against the curtains, doing so at a visibly-greater height than usual: he was using a stool. "The fastest speed-developing process takes about eleven minutes."
Sibling instincts, instantly suspicious about the presence of the qualifier, eventually realized they had no choice but to proceed directly into the trap. "So about eleven minutes. Minus what's already gone by."
"No," declared the voice of well-earned (if poorly-timed) satisfaction. "Because these aren't the chemicals used for that. So it's going to take 'a while', Twilight."
The forehooves were now rotating against the wood. Back and forth. She had to be careful about that. She knew how easy it was to wear away a groove. "Could I go out and get the chemicals now? Start applying them --"
"-- not after I've already started the soak," her brother calmly said. "And I didn't ask you to get them in the first place because it would take something Ponyville doesn't have: a dedicated photography shop. Mr. Rich only carries the general stuff unless somepony asks him to place a special order. By the time you got back from Canterlot, if the store in the Heart even had some in stock -- it's a lot of time, Twilight. So I just went with what we had."
She tried to glare at the curtain, and found both fabric and the weight of cloying amber stopping her. "So why don't we have the speed chemicals in the first place?"
Calmly, "Because I'm the photographer. Not you."
"And?"
Numbers emerged. They represented a placid quotation of an off-the-books library assistant's salary right down to the last pitiful smidgen, and they had been waiting for their chance for a very long time.
"...oh," Twilight eventually said, some time after the final shameful decimal had stopped ringing in her now-flattened ears.
"Right."
"...I need to give you a raise."
The curtains, having already made their point, remained completely still in smug satisfaction for quite some time.
Eventually, Twilight risked a tentative "...so what do you think? You never really said anything after I filled you in." In part because she'd placed a special emphasis on the need to start developing the pictures immediately, just so they'd have that much more evidence to secure in the event of Princess. After one additional, extremely necessary source of delay had been dealt with, that need had sent them both down the ramp while turning the Temporarily Closed sign on the library doors into more of a long-term threat (although given the various hazards of Bearer life, Twilight suspected the settled zone was more surprised when she got a full workday in), and most of the light covering had taken place in relative, rather awkward silence.
That state continued for a few extra seconds.
Finally, "I know it's bad, and --" she just could hear him swallow "-- I'm scared for you, and Ratchette, and everypony who might have gotten involved. Who could get sick, if it is a disease. I'm scared for everypony, but... I don't know what to do. I don't have any ideas about what's happening. It could be a disease, and I hope it isn't. If it's magic, then it might be the sort of thing which happens just one time, and -- I already know you're going to look for it, just to make sure it's one time, and --"
This time, the tail awkwardly skidded against the fabric, even as she heard his walking claws clench against the stool.
"-- I'm afraid it's going to be twice."
"We'll be careful, Spike." There were ways in which she was still new to reassuring, and she seldom felt as if she was any good at it. "You know we will."
"It's hard to be careful when you don't know what to be careful about."
More splashing. She heard things slide in and out of trays.
"I could have done this," she muttered in self-defense. "I just needed the right tools --"
"-- it takes practice. You could send drops flying in the wrong direction, and it's not good to have the stuff that close to your mouth."
"I can hear you back there. You're doing it all with your bare hands --"
"-- scales," the little dragon stated. "Lava-proof. Also photo-chemical proof. You aren't."
And she waited.
"How long does it take to get express mail back from Canterlot?" Twilight finally asked.
"I'm not sure it's even reached the doctors yet," Spike admitted.
"It's been --"
"-- private delivery," he reminded her. "That's what you told Dulci."
She was now trying not to pace. She wasn't used to the postal system, not when it came to her own correspondence. It was fine for things like books and library supplies and the occasional piece of equipment which needed special management. But when it came to sending letters, she didn't use it. Additionally, both of her most frequent recipients had their own means of getting speedy replies back to her.
Twilight wasn't used to waiting for mail any more, and there were ways in which she wanted to blame Spike for that. There had been the option to contact the Royal Physicians via the most expedient route -- but the fastest means of communication was also an extremely visible one. There was no way to tell where the doctors would be when the scroll arrived, or who might wind up in a position to see it happen. To intercept.
It had left them with exactly one option. Something which might still be looking for a good location to hover, waiting to catch the unicorns alone. And even that might not work.
She sighed.
"At least we've got the tree's security spells," Twilight decided, because it had been one of the worst days of her life and any source of comfort was a welcome one. "If Celestia does show up..."
Silence for a moment.
"Twilight?"
"I mean, it's not as if she couldn't break a lockdown." I didn't even get to test the corpse for any potential bounce effect: did anypony else get to that...? "But she wouldn't want to make it too visible, because anypony passing by would see her outside the library and trying to break a lockdown." Not without satisfaction, "I bet she wouldn't want that much attention."
"She could always say she heard about a problem and was trying to reach you," her little brother quickly broke in. "Twilight, about the tree's spells --"
"-- and even then, we should get a few seconds. If we're just hiding things, stuff that's small..." She nodded to herself with open pride, because nopony was looking (and probably wouldn't have been able to recognize the emotion within amber anyway) and having solved the problem entitled her to a moment of pride. "Got it. The Elements' case. We'll just slip the pictures and the rod fragment under the padding. Even if she thinks of it, she'll have some trouble getting in there!"
This silence was longer.
"Twilight?" Spike repeated, and did so with something less than the joy she would have expected to arise in the wake of such brilliance.
A little too carefully, "...what?"
"There's a lot of security spells on the tree. And the case."
"I know! That's what makes it perfect --"
"-- more than you know how to cast."
A little huffily, "I couldn't learn that many workings that fast. It was better to have experts do it, especially when you consider just what we're trying to protect. And it's not as if it cost anything."
"Because," her little brother calmly said, "most of our protective workings were provided by the palace."
Her mouth opened.
"I think Princess Celestia cast a few herself," Spike patiently added. "I know it mostly looked like she was supervising the crew. But I did see her horn lit a few times, when nothing was moving. I think she was adding a few personal touches."
Twilight's tongue probed at the back of her teeth, searching for stuck words.
"Or placing backdoor exceptions for herself," considered the other sapient who'd been effectively through a full Gifted School education. "Since you have to be there when the spells are initially cast in order to do that, and she might have decided there could be some reason for her to get at the Elements --"
"-- Spike?" Twilight finally located.
He stopped. Listened.
"You're right. I love you. I'll try to think of something else. I also need to sleep tonight. So for the next two minutes, please shut up."
She couldn't sleep.
Twilight had spent the entire day waiting for the sound of approaching hooves. Very large, singularly heavy hooves. She'd never really thought about the sound of that tread before, she was convinced she could pick it out of a crowd if there was any surface available to produce sound at all and whenever she closed her eyes, she started to hear it.
There had been one bad moment during the picture developing process: a pounding at the library door. It had led Spike to stall out the whole thing (which had fortunately been at a point where it could be stalled), scrambling to find some level of security for everything while she'd raced up the ramp to find --
-- Mr. Flankington.
Because she'd passed the restaurateur during her gallop, he'd seen just how upset she was, and he'd just wanted to check on her.
...oh. That was very kind of him, but --
-- and as long as he was there, he wanted to pay his late fees. Something which also applied to the seven ponies who were in line behind him. If it would make her feel any better...
Twilight hadn't known it was possible to look that upset. It almost made her wish for a picture of her exact facial configuration from the gallop, if only to find out if it was possible to duplicate it. Given the spontaneous offering of bits (which she had collected with her field, making sure not to make any physical contact or breathe in anypony's direction), 'weaponize' also seemed to be a possibility...
The process had been interrupted. It could be resumed -- but some things needed to dry, others had gone inert, and it meant Spike couldn't try again until after some time had passed and Barnyard Bargains had opened. (When it came to getting into the store early, Twilight couldn't go claiming Bearer emergency without actually having one: for the same reason, Royal Vouchers were currently off-limits.) So she'd needed to hide the half-finished product, and...
She'd been proud of herself, initially. Just to have thought of 'burial' as an option at all, because ponies weren't natural diggers and so unicorns generally didn't think of that. And putting a sealed container deep into the ground was good practice for her meager skills: something which would certainly make Applejack happy...
Then she'd remembered that truespeech left its own signature. An echo. Something which could be detected.
Also that the Princesses had originally been earth ponies.
Twilight couldn't sleep. (Unlike Spike, whose worn-out little body had settled into a steady rhythm of breathing within minutes of reaching the basket.) Part of that was from waiting for those hoofsteps. A significant remainder kept thinking about the possibility of disease. However, some small degree of blame was due to the uneven, neck-cricking violation of support created by the box under her pillow.
She couldn't sleep, and so she immediately looked up at the sound of a normal-sized hoof rapping on the Moon-lit balcony door.
The hovering grey pegasus quietly looked at her through the glass, at least from one side of her head. The other eye was... doing something which Twilight had trained herself not to look at. Spike and Dulcinea (or Derpy, or Ditzy, or any one of the dozen other insulting nicknames which had been created by frustrated Ponyville residents) got along, and that relationship had made Twilight examine the single mother a little more closely, trying to see what her brother respected in the mare. It had taken some time to manage the feat, joined to the effort required to push aside the memory of multiple impacts -- but in time, Twilight had recognized the presence of a social mask.
She didn't fully understand why the pegasus wanted to seem clumsy. Nothing in her seemed to be capable of comprehending why anypony would ever wish to come across as stupid. But Dulci looked out for Spike, and that meant Twilight tried not to say anything about it. Not until she could find the right thing to say, and --
-- it had been a few years. There were times when words just never came.
The little mare carefully got out of bed, picked out near-silent hoofsteps until she reached the balcony door. Temporarily negated the security spells with a surge of corona -- something Spike thankfully slept through -- then opened it with an additional flicker of field. Staying a little further back than usual.
"Sorry," Dulci whispered. (The postpony's natural voice was a pleasant-sounding one, something which almost caressed the ears, and it made the choice of the public half-octave drop into the signature sound of the willful fool all the stranger.) "I wound up having to wait until they were heading home, and that was well after their normal hours. Then I had to hold on the reply. And they sterilized everything, like you asked. For whatever reason."
"So it was just about the worst-case." The apologetic tone now arose on instinct, for whatever that was worth. "I'm --"
"-- you paid for the foalsitter, in advance, just in case," Dulci cut in. "And I took the job on my day off, during my own hours, knowing that. There's nothing to apologize for."
One golden eye glanced past Twilight's left flank. Searching for a bed-hidden basket.
"How is he?"
"Tired," Twilight understated. "It was... a long day."
"Dinky's hoping he can come by next week. Tell him that?"
Twilight nodded. Dulci's head tilted back towards her saddlebags, extracted the envelope: one more flare of corona took custody.
"I've got to get to my kid," the pegasus said. "Tuck her in. Or wake her up for a second so she'll know I'm home, then tuck her in again. Good night."
Wings flared, and the postpony was gone.
Twilight quietly closed the door again, shivered a little because the tree's insulating techniques needed tending. And because she was holding the words she had feared, there was every chance that she was now in custody for a pronouncement of doom, she'd begged Dulci to do everything at a distance and hadn't been able to explain why...
Dulci, who had a daughter.
I shouldn't have sent her.
I should have gone to Canterlot myself.
I just keep making things worse...
The little mare silently made her way down the ramp, holding back the half-sob until it was truly needed. The moment when she found out just how much damage she had truly done.
She waited until she was at her desk, because it felt appropriate to be there at the last. Opened the envelope --
-- they don't think it's a disease.
They understand why I'm scared -- they realized I'm scared, I tried to keep everything neutral... but they did every test they know. If it is a disease, it's one they can't find, which is transmitted by a means they can't identify. They accept that such things could exist, but most of them would need a living carrier. The stallion had been dead for too long by the time they reached him.
And if they're wrong --
-- he was carried through the palace.
Abjura just about fell on him.
They were in the surgery with the body. They scrubbed up before they came to me, but the corpse had been carried through the palace and...
They don't think it's a disease, not one which spreads by any means they know of. Ninety-five percent sure. There are diseases which affect magic, like Rhynorn's Flu. But nothing affects the mark. At most, there's a false one for a while and if you catch that after manifest, your own talent keeps going. It's just... harder to reach, because there can be a lot in the way.
But it's possible that they're wrong, and they carried him through the palace because they had no reason to suspect disease, not when internal bleeding was such a visible cause of death.
They think we're safe. There haven't been any symptoms. There's some sort of special protective gear they can use from now on, but it's custom-fitted and it might be impossible to get one made for me. They... want me to just live normally, until they contact me again. Maybe keep a little extra distance, but... they'll let me know if they start feeling anything, and I have to do the same for them.
But if they're wrong... then they need Magic more than ever. Because ponies galloped past him as he fell in the street, and ponies breathed the air around him, and ponies lifted the body, and...
...if it's a disease, something which spreads more easily than anything which exists... then it's too late. The vectors are on the gallop and wing alike.
They carried the corpse through the palace...
She knew they had felt the fear in her words. The loathing which the physicians felt towards their own unknowing actions radiated from the paper.
Live normally.
How?
And after the tears produced by that thought had worn her out, she went back to bed.
The first lie she told herself upon waking for the fifth time was that she didn't remember any of the dreams.
Live normally...
It felt as if everything normal had been placed behind a temporal line. There was the world which had existed before the doctors had arrived at the Acres, and now there was everything which came after.
In the new world, well before Sun was due to be raised at the start of an overcast day and Twilight was still waiting for the one who performed that act to appear on the horizon... in that world, she placed some of the box's contents in the darkroom to await Spike's attentions. She made sure to eat something, and managed to keep most of it down. There was winter clothing to don before confronting the dark of the Ponyville which waited outside the door.
Because in the old world, she had agreed to a training session with Applejack.
The first shouted warning came when the farmer was still twenty body lengths away, and Twilight conducted just about the whole of the briefing from that distance. The exceptions came when the fear sent her hooves cantering in reverse, and Applejack kept trying to bring it back to twenty body lengths. Twilight had been grateful for the intervening trees of the Acres, because this was something unknown and for all anypony might eventually work out, bark could potentially absorb the effects. The earth pony had more immediate concerns regarding the wood, and just about all of them concerned what it was doing to the local acoustics.
But the farmer listened. It didn't take all that long before each new partial approach had to be preceded by getting powerful hindquarters out of the gap which the latest abrupt drop had placed in the snow, and Twilight knew the nightmares had been passed on at the instant the hat slipped.
"So I don't know what I can do," she desperately projected. "What anypony can do. I'm sorry for telling you, I wish I never had to tell anypony, but you were expecting me. You were there for the start of it. Spike's asleep, I had to tell you, and -- you're not downwind. We didn't touch. If it's any kind of disease at all, you're safe. I'm sorry..."
Applejack took a deep, slow breath. Muscles shifted under rising Sun.
"Gonna get a little closer, Twi."
Instantly, "You can't --"
"-- it's like y'said. Ain't downwind. We're not touchin'. No disease could go that far between ponies without magic an' if it's magic, it's too late anyway." The hat shifted a little more, shading green eyes. "An' before y'say anythin' 'cause Ah can see you windin' up for it, might as well call it too late when the doctors touched down. Ah was there, an' Ah went inside, to mah family, an'... wouldn't have been you, Twi. Far as Ah'm concerned, Ah'd like t' bet on their odds. Ninety-five percent's enough to spit a smidgen down. But if'fin they're wrong -- we can nuzzle, an' sit next t' each other with our fur meshing. Keep each other warm. We can touch as much as y'might need it, 'cause..."
The powerful body shuddered.
"...if'fin y'wanna take it that far -- then it's too late for me already, ain't it? So it's gonna be like when we all had the crumps at the same time, except for Pinkie 'cause she's the one who gave it t' us. We'd both be sick. Might as well be sick together. An' if it's a disease of magic, then at least Ah know who Ah trust t' find a cure."
And then the little mare could barely see through the glare of Sun off snow and through tears.
"Applejack..." Her wings didn't seem to know what to do with themselves again. They kept almost curving forward, and then pulling back. Over and over.
The smile which shifted the orange fur was forced. It was also honest.
"Stay there," her friend gently offered. "Ah'll come t' you."
And then they were trotting together.
"Ah talked t' Miranda the other day, 'bout the search for Scootaloo's parents," the farmer stated as they moved towards the well-spaced saplings for what would eventually be Eastern Red Giants. "She was talkin' about how we might have t' wait for somepony t' slip up. An' then -- she started talkin' 'bout serial killers."
Twilight blinked. "What's a --"
"-- somepony who makes murder into a cross between game an' habit," Applejack quickly said. "Ain't been many in Equestria. None this generation, an' some nations don't see any. But y'get a few in the rest of the world. Miranda does a lot of readin', as long as the subject's crime. So she was sayin' that with serial killers, y'can get in a weird position. Ain't enough evidence t' catch one. Checked all the places where they killed, an' there's no clues to follow. Y'need t' stop them. An' there's times when the best hope for that --" the earth pony's tail twitched "-- is t' wait for them t' kill again -- let me finish, Twi. Each murder is someone gone forever: Ah know that. But it's also a chance for the killer t' slip up."
She didn't want to picture it. She couldn't seem to stop.
"Maybe they stop killin' for whatever reason," the farmer added. "Maybe they jus' die themselves, an' no one ever finds out that the carpenter with the big funeral was usin' some non-standard stuff for the stains. It's better, t' have the deaths end. But when it happens that way -- the mystery ain't solved. An' the fear doesn't go away, 'cause maybe it'll happen again -- but at least there's nopony dyin'."
"But if there's one more death," Twilight slowly tried, hating the taste of the words on her tongue, feeling as if they were dirtying the snow, "there's another chance for clues. I can understand it when I look at the whole thing as research, Applejack. But there's still another corpse. And there's no guarantee that one more is going to be enough."
"Ah know," was the simple response. "But it's how Ah was thinkin' of it. That if the stallion's the only one, an' you never solve it -- then at least he's the only one. Ah'll feel horrible for him, an' maybe Ah'll be scared sometimes, when Ah think 'bout it happenin' t' me or anypony Ah love. But he'd be it. The mystery's gonna grate, the fear hangs around... but that could fade. An' if what it takes t' solve it is more ponies havin' it happen..."
There was something about a shudder, when it came off a body that strong. It felt as if the very air had been told to retreat in fear.
"Miranda said a few police departments try t' figure out who the perfect victim is, an' have one of their officers pretend t' be it. Lure the killer in." The dark chuckle made its own impact in the snow. "Really hopin' it don't get that far."
"...yeah," was all she had. "But I don't think you can create a perfect victim for a disease."
"Y'could for a spell."
"Which presumes a caster. Something deliberate. If it's similar to the effects we know -- something like --" and she hesitated before pressing on, because the first recognition was that she was about to bring back a very bad memory for her friend, and the second said the farmer wasn't going to let her get away with part of a sentence. "-- Cutie Pox..."
It was a term which had earned its own, dual shudder.
"But it ain't that," Applejack hastily put in. "We looked up that one together, after it was over. Researched a little deeper, t' make sure we knew how t' spot it again." The farmer executed a mobile shrug. "Even found a second cure."
"Which was a once in a lifetime event," Twilight countered. "Literally."
The farmer nodded. There was a second means to beat the disease, and it had two major requirements. To start with, under normal circumstances, the victim would have to be a child: late adolescence at the typical worst. But they wouldn't have their own mark: just the false ones inflicted by the disease. And if they could fight through the constant impulses to perform, if they could somehow tap into the core of themselves at just the right moment...
Manifest a real mark, and every false one would be banished. The disease would effectively be burned out of the pony's body by the power of the True Surge, and it would never return. It was a guaranteed cure and in all of recorded history, it had happened exactly twice.
"But it wasn't a pox death," Applejack considered. "Y'showed me how those go."
Reluctantly, "Exhaustion." The victim had to perform -- and they would do so until the moment they stopped moving forever. "And the false marks start to fade a little before death. When there's nothing left to draw on, I guess --"
The little mare stopped moving.
The earth pony, who'd already been holding back in order to let her friend readily match the pace, only needed a single hoofstep to notice. "Twi?"
Who was standing stock-still, but for a certain quivering in exposed feathers.
"...the hoop," the librarian softly reviewed. "The plates. The dancing. Even the lions. Whatever Apple Bloom did while she had the Cutie Pox worked, as long as the image was present..."
"Ah was there, Twi. Ah --" and the sigh was exceptionally small "-- felt so proud of her at the start, even when the talent wasn't what Ah'd expected. Ah kept hopin' she knew that..."
But the thought would not be deterred.
"Applejack -- how does a false mark create a real talent?"
And then they were staring at each other.
"It was real," the librarian carefully continued. "Every tenth-bit of it, for as long as it lasted. She balanced the plates, she kept the beat. Cutie Pox forced her to keep doing all of it, but she could do all of it. What is Cutie Pox? What kind of disease could grant real skills?"
Her wings flared.
"I've got to get back to the tree. I have to --"
"-- y'have t' stay here," the farmer firmly said.
Frantically, "-- research this! Somepony needs to --"
"-- wanna bet somepony already did? Y'cant be the first t' that thought, Twi, not as long as the Pox has been around. Even with the break between cases, somepony must've worked it out. Right now --"
"-- the thought, but not the answer! We've got new workings, devices nopony had probably even dreamed of back then! Maybe it relates --"
"-- an' maybe," Applejack stated, "y'forgot that y'owe me a lesson."
"This could be crucial --"
The right foreleg came up. Went back down.
Twilight didn't talk for a few seconds. Keeping her balance against the light rumbling which came from the very world took priority.
"An' now you're listenin'," Applejack solidly resumed. "That poor stallion's dead, Twi. Ah wish he wasn't, an' Ah hope y'make sure nopony ever dies like that again. But we're alive. Both of us feel fine. Ah want you for the full duration, 'cause you're still upset. Plenty of reasons t' feel that way, scary ones. But it means Ah want t' keep an eye on you, long as Ah can. For that matter, since we can be around each other without worry, Ah might follow you back t' the tree. 'cause it's winter, Ah'm a little more free, an'..." The green eyes closed. "...maybe Ah don't want t' face mah family right now. Not while Ah'm this scared mahself."
The ground had stopped vibrating. The rope loops which bound the thick blonde mane and tail continued to tremble.
"So stay with me a while," her friend softly asked. "Please. An' then Ah'll stay with you. 'cause maybe fear's a little easier when y'split it up. Okay?"
They were both sick, or they were both safe.
Either way, the next thing Twilight did was the right one.
"Okay." A little muffled, when spoken against the warmth of orange fur.
They continued to nuzzle for a while. And then they trotted on, because the lesson awaited.
So did the snow. Too much of it, especially after what had happened the previous morning, and wide purple eyes stared at the fresh, smooth, cold white coating with increasing dismay.
"Rainbow," Twilight muttered.
"Yep," Applejack grinned. "Asked her t' replenish the ammo. Mare can put in the work when she's got a mind to." Wryly, "Which ain't often, but Ah guess the thought of a repeat was jus' too good t' pass up. Get in position, Twi."
It was the same semi-clearing as yesterday. This was a section of the Acres well away from the standard air paths, where long branches overhead provided some protection from overhead sightings -- but needed to stretch across a fairly significant distance to do so: there were only a few trunks scattered within the center. It meant there was very little to get in the way during targeting, especially when Twilight was still trying to figure out how to sing and dodge at the same time.
"Snowball fight," the little mare dismally recalled. "Again."
"Well, snow slab," Applejack corrected. "It's a lot harder t' put spheres together, especially the way Ah want you t' try it. Again."
"Quick beats," Twilight miserably repeated. "A fast tempo. Snow in my fur. In my feathers. It's worse in the feathers. I should talk to Rainbow about that." While also talking to her about the fresh coating of snow. And by 'talking,' Twilight was vaguely aware that she actually meant 'field-slinging most of it at a very mobile target.'
"Which y'can do later. Get in position."
Slim legs picked out a dejected path to the other side of the partial gap.
"Okay," Applejack declared once Twilight was in position, and it wasn't a lie because it was okay for the earth pony. "Get into me mode, an' then Ah'll aim the first one away from you. Jus' want you t' pick up on what the chords are like. Listen close. Y'got me?"
"Yes. Just -- give me some time, Applejack." It wasn't quite a plea. "I'm... not exactly centered right now."
The farmer's features softened.
"Gotta do it at speed, Twi. In all sorts of conditions --" and just ahead of the protest "-- but today of all days, Ah understand. Take your time. I'm gonna hold a note for you, jus' so you'll know when y'get there."
She concentrated. Pushed back intrusive thoughts over and over, tried to force the steam of a false mark's evaporation away from her heart for just long enough...
It took several attempts, and she only knew she'd truly succeeded when she felt the first bars from the oboe resounding within her soul.
As much as anything else, it was the music which could push Twilight away from her earth pony aspect. It was like looking too closely at heat patterns when she was trying to invoke Rainbow: she started to think about what she was seeing, which turned into trying to analyze it -- and then she was in the snow. Or, earlier in her training, the leaves.
She'd initially thought the leaves were the worst, because they stained fur and sometimes you got bugs crawling up to see what all the fuss was about. There had been a brief attempt to find some way of banning the Running, because leaves which stayed on the trees were clearly an improvement. But then Applejack had taught her about leaf mulch, and how some degree of decay was essential for the world.
Leaves were necessary. She wasn't sure about snow.
There was snow on the ground. But just beneath that was music, and she could hear the oboe which characterized Applejack's presence within the orchestra. And there was more than that: a sort of echoing murmur. The lingering aural residue of every possible instrument invented by all of the species, plus a few which might only exist as expressions of the heart.
That was the Cornucopia Effect. A song of love sung to the land itself. Always present whenever earth ponies were about, never fully fading. The soundtrack for the beat of the civilized world.
"Ah'm --" Twilight stopped. The accent sometimes intruded when she was trying to call on Applejack's essence, and the farmer found it a little too amusing. "I'm there. I can hear you..."
"Yeah," her friend bemusedly stated. "That was the second sign. Okay. So it's like last time: Ah did some of the work for you. They're jus' under the surface. Y'don't gotta bring 'em up. Jus' have to move 'em, when y' need to. Like this --"
A single sharp note, and something beneath the snow sprang up and forward, pushed at a speed and angle which launched everything which had been covering it --
-- she trusted her friend, and did so all the more because an echo of that honesty was sounding within her. But the previous lesson had been a cold one, and it took an effort to prevent herself from twitching when the snow slammed into the trunk on her right.
"Y'heard?"
She nodded.
"Good. Aim one away from me, jus' t' show me that you've got the bar. An' then we'll go for each other --"
-- which was when they heard the flapping of wings.
It triggered the same fear in each of them: spotted, caught, shattered, and it was more than enough to kick Twilight out of the chorus as four eyes desperately searched the overcast sky --
-- no, we're safe, at least when it comes to ponies. It could be a monster, but that's too loud for a pegasus. The wings would have to be --
-- huge...
And slowly, oh so slowly, the Princess descended from the sky.
It took Twilight a moment to realize that there was no attempt at drama behind the lack of speed in that descent. The Princess was the largest pony known to exist, branches criss-crossed the clearing, and the slow approach was necessary to find any level of gap which would allow that body to slip through. It simply felt as if the encounter was being stretched out, at the start of a chase for which the world would never be large enough to allow any place to run.
She knows.
If I teleport away from her, she'll know that I know.
...she probably already knows that.
I could take Applejack with me, but that'll make her so sick...
She might have been to the tree already. She might have talked to Spike. I brought the rod with me just in case, but the pictures were still there. She could have gone to Ratchette. She could have done anything...
Wait. Just -- wait. Wait until she says something.
She didn't know why she was waiting. She couldn't avoid breaking what was already broken.
Applejack was frozen. Neither Bearer could move. And the Princess carefully descended, until the moment when she curled her wings in so that she simply dropped through the only available gap.
The world shook again, and did so as an exact match to the thundering beat of Twilight's heart.
The huge white body didn't quite form a perfect triangle with the smaller mares. About eighteen body lengths (standard ones, not that of the Princess, it would have felt so much better if the distance had been measured using the Princess...) away from Applejack, and perhaps twelve from Twilight.
"I heard you," the eldest alicorn quietly stated. "Before I saw you. Don't feel as if you did something wrong, either of you. I know a few tricks for keeping my wingbeats quiet: things just about nopony else knows. They don't work for long, but -- they occasionally work for long enough."
Applejack looks so scared.
I've never seen her look afraid. Not when it's the Princess.
If that's how she looks, then what do I --
"And to make this clear," the giant mare steadily continued, "I heard you. Snow fight, correct?"
Just enough of Applejack's neck defrosted to allow something approximating a nod.
"It's an interesting idea for a training exercise," the alicorn allowed. "Quick beats. Keeping up the pace. You've even rigged the area to make it easier for a beginner, haven't you? That's the practical approach. It's --"
The large eyes briefly closed, and did so as the flow of mane and tail slowed.
"-- just not how we used to do it. You're training her for combat conditions in stages. For us -- the whole world could change at once. We didn't have the luxury of gradual tutoring, most of the time."
They were staring at her. Both ponies were staring, and Twilight couldn't figure out how to make it stop...
"Most of the time," the Princess repeated. "Some days were calmer. There were even snow fights, if conditions were right. But when it comes to this kind of battle... I haven't been in one for a very long time."
The left corner of her mouth twitched up, and did so in the last moment before the blast of freezing white hit Twilight in the face.
She yelped. (It was something automatic, it got her more snow in the mouth for her trouble, and she heard it echoed from the other side of the clearing.) Shook her head as hard as she could, cleared most of the obstruction, and saw --
-- the Princess was calmly looking from one snow-coated Bearer to the other, back and forth. A pair of flat-topped stone slabs had erupted from the soil next to her forehooves, each precisely angled towards one recent victim. Twilight could just barely make out the supporting structure of rock and soil which had directed the speed of the rise.
The oldest mare in the world casually shrugged.
"But I still remember how it's done."
Applejack spat something out of her mouth. It was about sixty percent snowball and because leaves continued to decay for some time under the coating, the remainder wasn't worth inspecting.
There were several kinds of war being waged across the orange form, most were visible, and every last one had failed to find a way of dealing with the nature of the opponent.
"Ah --" didn't even reach the level of stammer. "This is mah -- Ah..." and words ran out, mostly while fleeing for their lives.
"Why, yes," the alicorn calmly said. "This is your land, Lady Malus. I can say that without question, because I remember personally awarding the right of first settlement to your grandmother. You've just been attacked on your own land, while your closest ally is almost directly at hoof."
The farmer yelped again, and the sound added a little extra distance to the desperate sideways jump: something which allowed the next volley to hit exactly where Applejack had previously been standing.
"When it comes to this kind of battle," the old mare stated, "I would be expecting you to do something about that."
Applejack also managed to dodge the third catapulted slab of snow, and did so by jumping exactly into the place where the alicorn had aimed the fourth.
The hat fell off.
Any number of horrible things happened when the snow slab hit, and the one which would have remained with Twilight for the rest of her life if not for the next part was that the hat had fallen off.
There was just enough time to see green eyes narrow with instinctive, unthinking anger. And then the ground erupted at Applejack's hooves.
Technically, silence didn't fall over the Acres. A number of things fell onto the Acres in that next nightmarish second. Some of that arrived as recently-impacted snow sliding away from a white snout. The heavier impact came from dislodged regalia.
The alicorn snorted. It might have been from anger, or it could have just been the effort required to get the snow out of her nostrils. (Results suggested the latter.) And two mares held their position, because there was nowhere to run and in any case, there wasn't going to be enough left to bury either.
"Really?" the Princess placidly inquired.
They weren't breathing. Twilight felt as if they should have been, and they weren't. A waste of a final opportunity --
"-- you've got a target this big which didn't go down after one hit, and you're stopping now?" (Twilight only managed to avoid half of the other part of the response, and so got another reminder of how miserable snow felt when it melted into feathers.) "And there's two of you! Work on your angles! Mutual strikes! Make me move! Because if I can just stand here taking it and believe me, I can also stand here while you take it --"
Many things became possible for those who were already dead, and so Applejack's next attack went for the Princess' neck. Or rather, it had been aimed for the mane, but there was a problem with going for something semi-solid. The neck was just how it worked out.
And then they were all moving, because there was snow flying in just about every possible direction, Twilight's shock dropped her so deep into herself as to effectively move her out of her own way and that allowed an extra angle of attack as that aspect rose to the front, eager to defend what was seen as a personal affront --
-- which was when she heard the Princess.
She'd thought about it now and again, in the moons since her lessons had truly begun. What the sisters would sound like. She suspected they muted their voices in public, so as to avoid jolting any who might be listening. But now one of them was singing, the notes were quick and sure and teasingly offered to bring her own soul into rhythm just so there would be one more participant in the little war implied by instruments which were both playing with and against each other --
-- saxophone.
A pipe organ: that had been Twilight's first expectation. Something huge, with all kinds of controls where the typical pony limb could barely reach any of it and the stops had to be operated by committee. After that, a piano, and at least part of that expectation was because she still wasn't sure what she and the Princess were to each other and Twilight hated pianos, so any truly negative outcome would at least have background music to match.
But it was a saxophone. One of the soprano types, something designed to hit higher notes and which could be played at a greater speed -- but it still had power. It was an instrument which could hold a note for a surprisingly long time, it had keys where the only ways to determine their function were practice and hope, it was lively and -- it was still a saxophone. An instrument for which abandoned notes ultimately collapsed into themselves. There were playful aspects, but there was just about nothing which could prevent any saxophone from sounding a little bit hollow, mournful, and --
-- lonely.
That thought echoed within Twilight. It stayed with her after the earth pony aspect dropped away, and there were ways in which it never truly left.
They were all soaked with chill meltwater which had worked its way through clothing, set up a permanent encampment, and then sent an invading army towards the fur. Cold, and potentially on the verge of illness.
But they were also in the presence of the Solar Princess.
An initial flare of corona signaled an end to hostilities, mostly because they'd just about run out of snow. The next emerged as inward-shifting curls of light: come here. And as they approached her, the air warmed. Spring entered the Acres, elevated itself into the first part of summer as pegasus techniques separated water out from fabric and forms, until they were warm and dry within the gentle radiance of something very much like Sun.
The oldest mare in the world looked down at her fallen regalia. A small field bubble lifted it, brushed off the dirt, and then moved it one more time.
"Trot with me," the Princess softly requested.
They were staring at her again.
"Both of you," she added. "I'd be lying if I said I hadn't initially planned this talk as being mostly for Twilight, because she was the one who was there. I'd rather not lie when I'm on your land, Applejack. But I'm sure she's already told you everything, and all I'd do by traveling with her alone is delay the next stage of the inevitable. So trot with me, if you're willing. I think we all need to talk."
Librarian and farmer looked at where the crown had been secured in the crook of a nearby branch.
"Please," asked Celestia.
And shielded by one falsehood of summer, too soon before venturing into the second, they all began to trot.
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I.
HAVE BEEN WAITING FOR SOMETHING LIKE THAT ENDING.
EVER SINCE THE ONE WITH JOYOUS ENDED.
(And she STILL hasn't got that hug.)
(Also also, Saxophone! I'm still on how well that fits.)
How soul-y... Interesting...
----
And then "How does Cutie Pox work?" A result of a True Surge from the pony who made the Snitcher? The first in their line of Mark-related magics?
How was Cutie Pox triggered in the Continuum? Was it still via Heart's Desire? ... If so, then how does Heart's Desire work, to create its effects? Why Cutie Pox?
Or is this the story that will reveal how the Cutie Pox incident played out in this universe?
----
Surprise Celestia! It seems she doesn't know what happened... Or is keeping it quiet... And yay! Earth Ponies-ish talking about their powers and stuff! Celestia's gonna talk to ponies about it that aren't Luna!
I wonder if Luna found out and chewed out her sister about how she handled it. So what do we think Twilight’s instrument will be? I am willing to bet a trumpet. I bet Luna is a trap set.
Oh, it's been a lot more than that. And the number will likely go up before it's dealt with for good, whatever that entails.
Good to see someone else in Dulci's corner. I fear for the day she'll need as many people there as she can get.
Hmm. How much did cutie pox factor into Starlight's research, i wonder? Being able to produce and remove false marks may have provided insight into the mechanisms of true ones.
And that's the key difference between Twilight and this Starlight. And make no mistake, Starlight is a serial killer. She just didn't intend to be one.
Ah. There it is. Take the generation of a false talent, turn it inside out...
But first, singing lessons.
The accent leakage is a frankly adorable detail.
It's an interesting question: What does Twilight channeling Applejack sound like to AJ herself. We know Twilight's truespeech sounds a lot like Applejack's—after all, there isn't much of Pinkie to alter the frequency—but can one hear her shift her focus to earth pony magic?
Similar energy.
Every time I encounter a scene with your Celestia henceforth, I'm going to hear this in the background. I hope you're proud of yourself.
(Yes, I know it's not a soprano sax. The point stands.)
In any case, this is already going better than Twilight or I feared. Here's hoping that trend continues. To say nothing of the one where Celestia's actually engaging with Twilight as a pony. I dearly hope to see her keep that up.
This was what inspired you to make your versions of marks, wasn't it?
10557027
Hey, are you on Discord?
So Celestia is a Saxophone... I wonder what Luna is?
Celestia's song:
(The Sax isn't the focus but it's in there.)
Triptych was built on a question about the nature of the world: "Where do alicorns come from?"
I'm not sure that's the one for this story, but I think it's pointing in the direction of the real question.
And the title of the chapter is 'Sysop'. A reference to USER ONE?
10556973
Nearly everything that happens on-screen in seasons 1-3 is Continuum canon. There's a few exceptions (the transmogrified mice in the Gala episode come to mind), but for most events the only difference is that someone had to clean up the mess afterward. Or bail the Bearers out of jail.
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Not the first time it happened. She dips into it at the end of Triptych. "There is a crisis in Equestria. If you feel we don't have authority during a crisis, then also feel to give me your name an' trot out of the Hall t' wherever you feel like goin'."
Thank you Celestia. Thank you for talking. Thank you for showing that underneath the Alicorn there is still an earth pony. There is a lot that needs to be digested here and in the coming chapter. I just hope that some specter of, well, hope, shows up. Because this is quite heavy stuff. Especially with more questions and pieces are showing up, with the likes of the Cutie Pox. But what exactly is this all leading to?
And jeez, the fear of a hazardous disease sure is topical nowadays. Still, none of this has been seen before and Equestria is still a fair ways behind with some medical fields so I guess it's warranted. I'm just really looking forward to answers.
Good. Those two are finally speaking. About time they stopped torturing themselves.
And about the security system of the Library Tree, I think you just made the perfect setting for a one-shot or a short story if a few chapters. Because the idea of NOT having true security and true intimacy at what is her HOME, the place she is able to put down her head and rest safely... that her teacher put backdoors to her abode...
Even if Twilight didn't own the Tree, it still somewhat kind if hers. And she got to defend her lab, the books and the Elements. There even was a robbery attempt once.
So the question is... what is she going to do about it?Get INNOVATIVE.
Talk to Ratchet and Trixie about security devices and spells. Study what's on the market. Check new stuff made by researchers. Ask her friend for ideas. Zecora might have something to help. Ask her military minded brother for ideas and strategies. Make the Cutie Mark Crusaders design one of the traps.
To ultimately secretly revamp the security with clever new spells, treacherous device, sadistic wonders and some good old solid mundane home security gadgets. So when the Oldest Alicorn in the world tries to teleport in for whatever reasons, she ends up suffering whatever countermeasures they put in places. And then the Sisters tries to beat the system in an hilarious series of fails.
Of course Celestia is a saxophone, as with many things in this world, hindsight shows that it really couldn't be anything else.
And Spike got a raise! Only took the potential end of civilization as we know it...
Photo paper, you shine a light through an already developed negative onto special paper to produce a picture. For this, a dim amber light (among other colors) works.
Wouldn't that have been Granny Smith's parents? (AJ's GREAT grandmother.)
Or would Granny have gotten the grant as well, even though just a foal?
This chapter made me really happy... hopefully it's the first thing which causes Twilight (and the other bearers) to start seeing Celestia as "pony" instead of "deity." Because while they know of her humble origins, they still act like she'll incinerate them for offending her.
New post for new thought.
Celestia sounds like a saxophone. Indeed, she sounded like a saxophone well before there was any such thing as a saxophone. Might as well say that saxophones sound like Celestia.
Makes you think really, how many instruments were invented so that earth ponies could give audible voice to the songs that only they could hear? Must have been quite the scandal, some early bard dancing on the edge of the Secret, playing tunes he'd otherwise have to hide.
Does Octavia sound like a cello do you think? Or does her cello sound like her...
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I've had bosses that it would TAKE the end of the world to gouge a raise out of them.
Saxophone. Snowball fight. Right now all I can think of is...
Music starts about 1:00 in
An interesting and promising development.
Hmm......So when the gong show happens, Dulcinea will have somepony baffled in her corner.
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Wow, vicious, aren't you?
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I can see her playing the carillon, or perhaps Twilight's guess of the pipe organ.
Alternatively, the upright bass (or electric).
Or maybe this.
Maybe it's just me, but I get the vibe from Spike that the little guy is... closer to cracking than anypony might realise. I love the way he can just deal with Twilight, and his appearances are always a highlight in the Continuum for me, but oh, I worry about the kid.
Of course, maybe we should be worried about what will happen to Starlight Glimmer if she hurts Twilight Sparkle even the tiniest little bit and Spike finds out about it. She might be powerful, but underestimating Spike would not end well for her. Especially if she did something as foolish as, for example, try to take away the thing he thinks of as most precious in the whole world and trigger certain instincts about treasured things...
10557291
Kind of the thing of saxophones really, they can be some of the saddest, loneliest things in the world, but then they can also sound like this. Celestia in a nutshell really, that mare's got some serious layers.
Oh, the description of the Cornucopia Effect is just beautiful.
Poor Twilight, hyping herself up so much for this conversation, only for Celestia blow all expectations out of the water with frozen water.
Probably because she doesn't understand the withering contempt the pegasus feels for most ponies.
Addendum: We got an answer to something intimated quite a while back:
Given Celestia's marksmareship with the slabs, it's pretty clear what "that" is.
Celestia and Luna can dip into each others' voices.
What if Celestia actually used Luna's voice (or Luna Celestia's) for whatever reason?
For the other gained abilities, do they become innate over time with a base level of competency without needing to call on the others, or do they constantly have to channel at least one of the Bearers when they use it? It would be interesting, I don't think they've explicitly channeled anyone apart from Starswirl.
10557291
Yakety Sunpony
10557015
So glad I'm not the only one. Epic Cellyphone!
Makes me wonder how pony photographers do it, just be very careful using their mouths? Some form of mouth protection?
I assume photographs were originally developed (in both senses of the word) by the minotaurs?
There's another question, Twi. One even weirder and even deeper. One that only a madmare ever thought to ask:
Cutie pox doesn't just give talents, it gives magic. Magic no earth pony possesses, magic that can only be granted by hybridization.
I think cutie pox doesn't give false marks, it gives artificial marks. The marks are real, fragments of souls torn free or left behind when their bearers died. They just aren't the correct marks for the ponies they are attached to, and so aren't properly integrated into the soul.
I have many questions, but I imagine a fair amount of them could be answered by reading the stories I haven’t gotten to and using the Continuum’s TVTropes page to fill in my failing memory. I’m off to do those tasks before the next chapter.
"was now in custody for a pronouncement"
"was now in custody of a pronouncement"?
"stayed on the trees was clearly an improvement"
"stayed on the trees were clearly an improvement"?
"And there was more that: a sort"
"And there was more there: a sort" or "And there was more than that: a sort"?
"her friend bemusedly stated"
"her friend amusedly stated"?
"here taking it and believe me, I can also stand here"
"here taking it and believe me, I can, I can also stand here"?
"And shielded by one falsehood of summer, too soon before venturing into the second, they all began to trot."
And more foreshadowing in the cliffhanger, of course. :)
Thank you for writing, Estee!
I know that it’s Twilight, but I was a bit surprised that she can’t let go of the disease idea when the lack of supporting evidence would require a completely new kind of disease, with completely new methods of transmission, and at that point you may as well be speculating that it was caused by Seapony kisses. But really, whatever it is that did this is exactly that new to them, be it new magic, a new creature or a new disease. Ultimately, the disease idea strikes at just how unnerving this is to ponies, and how helpless they likely feel in the face of it.
Nice to see Celestia a bit more composed and working to disarm Twilight and Applejack before dealing with the many issues before them. It will be interesting to see what she has to say as she leaves her crown behind.
I'm pretty sure that THIS is Princess Celestia's personal theme song. Just playing constantly in the background whenever she does anything.
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Sax music: Lonely, sad, angsty, remorseful, languid, melancholic
Celestia: REJOICE, FOR IT IS HONK TIME
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Hot damn, now that is food for thought!
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It's what I'm here for.
In fact a third thought rises, if Earth Pony magic can be considered analogous to music, then there's really no reason that they couldn't have a conservatory for the learning, teaching, and general admiration of such.
Aside from the obsessive secrecy of course...
It's a self-inflicted mediocrity really, one of the most oft-repeated limitations of this business is a significant lack of options, tools in the toolbox. And whose fault is that? Knowledge hoarded in tight-knit families does not grow.
They probably haven't had a real innovation since the creation of those watch-totems, and even if they did nopony would have heard of it.
All the talk of Earth Pony Magic does make me think. The theory behind The Secret is that it's a hidden ace up the sleeve (so to speak) of Earth Ponies should they ever need it to defend themselves. The tribal supremacists consider it something to use against other Ponies; the rest, apparently the Princesses included, consider it something to be pulled out against an enemy of Equestria.
The thing is, going down the list of potential enemies... Dragons already know, because of Rock Farming. Discord obviously already knows. Tirek consumes magic, so we can safely assume he knows. Changelings can successfully and flawlessly imitate Ponies, up to and including their magic, as well as mind-control them into giving up all of their secrets to assist in that imitation, so we can safely assume that they know. The Nightmare possessed Luna, who knew, and therefore it also did. Ibex and Yaks seem to have magic so similar to Earth Ponies that we have to assume they at least know something. And the Griffons are stated to have adopted Pony foals during wars and raised them entirely within the borders of Proctera... which means it would be incredibly strange if they didn't notice when their adopted children started channeling Toph Bei Fong out of nowhere.
We don't know to what extent the secret may or may not be out in the world at large. But you really do have to ask -- aside from Ponies and Minotaurs, who's left who doesn't know The Secret at this point?
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Well there's the Storm King and his yeti thingamajigs, they probably don't know.
Ah, and you forgot the Diamond Dogs, they absolutely know.
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Celestia's other battle theme.
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Storm King I hadn't considered, if he exists in the Continuum. But that's a good one. The only other major villains I can think of are Cosy Glow, who would know for the same reason Tirek would; Starlight Glimmer, who may or may not know (as we'll soon find out, I'm sure); and King Sombra, who we don't know because we aren't sure of the abilities of Crystal Ponies. Though if certain facial-hair-related theories about his real identity play out it's likely he knew.
As for the (and I hesitate to use the term) "Lesser Races", well. The Tenant species like Sheep and Cattle might know. Independent species like the Diamond Dogs do, as you point out. But I think it's possible that they don't know that The Secret is actually a secret. It's just never occurred to them that this information is important or dangeous, so they never discuss it, thus maintaining The Secret mostly by accident.
Ultimately it seems to me that the only sapients who don't know The Secret are the Ponies themselves and their closest allies. Making it not only completely useless at its supposed purpose, but actively harmful at fostering trust among friends.
10559439
It isn’t a secret that “rock farming” is a thing among ponies, so why would it mean that the dragons know the extent of Earth Pony abilities? (I may be unclear as to how it works in the Continuum.)
True.
I’m not sure I agree. He’d be aware that Earth Ponies have magic, but then that’s not disputed... the secret is the extent of what they can do with it, and I don’t know why that would necessarily be learned by absorbing it... it may just come to him as raw energy regardless of the type of pony he takes it from.
Do Continuum Changelings flawlessly imitate ponies’ magic? Even their talent-based tricks? I don’t recall the show ever revealing that ability. I’m also not sure that mind-control would necessarily lead to a reveal of the secret, especially if the Changelings don’t know to ask about it, but it’s certainly possible that they found out over the years, even just by replacing someone and living in Earth Pony households/communities and happening to observe it in action.
Seems logical.
Once again, I’m not sure. Both are very self-centered and superiority-minded, and I don’t see them thinking about Earth Ponies much, let alone assuming that they’re more powerful than they claim to be.
This also seems a fair observation.
A fair number of points there... i’s a mixed bag, at best. But then it’s not something that’s portrayed as a logical strategy, but rather a matter of fiercely held tradition, and like many such things it probably outlived its practicality long ago.
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So, for Dragons, in A Duet For Land And Sky it's mentioned that the most powerful Earth Ponies, like Igneous Pie, use Rock Farming to cultivate gemstones and trade with Dragons. Other ponies might have heard of Rock Farming, but possibly don't know what it is, or even just consider it a racist joke like calling them Mud ponies. Simply because if those ponies knew what rock farming actually was, that's clearly geomancy at work, leading me to conclude they don't know the full story.
For Changelings it's more just a reasonable deduction. Earth Pony magic in the Continuum is intrinsic to who and what they are; an Earth Pony who had no Voice would stand out as much as a Pegasus with no wings. And all Tribes have their specific Feel for their own magic. If a Changeling was going to mimic a Pony while being around other Ponies for more than ten seconds they'd have to be able to mimic their magic as well. Logically that'd include Earth Magic.
Ibex and Yaks are noted in Daily Equestria Life With Monster Girl to like Earth Ponies because their outlook and magics complement each other. They might not know all the details, but it does imply they know more about Earth Magic than your average Pegasus or Unicorn.
As for Tirek... you actually have a damn good point there. It all comes down to whether he knows what he's taking in and has any sense of it, or whether it's all just Energy to him instead of specific kinds of magic. We'd have to get Word Of God on that one, though.
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Double meaning on conservatory too. The word can mean 'music school' and 'glass room for growing plants'.
Something has occurred to me; what if Twilight ISN’T the reincarnation of Star Swirl, but STARLIGHT is?
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That works as long as you can be sure of getting her to show up to break in. Promptly. There's a reason why complex trap-based security tends to get used in places like tombs and ruins, and it's based in how much the residents aren't supposed to be living there to start with. And a Twilight innovating is a Twilight who probably hasn't thought through what she shouldn't be innovating, which usually leads to a solution worse than the problem.
No doubt we could get our comedy out of this idea, but I wouldn't bet on Celestia providing the slapstick parts.
Viscerally horrifying. Fascinating.
Starlight a remorseless murderer. Plucking the leaves from a tree because the leaves force the tree to reach for sun.
Tearing the vine from the scaffold it grew upon because the vine should be free to determine itself.
Ripping the heart from a pony so blood can be free to pool and flow as it pleases.
Marks seem to be integrally tied to pony magic, which is integrally tied to a ponies identity. The magic that constitutes the mark, at the least, is present well before the mark itself if I understand Snitchers correctly. The magic tied with who a pony is and what they are, manifesting as a sigil maintained by the magic flowing though it. The mark is just the culmination of self realization. Ripping out the mark rips out its roots, the ponies own self, the ponies own personal conduit of magic.
I wonder if a markless unicorn is even capable of casting. A snitcher, which merely presses down upon the magic of marks, the core of a ponies self to see how close they are to blossoming to the surface, prevents all magic surges, regardless of race. But a pony with a snitcher can still manifest, still make themselves solid enough in mind and soul to overcome it and firmly establish the conduit to their magic and themselves, the pressure to great for the snitcher to stifle on its own, and they can then use their magic freely.
What Starlight does is far, far worse.