"Comital" is a Phenomenal Adjective.
The princess and minister disembarked the train, stepping onto the rough-hewn planks of the Ponyville train station.
“Ah, Ponyville!” Luna sighed in contentment. “‘Tis a lovely little village, no?”
“It’s, er, very rustic?” The minister watched a dun-colored earth pony expectorate into a spittoon at an impressive distance. “And with quite the wildlife, it would seem.”
“Quite!” Luna agreed, clueless as to the minister’s meaning. “The proximity to the wild lands of the Everfree grant it spectacular views of unusual wildlife.” Luna paused for a moment. “Occasionally too spectacular, truthfully. We believe Ponyville possesses the highest number of animal attacks of any Equestrian municipality, in actuality.”
“Must do wonders for the property value,” deadpanned the minister.
“All things have trade-offs, minister,” lectured Luna, who gestured with a wing for the minister to follow her off the platform and into the streets. “We would gladly trade a cockatrice attack or six for vistas this pleasant and ponies this friendly.”
The minister wasn’t quite so convinced, but he figured it wasn’t worth pressing the issue. Dutifully, he continued down the street after the princess. “Where are we headed anyway, your majesty?” He eyed the sky. “I fear we may be late enough most businesses would have already shut their doors.”
“No need to worry, minister, it is a domicile we are headed towards, not a business.” She lowered a brow thoughtfully. “Well, truly, it is both, but ‘tis irrelevant, presently.”
“Both?” the minister asked. “Princess, just who are we visiting?”
“Tsk!” Luna shot back playfully. “Do cease your fussing, viscount. It is merely an old friend, nothing to – oh!” Luna stopped, pointing at a stand selling flowers. “Look, minister, peonies! Our favorite!” She nearly clopped her hooves in glee. “Oh, our sister never stocks them at the palace!”
The mare selling flowers smiled broadly and waved a hoof, simultaneously performing a comically exaggerated bow. “Evening princess! Peonies, I’m guessing?”
“Of course!” Luna shouted back. “We will be right over! Are they fresh?”
The mare smirked and pointed to a line painted on her stall. All Flowers Cut Today.
“Delightful!” Luna turned back to the minister. “Minister, may we borrow a few bits for flowers?”
The minister patted at his vest before extracting a few coins. “That’s all we have left, princess,” he grumbled. “And I refuse to spend our last few bits on flowers.”
“Truthfully?” Luna faced the minister with an adorable pout. “Even for your beloved princess?”
The minister was a hard stallion, and had seen many such emotional pleas in his time. There was no way he was falling for something this blatant.
No way.
“THUNK-THUNK-THUNK.”
Rarity froze mid draw, gilt cigarette holder hanging askew off her lips and bathrobe draped loosely around her frame. She suddenly had a terrible feeling that her previous prediction about an unplanned visit to Canterlot may have been slightly off: it would seem Canterlot had made an unplanned visit to her.
“Who’s that at the door?” asked Fluttershy from Rarity’s couch, brows creased in concern. “I didn’t know we were expecting any, um, company.”
“We weren’t,” stated Rarity simply.
“Oh.” Fluttershy stood up from the couch. “Do you think it’s the, uh, y’know–”
“Constables? Some sort of secret police? A band of enraged griffons, perhaps?” Rarity shrugged. “I suppose we’ll find out soon enough. Toss me my hat, will you dear?”
Fluttershy chucked Rarity her now thoroughly pungent headdress, which had absorbed more than its fair share of both dozens of packs of Bucky Strikes and what could most mercifully be described as horn discharge. It’s not as if Rarity intentionally left it in such a disagreeable state, of course; more that she had no earthly idea on how one launders approximately one third of a manticore’s face. “Thank you, Fluttershy. I would hate to be dragged away or beaten into a thin smear of viscera without what is rapidly becoming my most prized possession.”
“Anything else?” asked Fluttershy, whose hoof hovered over a sword. She wasn’t intending to fight the constables; Celestia knows what sort of idiocy Luna had implicated them in, but it wasn’t the kind of trouble made better with a sword fight with the local sheriff. Griffons, however, were obviously fair game.
“I suppose that shall have to do, as it were.” Rarity sniffed, straitening up her posture as to present something more respectable of a figure to whomever waited behind her door and suddenly wishing she had put on her requisite eye-liner. With a flourish, she flung it open. “Yoo-hoo! Officers! Please do mind the – oh, it’s you.” There were not, as it turned out, any constables behind the door, nor trench-coat adorned spooks, nor knife-wielding griffons, but instead the lunar princess and a slightly peevish unicorn stallion in a lovely corduroy waistcoat.
Not nearly as exciting, really. Rarity frowned. “Good evening, I suppose, princess. To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?”
Luna nodded courteously, munching contentedly on the final flower out of a bouquet of peonies. Rarity’s voice, she noted, had dropped a solid half-octave, and had picked up the particular timbre of someone who habitually gargled pea gravel. “A good evening to you as well, Rarity. Is mistress Fluttershy around?”
“She is around, yes, albeit presently occupied.” Rarity gestured behind the doorframe to Fluttershy with a hoof, waving it in a hopefully clear signal that she likely wouldn’t be needing the sword. Probably. “I noticed you avoided my question, princess. While you are always welcome to visit, is is somewhat rude to leave a hostess wondering as to why you showed.”
“Ah, firstly, we have come to inquire as to the state of your convalescence, since we–”
“Terribly.” Rarity took another pull from her holder, blowing it politely back into her boutique and away from her door. “It’s going terribly, as you can see.”
The stallion pulled his head back from Rarity, nostrils wrinkling in protest of the acrid clouds of assorted stink which were pouring forth from the open doorway. “Convalescence? Convalescence from what, your –”
Luna waved a forehoof in dismissal. “Nothing to worry about minister, we will be happy to inform you of the previous events later once the present business is finished.”
“Minister?” Rarity raised an eyebrow. “Minster of what, exactly?”
“Oh!” Luna playfully knocked herself on the forehead with a hoof. “Of course, we forgot to introduce our companion. Rarity, we are joined by Mulberry Bags, 3rd Viscount of Oxhoof, Minister of the Exchequer, et cetera, et cetera.”
The minister raised a hoof for a polite shake.
Rarity eyed it warily, both forehooves staying firmly on the ground. “Charmed.” She coughed, although it was tough to determine whether she was doing it out of politeness or out of acute lung trauma. “Ah, Luna, why have you brought the Minister of the Exchequer to my door?”
Luna pretended not to hear her. “Well, for what our opinion is worth, we think you look, ah, hale and hearty.” She smiled a little too wide.
“Please don’t lie, Luna, it’s unbecoming of royalty.” Rarity grumbled. “And you’re terrible at it. Take it from an expert.”
Luna shrugged. “We tried. Would you prefer our honest opinion?”
Rarity adjusted her hat, surreptitiously scratching at her horn. Gods, it was itchy. “Please.”
“Truthfully? You resemble like something ejected from the backside of a diuretic elephant,” Luna stated. “You look like you did charge headlong into a phalanx consisting of fiery warlocks and straight razors. You resemble–”
“That will do, princess. I believe I get the, ah, gist.” Rarity sighed. “And you haven’t even seen the worst of it.”
“The worst, you say?” Luna chuckled. “We presume you are referring to something besides from the facial laceration, which should make for a dashing scar, methinks; multitude of very apparent contusions, a disadvantage of a white coat, of course; and general stench of soured tobacco and rot?”
Rarity sniffed. “Yes, besides those.”
“Verily?” Luna asked incredulously.
“Yes, verily.” Rarity sighed. “Minister? You may wish to avert your eyes if you are weak-stomached.”
The minister scoffed. “Well, it can’t be that bad–”
With a roll of her eyes, Rarity removed the headdress with a forehoof. Where her legendarily coiffed mane once rose gloriously forth from her head sat only the very shortest of purple stubble, which verged into naught but pinpricks of charred folicles a hoof-width or so around what could generously be described as a horn. Some of the underlying white coat had burned away as well, which left a patchy bald spot around the disaster area. The horn itself had a few crusty linen bandages stuck to the exterior but was, unfortunately for any observer, mostly exposed, thin flakes of blackened solids peeling away from a weepy core which ran with a full gamut of pussy yellows and greens.
It was, much to his dismay, that bad.
“–oh dear Luna, it’s.” The minister solidly retched, his cheeks (whose coat was, to Rarity’s immense displeasure, distinctly not mulberry in color but verged towards a Mountbatten pink) running a sickly green. “I didn’t even know horns could do that.”
Rarity replaced the cap atop her head. “Neither did I, nor, for that matter, did the doctors, who mostly responded in a similar fashion before shouting in confusion.” She pulled her eyes away from the minster, glaring back at the princess. “I daresay you’ve been around the block a fair few more times than I have, Luna; have you ever lain eyes on something so, ah, distasteful?”
Luna shook her head. “Anything? Yes,” assured Luna, who was suddenly reminded of tossing plague-bloated bodies into a bonfire outside the walls of one of her castles. “Have we ever had the particular misfortune of witnessing a horn in quite that state? Nay.”
“Wonderful,” Rarity growled. “It’s always simply swell to learn one is a trendsetter in a particular variety of misery.”
“We presume the apothecaries had no suitable treatments, then?” Luna inquired.
“More or less.” Rarity removed the holder from the corner of her mouth, shaking it a few times to knock off a bit of ash. “The pegasus and earth pony doctors had no idea what to do, and the only unicorn on staff recommended, once he pulled his face out of a bucket, of course, a steady intake of–” she shook the holder for emphasis “–these. The nicotine does something with blood and brains that staves off most of the pain, as I understand it.”
“That is, er, good news?” Luna offered. “At least, in comparison to acquiring a disgusting habit out of deep emotional trauma, we suppose?”
“If you say so.” Rarity shrugged. “We daresay the end result is the same.”
“Meaning?”
Rarity fished a pack out of a robe pocket, giving it a rattle to emphasize the nearly-empty container. “Meaning this is my fourth pack today and I can feel my throat screaming in agony.”
“Oh.” Luna furrowed her brow in thought, ducking her head to the minister’s right ear and whispering. “Is that a lot?”
The minister rolled his eyes and nodded slightly.
“Ah.” Luna shivered. “Our condolences.”
“Appreciated.” Rarity put the pack back. “I would have complained about having to sequester all of my fabrics and finished works upstairs to keep them from reeking, or how the majority of my customer base would presently run out of my front door in disgust, but I cannot work anyway. Sewing machines are nice, but simply too much of the job requires precise horn-work for me to proceed as normal.”
Luna smirked, jabbing the minster lightly with an elbow. “Unemployed, you say?”
Rarity rolled her eyes. “Ugh! Yes, for a month or so at least. The doctors weren’t terribly sure on when I should expect my magic back, but even the most positive prognoses given by the hospital didn’t veer below four weeks or so.” She rubbed her temples in frustration. “Four weeks! The season will be over in four weeks!”
“Once again, our condolences.” Luna coughed politely. “Of course, in light of your indisposition, would you perhaps consider aiding us with, ah, a–”
“Oh.” Rarity’s eyes were suddenly half-lidded and hard, her posture, formerly relaxed, now stock-still. “No.”
“But you failed to hear our proposal!” Luna replied.
“I don’t need to hear your proposal, Luna.” Rarity began to shut the door. “I’m thankful for your visit, darling, but if you think I’m going to go traipsing off again on some wild quest you can get fucked, frankly.”
“We’re sending you to Bitaly!” Luna stuck a hoof against the door jamb.
“Tempting, but I’d be insane to visit the world of high fashion looking like this. No thanks.” Rarity attempted to shut the door, only to find it blocked by a silver-shod hoof.
“You’re getting paid!”
“I am more than wealthy enough presently.” Rarity slammed the door into the hoof. Luna whimpered slightly.
“We’re sending you on an ocean liner!”
“I hate boats.” Rarity slammed the door again. Luna’s hoof retreated almost all the way out. Rarity thanked her past self for splurging on such a sturdy door.
Luna played her trump card. “We’re making you a countess!”
The squeezing of the door stopped. After a few seconds, it opened back up, revealing an incredulous Rarity. “You’re what?”
Luna rubbed at her hoof, which had started to swell from blunt force. “We’re – wince – granting you a title. You’re becoming Countess of Mareanello, as we need a member–”
“I’m in.” Rarity stated. “Whatever you require, whatever idiotic quest you’re sending me on, I’m in, unquestionably.”
“Oh. Really?” Luna raised an eyebrow. “But we had not even began to explain what the task was!”
“I emphasize, princess. I don’t care. Not even a little.” Oh sure, the rational side of Rarity’s brain was screaming out in horror at the prospect of going on, as she had said, another idiotic quest, but that side of the brain was currently being pulverized by a thousand memories of a little filly playing with elegantly clothed dolls in miniature manors and dreaming of dukes and princes. In the face of a lifetime of foalish fantasies? Rationality didn’t stand a chance.
“Huh.” Luna shrugged. “‘Twas easier than expected. Pray tell, you would not perchance have a sword about, would you?” she joked.
“Yes,” replied a straight-faced Rarity. She pulled away from the door. “Fluttershy? Would you mind bringing that blade of yours over?”
Fluttershy poked her head out from around one of Rarity’s couches. “Sure.” She reached her muzzle down to the seat, pausing halfway. “You aren’t planning on, um, stabbing the princess, are you?”
Rarity chuckled. “No, Fluttershy, I’m not planning on poking the princess.”
Satisfied, Fluttershy daintily lifted the basket-hilted broadsword in her teeth, trotting over to the door and depositing it onto the threshold. She bowed slightly, adding a cursory “Princess.”
“Warden,” Luna replied with a smirk. She eyed the pegasus, who, while obviously far better off than her partner in literal crime, still had both patchy wings strapped to her sides. “How goes your, ah, recovery?”
“It’s, uh, okay, I guess.” Fluttershy rubbed a forehoof across her other foreleg. “I kinda missed the doctor while we were bur–” she clammed up suddenly, remembering the presence of the minister. “–uh, disposing of trash, so I had to set the bones in my wings with my teeth, which wasn’t, um, fun.”
Luna sucked in a breath through her teeth, wincing in sympathy. She had done the same fourteen centuries or so back, and wasn’t fun was a tremendous understatement. “Our sympathies. We have done the same.”
“It’s not the first time. I tend to pick up a few of those while, uh, wrestling bears.” Fluttershy sat back onto her haunches. “What do you need the sword for, anyway?”
Luna levitated the blade off the ground, extracting it from a lovely embellished scabbard and giving it a twirl. “We’re granting Rarity a title of countess. The sword is an integral component of the ceremony, of course.”
“Oh. That’s, uh, nice?” Fluttershy tilted her head to the side, eyes narrowed in thought. “But that seems a little excessive for a ‘thank you’ gift.”
“What? Oh, nay!” Luna chortled a few times. “Nay, we need Rarity for a task, and she must possess a title for that.” She gestured to Rarity, waving a hoof at her head. “Do take off your headdress, Rarity, it’s–”
“CLANG.”
Luna looked down at the yellow hoof, which was currently resting on the sword it had punched out of Luna’s field onto the paving stones in front of the door. “Uh–”
“Are you serious?” Fluttershy had craned herself up to as near eye-level as she could, wings straining mightily against the straps holding them in close. Ponies saw the princesses and saw horns, but wings saw wings, and all of Fluttershy’s instincts were screaming to her wing muscles to flare out to maximum size to show up a rival hen. It wasn’t a fight she could win, of course: Luna had a fair few hoof-widths of plumage on Fluttershy’s presently mangy wings, but pegasi instincts were not always rational ones; the insult feather-brain existed for a reason. Normally, she’d have kept her wings under tight control, as it was really very rude to flare out in public, but a combination of security in their restraint and sheer abject fury kept Fluttershy’s mind otherwise occupied.
Luna retreated from the verbal assault, squirming away from the incensed pegasus and looking side to side. The minister had, wisely, already backed well away from the door.
Fluttershy didn’t relent. “Are you SERIOUS?” She gestured towards Rarity, whose initial look of alarm had faded into general bemusement. “The last time you sent us on a ‘task’ you left both of us crippled,” Fluttershy spat, voice dripping with contempt.
Luna retreated further. “Well, technically we only need lady Rarity, so you should be–”
“THAT’S NOT BETTER!” Fluttershy screeched (insofar as Fluttershy could screech), nostrils flaring in rage. “That’s not better at all! That’s worse, you big blue–” she firmly poked a forehoof into Luna’s sternum, the two of which were becoming fairly well-acquainted. “–dipshit! The nerve to even suggest she go off on another one of your jobs in a state like this. Look at her!”
Luna did as she was told. Rarity was barely holding back laughter, which didn’t really support Fluttershy’s argument, but it wasn’t like Luna was going to contradict her.
Fluttershy continued, stamping a hoof. “She’s an out of shape unicorn with a chain-smoking habit who, might I add, can’t do magic. Forget fighting, she can’t even sign her name without her horn!”
Rarity frowned, her mood being rather decisively dampened by that. It was all true, of course – her hoof-writing was indeed so abysmal as to be inscruitable – but that didn’t mean she liked hearing it. She softly trod up to her friend, laying a gentle hoof across her withers. “Dear, I assure you it’s alright. I really do feel–”
Fluttershy shucked off her hoof. “No! It’s not alright.” She turned her head to face Rarity. “I don’t know what you see in this, but you aren’t going anywhere, Rarity. You’re staying here where I can take care of you, not traipsing off on some bull– ”
Rarity had laid a friendly but firm hoof across Fluttershy’s mouth, and her eyes, while still as friendly as ever, had taken a slightly domineering edge. “Dear, I implore you, do relax, yes?” She pulled the hoof away.
“But–”
Rarity raised a challenging eyebrow. “But what, dear?”
“–mmmph.” Fluttershy shut up in deference to her friend, although her jaw remained firmly set.
“Thank you.” Rarity pushed a lock of Fluttershy’s hair out of her face. “Fluttershy, darling, I am, as always, eternally thankful for your compassion, but I fear you are being a little, er, overbearing. I may be temporarily disabled, yes, but I am not a child, nor an invalid, and I doubt Luna is planning on sending me on a death-defying adventure à la those books Rainbow Dash is so fond of.” She turned to the princess. “Right, Luna?”
“Of course,” replied Luna, which wasn’t totally a lie; she hadn’t planned much at all, really, so she couldn’t have planned such a quest. “Simply a political visit to Bitaly. We suspect you shan’t see much in the way of action at all, really.”
“See?” Rarity turned back to Fluttershy. “Nothing to worry about. Just a little ceremony, a little, eugh, boat ride, a little politicking at a ball, and I come home. Simple, really.”
“I, er–.” Fluttershy sighed, sitting back onto her haunches and allowing most of the irritation to leave her tensed-up body. “Fine.”
Rarity sighed visibly. She wasn’t sure she could convince Fluttershy otherwise if she really had to, but luckily she had relented without too much in the way of effort. “Well, I’m glad that–”
“But I’m not happy about it.” Fluttershy jabbed Rarity in the chest; not quite as firmly as she used with the princess, of course, but still with no small amount of fire. “I just don’t want you, um, getting hurt out there, okay?” Fluttershy moved to muss Rarity’s mane in affection, but, forgetting the present circumstances, ended up performing something akin to an awkward head-pat. “I still blame myself for what happened to you, and that means I want to help you get better. I need to.”
“Ohhh, Fluttershy!” Rarity pulled her into a tight hug. Fluttershy wrinkled her nostrils in an involuntary reaction to the cloud of acrid cigarette smoke that lingered around Rarity’s head. “You know I could never blame you. Never. If it wasn’t for me, you’d be dead out there, and vice versa.” She pulled away. “We helped each other. That’s what friends are for, alright? And you’re the finest friend I have.” She wiped away a tear. “You’re the sister I always wished I had, Fluttershy. I mean that.”
Sweetie Belle clutched at her chest, pulling away from the vat of acid she was previously craned over and throwing open her lab coat. “Oh, goddess!”
Scootaloo rushed over, throwing aside her copy of The Foal’s Guide to Inorganic Chemistry. “Sweetie Belle! Are you okay? You didn’t breathe in the fumes, did you? I explicitly warned you not to breathe in the fumes!”
Sweetie Belle shook her head. “No, it’s – it’s not that.” She examined her chest, which was seemingly unwounded. “It’s – it’s like somepony just said something horrible, like my family disowning me or something!”
“Oh.” Scootaloo sat back. “That.” She shrugged. “Yeah, it’s probably that. You get used to it.”
Fluttershy sniffled once. “Thanks, Rarity. I mean it.” She paused for a moment. “But don’t you, um, already have a sister?”
“I know what I said, Fluttershy.” Rarity straightened up, turning back to the princess. “Now, I believe we had a ceremony to conduct, yes?”
“Right!” said Luna, wiping an eye with a wing. She was always the sucker for emotional sororal embraces. “Do remove your hat and bow, yes?”
Rarity did as she was told, placing her muzzle to the dirt.
Luna cleared her throat, levitating up the sword and throwing out her wings into a regal formation. She touched the end of the sword to one of Rarity’s shoulders, commencing her address. “Empowered by ancient decree we do, as Queen Nocturnal, Princess Eternal, and Goddess Primordial, use the Royal Prerogative, to Grant thee the Comital Title of Mareanello and all Lower Realms.” She touched the other shoulder. “Arise, once a Common Subject, now a Noble.”
Fluttershy leaned over to the minister, murmuring in his ear. “How does she do that thing with the, uh, capitalization? She’s just speaking. Why do I know how that, um, looked?”
He shrugged. “Alicorn magic. Celestia does it too. Don’t think about it too much,” he replied.
Rarity, as commanded, arose, replacing the cap upon her head. “Remarkable! Incredible!” she squealed in foalish glee. “I’m a countess!”
Luna smiled. “Yes, you are. Personally, we’re impressed we did that correctly. It has been nigh on twelve hundred years since our last ennoblement, but we, er–” she wracked her brain for the correct slang “–nailed it?”
“I’d say.” Rarity smiled broadly. “Now, when do I get my crown?”
“You don’t,” The minster replied, looking through a parchment he had surreptitiously extracted from a vest pocket. “The position has no crown jewels, and certainly none on this side of the ocean.”
“Oh.” Rarity looked slightly crestfallen. “Do we receive any, ah, tax income? A stipend perhaps?”
“You do.” The minister looked further down his sheet. “You get, er, two bits in taxes. It’s not much of a county, I’m afraid.”
“Oh.” Rarity was beginning to see how Luna could give this title away. “But I do get a castle, correct?”
“No, you–” The minister looked at the bottom of the sheet. “Yes, actually, you do. There is a castle attached to the property, it appears. No word on condition, however.”
Rarity had heard enough. “That is sufficient. It will do.”
Luna coughed slightly. “Well! Now that we have finished that business, Fluttershy, I believe the minister has a proposal for you as well?”
“Oh?" Fluttershy eyed the unicorn, who stuffed the parchment into another pocket and extracted a notebook.
“Yes, I do!” The minister read through his notes. “Whilst transiting from Canterlot to this town, we poured through the law books to find a potential position for you by which you could be compensated for traveling with your friend.”
Fluttershy held up a hoof. “Kind, but I, um, can’t.”
Luna cocked her head. “But, you had previously expressed your dissatisfaction with having to abandon mist – Countess Rarity, yes?
“Correct,” Fluttershy grumbled. “But unlike some ponies, I do have a job which I both am able and am expected to perform, so I can’t just, uh, leave for Bitaly for a month.”
“But there is an attached paycheck, yes?” Luna turned to the viscount. He nodded.
“It’s not the, uh, money, Princess.” Fluttershy shook her head. “I have a, um, responsibility to this town, and all the bits in Equestria couldn’t make up for a month’s worth of dead pets from me not being here.”
“We see.” Luna frowned. “We cannot fault your principles, although this does make Rarity’s task a fair bit more inconvenient.”
“Inconvenient?” Fluttershy raised an eyebrow. “I thought you said it was a simple task?’
“Er–” Luna scratched her head with a hoof. “Everypony needs a friend?”
Fluttershy eyed her warily.
Luna continued. “But this does mean we will be forced to find another pony with whom Rarity is friendly with; and one who can miss a month of work at that.” She looked around. “Know you any pony who fits the bill?”
“Yes,” replied Fluttershy, who eyed the clouds. “I do.”
“Who?” asked Rarity. “I can’t think of anypony myself, so I have no idea of whom you are–”
She followed Fluttershy’s eyes to the clouds. Her eyes widened in horror.
It was a gasp. "No."
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10831609
It's a fun word. It's pretty rare outside of Westminster-descended political systems. Or color variations in chicken breeding, apparently. Who knew?
Prepare to reap the whirlwind Bitaly.
Fluttershy really has come out of her shell hasn't she? Amazing what a near-death experience, attempted murder, successful murder, and hiding a body can do for you.
Hmmm, isn't Rainbow in charge (or thinks she is) of the Ponyville Weather
(and how often has she been covered by somepony else) 
This is my biggest problem with your Luna. She may do many things, but I don't see wilting as one of them.
Aside from that, I'm enjoying this immensely. Looking forward to more.
10831680
mmmmmmmmmmmyeah you're probably right. I really have intended to lessen up on the "dormattyness" of her, although I would say that it's not as much writing out of a corner at this point as it is writing out of one of those super deep Russian boreholes, but what are ya gonna do? In hindsight, I wish I had written that quoted sentence a little better; I had really meant that she shrank in response to ol' Flutterchad in a sort of previously established peuso-kinda-sorta-dominance thing, but that's not exactly what I managed to convey, and that "as usual" is almost definitely a poor move. A little awkward editing a quoted sentence though.
I know this is not a romance but one hell of a hilarious fic and that Rarity anyway made clear in the previous one she doesn't swing that way, but those two better be banging by the end of it. Sure, they might be the best of bros living life-imperiling adventures together against their will or better judgement, but I want some romantic pony cuddles goddammit!
I'd be ameliorated by RariDash, considering how things are progressing. Specially if it's completely parallel to the plot in a way it's barely mentioned but it's there nonetheless.
Finally, I LOVE IT. I love this little side universe you crafted, how Rarity and Flutters are both badasses and completely normal in the best "oh gods not this shit again" way. And how this story being a thing already makes me anxious more more and giddy knowing there might be even more of them next
Insta fave, more soon please?
Amazing
10832473
More troubling to me has always been the hay fries. I've never tried to fry a hay based batter before, but I have to think it would turn out something teeth shatteringly hard à la biscotti, which doesn't sound nice at all, really.
comital is a wonderful adjective. your use of language is superb, And is stupendous to the eyes, a veritable plethora of language dessert for me to feast upon with mine eyes. Wonderful! I cannot wait for the next instalment!
Oh, no. I haven't even read the story yet, I've just read the prequel material. This should be good. I'll let you know.
Given what a waste of protoplasm Celestia appears to be in this setting, it's a bit of surprise she actually took the trouble to set up the position of Regent for her sister in the first place. Possibly she's gone downhill in the last 1000 years.
(I know I shouldn't bother to try and make sense of it and just glory in the absurdity of it all, but honestly, you write Rarity, Luna and Fluttershy interestingly enough that I get invested in their problems. Therefore, Twilight and Celestia being complete horse butts makes me rather angrier than it would in a setting of universal lunacy such as the Pony.mov series)
Fluttershy calling Luna a "big, blue dipshit" is something I never knew I needed, but now I cannot imagine life without it.
Dirt-poor Luna is best Luna.
I can already tell this is going to go wonderfully.
I'd propose a bet that it won't actually be that simple at all, but let's be honest here...it'd be a sucker's bet.
Considering the post has been vacant for--what was it, sixty or so years?--I'd imagine the condition can be succinctly summarized as overall not great.
Oh ho ho ho, this'll be glorious!
...dare I ask just what the heck the CMC were up to just then?
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Yes. I was correct. This is going to be a completely delicious romp; Rarity and Rainbow: what can possibly go wrong. (*). And your Flutterbutters isn't so inclined to take any crap from any Princesses, so you've given me a reason to fall in love with her all over again.
And regarding Rares and Sweetie Belle. I'm guessing the Sisterhood Social is a thing that happens to other ponies. Sure, why not. It's probably for the best.
(*) Unless of course I'm incorrect with whom Rarity's "partner in crime" (and I say that with only half my tongue in my cheek) will be this round. I mean, there's always Derpy.
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I think I'm in love.
(With her, not you. Sorry.)
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I think of her doormaty-ness (that's a word now) is perfectly in character. She's still new to the world and still has no idea what's going on. And she's obviously feeling regretful for her whole bratty-sister, Nightmare Moon, goth phase. I'm sure she'll get over it with a little time to get her bearings and Celestia doing something really stupid that sets her off. Then I expect she'll be fine.
In what way shape or form is this plan of Luna's a good idea? I mean seriously! Just send some guards to get the purse and return it to Canterlot! Although Rarity does deserve a title and I totally see her starting a series of wars that eventually turns herself in the the Caeser of Bitaly after a war of ruin and blood!
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Ah, except I think the purse getting left where it was had been done deliberately...if you catch my meaning here.
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Luna doesn't have any goons to send, but even if she did, the purses only open for the correct pony, hence why Minister Bags (free copy of bad rats to whomever tells me where I got that name btw) tells moonbutt she needs someone to acquire the title and thus the ability to open it. I would say they work like magical blockchains, but I don't actually understand how crypto works, so that's probably wrong.
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Meanwhile, in the CMC clubhouse...
"Phew-ee, Scoots, you weren't kiddin' when you said this stuff stank like a tacklebox in October!" Apple Bloom waved a hoof in front of her face, the desk fan above the cauldron doing an altogether insufficient job of clearing out fumes from the room. "And jus' what the heck is 'meth-ul-aye-zation' anyway?"
Scootaloo shrugged. "I dunno. It's just a bunch of wiggly pictures in here." She turned the book around, pointing a hoof at a few arcane diagrams. "But it says we gotta do the 'methylizing' to that stuff to make the, uh-" she flipped through the book again "'-methyl phosphonous dichloride'. Whatever the heck that is."
"Ugh!" Sweetie Belle noted, to her immense displeasure, that the sleeve of wool sweater she had borrowed from her sister had obtained a brand new hoof-sized hole. She probably wouldn't notice, right? "Is that the crazy potion we're trying to make?"
"Nah, not yet." Scootaloo picked up another book: Lewis Acid's Guide to Advanced Organic Chemistry. "Then we gotta mix in the alcohol and that 'dippa' stuff before we finish with the sulfur." She looked up from the book. "How that going, Sweetie Belle?"
"It's okay, I guess." Sweetie Belle pushed around the liquid in the pot with a wooden spoon; the metal one already having been dissolved. "But this 'soul-fur-ick acid' stuff keeps burning through my clothes." She nodded towards a pile of shirts and jackets in the corner; all destroyed, all Rarity's, naturally.
"Yeah, Scootaloo, this sure is a whole load o' work jus' for some dumb potion," Apple Bloom grumbled.
"It's not dumb! It's rad! It's awesome!" Scootaloo retorted.
"You don't even know what the heck it is!" exclaimed Sweetie Belle. "How can it be awesome?"
"Uh, duh!" Scootaloo rolled her eyes, picking up a nondescript brown book. A prominent government crest sat upon the cover, joined only by the words MOST VERY SPECIAL SECRET. "Because it's in the cool book from Twilight's personal restricted section, duh!" Scootaloo gestured with the book. "And we all know that if the grown-ups don't let us see it, it's awesome! Remember the 'Cutie Mark Crusaders: Moonshine Distillers?'"
"No," answered both other fillies simultaneously. "We don't."
"Exactly! It was great!" Scootaloo tapped the side of her head with a hoof. "Think, girls! The adults said 'no,' we did it anyway, it was awesome! And this stuff now is, like, super forbidden! The book had like 30 pages about how bad it was!" At least, she thought it did. It wasn't like she read them or anything.
Sweetie Belle and Apple Bloom thought about it for a moment. She did present a solid argument.
"Yeah, I reckon you're right." Apple Bloom shrugged. "What was this crazy stuff called anyway?"
"Uhhhhhhh-" Scootaloo flipped through the brown book. "Oh, yeah! Here it is!" She turned the book around, exposing another wiggly diagram topped with a skull and crossbones. "It's called VX!"
I'm going to yell at you for this one again: Celestia would need to have stayed a blank-flank for around three centuries for this line to make sense. (I know this is a comedy and will deviate from canon as much as it needs to in order to be funny, but a century is more than enough time for six stories worth of noodle incidents to have happened so no such need exists here)
I'm glad that canon progressed in a way that makes jokes like this work. (Snap Shutter and Mane Allgood are such terrible parents that I wouldn't be surprised to learn of a defamation suit coming from Bindi Irwin, and that's just canon. This universe is probably worse.)
*Alondro follows the gaze into the clouds* They're going to ask God?
*Dash peers over the edge of a cloud* Not quite! But close enough!
Aaaaand, they're doomed.
Ouch!
Poor Sweetie Belle 