On the Fine Art of Giving Yourself Advice

by McPoodle

Chapter 11: Champagne Wishes and Caviar Dreams (P. Applejack, P. Rarity, H. Trixie, H. Pixel Pizzaz)

P. Applejack—Earth, outside Canterlot High. Mid-afternoon of Day Two.

School was out, and every student unlucky enough not to have an older friend or relative who could drive was stuck using the school buses to get home.

Applejack had Big Mac, and the family’s truck.

Big Mac waited until the truck was at a stoplight to ask the question that had been bugging him all day: “Pa was sure you got your mark yesterday with that speech. Did you have the Dream last night? Should I be taking you to the Church?”

Applejack broke out in a cold sweat—the absolute last thing she wanted to do was visit the church that was sending the other ponies back home. “I didn’t have no dream. Guess Pa must have been wrong about me getting my mark.”

In the past twenty-four hours, Applejack had uttered a lifetime’s worth of lies. So why did this one bit of technical truth hurt so much more than all of the lies put together?

Maybe it was because it was the first time in her entire life that she had ever admitted that her father was fallible.

---

P. Rarity.

Rarity fit into the very tiny third category of after-school kids: those who had to take a city bus, because they had an after-school job.

(Yes, yes, and there’s also the group of kids who got to walk home from school, but I think I’ve belabored this plot point quite enough.)

As Rarity was waiting for her bus, her phone started ringing. Actually, what she heard was the voice of Pinkie Pie going “ring-ring-ring-ring-ring!” With a smile, she pulled the phone out of her purse and answered it. Since she was alone at the bus stop, she chose to hold the phone before her so she could see which personality she was speaking with from moment to moment.

“Hi, it’s me!” Pinkie announced from the phone’s screen, with the facade of the Markist Church behind her. There was absolutely no sign that she was actually using a phone to call Rarity.

“Hi, Pinkie,” Rarity said. “I hope you’re not coming to pick me up—I’m going to work.”

“Um...noooo!” Pinkie lied. “I, uh, called to see how your day went.”

“It went well, thank you for asking,” Rarity said. “The students asked about you.”

“They did?” Now this was a new one—it looked and sounded like Pinkie was speaking, but Rarity was confident that it was Pinkamena’s thoughts that were being expressed. And Pinkamena was extremely doubtful of Rarity’s statement.

“Yes, they were all worried about you.”

“Yeah, right!” Pinkamena exclaimed. “Schoolfillies are all the same! And none of those other fillies ever...” Pinkamena raised a clenched fist and closed her eyes. Slowly, she shifted back into Pinkie. “...But that’s assuming, and assuming is wrong.” Pinkie opened her eyes. “What did you tell them?”

“Not much,” Rarity reported. “They know that you’ve changed, and you want to be called ‘Pinkie’ now. I’m leaving the rest to you for tomorrow.”

“We might not even be here for tomorrow!” Pinkie then caught herself. “Um...I mean, is that it?”

Rarity looked at Pinkie curiously. “What else would there be?”

“You know...that big thing that happened...that you forgot to tell me...that I’m not supposed to know yet because I’m not reading your mind anymore...but you were very loud about it when it happened...”

“Oh!” Rarity exclaimed. “That’s right! My plan with the church worked out. But I was never contacted afterwards, despite giving my phone number to Father Gnosi. Maybe the Princess is too busy?”

“Probably,” said the voice of Maud from off-screen.

“And the part I forgot to tell you was that Father Gnosi has a Marking Plate for you that you need to claim.”

“Yay!” Pinkie exclaimed. “Okay, so I’m going to get the plate, and then I’ll meet you at the Pizzaz house. Assuming my precognition is working correctly. I always get new quirks and limitations with that particular power depending on my host, so—” She finally noticed the finger being held up by Rarity.

“Alright, first? I didn’t need to hear that,” said Rarity.

“Sorry.”

“And second, that ‘limitation’ is probably that you can only predict fun things, and not horrible things that you can’t prevent.”

“How do you figure that?” Pinkie asked.

“Because that one’s far better for my blood pressure.” Rarity looked up to see a car driving up to the bus stop, with Pixel Pizzaz sticking her head out and yelling her name. “I’ll see you then.”

“Say bye, Maud!”

“Bye, Maud.”

Rarity returned the phone to her purse with an incredulous expression. “Was that a joke?” she asked herself.

“Hey, Rarity!” Pixel cried out. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m going to my job with Prim Hemline,” Rarity replied.

“Nope,” Pixel said, and pulled out her phone to play a video.

The video showed Prim Hemline speaking into the phone. “Rarity,” she said, “I absolutely forbid you to waste a day at my shop after so spectacularly getting your mark. Now be a dear and let this young woman kidnap you.”

“‘Kidnap’?” Rarity asked herself, having never encountered the word before.

“Just get in,” Trixie said from the back seat.

‘Oh,’ thought Rarity. ‘So “ponynap”.’

“I figured since both of my best friends got their marks on the same day that I’d get you both together to organize your joint marking out party,” Pixel explained. “Especially since you’d have a fit if we tried to do it as a surprise and got the colors a shade off.”

Rarity rolled her eyes, but did not refute the accusation. She then walked around and got into the car’s back seat on the side not occupied by Trixie. “Hello, Trixie.”

“Hello, Rarity,” Trixie replied, before turning her head to glare at Pixel’s reflection in the passenger-side vanity mirror. “Hey, if we’re both your best friends, how come you never mentioned Rarity to me before?”

“Hey, a girl’s got to have her secrets,” Pixel said in her own defense. “I’m an International Woman of Mystery!”

“How many more ‘best friends’ do you have that I don’t know about?”

Pixel looked urgently over to the driver, her mother. “Hey, isn’t that the bus right behind us? We better leave right now so they can pick up passengers!”

With a sly smile, Mrs. Pizzaz accelerated sharply into traffic, shutting Trixie up.

# # #

Their next stop was Platinum Junior High, where Rarity’s sister Sweetie Belle was waiting.

Rarity was eager to see what her baby sister might grow up to become. The human Sweetie Belle looked self-assured. She was dressed and coiffed impeccably, but that was to be expected given who was certainly in charge of those categories. In addition, she had an interest in learning, judging from the book she was reading while she was waiting. And she had at least some interest in drama, because the book was the screenplay of the 1950 motion picture Sunset Boulevard.

And finally, she was polite. “Hello Pixel, Mrs. Pizzaz,” she said as she approached the car. “Are we staying over with you tonight?”

“No, I don’t think so,” Rarity said.

“So your parents didn’t even make arrangements for you to stay with somebody else...again?” Pixel asked with a near-audible eye-roll.

“We’re perfectly alright taking care of ourselves if that wasn’t part of your plan,” Rarity said to the mother-and-daughter pair.

“Does that mean I can cook?!” Sweetie Belle asked, her voice squeaking on the last word.

“Under my supervision I suppose,” Rarity said quietly.

“Not if you don’t want the house to burn down,” Pixel said more loudly at the exact same moment.

The two of them looked at the other like they were insane.

Sweetie Belle crossed her arms and pouted at Pixel’s words.

Rarity got out of the car, so Sweetie Belle could sit between her and Trixie.

“Hi, I’m Trixie,” Trixie said to Sweetie Belle.

“I’m Sweetie Belle,” Sweetie Belle said as she put her backpack down on the floor between her feet.

Rarity got in, and shut the door. “So how was your slumber party last night?”

“Rarity!” Sweetie Belle whined. “I’m too old for slumber parties. It was a sleepover.”

“Alright, how did the sleepover go?”

“It was fine. We started watching the Extended Edition of Lord of the Rings, but Apple Bloom fell asleep around ‘They’re taking the hobbits to Isengard’, so I had to watch the rest all by myself.”

Rarity had no idea what her sister was talking about. Mrs. Pizzaz wondered if Sweetie Belle had gotten any sleep whatsoever, and if not, when her current sugar-powered high was going to crash.

“I got to meet Applejack,” Sweetie continued. She looked right at Rarity when she added, “I get what you see in her.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Rarity demanded.

“She’s weeeeiiirrrd,” Sweetie teased.

Rarity “harumph”ed. Complete with actually saying “Harumph!”

“So,” Sweetie asked, “if we’re not spending the night with the Pizzaz family, what are we doing?”

“We’re arranging a marking out party for your sister and Trixie,” Pixel explained.

Sweetie turned to Rarity, her hand out. “What’s your new mark look like?” she asked coldly.

Rarity pulled out the marking plate and gave it to her sister.

Sweetie examined it. “So why didn’t you tell me when you got it?” she asked, clearly hurt about being left out of her older sister’s big moment.

“I...well...”

“She didn’t tell anybody,” Pixel said.

This immediately changed Sweetie Belle’s expression, from a pout to a smirk. “Oh, I get it.” She gave the trio of three different blue gems another look. “‘Oh, I shan’t reveal my mark to another soul,’” she said, in a parody of Rarity’s voice. “‘It’s vile asymmetry is a stain upon the Mark of Fashion. It is, in fact, the worst. Possible. Thing!”

And then Sweetie put a hand up to her forehead and pretended to swoon. Complete with exclaiming “Swoon!”

Everyone other than Rarity then laughed.

“I do not sound like that!” Rarity said in a small voice, sulking. She began to regret having a sister old enough to be capable of expressing her thoughts to others.

# # #

The next and last stop was the home of the Pizzaz family. In form the house was nearly identical to all of the other houses in the neighborhood, the kind of two story townhouse that might be found in any suburb in America. This one was painted white with raspberry red highlights, the best colors to complement the Pizzaz family colors of light gold, light opal and chartreuse green.

Once inside the house, Mrs. Pizzaz led the girls to the kitchen, where she had set up rolls of paper and jars of easily-cleanable paint. “Have fun!” she told them, before retreating to the next room over to do the laundry.

Pixel collected the marking plates from both Rarity and Trixie and propped them up against the napkin holder so they stood on end. She took some paper and a pencil, and started drawing the symbols from the two plates in different ways.

Rarity took a mirror out of her purse, then walked over to Trixie and held it up so she could see her reflection right next to Trixie’s face. “The dominant colors for the decorations are going to have to be indigo and violet, obviously.”

Trixie looked in confusion between her own reflection in the mirror and Rarity’s face. “Obviously?”

“But sadly, they are far too close to each other on the color wheel. And this eggshell white just will not do!” (The “eggshell white” referred to the colors of the walls and ceiling.) “We’ll simply have to paint everything in the house canary yellow. Or cornflower blue, but that would make you invisible, Trixie!” She then laughed at her own joke.

Trixie glared at Rarity. She remembered her vow from yesterday to get to the bottom of Rarity’s suspicious behavior, and began to plot.

Mrs. Pizzaz opened the door of the laundry room. “We are not repainting the house,” she declared with finality, before closing the door.

“Very well,” said a defeated Rarity. That tone of defeat lasted about a millisecond. “We’ll switch to a shade of blue that works with both a white background and my indigo tresses.”

“Forget about the colors!” Trixie declared. “It’s not like anybody would notice.”

Rarity gasped in shock, but quickly recovered. “Well, they will notice the symbology.” She pulled some paper off of the nearest roll and started putting a design down with the paints. “Now I was thinking that we combine the magic wand from your mark with one of the gems from my mark, like...so!”

Trixie looked at the design. “Could you draw a thinner line? My part of the design is basically not there, while your gem is enormous!”

“Relative financial value, Darling,” Rarity explained.

“Relative financial...!” Trixie took a moment to take in a breath. “Look, it’s a party for two separate people, not a couple, so the symbols should be separate. And mine doesn’t have to literally be my new mark, since the plates are going to be displayed front and center anyway. Mine can be...” A crafty expression appeared upon her face. “...A unicorn horn, to symbolize magic. What would your symbol be? A horn, a pair of wings, or a hoof?”

“Disembodied pony parts? How horrid!” Rarity exclaimed. “Wands and gems are fine.”

Having got what she wanted out of Rarity—getting her to say the word “pony” first—Trixie moved back to her own interests. “Now with the symbols out of the way, let’s move on to the entertainment! I’ve got a complete magic set that would be perfect for a birthday party, ages thirteen to seventeen. I haven’t gotten a marking party routine yet, but this is close enough, right?”

Rarity sighed. “Trixie, it’s a bit uncouth to perform at one’s own party. You already are the center of attention.”

Trixie pouted. “You’re just jealous because you haven’t got anything to do at the party.”

“I shall be the mistress of ceremonies,” Rarity countered. “That will be more than enough.”

“Co-mistress.”

“We shall see about that.”

Trixie quietly screamed in frustration and stalked off to the living room.

Rarity looked around at Pixel and Sweetie, to see that she clearly was in the wrong. But she wasn’t ready to admit that yet, so she picked up a pen and a notepad. “I’m going to refresh my memory of the rest of the house,” she declared. “So to best optimize our color choices.” She then walked into the hall, and up the stairs to the second floor.

Pixel looked helplessly at Sweetie.

Sweetie shrugged. “I’m going to talk to Trixie,” she said, before leaving the room.

The doorbell then rung.

“And I’m going to answer the door,” Pixel said to nobody, getting up.

---

H. Trixie.

“Did I screw up?” Trixie asked herself. “Because when somebody yells, it’s usually my fault.” She was sitting on the couch, watching Adventure Time.

“It’s not your fault,” Sweetie Belle said, sitting down beside her. “Rarity is weird.”

Trixie thought about her continuing investigation. “I think something’s going on with your sister,” she confided. “I think she’s hiding something.”

“Finally!” Sweetie exclaimed. “I’ve been trying to tell people that exact same thing, but nobody listens to me!”

“So what do you think is going on?” Trixie asked.

Sweetie looked around to make sure nobody was listening in, then she beckoned Trixie to lean over so she could whisper in her ear. “I think she’s a space alien.”

Trixie leaned back—this was not exactly what she was hoping to hear. “For how long?” she asked.

“For as far back as I remember,” Sweetie answered. “She thinks she’s doing a good job of impersonating a human being, but she’s clearly not. She’s got a collection of videotapes for some 80’s TV show called Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous, and every year I catch her watching the whole series in her room, talking along with the weird announcer guy. Who also is probably an alien.”

Trixie then concluded that this was just a sister thing. “Thanks for coming out here to talk,” she said, getting up. “I guess I’ll go back and help Pixel plan the party. Coming with?”

“No, I’m good,” Sweetie said, picking up the television remote control and turning up the volume. “I think Rarity is less crazy when I’m not around.” She squinted her eyes dramatically while adding, “She knows that I know too much about her true nature.”

“Uh...right,” Trixie responded, before turning and leaving.

---

H. Pixel Pizzaz.

Meanwhile, Pixel had opened the front door to see Pinkie and Maud Pie. Pinkie was in front, with an arm stretched back behind her so that Maud could hold her hand. “Hello, Pinkie, Maud. What can I do for you?” Pixel asked.

“H...hi,” Pinkie said, caught off guard by Pixel using the correct name. “I came to see Rarity.”

“How did you know she was here?” Pixel asked suspiciously.

Pinkie’s eyes darted around as she tried to think of a non-creepy method for knowing where Rarity was.

“The two of them got friend-tracking apps on their phones,” Maud blatantly lied. Since she said it with confidence and in her toneless voice, the lie was impossible to detect—as long as you didn’t remember the fact that none of the Pies were allowed by their parents to have mobile phones.

Pixel failed to remember this fact. “OK. We’re planning the marking out party for her and my other friend Trixie. Would you like to help?”

“Would I?” Pinkie asked, getting a little giddy. “I got my own mark yesterday for giving my first party!”

“That’s great!” Pixel exclaimed. “Come on in.” She waited until they were both inside and the door was closed to add. “I love your new look.”

Pinkie froze and turned around. “You...do?” she asked neutrally.

Maud once again grabbed her hand for moral support.

“Yeah,” Pixel said, feeling put on the spot. “I...I’m sorry I never really was there for you before. You were sort of invisible.”

Pinkie said nothing.

“And I’m glad you’ve got your life turned around,” Pixel added. “I should have done more to help you out.” She looked down at the ground. “I should have been there for you yesterday when you needed somebody.” She looked back up at Pinkie. “I thought about doing something, a lot, but I never did anything. And just thinking is not good enough.”

“It’s alright, Pixel,” Maud said. “You were Marble’s friend, not hers. And you may not believe me, but your strong thoughts did matter in the end.”

Pixel gave Maud a confused look, before turning once again to Pinkie. “I want to make up for that. I’d like to be your friend, if you like. I’d like to get to know you...the whole you.” She punctuated this last part by drawing a circle around Pinkie’s head with a finger.

Pinkie looked away, her mind engaged in an energetic internal debate, before turning back. “I...I’d like that,” she said. “You must be a really good person to befriend Marble.”

For a moment, Pixel thought she saw the shy vulnerable Pinkamena in Pinkie’s eyes. She smiled. “Let me introduce you to Trixie,” she said, leading the pair back into the kitchen, where Trixie was waiting for her. “Trixie, these are Rarity’s friends, Pinkie Pie and her sister Maud.” Pixel looked over at Maud, to see if she was overstepping her bounds by naming her as Rarity’s friend. Maud gave a barely-noticeable shrug of her shoulders. “Pinkie also got her mark yesterday.”

Pinkie pulled a pink plate with three balloons on it from her purse, and handed it to Pixel, who set it up next to the other two plates.

“Okay, that makes sense, Pinkie. What about you, Maud? What do you bring to this party?”

“I’m Pinkie’s reality consultant,” Maud said.

“Huh,” was Trixie’s response.

“Pinkie would like to take over the planning, if you don’t mind, Trixie,” Pixel explained. “Her mark is in party planning.”

Trixie picked up the plate and looked at it for a moment, then shrugged as she put it back. “Fine with me. Somebody needs to keep Rarity and I from tearing each other’s hair out.”

“Our disagreement was nowhere near that bad,” Rarity said, walking back into the kitchen. She then glared at Trixie, who glared back at her.

Pinkie looked quietly back and forth between the two glare queens, before pointing at Rarity. “You, stay here and I’ll collect your ideas.” She then pointed to Trixie. “And you, go somewhere where you can’t hear us. Pixel, could you stay as an unbiased observer? I don’t want to be later accused of favoritism.”

“Absolutely!” Pixel said, sitting down.

Seeing her example, Rarity sat down beside her. “I surrender myself to your judgment, oh Pinkie the Great and Powerful.”

Trixie’s face nearly turned pink with rage. She looked back and forth between the living room blaring Adventure Time, and the laundry room with the rhythmic thumping of an unbalanced clothes dryer. And then she remembered one of her other projects. “Pixel, I think I’ll help your mother with the clothes,” she said. And then she left the room.

---

H. Trixie.

Mrs. Pizzaz was busy folding one load of clothes while another was bumping around in the dryer, and a third was being handled by the washer.

“Do you need any help?” Trixie asked. “Rarity and I aren’t allowed to talk to each other right now.”

Mrs. Pizzaz rolled her eyes out of sight of Trixie before turning around. “I’ll never turn down a little help,” she said.

# # #

Trixie folded clothes for a few minutes before speaking again. “I wasn’t born in Canterlot.”

“I know,” said Mrs. Pizzaz, not turning her head from her work.

“And so I’ve missed some stuff the rest of you probably take for granted. For instance, I only found out about Princess Somnia today.”

Mrs. Pizzaz pursed her lips but said nothing.

“The thing is, I’m a lucid dreamer, and I know for a fact that Somnia has been floating outside my dreams for a long time, silently waiting for me to let her in. I had never seen her picture in her book before today, but the figure in my dreams looked exactly like her. Is...is Somnia real?”

“Yes,” said Mrs. Pizzaz, her voice barely audible over the sounds of the washer and dryer. “Why haven’t you let her in?”

“Why?!” Trixie demanded. Practically on reflex, she reached a hand into her purse, pulled out the orange bottle, and popped a couple of pills followed by a swallow of water from her water bottle, all without breaking eye contact with Mrs. Pizzaz. After taking a calming breath, she spoke again. “This is a privacy thing, right? I’ve tried to be the best Markist I could be, but the privacy thing always gets me.”

Mrs. Pizzaz nodded. “The Goddess sees into all of our thoughts,” she said piously. “And I firmly believe that Somnia is one of Her instruments. Although...she’s not nearly as flawless as our Creator.” When Trixie said nothing, she continued. “You’ve been Outside, Trixie.” (“Outside” being the Markist term for areas of the world where they are not the majority.) “What are children like out there?”

Trixie put a hand to her chin as she thought. “My personal memories are a mess, like a neat watercolor painting hit by a fire hose. But what I see on TV largely lines up: childhood Outside is having the problems of your parents dumped on you, but no adult will listen to you when you want to get help, so the kids all turn on each other, making each other’s lives miserable. Basically, the ’86 film Stand By Me is a documentary.”

“And Inside?”

“Well, it’s far from perfect, but it’s a lot better,” Trixie answered. “I imagine there are Outsider families out there who could have been like the Apples were to my mother and me, families who would have been willing to take us in when we were doing absolutely nothing to deserve it. But that never happened to us before Canterlot. And in general, I think you have to be really, really lucky to meet such a nice family Outside. Here in Canterlot, there were three families willing to help us, including yours. And this—somebody my age talking to somebody your age like this, with no formal care relationship in place to force you to listen to me—that would never happen Outside. Everybody in Canterlot seems well-adjusted, especially the children.”

“What you’re describing didn’t happen because we’re Markists,” Mrs. Pizzaz said. “Because I remember when I was a kid, and it was just like the Outside. And then Somnia, Princess of Dreams came out, and everything started changing. Do you know what the statistics are for the number of child abuse and neglect cases reported every year in a city this size? That first year, there were nearly fifty thousand in Canterlot—it seemed like the world had fallen apart. But it was just a generation of children who had suddenly become brave enough to report what their friends and family were doing to them. There hasn’t been a single child abuse or neglect case in the past six years, Trixie, and I don’t think that’s because they are being covered up. I think it’s because it isn’t happening anymore. Because Somnia isn’t letting it happen anymore.”

“It’s still creepy,” Trixie said, crossing her arms. “One individual, able to look into our private dreams and nightmares...” A sudden thought came to her, and she looked intently into Mrs. Pizzaz’s eyes. “It’s Luna, isn’t it?” she asked. “You’ve been friends since college, so you’d know. Is Somnia Vice-Principal Luna in disguise?”

Mrs. Pizzaz tried and failed to come up with a plausible denial. She took too long.

“I knew it!” Trixie exclaimed. “She’s always trying to get into my head. Tell me she at least has a degree in child psychology.”

“Well...she minored in it.”

“That’s just great,” Trixie said sarcastically. “Although...I would love to see the look on her face if I did let her in and showed her my secret. She was so far off the mark on that one.” She glanced over at the dryer. “Oh look, the next load is done. We better get to it, huh?”

Mrs. Pizzaz saw that as a clear cue not to ask any questions about Trixie’s secret. “Alright,” she said.

“Now here’s the big question,” Trixie addressed her friend’s mother. “Has she been telling you any stories about the weirdest kids she’s been counseling in their dreams? Because if the number is greater than zero, I will be reporting her to Child Protective Services.”

“No, never.”

# # #

They were halfway through the next load when Pixel summoned Trixie back into the kitchen, to face off against a repentant Rarity.

“Trixie, will you ever forgive me?” Rarity asked. “I swear I don’t know what came over me. I was a guest of this house, and I just started acting like a greedy little dragon.”

Trixie raised an eyebrow. “I blame your sister.”

“What?” Rarity asked. “You don’t believe that those little teases of hers actually had an effect in riling me up, do you?”

“Not consciously,” Trixie replied. “But I know the weird things sisters do to each other without realizing it. I’ve seen it with the Apples all the time.”

Rarity sighed. (No, she did not say the word “sigh”. This time.) “I better go talk to her,” she said.

Pinkie flipped a page in her notebook. “Sit down, Trixie,” she said in a very serious voice. “We have a lot to discuss.”

---

P. Rarity.

Rarity would have had a heart-to-heart with Sweetie, but the girl had fallen asleep on the couch. With a smile and a roll of her eyes, Rarity carefully laid her sister down so she could sleep better. She looked over at the garish display on the television—a repeat of The Fairly OddParents—and walked over to the device, eventually figuring out how to turn down the volume. Finally, she sat down on a couch opposite her sister.

“I do hope your real sister treats you well,” she said quietly to the still form of Sweetie Belle. “I know I can get quite oblivious at times, and with her finally seeing her dreams coming true at the boutique, I can easily imagine her ignoring you now. I may not be here for very long, but I will try to do my best by you. It’s the least that you deserve.”

Sweetie Belle was only pretending to be asleep, in order to avoid getting into the inevitable fight that resulted whenever the two of them were alone together for more than five minutes. As such, she heard everything that Rarity said, but she dismissed all of it, having been subjected to a lifetime of “Rarity weirdness” in the past few years.

---

Rarity had just been called into the kitchen to begin the collaborative stage of Pinkie’s planning session when her cell phone rang. It was Father Gnosi—one of the other ponies had just been attacked, and so he was asking all of them to gather together at the Church for the night, complete with their families.

“Pixel, I’m afraid I’m going to have to call this off,” Rarity said, picking up her plate. “Pinkie and I have something going with the bishops, and they need us for tonight.”

“Oh,” said Pixel. “Should I be worried?”

“I...I’m sure it’s nothing,” Rarity lied. Then she looked at Pinkie. “But I’m confident that whatever happens, we can handle it.”

To show how ready Pinkie was to “handle it,” she cracked her knuckles—all 86 of them from the sound of it.

Mrs. Pizzaz opened the door of the laundry room. “Do you need me to drive you over?”

“No, I’ve got the family truck,” Maud explained, picking up Pinkie’s plate and handing it to her. “Thanks for offering though.”

“Don’t mention it, Maud,” Mrs. Pizzaz said, showing no surprise that the Pies had arrived without her being told.

This whole time Trixie said absolutely nothing, sitting back in her chair with a triumphant smile. That smile faded when the others left her alone with Pixel and her mother, and they both turned to her.

“Do you know what’s really going on, Trixie?” Pixel asked.

Trixie used her fingers to mime zipping her lips shut.

---

Rarity and Sweetie Belle squeezed into the narrow back seat of the Pie family truck, as Maud started the engine and Pinkie Pie strapped herself into the passenger seat.

Rarity turned to her sister. “Sweetie, I had hoped to keep you out of this mess, but it looks like I have no choice.”

Sweetie Belle’s eyes practically sparkled with excitement. “I’m ready for whatever you’re willing to tell me!”

“Well, Sweetie...the thing is...I’m actually from another dimension.”

“I knew it!” Sweetie exclaimed. “Well...I was close. I figured different planet. Not different dimension. But that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t love to see some proof.”

After taking a few moments to absorb Sweetie’s unexpected reaction, Rarity then used her magic to levitate her keys out of her purse.

“Wow, Trixie would be so jealous if she saw this!” Sweetie squeaked, passing her hands around the floating keys before plucking them out of the air. “So, how do I do that?”

Rarity frowned. “No, I don’t think you understand.”

“Yes, I do think I understand,” Sweetie said insistently. “I know that neither of us are adopted—I checked that out at the start of summer vacation. So if you’re an alien, then I’m an alien, too. So show me how you do that thing with your eyes.”

“I...what? My eyes? No, wait, stop distracting me.”

Pinkie turned around to face them. “Look, there’s an alternate reality called Equestria, where everybody’s a magical pony instead of a technological human. Since it’s an alternate reality, the humans—the Markist ones anyway—and the ponies all line up. Some magic thingee went blooey, and that made six ponies and six humans swap brains with each other. And two of them are Rarity here and yours truly.”

What she said came out at least twice as fast as you thought she said it.

Sweetie Belle blinked for a few seconds as she absorbed this. “So what you’re saying is that my real sister right now is stuck in the body of a sweaty horse.”

“I am not a ‘sweaty horse’!” Rarity retorted.

Sweetie rubbed her hands together. “Oh, I am going to hold this over her for the rest of her life.” Her look of sinister plotting suddenly evaporated, to be replaced by a look of angelic sweetness. “Rarity the Pony, O honored guest of Earth, could you please please please tell me all of your secrets? I swear I won’t use any of them against you.”

“Your sister is not just smart,” Maud observed. “She’s scary smart.”

Comments

[Velvet-Fresh]

Rarity would be probably glad her Sweetie isn't as snarky and manipulative. But would also at times wonder if having the human Sweetie is better than the pony CMC's shenanigans

[FanOfMostEverything]

I do love a good bit of sibling shenanigans. Delightful showing from Sweetie Belle… and less of one from Rarity, but at least she apologized.

Also some great stuff from Trixie, with a very nice showing from Luna in turn.

[PiMan]

A thought: Markists are powered by the sun; more sunlight means being more in tune with their pony power. Does that apply to Luna too, or does she pull her power from something more Luna-themed, like sleep or the moon?

[McPoodle]

11189108
Luna exists outside of the rules of Markism, being the counterpart of that religion's Satan. The Solarium certainly wouldn't be good for her. I would say that there is no source that would increase her power, but that instead she has vast reserves she doesn't yet know how to access. And even if she did know, she'd have to get past her inner demon to get it.