> Spoiled Fruit > by RazgrizS57 > -------------------------------------------------------------------------- > The Pet, Chapter 1 > -------------------------------------------------------------------------- There’s a human in Ponyville, and for some reason it likes to grab anypony and everypony it gets close enough to touch. Confounded, annoyed, and even a little disturbed, no one is quite sure how to handle the situation. Twilight Sparkle gets her friends together in attempt to find a solution to their problem and, furthermore, contemplate the ethical dilemma at hand. Twilight Sparkle stuck her head out the front door of the library, scanning the nearby streets for anything out of the ordinary. Granted, what she learned to be ordinary around here wouldn’t fit anyone’s definition of the word, but even Ponyville was pleasantly calm at times. Such as today, for example, but given the nature of the town’s most recent member, such serenity worried her. She quietly drew her head in and shut the front door, making doubly sure it was properly locked. A small sigh escaped her as she returned to a round table set up in the middle of the library’s main room, with a number of plush cushions surrounding it and some water glasses on top. Only one seat was available to her and she quickly took it, joining the conversation of her friends. “I don’t get what that has to do with anything,” Rarity said, frowning. Pinkie Pie slammed her hooves on the table from across. “It has everything to do with anything!” she cried. “Sandwiches need to be cut into triangles, not squares! This is the fundamental principle that all sliced bread-based foods are founded upon!” Spike inched away from her however slightly. “Sorry, Pinkie Pie,” he said, unsure of whether or not he should remove the plate from the table. “I just thought everypony would want some snacks. I wasn’t really thinking about how I should cut them.” She leaned into him and furrowed her brow. “See to it that this never happens again,” she hissed, then swiped one of the sandwiches off the plate. She slowly returned to herself, frowning the whole while she ate. Twilight found herself sitting right beside Spike and gave him a kind pat on the back. “I’m sure we can discuss the ethics of geometry later if we really want to,” she said, “but that’s not why I asked you all to come meet me today.” “I figured,” Applejack said.  Rarity gave a small nod and took a sip from her glass. She motioned with her hoof next to Applejack and said, “It’s about that human, isn’t it?” Twilight nodded back. “He’s... turning out to be quite a problem, as I’m sure you’re all aware.” Fluttershy looked at her. “You want to get rid of him?” “No,” Twilight was quick to say, turning to her side. “No. At least... no. But a lot of ponies think he’s a nuisance, and one way or another, I want to figure out a way to get him to stop being one.” “Why?” Rainbow Dash piped up, seated between Applejack and Pinkie Pie. The former gave her a sidelong glance and the latter was too focused angrily eating her sandwich. She added, “I mean, what’s the problem?” “You don’t think there’s a problem?” Applejack asked her. “What with his tendency to just walk up and start touching ponies out of the blue? Like we’re all just cats and dogs okay with being scratched?” Rainbow Dash just shrugged, and she received an even more questioning look. Rarity tossed her mane back. “I think it’s endearing, actually,” she said. “It can definitely be a bit much, I’ll give you that. But after a lady spends so much time making herself presentable and look her best every morning, it certainly feels great to be noticed for all that hard work.” Spike made a sound that was stuck between a whimper and an aggravated sigh. “Okay, so it looks like there’s some conflicting opinions,” Twilight mused. She produced a notepad and a pencil, and looked over towards Rarity. “I’m not saying there isn’t a problem,” Rarity reiterated, “just that I occasionally appreciate the attention, is all. He does have the most uncanny ability to appear at the most inconvenient times, and I suppose he can be a bit clingy. I mean, take the other day, for instance!” > Chessmasters > -------------------------------------------------------------------------- So close. He had been so, so close. He just took one step too few, and that’s all she needed to get through his defenses and strike him down. One heavy blow from a staff ablaze with righteous flame, an explosion of ice and hissing steam, and her own body shoved into his, forcing them both end over end into the glacier. But once he had finally regained the strength to move, he found himself bound, imprisoned in cold glass. And he had been so, so close to doing the same to her. If only he’d been one mere step to the right, it would be her helm sitting atop a pike in the frozen wastelands of the north, not his. He danced around his small cell, which was a rather generous word for the thing. Calling it a container would be more accurate. A box—a jar tucked away into the darkest corner of some lightless basement. A broken toy to be dealt with later and inevitably forgotten. He had nothing anymore, really, and that’s all he amounted to here. He had had it all with only everything to gain, and now he was but nothing. He pondered for the umpteenth time how she would look in his situation, stuffed into a jar a fraction of her size. It’d probably look well above the grand mantle of his castle’s study. If his castle still stood, that was. If she hadn’t razed it to the ground like he intended to do hers. He had been so, so close. He had spent his time here for an eternity before at last, a light flooded the chamber. Fresh air breathed into the room, stirring long-settled dust and cracking open the dry atmosphere. It would have blinded him if he had eyes to see, but it at least gave color to his swirling mass. The light bounced around inside him and poured back out into the room, basking the dreary stonework room with a faded shade of blue. It was Princess Celestia’s first time here in ages. The air was thick in her lungs and it seemed to make heavy her steps. Although, that might have been her reluctance at play. No matter; of all the encounters she’s had over the millennia, of all the monsters she’s faced and burdens she’d had to carry, what would follow would be a pleasant change of pace. That didn’t mean she was going to enjoy it, however. She never enjoyed dealing with these creatures. She made sure the door behind her was once again sealed, and so the only light in the room was the gentle glow of her horn. However, his swirling mass still created a very faint blue, which sparkled like a blanket of stars. Princess Celestia steeled herself, taking stand in the middle of the room, and then released him from his confinement. Instantly, the temperature in the room dropped well below freezing. There was no moisture in the air, and yet ice spawned along the cracks in the walls, building on top of itself, until the room quickly resembled a snowy cave. Everywhere except for a small pocket immediately surrounding Princess Celestia, which remained warm and untouched. He poured out of his container like a fog, coalescing into a form that resembled that of a ghost. His lower half turned to cloud and bled into the air, whereas his top took solid form and resembled a grotesquely scrawny stallion. The skin was stiff as if embalmed and his features were grossly elongated, and his eye sockets were hollow and glowed a blinding white. “You windigos always know how to make an entrance,” Princess Celestia said. Wisps of frost licked at her just to fizzle apart mere inches away. “If only I could say the same of you, Celestia,” he growled, his voice seeming to come out of the very air itself. It echoed and scratched along the icy walls. “But I suppose you are too cunning for that, now.” “Still bitter?” she asked. He danced through the air and between the room’s various corners. “For what, the destruction of all I once held dear? For stuffing me inside this tiny thing?” he asked, turning towards the container that once held him. His tendrils wrapped around and spilled into it, then grabbed at the rim and pulled. It shattered into a cloud of glass and ice. “Perhaps. But no, I do not think I am bitter. Just impatient.” “Would you like to take a guess as to why I’m here, then?” Celestia offered with a kind smile. The windigo stopped its dancing and hovered just above the floor. He was easily twice Celestia’s size, and could probably hold her head in a single hoof if he could. Unfortunately, her little spell was preventing him from getting close. And yet, she had released him from that accursed jar. “I cannot imagine you are just going to let me go,” he mused. “Of course not,” Celestia said. “I have every intention of imprisoning you again, in fact, but not here. You’ll be getting transferred to a specially designed hold in Tartarus, just for you.” There was a pause as he picked from the thoughts in his mind. “However...” “Perhaps a bit of an explanation is in order, first,” she said, and a spark erupted under her hooves. It quickly transformed into an elegant throw pillow which she then sat down on. “Luna and I have recently taken an initiative to reform our various enemies, to see if we can’t at all instill a bit of harmony into their malicious selves.” She closed her eyes. “Unfortunately, there are some who are beyond reason and redemption. So long as they remain a threat to Equestria and the world at large, we can’t tolerate their presence in this realm, and so we’ve started banishing them to the depths of Tartarus.” “I concede the point,” he hissed. “It is a wise decision, even if the ethics behind it are questionable at best.” “That is something we’ve had to consider,” she said, nodding. She looked up at him. “However, it should be noted that at the worst, very few would oppose the idea, especially when the subjects of that question are brought to light. Nonetheless, we can’t in good conscious just oust you without some form of reparation. So, Luna and I have decided to grant these... stubborn characters a wish. A last request, if you will.” He paused again in thought. “For anything?” “Within reason.” “Interesting,” the windigo mused. “And what makes you think I cannot be... reformed?” “Your siblings had every chance, but refused our kind approaches and responded with bloodlust.” Celestia blinked at him. “Would you really like to give it a shot?” He stirred. “My siblings...” he mumbled, and then slowly let out a hearty chuckle. It pounded against her like a stone to chest. “Those fools were always so dense and narrow minded,” he said. “I was always the quiet one, calculating, cautious. I suppose that was my downfall, was it not?” Celestia stared quietly at him. He snorted. “Dare I ask what has become of them?” “Pavor possessed my sister a thousand years ago and attempted to plunge the world into eternal night. I banished him then, and he returned in recent years only to suffer the same fate—this time, free of his clutches on my sister.” “My condolences,” he said. Celestia continued, “Sombra took over your kingdom shortly after I had initially defeated you, enslaved the populace, and tipped over the balance of harmony. When my sister and I struck him down, he took the kingdom with him. Once he resurfaced, again recently, he was destroyed by the crystal heart. The kingdom now lives prosperously as an Equestrian vassal.” > Derpy and Carrot Top go on an Epic Quest to Save the Word, Prologue > -------------------------------------------------------------------------- “So, Rarity,” Twilight said, “why don’t you explain to me again how this happened?” “Well...” Rarity clicked her tongue. “About a week ago, last Monday if I recall, I was running some afternoon errands and happened to trip over what I thought was a giant ruby just laying in the middle of the road.” A small smile appeared on her face and she quickly pushed it away. “But upon closer inspection, I didn’t know what it was other than some sort of crystal. And it was so oddly shaped and had this unique shade of red to it, I was undecided on whether or not I wanted to use it in an upcoming fashion line. So I took it home and put on my dresser to deal with later. Then you came over that evening, and—” “I quickly realized it was King Sombra’s disembodied horn,” Twilight finished for her, deadpan. “I get that. I told you to just not touch it and maybe sleep in your guest room until I finished my research on how to handle this.” “And I did just that!” Rarity said aghast, throwing a hoof over her chest. “Then how’d it end up inside your safe?” “Ah, well, that’s a different story,” Rarity muttered, looking away. “We’re all ears,” Applejack said. Rarity shot her a look, dragging out a pause before saying, “Sweetie Belle had her friends over a few nights ago for a sleepover, and they tried to get their cutie marks in animal care, and by giving Opalescence a bath.” She shivered. “The poor dear was having none of it, so she ran, and those three ran after her. One thing led to another and they ended up knocking it onto the floor. I’ll have you know I did not want to touch that thing in any way whatsoever, so I got a broom and dustpan with the intent of just sweeping it up, and that’s when, well, it ate my dustpan.” “Sombra’s horn ate your dustpan,” Twilight repeated. “Not literally,” Rarity said, waggling a hoof in the air dismissively. “But it was a gift from my mother when I first moved out of her place. It had these small encrusted gemstones all over it, and as soon as I picked up that... horn, with it, all those gems melted away and a swirling ball of black gas just appeared around the base of the horn! And it had eyes! Why, I’d never been so scared in my life!” “I heard the screams from Sugarcube Corner,” Pinkie Pie quipped. “Anyways, I also had my safe open at the time,” Rarity said, motioning to the small black box bolted into the far corner of her bedroom. “I was just doing some reorganization, and I have this big diamond in there—a gift, from a distant friend of mine. For better or for worse, I guess, Sombra was attracted to it? I just watched in shock at what looked like a red railroad spike with a little black head just floated over and into the safe. Thinking quickly, I sealed it while he was still in there, but now I’m afraid to even stand around it!” “So Sombra eats gems and grows bigger?” Applejack asked nobody in particular. “That’s troubling.” “It shouldn’t complicate things,” Twilight admitted, ruffling her wings in discomfort. “I wasn’t able to find much information about him other than what we already know, and even then, that isn’t much. Spike’s helping the princesses with a project in Canterlot, but I did send a letter to Princess Cadance in the Crystal Empire asking for assistance. I know she’s busy right now, so I don’t expect her to come help personally, but I hope she’ll be able to offer some insight in her reply, or even a means of stopping him more effectively since it’s obvious he isn’t as ‘defeated’ as we first thought.” “When should you be hearing back from her?” Rarity asked. “The first thing I did was send that letter out,” Twilight said. “I should be getting a response today, actually.” “Then shouldn’t you be at your place to accept your mail?” “Taken care of,” Twilight said with a nod. “Rainbow Dash is there. She’ll pick it up as soon as the mailpony drops it off and get to us here asap.” Fluttershy stared at the safe out of the corner of her eye. “Shouldn’t we wait until we get Cadance’s letter, though? I’d probably be a lot safer that way, don’t you think?” Twilight shook her head. “The least amount of time we let him plan an escape, the better. But the small corner of Rarity’s bedroom doesn’t really give us much room to work with, regardless of what Cadance’s instructions might be.” She lifted the large, empty fish tank she had brought. “We need to get him trapped inside something more manageable. That’s why I’ve called for all of you to come help, because this definitely won’t be easy.” “Just don’t make too big of a mess of my room,” Rarity said worryingly, slowly turning her gaze around and into a threatening glare. Pinkie Pie seemed to recoil. “Hey, this wasn’t my idea!” she snapped, clutching the large umbrella standing beside her tightly. “Twilight said I need this to, uh...” “To corral Sombra in case he tries to fly away,” Twilight answered. “Just be careful, please...” Rarity said. “It’s a precautionary measure. I don’t think she’ll be needing to use it that much,” Twilight said. “Applejack’s going to be baiting him to me so I can trap him.” “Yup!” Applejack said. She had a rope held between her teeth and she jerked her head, and a bright-blue gemstone tied to the other end expertly flicked through the air before landing right at the base of her hooves. “I got this big juicy diamond here for him. Or, at least, I think he’d find it juicy. I dunno.” “That’s a sapphire, not a diamond,” Rarity corrected, and she couldn’t help but stare at it. “And wherever did you find it? The cut is gorgeous and it looks absolutely stunning!” “Oh, I just reached into your jewelry box and plucked the fanciest one I could find.” “Applejack!” she barked. “Well, obviously you haven’t been using it if you forgot it was yours!” Applejack remarked. “Girls, please!” Twilight shouted. “Focus! We all need to work together on this!” Rarity sighed. “Alright, fine. Just tell us what we need to do.” “That safe is bolted into the wall, right?” she asked, and got a nod in return. “Right. So our only real option is to open the safe and catch him. I don’t know how strong he is, so Pinkie Pie, I need you to guard the door and windows with your umbrella in case he tries to escape.” “On it!” Pinkie Pie said with a salute. She turned and leapt towards the bedroom door, only to drift lazily back to the floor as she held onto the opened umbrella like a parasail, giggling. Twilight rolled her eyes. “Applejack? As soon as that safe door opens, I need you to get that sapphire in Sombra’s face. But once he starts going after it, don’t let him have it.” “You can count on me,” Applejack said with a nod, adjusting the hat on her head. “I am,” Twilight said, and she turned to her side. “But just in case, Fluttershy?” Fluttershy squeaked and jumped, almost losing her grip on the small butterfly net in her hooves. Twilight kept her face completely straight. “Go up near the ceiling and be ready. You need to be able to drop on Sombra at any moment should he get by the rest of us, alright?” “Right,” Fluttershy said sternly, but her voice cracked at the end. She gripped the butterfly net tightly and flew up above the rest of the group. Twilight exhaled deeply and glanced to Rarity, which was the only command her friend needed to see. Rarity gulped and slowly walked over to the safe, bending down and lighting her horn to undo the safe’s complex combination lock. After a couple of seconds there was a deafening clang as the tumblers released, and with a little bit of magic on the handle, she gave everypony in the room a final, wary look. Twilight nodded and lifted the fish tank in front of her face, and Rarity shut her eyes and opened the door. Applejack snapped her head and threw the sapphire at the safe as Rarity squealed and jumped aside, but she was too late to catch King Sombra as he came rocketing out at the very second. A swirling black ball of gas trailed behind his horn as it pierced the air, making a beeline straight for the bedroom door. Twilight yelped and threw the fish tank high to intercept, but she just barely missed him. Pinkie Pie leapt into the air, aiming her umbrella like a javelin before springing it open right in front of Sombra. The ball of gas smacked into the umbrella and rebounded off the ceiling, missing Fluttershy as she dove for cover, and right into the Applejack’s path. She twisted around and sent the sapphire up to meet him, but Sombra unexpectedly made a sharp turn before he could see the gem and shot for the far window, flying right over Rarity’s bed. Rarity was standing on her bed when this happened and screamed again, diving out of the way as Twilight jumped after Sombra and swung with the fish tank. She missed again, and Pinkie Pie once more came in at the last moment and deflected Sombra off course before he could reach the windows. Applejack snarled and threw the sapphire a third time, and this time Sombra’s eye snapped to it. He made a sharp right turn after it, and with a grunt of satisfaction, Applejack jerked her head from side to side, whipping the sapphire away and around the room. While she could expertly spin the rope as to not hit anything in the room, Sombra was more clumsy, and he slammed carelessly against the various furniture in his pursuit. Meanwhile Fluttershy buzzed around above randomly, her eyes clenched shut, and her hooves swinging the butterfly net wildly beneath her. “Applejack!” Rarity yelled from under her bed after Sombra had knocked a lamp to the floor. “Watch what you’re doing!” “Can it!” Applejack barked, her eyes focused upwards. “Twilight!” “I’m here!” Twilight yelled, flying into the path of the sapphire with the fish tank held into front of her chest. Applejack snapped her head again and yanked back the sapphire, causing Sombra to again overshoot and slam bodily into the fish tank. The collision knocked the wind out of Twilight and she twirled, but she was able to keep herself aloft and kicked off the nearest wall. She dropped to the floor and slammed the fish tank upside down against the ground, laying on top of it and gasping for air. “Ha! Gotcha!” Applejack said, absentmindedly pulling back on the sapphire a final time. She didn’t at all notice Rarity jump to catch it before it could hit the ground, nor did she see the utterly frustrated look she was receiving. She cantered up to Twilight and said, “That went by quicker than I thought it would, honestly.” “Easy!” Pinkie Pie exclaimed in agreement, floating down beside them on the umbrella. “Could’ve been done with a little more finesse,” Rarity mumbled, replacing the lamp that had fallen. “But I suppose all that matters is that that is finally dealt with,” she added, pointing back to the fish tank. Twilight was able to pull herself upright upon it, but it still felt like she was breathing through a straw. Nonetheless, she kept her weight onto the fish tank, preventing Sombra from escaping. Two beady eyes glowered from the black stub of smoke attached to the base of the horn, showering the ponies with silent curses as Sombra plinked around against the translucent walls of his newfound prison. Applejack tapped the side of it, and this only seemed to further infuriate Sombra. “The feller certainly doesn’t look too happy.” “I’d be worried if he wasn’t,” Rarity mused. She looked towards the ceiling and said, “Fluttershy, dear! It’s all over! You can come down now!” Fluttershy opened her eyes, just in time to catch herself from flying into a wall. She glanced down at her butterfly net and asked, “Did I get him?” “Nah, but you were a sure help regardless,” Applejack said. She glanced out of the corner of her eye. “Unlike somepony...” Rarity brought a hoof to her chest and gasped. “How dare you imply I did nothing to contribute to King Sombra’s recapture!” She scoffed. “That was a lot of running and screaming you were doing.” Rarity gnashed her teeth. “Applejack...” “It’s okay, Rarity,” Fluttershy said, landing right beside her. “I didn’t do much either.” Before Rarity could decide how to respond to that—if at all—Pinkie Pie asked, “What now?” “Now,” Twilight said, her breathing becoming level, “we wait for Rainbow Dash. She should be here any minute now.” “I sure hope so,” Applejack said, forming a slight frown as she continued to watch Sombra. “You sure that thing’s strong enough to hold him?” “Positive,” Twilight replied, patting the overturned underside of the fish tank. “The glass in here is made from a special blend of calcium carbonate. It makes it incredibly strong, and I made sure to buy the fish tank with the thickest walls there was.” “Calcium carbonate?” Pinkie Pie tilted her head. “You mean limestone?” “I think so?” Twilight said. “Limestone?” Rarity asked aloud. A second passed and she finally settled on an expression to show: deep concern. “Twilight,” she pressed, “Glass where pristine transparency is the most desirable trait—such as a fish tank—isn’t made from limestone. They’re made from flint glass.” Applejack blew a raspberry. “I really don’t think we need a lesson on specifics right now, Rarity.” She was promptly ignored. Rarity took a weary step towards a confused Twilight and said, “Flint glass is made from lead. Specifically, lead crystal.” Twilight sat there puzzled for a second, the synapses of her mind firing together repeatedly, before they shorted out and she finally understood what Rarity was telling her, and more importantly, her critical error. Her eyes went wide and crossed, her pupils shrunk to pinpricks, and her heart did a nosedive into the pit of her stomach. She poked her head down just in time to catch the glass wall of the fish tank fizzle and melt, and the ball of smoke inside grew. She blinked at it, and it blinked back at her, and then the fish tank toppled over like a domino, taking her with it. Twilight sprawled out on the floor completely absent minded and Rarity screamed, retreating to the sanctuary of the space beneath her bed. Applejack jumped over to try and wrestle the fish tank away, but she fell back with an audible pop! and when she righted herself, saw she was only holding the plastic base. The glass continued to melt until nothing remained, the vapors coalescing with the rest of Sombra’s form. He now looked like the ghost a newborn unicorn foal, with a horn the entire length of his body sprouting out of his forehead. Sombra made a run for the door and Pinkie Pie jumped at him with her umbrella, but was too slow to get in front and stop him. The umbrella sprung open uselessly, and Sombra spared the ponies in the room a fleeting glance, taking in the joy of their shocked and defeated faces. He suddenly got a face full of net and crashed bodily into the floor. Fluttershy yelped, her grip on her butterfly net set like stone, and Sombra dragged her to the floor in a disoriented heap. Applejack was already on her hooves and as soon as they crashed, she had Sombra by the net as well. Pinkie Pie quickly joined the fray, and together they held down Sombra as he tried desperately to lift off the floor. The glare in his eyes was back like never before, and he hissed curses at the ponies who’d foiled his escape yet again. “You’re not going anywhere!” Pinkie Pie exclaimed, a determined smile set across her face. Then, all of a sudden, the bedroom windows blew open and the three ponies were tackled to the floor. Rainbow Dash poked her head up from the pile of bodies, holding a book-sized box aloft. “Got it!” she declared. “You got him?” Rarity asked, her head poking out from underneath her bed hopefully. Rainbow Dash glanced at her. “Him?” she asked dumbly, looking between her and the box. She placed an ear against the box and shook it experimentally. “Cadance didn’t put any air holes in it,” she answered, a bit of worry in her tone. “I think she meant Sombra,” Twilight said, finally coming out of her stupor. She rose unsteadily and glanced around. “We have him, right?” Fluttershy looked at her broken butterfly net in despair. The door to Rarity’s bedroom hung limply open. Pinkie Pie slammed a hoof into the floor. “I knew we should have closed that!” she declared. > Door Walker, Chapters 1-2 > -------------------------------------------------------------------------- You are cursed. Every door you open is a literal portal, one that will take you anywhere in the world. One moment you could be running through a hospital in Baltimare and you open the door to the restroom, and the very next you find yourself entering an apartment overlooking the Manehattan skyline. As such, you’re never in one place for long. You are always moving, always pushing through your weary life for a little bit of food and rest; whatever it takes to survive, to persevere, even if it means running away from the aspects of life meant to slow you down. The last thing you want to do is trap yourself someplace where every door remains shut. Then you’d fall under a new curse, one you’re not sure you can survive. The door opens just a crack, allowing a thin sliver of light to leak out and brighten the room in front of you. It’s dark here, but the ambience paints everything a pale shade of gray, letting you see enough. The first thing you note is a nearby sofa, its back to you, and a couple of framed pictures hanging on the far wall. You see the vague images of a stallion, a mare, and a chipper little colt across them. Their glass reflects the light you’re bleeding, and after looking a little harder at them, you catch the reflections themselves. There appears to be an open entryway to your left. You nudge open the door a little further and poke your head into the room, looking for signs of the homeowners. Fortunately, they aren’t here, or at least in this room. Then you notice a strong, buttery scent. You step a hoof out onto the carpeted floor and stretch your nose out a little more—you can’t help but point it up and inhale deeply—and looking towards that open entryway you see the carpet give way to tile. Likely the kitchen. A brighter light floods out of it, spilling color into the living room. You open the door a little further and squeeze yourself out into the home. You twist the handle so the door shuts noiselessly behind you. You briefly consider the room you just walked out of must be a closet, but the thought passes and another, more pressing one realizes itself. You now hear a gentle song coming from the kitchen. This was the last thing you needed. The ghost of the song you last heard must’ve still been buzzing in your ears and you didn’t even notice this new one. Stupid hotel lobby and its obnoxious jazz music. You should escape now before you’re spotted, but the prospect of a hot meal is too much for the burning space in your stomach. You decide the food will be worth it, and you stalk around the sofa and look for an opportunity. You slowly peer around the side and through the entryway, and your heart does a twirl before spiraling into the pit of your stomach. You see the mare from the pictures standing in front of a countertop. She swishes her tail to the rhythm of her humming, a butter knife grasped firmly between her teeth. She doesn’t notice you because she’s too busy doing something. You need to back away but the emptiness in your chest only grows with the thought. Hunger is in your eyes and you know it. You feel it. This is it. No backing down this time, you’re going to see this through. You’re going to take what you can, and a second later you realize that that’s apparently a sandwich. She finishes putting it together and puts it inside a little plastic baggie, then brings over a bright red apple, a granola bar, and a couple other things you were too slow to catch eye of. She drops it all into a container just out of view. That doesn’t look like breakfast food. It must be a lunch. A cold lunch. But it’s too early, so a lunch for her husband, perhaps? Your stomach growls and you immediately hide. Fortunately the mare’s humming is too loud for her to hear you. You swear at yourself under your breath. But now you have options. Should you swipe the lunch or the breakfast? The breakfast is simply too tempting, but you don’t even know what it is right now, and sticking around for too long threatens you being caught. Besides, it’s already morning. It’s only a matter of time before the rest of the house wakes, if it hasn’t already. You can already surmise the husband will need to leave for work soon. You catch the base of the staircase out of the corner of your eye and grimace. The lunch it is, then. It should be easier to get away with as well, but you haven’t had a hot meal in over a week. Oh well. There’ll be another time. Swiping the lunch will be quicker and hopefully easier. Now you just need to wait for the mare to walk away and you’ll have your chance. Unfortunately, she isn’t. She’s still working at that counter. You could always disregard this fact and take a chance, maybe splay your wings to intimidate her, to help try and scare her away. But she’d be scared anyways by seeing a stranger in her home. Besides, you’re already a thief. You don’t want to hurt anypony anymore than you need to. Past run-ins have shown how unpredictable ponies are when they feel threatened. No, you decide against revealing yourself, even if you’re more than capable of overpowering a single mare. You don’t intend to stick around, anyways. Something rings. A bell. A timer. The mare turns her head off to the side and walks towards it. Now’s your chance. You need to be quick, and yet quiet. You take off from behind the sofa in a gentle run, and the carpet softens your steps. But once you get to the tile, she’ll know you’re there. There’ll be no silence in the kitchen. Get in, and get out. You break through the entryway and run across the room. Your wings expand in preparation for the jump back, and for a moment you wonder if you should have used them to carry you instead. It’d definitely make things quieter, but it’d probably make little difference. It’s too late, anyways. You make it to the counter and open your mouth to grab the presumptuous paper bag, but you stutter. There’s no paper bag here. Just a closed, little white lunchbox with a picture of a happy sun on it and a tiny red handle. This isn’t for the husband. You can’t take this. You shouldn’t. You can’t. Damn it. It’s too late to change your mind and your stomach echoes the thought. You grab the lunchbox, twist around, and bolt back out the way you came. You hear a noise in your wake. Was it the mare? Did she scream? You don’t want to know. You’re already feeling terrible. You take the corner into the living room sharply and leap off the back of the sofa—which tips from your weight—and then you throw yourself at that closet door. A second later you manage to throw it open and a foul odor assaults you. No matter. You don’t care. You can’t stay in that house. You run into the cramped little room you’re given and slam the door shut behind you. You immediately note the door is made from a heavy plastic, as are all the walls. You twist uncomfortably in the small space, your wings awkwardly trying to reposition themselves at your sides. There’s a seat here, curiously enough, but before you even consider sitting a foul odor overwhelms your senses, so much so that the blaring din of construction work in the background fails to register inside your head. You’re too busy trying to think to notice the door opening. The light of dawn nearly blinds you, but a thick shadow quickly does away with that. Your bleary eyes quickly adjust and after blinking a couple times, you’re aware of the confused stallion standing in front of you. He’s grossly rotund and wearing a bright-yellow vest and matching hardhat. There’s a bit of stubble on his chin. You don’t know why you noticed that, but it beats looking him in the eyes. Your breath catches but for which reason you don’t know. You don’t care to know. You just want to get out of this place. You reach over and tear the door from the stallion’s grip and slam it shut. Immediately afterwards you push back out with all your might and just about collapse out onto a hard floor. The lunchbox you stole bounces and clangs across the ground before resting a few feet away. You cough for some fresh air and scramble to your hooves, sweeping the lunchbox up beneath a wing as you run forward, even though you don’t know where you are. You nearly run into somepony and stumble to a halt. You regain your breath some more and find the wherewithal to not hunch over and collapse again. It hasn’t even been a day since your last theft, but the adrenaline drains your lungs and takes over your legs every time. Your forehead feels clammy. Your unruly mane rests over your eyes. You should cut it at some point. You move it out of your way and glance up. Bland advertizing takes up the entire wall in front of you. Ponies are milling about in every direction and none of them seem perturbed by your sudden and rash arrival. A lot of them are carrying shopping bags. A few more glances tells you you’re in a shopping mall, likely in some big city. You turn back around and see a cheap plastic toilet staring back at you from a tiny, dark blue room. You quickly run up and close the door. A little red plaque that reads “Management” is nailed on it. For some reason you find this amusing, but you shove the thought away and take off into the mall. It isn’t long before you find a bench outside some department store, and before you even think about it you’re already sitting there. You lower your head so as to not draw attention to yourself and pull the lunchbox out from beneath your wing. The metal is cold in your hooves and a chill permeates inside you. It’s as if the lunchbox itself is trying to steal your warmth like you undoubtedly stole from that family, and it forces a sigh out of you. Why’d that mare have to make the kid’s lunch first? Why couldn’t you have walked into that hotel room a minute later? Maybe then she’d have made her husband’s lunch first. Heck, you don’t even know if the husband lived there. You don’t know anything about that house, that family. Maybe the mother was single. Maybe she’s poor and that colt just won’t have lunch today. You just robbed a little kid of his food. How will they sleep at night? How will you? Blessed Celestia, just stop it already. Stop it. This is what happens when you think; your emotions get the better of you and you rapt yourself with guilt. There’s no point in it. It’s not like you had much of a choice. This is your life. You walk into strange places to scrounge up what necessities you can before moving on to the next. It’s not your fault your curse makes you live like this, unable to stay in one place, unable to settle. You don’t want to find yourself somewhere you don’t want to leave, because you’ll never be able to. You’d have to be in that room forever. You’d be trapped. That frightens you. You’re just doing what it takes to survive and keep yourself sane. If you told that mare, she’d probably understand. Though she’d likely scream at you before you could get a word in. How in the world would you even explain yourself? Anypony would think you’re crazy. Maybe you are. But don’t think about that. Just eat your breakfast and move on like you always do. You undo the little latch and remember this is a cold lunch. You find this oddly fitting. You’d have much prefered a hot meal instead. The pouch of bits feels heavy in your hooves. Twenty whole bits. It’s been awhile since you’ve had so much money. Usually panhandling isn’t so lucrative. It’s not like you were playing an instrument or putting on a performance. You were just trying to get some rest on a bench inside this small train station for the past however many hours. Maybe you’ll buy a bushel of apples or a nice warm meal. It’d be a nice change of pace from all the recent thieving you told yourself you weren’t going to think about. That relies on finding a place to eat, however. You look up from your spot on the ground. You’ve been sitting at the base of a magazine kiosk for the last half hour. But you won’t buy anything here. You may want to, but you won’t. Those bits are precious and you need to be careful with how you spend them. You look at the trashcan a few meters away and frown at how nopony has dropped one in there yet. But free magazines can wait. Your stomach’s starting to get the better of you and you decide it’s time to go eat before all the caterers begin serving evening meals. Dinner is typically more expensive. You slip the pouch of bits back into your saddlebag and stand. Ponies flow around you like water, and you sink into the crowd and wander the station, looking for what it has to offer. However, after several minutes walking around, it’s starting to become apparent just how small this train station is. There are very few vendors here, and none of them sell food outside of tiny bags of nuts and crackers. You aren’t a picky eater, but none of that would be filling. You need a meal. Maybe if you stepped outside you could find a diner or something. You just need to wait for somepony else to open a door and you’ll be able to walk through it without the influence of your curse. Funny how that works. It’s already been ten years, and you still don’t fully understand your curse. If you open a door, you can wind up anywhere in the world. However, if a door is already opened—or someone else opens a door for you—you can pass right through to the other side just like a normal pony. Although, you’ve found there are some limitations to your curse. Revolving doors work just fine for you, as do sliding doors. Stall doors are another. It still embarrasses you to think about how many times it took before that finally stuck with you. You think it has to do with the open spaces. Oddly, doors with windows in them still follow the curse, even ones that are entirely glass. It’s confusing to think about how that works. You don’t think about it. All you know is that if a door completely fills its frame and is hinged, the curse applies, or at least as far as you’ve seen. But you like that rule. It keeps things simple and easy to remember. No need to complicate things. You walk towards the exit and some gracious mare is there holding the door open. She smiles at you as you pass, looking like that’s all she knows how to do and wants nothing more than to see you smile too. Of course you give her one, if not nearly as charismatic. But she doesn’t mind. Two steps later, you’re out on the street and you’re probably never going to see that mare again. Your smile fades and you look around. Overcast skies block out the sun. You think this is Hoofshear. You’ve been there a couple of times before, as a matter of fact, although this would be your first time seeing the train station. A shadow steals your attention and you look up and confirm this is the same town, evident by the unforgettable clock tower looming over your head. You saw that from the mayor’s office the second time you were here. Three years ago, you think it was. It’s without a doubt the tallest building in town. You never got the proper chance to explore Hoofshear before, so you might as well take the chance you’re given. You do need to find someplace to eat, after all. It’s best that you go to the first place you find. Not that you’re starving at the moment, but you find the outside world to be the most unsettling place you can be. Ironic, considering one of your biggest fears is being trapped inside a room with no way out. Although, it certainly isn’t the claustrophobia that worries you. No, this fear is completely different, but fundamentally the same. You’re afraid of being unable to escape. Sometimes you ask yourself why you’d be worried of not being able to run away when you have the open world beneath your hooves, boundless, without walls to barricade you or doors to throw you off your course. But then you remember, you don’t have a set course. You have no goal, other than to keep moving. You like your doors, because you’re assured you’ll always have a way to leave, a direction to move. You can always find an empty bed to sleep in, a shower to use, some food to eat. You aren’t guaranteed that outdoors. Another thing is that more often than not, buildings have their doors locked, especially at night. If there’s anything you fear the most, it’s a locked door. When you enter a new room, the door you used can always be reopened. If that ever turned out not to be the case... well, you’ll cross that bridge if you get to it. Hopefully that won’t ever happen. That’s why you like to stay inside. You like being able to run away. You like your doors. You like your curse. Wait, no you don’t. You’re just pathetic, aren’t you? No you’re not. Stop thinking like that. Nobody in their right mind would want to live like this, but you have no choice. So stop thinking so low of yourself. Stop it. Stop thinking. Stop. You’re walking down the street when a door opens with a little ring beside you. The smell of cocoa wafts up to you and then you’re running. You’re able to stick your leg in the front door before it closes and you push yourself inside. The warm, earthen colors of the café presents itself to you, and you catch the sweet smile of the unicorn behind the counter luring you further in. She’s wearing a yellow apron and has her mane down. You give her a smile back and then glance at all the tables scattered around the room. There’s a few other ponies here, reading papers or idly chatting with their friends. You wonder if this place sells more than drinks. You walk up to the counter and the barista chirps in a bubbly tone, “Welcome to the Sunflower Shack! Can I get you anything?” You don’t give her an answer at first. Your eyes drift towards the drink menu over her head, but then they jump to the glass display inside the counter, which shows off an assortment of pastries and rolls. There’s even some salads for sale. Your stomach begins to burn. You point a hoof into the display and go to speak, but your hungry tongue gets in the way of your words. The barista grins at you and you stop trying to talk. She looks down at where you’re pointing and says, “A Meadowsaic salad? That’s a house speciality, you know. We make ‘em fresh!” That wasn’t what you were pointing at, but you nod anyways and watch her take out a plastic bowl. She steps over to a set of bins you didn’t notice, embedded in the countertop behind a short glass screen. She catches your eye and her smile edges to one side. “How’s your day going?” she asks you. She’s busy sifting through the bins with her magic and pulling out a variety of flowers and grasses, and yet she spares you most of her attention. “I don’t think I’ve seen you around here before. Are you from out of town?” You nod again and this time you’re able to speak. “I’m just passing through,” you say. Which is true. Another thing you don’t like is lying. You’re a mess. No you’re not. “Traveling?” she asks. She motions with her nose towards your saddlebag, but her eyes twitch upwards towards your mane. Great, you may not be a mess, but you’ve got to look like one. You probably have a bedhead from when you were resting at the train station. You knew you should’ve cut your mane by now. No stallion’s got hair this long. “Drifter,” is the first thing you can think of. “Always on the move, you know?” is the next. “Always seeing new places. I guess you could say I like adventure.” “A real Daring Do, then?” she says with a smile, chuckling at her own joke, then she starts assembling your salad. “Going wherever the wind takes you, huh? That definitely sounds like fun. Traveling across Equestria, living under the stars...” She pauses. “Well, that’s my fantasy, anyways. But I’ve got two beautiful foals and the stallion of my dreams waiting for me at home. Some dreams can only stay dreams, I guess.” You don’t say anything to that. Partly because you don’t know what to say. Small talk was never your best skill. So you find a bit of solace in not having to speak. At least until the silence gets awkward. Now your legs are uncomfortable. The barista has her eyes transfixed on your salad she’s assembling. She starts to put some yellow flowers on it when she flips back her mane and asks, “You got any family?” A small lump holds your breath back for an instant. “Yeah,” you say, but your voice comes out more strained than you wished. This is why you don’t like lying. You’re bad at it. You hastily add, “Canterlot.” The barista turns her gaze back to the salad and her smile wavers a little. She probably caught your lie. But after a pause, it sounds to you like she didn't, because she seems to have accepted them. “Beautiful city. I have a cousin who runs a thrift store there. You ever been to Knick’s Knacks?” You take a breath and shake your head. “Haven’t heard of it.” She hums. “You should go there next time you’re in town. Tell Knicky that his cousin Lily sent you and I’m sure he’ll get you a nice discount.” “Thanks,” you say. Fortunately, the conversation ends then when she slaps a black lid on top of the salad. You didn’t even notice she finished it. It’s already on the countertop in front you. “Anything else I can get you?” she asks. Yes. No. You feel a little guilty for lying and don’t want to stick around for anymore questions. You can get some more food elsewhere. You shake your head and say, “No, that’ll be it.” “For here or to go?” “To go,” you say. Strangely, she seems a little saddened by this. Maybe you just voiced your words wrong again.  She places the salad inside a little paper bag for you and smiles. “Have a good day!” You go to grab the bag but hesitate. You blink and look back at her. “Don’t I have to pay for this?” Her smile softens. “No, I think this one will be on the house,” she says and winks. “Name’s Lily, by the way. Come back some time, okay? I love meeting new faces.” You stare at her. You realize you’re staring at her. You lower your head, take the bag between your teeth, mutter a “thank you”, and retreat towards the front door.  The bag feels heavier than you thought it would. You should’ve paid for it. Why’d she give it to you for free? Maybe she thought you were homeless? Do you look homeless? You don’t know. You need to wash up regardless. It certainly wouldn't hurt to look more presentable. You’re at least thankful for having plenty of bits still. That means you can buy more things. But first you need to leave this shop. You haven’t yet. You find yourself standing in front of the door. Right, you need somepony to enter first, to open the door for you. That way you don’t freak anypony out, especially that nice mare. You remember her name is Lily. But as the seconds tick by, nopony has come in yet. Ponies must think you’re weird, just standing here. You glance over your shoulder and catch the edge of Lily’s eye as she turns away from you. Some other pony is staring at you skeptically from their table. Quit standing here. You walk back towards the counter and when Lily turns around, she looks pleasantly surprised. You quickly ask her, “Where’s the restroom?” She points across the room and happily tells you, “Down that hall towards the left.” You mumble another “thank you” and take off across the room. Your head is the last thing to turn the corner, just so you can make sure nopony will see you. Confident they won’t, you walk up towards the stallion’s room and push the door in. You quickly walk through and shut the door behind. You see the image of a burning candle looking back at you, painted on the surface of a wooden door. Stuffy air fills your lungs. You turn around, your hooves creating a dull echo on the place’s hardwood floor, and you’re greeted with the wooden bust of somepony long dead. Wood. There’s lots of wood here. Floor, ceiling, walls. It takes you a second to see all the bookshelves beyond the table holding the bust, and it finally dawns on you that you must be in a library. It’s small, too. It’s been awhile since you’ve stepped hoof inside such a place. Or at least it feels like a while. You’ve always been fond of libraries. They’re real quiet, and you can typically walk away with a few books to occupy yourself with for a little while. You hope they’ll let you eat your salad here. You decide to take a look around, absently walking towards that center table holding the bust when a bit of movement to the right catches your eye. You see a tower of books on two short, stout purple legs wander towards you before dropping to the ground with a slam. The one who’d been carrying it steps out from behind and wipes an arm across his brow, and your eyes widen at seeing it’s a dragon. A child, given you’re taller than it is. Normally, they’re rather seclusive, but your surroundings suggest otherwise. You rack the back of your mind, trying to recall anywhere in the world you could’ve wound up that has dragon societies. The dragon takes a few books off the top of the stack before finally realizing you’re there. “Oh, hey there!” he says, setting the books down in a separate pile. “Sorry, but we’re not exactly open at the moment. Twilight must’ve forgot to lock the door on her way out.” “Oh,” you say. Way to be tactful. A second passes before you think of something else. “Sorry, I thought you were. I just haven't been in a library in a while.” “Yeah, we only moved in here a few days ago,” he says, reaching up for another book. “I heard the library was only open in the evenings before. That true?” He seems comfortable around you, at least. Now, keep the conversation going; you don’t want to be kicked out so soon. You set your paper bag on the ground and say, “Yeah. I don’t know why the previous librarian thought that was a good idea.” “She didn’t do too good of a job managing the place, either,” he says, and then frowns at one of the books he’s holding. “Books in the wrong shelves, covered in dust, some missing their sleeves, others falling apart entirely... “ He flips through the pages. “Sheesh, you’d think the pony who’s supposed to be looking after these things would actually, y’know, look after them.” Ponies? Okay, so you’re still in Equestria. Somewhere. Keep talking. “Somepony should’ve done something sooner.” “You’re telling me,” he says flatly, pulling down more books. “Twilight just about pulled her mane out when she realized the state everything was in. She’s been itching to get this mess cleaned up, and today’s the first real chance we’ve had since we got here.” You look around at all the bookshelves, and there’s undoubtedly more than you can see from here. It must be a lot of work for two... dragons? No, he said Twilight had a mane. She’s definitely a pony. Maybe they can use your help and you can get a few extra bits out of it.  “Do you need any help?” you ask. He smiles at you but shakes his head. “I think we got it. Twilight’s very... particular about her books. Got her own system and everything. It’s best we handle things ourselves, in all honesty, if not for her well being than your own.” He sets down the books he’s holding and chuckles, then offers you one of his claws. “Name’s Spike, by the way.” “Daybreak,” you respond, and you two shake. “So the library’s closed then, Spike?” “Technically,” he says, scratching his chin. “Might be another day or two before we can formally open, but I’d hate to turn away somepony, considering how the last librarian was and all.” He shrugs. “You’d be better off talking to Twilight. I’m really just the assistant. I guess you can wait around if you want until she gets back.” It’s not exactly what you wanted, but you might get something out of this, after all. “Thank you,” you say, and then you point to the bag on the ground. “You wouldn’t mind if I eat my lunch here, do you?” “Well, not here,” Spike says, motioning at all the books. But then he points to an open entryway on the other side of the room. “Through there’s the kitchen, though. Feel free to eat at the table.” “Thanks,” you say again, and you pick up your lunch. “Yell if you need anything,” he says, slowly turning around and walking away with a book under his arm. “I’ll be upstairs bringing down more books. Twilight should be back soon enough.” “Okay,” you say as Spike disappears around a corner. After gathering yourself, you turn towards the kitchen. But a faded green book out of the corner of your eye quickly distracts you. The title’s indecipherable from here, but the cover seems familiar and grabs you nonetheless. Spike’s footfalls fade away, and you take a closer look at the book. “Daring Do and the Equestrian Star,” you read to yourself. You don’t think you’ve seen this one before. A quick glance at the spine tells you this is the twelfth in the series, and now that it’s in your hooves, you realize just how crisp it is. This must be the next installment. You wonder when it was released. You only vaguely remember hearing about it, and suddenly you can’t wait to discover more.  You take a glance towards the stairs and don’t hear anything. Surely they won’t miss one; there are plenty of copies here, anyways. Besides, you were going to take it anyhow when it came to checking out. You slip the book under your wing and move into the kitchen. The kitchen looks more befitting a home then the faculty break room you were expecting. The cabinets are packed with dishes, the drawers full of utensils, and there’s even a full-sized pantry. There’s almost nothing in it, though. You poke your head in the refrigerator and see it’s just as empty, exempting a small bucket of various gemstones. You swipe a few off the top and drop them in your saddlebag, then take a seat at the table. You drop your paper bag on top and after taking a quick glance over your shoulder, pull out the Daring Do book.  > Awake Too Long > -------------------------------------------------------------------------- It’s been a long time since Rarity had felt relaxed. > War Of The Words, Chapters 1-2 > -------------------------------------------------------------------------- “Experiences...” Twilight mumbled, staring down at a piece of paper placed on her desk. She frowned. “Being the captain of the Ponyville weather team for six years ‘strate’, the best of class during flight camp as a filly, winning the best young fliers competition... being ‘awesomerific’?”  She pinched the bridge of her snout and slowly shook her head. Withholding a sigh, she glanced deadpan to the edge of the desk where Rainbow Dash stood, a happy and expectant smile on her face. They stared at each other for a second in silence before Twilight returned to the paper, rolling her eyes like they were the heaviest weights she’d ever born.  “Well?” Rainbow Dash asked. “It’s... thin, to say the least,” Twilight said, skimming over the rest of the paper, which accounted for about a short paragraph’s worth of material. She placed a hoof on it and pushed it away. “I agreed to help you with your application for the Wonderbolts Academy, but I can’t really do anything when you’re lacking so much content.” Rainbow Dash tilted her head. “What do you mean?” “Well, you need to tell me more,” Twilight said, rolling her hoof. “You point out a lot of what you’ve done, like any good application should. I’ll give you that. But you don’t give any explanation as to why these things you’ve done have any merit, let alone why the Wonderbolts should accept you.” “I saved their lives!” “And you say that,” Twilight said with a nod, before frowning back at the paper. She read, “‘Reference: I saved your lives’. But that’s not even a reference!” Rainbow Dash offered a hoof and gave her a skeptical look. “Don’t you think they should get what I’m referencing?” Twilight’s hoof met the space between her eyes for the second time in as many minutes. Her mind wandered for a kind response but none of the words she found were gentle. Instead, and only after the slight throbbing on the side of her head ceased, she had an idea. “Look,” she said, doing her best to sound polite, “I must admit I’ve never actually had to write an application before, so maybe I’m not the best pony to help you.” She paused, searching for the right words. “My expertise has more to do with linguistics: grammar, syntax, and all that kind of stuff. But when it comes to actually writing an application, I think you’d be better off asking someone else.” Rainbow Dash took a small step back, unsure how to react to the smartest pony she knew telling her she wasn’t smart enough to help her. Or at least, that’s what she thought she heard. Confused, she asked, “Can’t you do that edit stuff now and fix my application for me?” Twilight didn’t need to think for a second. “No,” she said, “not really. Like I said, you need more content here for me to really be of use. Just looking at it as is, I can tell you they won’t accept it, and all I can do right now is correct a few misspellings and that really isn’t much. That, and that ‘awesomerific’ isn’t a real word, either.” Rainbow Dash’s ears fell back. “Aw, I liked that one.” “You can’t just make up words,” Twilight explained. “But that’s beside the point. You simply need to say more about yourself in your application. Do that, and I’d be more than happy to give it a look before you mail it out.” Rainbow Dash didn’t look too convinced. She gave her friend a curious look and said, “Well, if you can’t help me write this, then do you know who will?” Twilight stole a quick glance out a nearby window, at a small rooftop in the distance poking above all the others. She hummed. “Rarity’s probably written applications before,” she said with a soft smile. “Why don’t you go see what she can do? She might actually have an example or two for you to reference.” “Alright...” Rainbow Dash said, giving a perplexed look to the piece of paper as it floated through the air, rolled up, and was placed snugly under her wing. “Thanks, I guess.” “And do come back after you’re done!” Twilight was quick to say. “I’d still love to help you out with the proofreading and editing. I’m not sure Rarity’s the most capable pony in that respect,” she added, blowing a small raspberry. Rainbow Dash snickered. “Alright,” she said, smiling and turning away. “I’ll go do that now. See you tomorrow then?” “Tomorrow!” Twilight said, waving after her as she left the room. She continued to do this until she heard the sound of hoofsteps grow fainter and fainter, until they disappeared with the muffled sound of the library’s front door slamming shut. Her breath trickled out of her and she returned to her desk, deflated and perplexed. Rainbow Dash had picked up a serious knack for reading over the past year, so it made sense for her to have had some understanding of what it meant to write; it wasn’t like she was needing to write a story or anything. Just a simple application. But that wasn’t the case, apparently, and Twilight mulled over this by resting her chin on the tabletop. She certainly wasn’t going to write the application for Rainbow Dash herself. Twilight frowned again, disappointed in herself that she couldn’t tell her friend to just completely rewrite it, like what really needed to be done. Oh well, Rarity did have a tactful sense of bluntness she lacked, anyways. She always knew what to say. Twilight was confident Rarity would be able to at least set Rainbow Dash’s application on a straight enough path, then she’d be the one to even it out.  “Awesome experiences...” Twilight mumbled, glaring down at the piece of paper on her desk. Her confused frown quickly deepened. “Being the awesocaptain of Ponyville’s awesoweather team for six awesome years, the awesombest of the awesomest class at the awesoflight camp as an awesofilly, awesomely winning the awesombest young awesoflyers awesome competition... and being ‘awesomerific.’” Twilight turned her head. Rainbow Dash looked back at her with a smile. “Well?” “I...” Twilight tried to find her words and glanced back at the paper, which provided her with nothing. “I don’t even know,” she said. She gave her friend a concerned look and said, “I thought you were going to Rarity’s for help with this?” “I did!” Rainbow Dash’s ears fell back. “Why, is it still not good enough?” “Not good enough?” Twilight shook her head. “No, it’s not. I’m sorry, but it’s worse than your earlier draft! How’d you even come up with this?” “It was Rarity’s idea,” Rainbow Dash quipped. “She agreed with me that I am awesome, and she said that I should get that awesomeness across into my application.” Twilight sighed. “I don’t think she meant that literally.” “No, she did,” Rainbow Dash said, dismissing her. “I told her I invented the word ‘awesomerific’ and she thought that was a nice touch.” Smiling, she added, “She thought that was really cool, as a matter of fact. So she helped me come up with a few more. Awesomister, awesom-eer, awesome-awesome, which is like double the awesome...” “Wait, what?” Twilight stared. “Rarity actually... buh, what?!” “Yeah!” Rainbow Dash said with a smile. “Oh, and you were right. She did have an old résumé I could use for a reference, which was awesome.” She paused. “Awésumé.” She laughed. “This is fun! Who knew words could be so cool? Well, you, I guess. I see now why you live in a library of all places.”