Sorceresses and Sans-Culottes
Trixie huffed.
Trixie puffed.
Trixie winced and fidgeted and grimaced with each swishing step that her legs made.
She hugged her backpack tightly to her chest and looked left and right as she rounded corner after corner within the myriad hallways of Canterlot High School. As her pulsating eyes blinked, cold sweat poured down the young woman's sapphire features, framing her panicked expression with a gloss of guilt that only magnified the repeated flinches that rippled across her face with each muscle movement conveying her through that vast place of learning.
All the while, the fellow students she witnessed were mirroring her discomfort—albeit lost in their own private worlds of trembling confusion. Trixie saw frightened girls squirming beside their lockers, boys biting their bottom lips as they took the simplest of baby steps towards the vague direction of the hallway exit, even teachers who hovered at classroom doors, looking huffy and flustered.
Off in the distance, Applejack could be seen standing bow-legged before her locker as she rummaged wildly through her P.E. bag, in search of something that presently eluded her feverish eyes. A delicate squeak emanated from an adjacent highway where Fluttershy could be seen backing square against a wall—blushing red as a beet—as she fought to tug the edges of her short skirt down from all sides. A consistent shrieking could be heard, and not long after Rarity was seen fleeing towards the nearest restroom as if her flesh and bones were on fire.
Despite these occasional yelps of intensely private anguish, the entirety of Canterlot High School's alumni was quiet as a graveyard choir. Soon—as the unspoken dilemma washed over into a mutual desire for understanding—sets of eyes that had previously been glued to the floor were now wandering towards one another, grasping at straws for meaning, relief, and—above all—justice. Eventually, these wayward eyes scraped their way towards Trixie's flinching person.
“Zpppp!” She inhaled sharply. Trixie raised a hand to cover her face, only to feel the backpack in front of her slipping. “Ghhhh!!” She exhaled just as sharply, repositioning the bag so that it covered the entirety of her hoodie'd chest once again. One delicate step after another, she proceeded forward, moving across the campus like a rook, ignoring all of the fidgety bodies forming a quivering sea around her. “Keep moving, Trixie. Keep moving.” Her nostrils flared with rhythmic intent as she counted the remaining chessboard tile pieces between her current position and her lofty destination. “Just get back to the science lab and... and j-just put them right back where they belong.” She gulped, then clenched her teeth. “Trixie is not going to magical horse jail. Trixie is not going to magical horse jail. Trixie is not going to magical horse—”
“Okay!!!” boomed a fiery voice from across the hall ahead, and it made every locker—and the very bones within Trixie's delicate frame—shake from top to bottom. “Who did it?! Huh? Who?!”
“Oh Copperfield!” Trixie cursed in a squeaky tone, her eyes shrinking to pinpricks. She tried not to look. She tried to ignore the voice altogether. She tried—
“Oh—nobody's leaving until I find the one who's responsible!!!” That flame and anger burned ever closer, billowing with a scarlet mane, until Trixie had no choice but to gaze into the full might of unbridled fury. “Was it—YOU?!?”
Trixie bit her lip. She turned. She looked. And in that very moment, all she could think about was...
Ten Great and Powerful Minutes Ago...
Dust and shadows filled the vacant interior of a lonely rectangular chamber. Then—issuing inward from a vaguely bright realm beyond—a series of clapping shoesteps reached a breaking point. Followed by a jostling of a door handle. Followed then by that very same door being kicked wide open in a burst. Followed by a flash of light, a feminine silhouette entering, then—
Thud!
Darkness again.
Followed by...
“Mwa ha ha ha ha...”
Rising swiftly in decibels and passion.
“Mwa ha ha ha ha haaaaaa!”
-click-
A delicate blue hand pulled the chain of a lightbulb suspended from the ceiling of a frighteningly small closet. The lone amber light shone on a cheshire cat grin, set within the center of Trixie Lulamoon's victorious face.
“Trixie did it!” She cackle-snorted, if that was even possible. “Trixie has done it!” She raised her backpack high to the heavens, causing the lightbulb to jostle and the maniacal lines in her face to dance with each luminous sway. “Trixie finally has the proper ingredients to perform real! Actual! Magic!”
With a savage—ziiiiiiip—yank of her backpack's zipper, Trixie revealed seven brightly-colored geodes that glistened in the closet's swinging lamplight.
“Equestrian Magic!!!”
Before the metal supply shelves around her could stop ringing from that last triumphant outburst, the teenage magician knelt low to the ground, setting each geode out in a rough circular pattern.
“Hah! So... you superheroic posers thought you could perform a magical experiment in the school laboratory on your lonesome, hmmm?!” She gnashed her teeth with mixed anger and anticipation, relishing in the glossy touch of each stone under her azure fingertips. “Your biggest mistake wasn't endangering the entire school body by congregating all of your stones in one place!” She licked her lips. “It wasn't even that big of a deal that you made them so easy to stea—borrow!” She shook her head with a dance of her white bangs. “No no no—your biggest mistake was thinking you could perform such wonderous magical experiments on campus grounds...” A sputtering breath of venom. “...without Trixie!”
Once the stones had been set in place, Trixie reached into the pouch of her hoodie and produced a small bottle of salt. Unscrewing it, she laid down an elaborate sigil that connected each of the stones together with artistic purpose. Once this was done, she slapped her hands together and huffed with great enthusiasm.
“Now!” She grinned from ear to ear. “It's no big loss! The Great and Powerful Trixie will just do an experiment of her own! AND!” She sat up straight, cracking the joints in her neck. “...ONCE Trixie is done, she will gladly return these crazy kersplodey stones to the lab before those friendship-huffing girls return! Because—above all else...” She closed her eyes and tilted her button nose up to nobody in particular. “...Trixie is a safe, responsible, and cautious practitioner of the arcane!”
A beat.
“Mmmmmmm-eeeee-heeeee-heeeeee!” Trixie rubbed her hands together. “Fire spell! Fire spell! Trixie's first true-magic has GOT to be a firrrrre spelllllll!”
She licked her lips—then coughed delicately and calmed herself as best as she could.
“Okay. Concentrate. Just... imagine Merlin before Arthur found the Sword. Or Elijah before burning the altar. Or Penn Jillette before firing the nail gun!”
Leaning over—balanced on her knees—Trixie placed two of her palms on either side of the sigil, with just the tips of her thumbs crossing over the salt lines that interconnected the geodes.
“This... this is how you tap into the aura of Equestrian energy, yes?” She chewed on her lip. “Mmmmm... it has to be! Trixie has watched every episode of Full Metal Alchemist. It couldn't possibly work any other way. Just remember...” She took deep breaths. “It's all about... equivalent exchange... matter and energy... give and take. Sooooooo...” There was a bright blink of epiphany, and she grinned adorably at the dust particles of the room. “Trixie must only concentrate on switching one thing for another! It's like—an offering! So... whaaaaaaaaat substance could Trixie ask for in exchange for FIIIIRE?!?!”
Silence.
“Okay. Cool your jets, Trixie. Let's leave the explodey stuff to the crazy heroine harpies.” She coughed. “Just—make your first magic spell simple. What... what does Trixie want...” Another deep breath. “...what does Trixie want more than anything else in the world?”
Her eyes flitted to the left. Then they flitted to the right. Then—with a flutter to her soft brow—Trixie's expression softened. The young woman's pupils practically sparkled as she settled upon an idea. A concept. A desire.
And... as if in direct mirror to her rising mirth...
...the geodes began glowing, one by one, casting a spectral bath of kaleidoscopic light on Trixie, the closet, and the air in between.
“Ah! There it is! It's working! It's working!” Trixie squealed with joy, squirming in place, practically bouncing on her knees. “Oh Arcane Arts! Grant my hearts desire! Exchange only that which is not needed elsewhere and Trixie shall maintain the conveyance of energy and matter and—”
FLAAAAAAAAAAASH!
The geodes dimmed back to their inert selves.
And Trixie sat on her knees.
And Trixie blinked.
And Trixie fidgeted... blooming a slow and drooping grimace from ear to ear.
“Ew...”
She arched an eyebrow.
“Ew...?”
She squeezed her thighs and wriggled her torso.
“Ew ew ew ew ew...?!?!?”
Sitting up straight, Trixie pulled the collar of her hoodie outward and gazed straight down. What she saw—or what she didn't see—made her blanch visibly in the amber light swaying overhead.
“Where did you go?! And where did you go?!” She stood up halfway... just high enough to spread her legs and close them again. “And where did you go?!?!?”
A panicked breath rippled through her. Trixie struggled to keep her whimpering breath low... and only in the forced silence did she realize that similar yelps of fright and concern were emanating from the rest of the CHS beyond the broom closet door.
“What...?” She cupped a hand around her ear. As the sounds of distress persisted, she winced heavily. “Oh no... oh no no no no no no!” She stood up—immediately shivering from head to toe from the sensation—then waddled like an infant to the door handle. “Please just be Trixie. Please just be Trixie!” She opened the door just wide enough to see the likewise waddling bodies situated outside. “...Copperfield! It's not just Trixie!!!”
Slamming the door shut—barely pausing to hyperventilate—Trixie then rushed to the floor and scooped up each geode before dashing the salt sigil to nothing.
“It's okay! Trixie can fix this! Trixie can fix everything!” Huffing and puffing, she stuffed the magical gems into her backpack and clutched it to her chest before making an awkward exit. “So long as none of those horse-person-harpies catch her before Trixie can get back to the lab—”
The Not So Great and Powerful Present
“Nobody's leaving until I find the one who's responsible!!!” Sunset Shimmer marched angrily down the hall... and in Trixie's direction. “Was it—YOU?!?”
“Eeeep!” Trixie flinched, squeezing the backpack to her chest.
“Gaaah!” she heard another girl yelp.
“... … …?” Squeezing one eye open, Trixie looked bravely down the rows of lockers.
Sunset Shimmer had her hand grasped around a quivering student's wrist. The fiery redhead's eyes flickered, and she let go with flaring nostrils.
“Uh huh! That's right! I don't need the geodes to read minds at this point! So I'm going to glance into everyone's memories until I find the person responsible for taking them from the lab!”
Sunset marched up to the next person and touched their shoulder. Another flicker of the eyes, and she blew out the side of her mouth before thudding further down the corridor.
“Whoever you are—there's no hiding forever! You can fix this for everyone by just coming out with the truth!” She touched a boy's shoulder—shivered slightly from whatever her mind witnessed—and continued on. “You've got a LOT to answer for! What you've done with the stones is NOT funny and is going to take AGES to fix!” She touched another boy's shoulder, released, then paused briefly. “Cilian Murphy, huh? Me too.” Clearing her throat, Sunset resumed marching and growling: “The impact you've had on the local food industry alone is going to cost tens of thousands! Let alone the dress code you've violated ten times over! Cooperate with those truly gifted in Equestrian magic, and we'll do all we can to keep a lid on this! But only if you fully and completely—”
Trixie backstepped... and backstepped and backstepped and—bumped into a recycling bin, making a large thump!
“...!” Sunset spun towards the sound like a hungry t-rex. Her eyes narrowed just as menacingly. “...cooperate.”
“Mmmmm-huh?” Trixie peeped. “Cooperate?” Trixie sweated. “B-but... wh-why would Trixie need to cooperate?” She peeped and sweated, fanning herself with a goofy smile aimed towards the ceiling. “Trixie hasn't done anything wrong...!”
Sunset Shimmer had closed the distance between them. All eyes of every student rested on the pair as the empathetic core of the Rainbooms stood before Trixie with her arms folded.
“Summoning salt?” Sunset raised an eyebrow. “Really...?”
“Uhhhhhh—” Trixie gulped. “...is now really a good time to talk about speedruns?”
“That's completely elementary,” Sunset grumbled. “Even for a stage magician.”
Enraged, Trixie stomped her shoe down between them. “Hey! I thought you had to touch people to read their minds!”
Sunset huffed. “I know how much you love Full Metal Alchemist,” she droned. “And I know how much you stream Eternal Darkness Sanity's Requiem on the same nights Shimmer Code is online.” She exhaled through her nose. “And I know how much you're you.”
“... … ...well, if maybe you would just Raid Trixie's stream for once these nights—”
“Are the stones inside that backpack?”
“All Trixie asks for is a few gifted subs—”
Sunset swiftly yanked Trixie's backpack from her possession. “Gimme!”
“Hey!”
Sunset fished her hand in the bag and scooped the geodes out, one by one. “They're not yours to play around with, Trixie!”
The stage magician folded her arms indignantly. “Maybe if you were a lot better at securing them between on-campus science experiments—”
“Don't gaslight!” Sunset pointed an angry finger. “You've put a lot of students through unnecessary distress!”
“Pffft! Distress shimshtresh!” Trixie stuck her tongue out. “The side effects of Trixie's first magic spell were barely noticeable!”
“... … …” Sunset glared. She brought one foot up... then slammed it hard to the floor.
The entire hallway shook. And both teenagers—jittering visibly from the foot's impact and wearing short skirts—heard gross splatters landing on the ground. Trixie looked down, blushing, to see fresh mounds of dripping peanut butter forming on the tile floor beneath each girl. The tasty tan paste could be also seen in scant traces throughout the rest of the corridor, collecting on the lockers, splattered against the lower halves of walls, and—thoroughly and consistently—oozing out of pantlegs, shirts, and sleeves all across the visibly discomforted student alumni.
“Soooooo...” Trixie cleared her throat and smiled nervously up at Sunset. “...just keep every dog on a leash and nobody gets arrested for violating state laws! Eh heh heh heh—”
“Remote transmogrification is dangerous, Trixie!” Sunset snarled in her face. “You're damned lucky you didn't turn it all into scorpions! Or lava! Or used syringes!”
“Pffft!” Trixie waved a hand. “Impossible! Trixie was concentrating totally and completely on conjuring her absolute favorite thing!”
“And didn't you stop to think that it's not everyone else's favorite thing?!?” Sunset retorted, waving the geodes angrily in her grasp. “Was dabbling with Equestrian magic worth absolutely traumatizing everyone at this school—?!”
Before she could finish her breath, a pink figure skipped between the girls.
“Hey Sunny Bun! Hey Trix-Trix!” Pinkie Pie hummed pleasantly, her arms and legs in full sway. “Whewwwwwww—what a wonderful day! Don't you agree?! Mmmm! Like there's something in the air! Can't you smell it?!?” She grinned, giggled, and continued her full and uninhibited stride past all of the squirming, waddling students. A thick line of peanut butter trailed behind her as she frolicked her way towards the cafeteria. “Hmm-hmm-hmm! Hey! Principal Celestia! Nice duck walking impression!”
Silence reigned in the hallway as Trixie and Sunset shared a mutual gaze of blank contemplation.
“Uhm...” Fluttershy—still blushing—side-stepped demurely towards the two. “I know you're still having a dramatic argument and all. But I need to ask...” She tugged nervously at her skirts, keeping her rear to the wall. “...if the peanut butter is everywhere... then what happened to our... uhm... y'know... … …?”
A Few Corridors Away
“Come on...”
Lime green hands feverishly flattened a creased dollar bill.
“Come on... …!”
Those same hands slid the paper money for the umpteenth time into a vending machine's slot.
“... … ...this will work! It has to this time! Come to Papa!”
A whirring noise. Shaky fingers slapped a few buttons. More whirring...
...and a packet of peanut butter crackers fell into the dispenser below.
Nearly hyperventilating, Zephyr Breeze reached down, grabbed the tiny plastic box, and feverishly tugged and pulled and picked at it until—
“Mrmmmf!!!”
—he ripped the box open and an impossibly compact pair of panties sprung out like a bouncing betty, joining a veritable sea of underwear carpeting the tile floor before the vending machine. Only—these panties were cyan blue with a rainbow lightning bolt delicately adorning the crotch.
“Guahhhhhhhh!” Zephyr Breeze's eyes lit up like fireflies. “Yesssssssssss!” He grasped the panties and raised them high overhead like a Hylian having opened a golden treasure chest. “Godssss yesssssssssss!” His nostrils flared above an otherworldly cat-smirk. He glanced left and right and—nostrils still flaring—the young man tucked the panties tightly beneath his open shirt before sneaking off towards the nearest school exit.