There are so many popular depictions and interpretations of ponies. So amusing. So "cool" and "edgy" and "hipster friendly" and "crunk" and whever other words are used to describe twisting, turning and abusing ponies. Candy-colored ponies deserve better than to be abused, molested and killed.
Berry Punch trotted placidly through the streets of Ponyville, nodding to neighbors and chuckling at the loopy flight patterns of the local mailmare. She was in a chipper mood indeed. The sun was warm, the sky was clear, and the smell of warm apples rose in the air as she approached the boundary of Sweet Apple Acres. She shook the pouch of bits attached to her saddlebags, and grinned as they jangled musically.
As she walked up the path to the farmhouse of the apple farm she was spotted by Granny Smith, who was lounging about on the porch. The old mare immediately moved to her walker and slowly started down the path. She met the purple mare in the middle of the path and gave her a wink. “No need t’say a thing. Not fer mah best customer. Come on ‘round back with me, dearie and we’ll get y’all set.”
Both mares slowly moved off of the path around back of the house, and into the semi-wild wooded area behind the house that was not, in fact, part of the nearby Everfree forest. They moved into a barely-there path which wound confusingly through the trees, past several side-routes that would confound anypony trying to follow it through to the end. The real path they followed terminated in a large clearing that held a complicated device made of metal tubing and glass containers, along with various other bits of junk and detritus. A tremendous still surrounded by the scent of sour apples. “Oh… Smells very potent today…” Berry noted, with a sniff and a sigh.
“You bet yer flank, dearie. Now ah’m proud of mah Icejack, but if yew want that good, hard hit, y’gotta use straight heat. So tell me, how much can ah get fer you this time?”
The bag of bits came out and over, held up before Granny Smith’s face. “However much this will get. Keep the change, just… Give me what you can.”
Granny Smith took the bag and gave it a shake, nodding slightly and feeling at it with her frogs for a long moment. “Yep… Yep… Good number here. Righty… Grab yerself two o’them crockery jugs while ah open ‘er up.”
Berry trotted along to a place beside the still where there was a tarp-covered lump. Beneath the tarp was a small collection of glazed brown jugs, with small apples painted on each one. While she collected two of them, Granny Smith took a small key from out of her bandana and moved to the still. She inserted the key into the machine near the spout and turned, a rusty scraping emerging from within.
The two jugs were dutifully brought to the front of the still, a lever was depressed and a golden flow of liquid began, the air filled with the sharp, astringent scent of apples mixed with alcohol. “Please fill them up a bit more than usual. Closer to the neck, if you please. I don’t mean to tell you your business but… You know… I just…”
“Fer mah best customer? Ah sure as shootin’ can do that fer ya dearie. Ah gots ta keep you comin ‘round. Ya could jes as easily go to that there nightclub they got. Ah know mah Applejack goes down there, but jes on dates. So ah don’t have any problems with that. She got herself a good mare: got a gubbmint job and knows the Princess. Now that’s the kind of connection ah was hopin’ fer her… Oh but ah do tend to ramble, don’t ah? Here y’are dear. Two jugs worth of mah… ‘Med’cine.’ Come back when you run out. Ah’ll be here.”
“Oh, don’t worry. I’ll be here,” Berry strained a smile as she said, sotto voce, “Sooner than I want.” She tied the jugs to her saddlebags and resettled it on her shoulders for the long, twisting walk back out to Sweet Apple Acres, as well as the walk out from there through the town and to her home. The long, eye-shifting, tooth-grinding, breath-quickening walk through the town with the other ponies trying not to look at her.
They knew. They knew only too well what was in the innocent jugs that came back from Sweet Apple Acres. Nopony had the heart to tell Applejack her granddam was a ‘shiner making liquor without inspection and a license, and without paying taxes. And nopony wanted the fallout of bringing the law down on an old lady’s head, no matter how appropriate it might have been. There were simply certain things that were not done.
That socially-imposed reticence shielded Berry Punch as well. Anypony that brought scorn down on her head would be remiss not to mention the source of her high-potency rotgut. For the sake of an old mare, she was left in relative peace, only having to deal with the scornful, judging eyes that peered from every window and bench in town, or which followed her with a burning intensity as she went along.
She walked down the street regardless of the eyes on her. They could see the earthenware jugs, big as life and bouncing slightly with her steps. Applejack certainly didn’t sell her pressed cider or any kind of juice in bottles like that. Secret customers had a flash of recognition, though they never bought so much. And gossips at windows and doors had all heard tell of just how much of a kick each little sip held. Tongues were waving all along the avenue as Berry finally pulled up to her house and quickly closed the door behind her.
Silence greeted her, and a smile played over her dry lips, tremblingly licked into a chapless state by her tongue. She quickly trotted through her charming, tastefully decorated home into the kitchen. She fumbled with the foalproof fasteners that held the cupboard under the sink closed and quickly stuffed the jugs of appleshine into the space among the other hazardous materials. Lye and abrasives and mild acids in their containers wouldn’t hurt her precious alcohol. And when would they ever need such things? Her secret was safe there. It always was.
She locked up her supply of high-potency stomach-corroder and then went to her refrigerator to relax after the pressure-filled walk through town. In the refrigerator were several small plates of covered food labeled with days and meals, a few bottles of soda, some water, and a modest bottle of merlot. There was some missing from the top, but it did not seem very well-consumed. She poured it into a wine glass, which was suspiciously available nearby to the refrigerator, and took only a small sip.
She took her wine to the window and looked out on the town. It was still early in the afternoon, and there were few ponies out and about. Most were just hanging around the houses or shops, going along with their lives. A few sips sent the sweet warmth through her throat and belly. The chill of the wine was an excellent contrast to that slowly-spreading warmth which also made a pleasant, if artificial, cheer rise in her, beyond the happy mood she had had previously.
It took the edge off the high-pressure judgment that had greeted her before. She was safe. She was in her own home, with no peering eyes or waving tongues. Surely they were judging her out there, for some portion of their gossiping, but they were out there. And she was inside, with her wine. And a bottle of harder liquor ‘strictly for mixers’ in the highest cupboard. She was all alone, which was a mixed blessing. She liked to drink alone, but she missed the ones she loved. Another swallow of wine took care of that, for a time.
By the time she drained her glass she could feel that the warmth had spread through her whole body, without the effects of the drink reaching her mind beyond a pleasant fuzz at the edges of her perceptions and a general good cheer that could make her ignore most of her prior bitterness at the presumed rumormongering. At that point, the front door opened again and a set of tiny hoofbeats reached her ears. Her daughter was home. “Hey there, squirt. They let you out of school?” She placed the glass carefully in the sink and trotted out into the living room.
“Oh mom. I don’t get detention THAT much.” Berry Pinch shook her horned head and galloped over to her mother, pressing up against her leg. She then looked around for a moment and tilted her head. “Where’s mom?”
“She was out shopping, last I heard. I had some errands to run today and so did she. I guess she’s still out right now. It’s…”
“Hey all! I’m home.” At that moment, Colgate walked through the front door, a smile on her face and her saddlebags bulging with groceries. “Can I get a little help over here?”
“Mommy! Let me help you.” Pinchy went over to her second mother, pressing the top of her head against the bottom of one of the saddlebags, her horn glowing with a weak light and causing a small portion of the bag to similarly glow. She did her best to lift and tug with magic, her efforts slightly effective.
“Hey there, sweetie.” Berry Punch slid up to her wife on the side opposite of that of her daughter, kissing the other mare and using a hoof to lift up the bulging saddlebag.
Colgate smiled, but smacked her lips a little afterwards, the smile fading just a touch. “Hey you. Come on, let’s go ahead and get these things put away.”
The three ponies put the groceries away relatively quickly. There were many fresh pieces of produce as well as boxes of oats, wheat and cornmeal. Pinchy noted with some pleasure there were also packages of sweets, but Colgate was quick to sternly remind her that those were for occasional snacking and good grades. Berry Punch was quick to note she might be seeing more of the occasional snacking candies than the good grades candy. That got a laugh from all three.
After the groceries had all been put away, Pinchy was sent out to play with Dinky Doo, watched over by Dinky’s mothers Carrot Top and Ditzy Doo. Berry Punch and Colgate stayed in the house to wash up the few dishes within and do other chores. While Colgate washed the dishes and Berry Punch swept the floor, Colgate haltingly tried to broach something. She finally said, “So, I noticed… I noticed there was a wine glass in the sink today. I guess… I guess you had a glass before we got home today. Right? One glass?”
“Right. Just one glass.” Berry Punch didn’t bother to even look incensed or wounded by the accusation. She didn’t look up at her wife at all. “I figured, I was home alone, I was just in from walking around, and it couldn’t hurt.” “You were drinking alone again? I mean… I don’t mean to get on this. But I don’t think it’s good to drink by yourself. But I… I trust you. I believe it was only one.” Colgate licked her dry lips and focused incredibly hard on the dishes in front of her, whispering, “But I could still taste it…”
Berry Punch could hear it. Her ears were sharpened by a long while of listening to the rumors swirling around her. It cut her to the bone. Her own wife. Her own… Loving, caring, concerned wife. It wasn’t that hard to understand why she was making statements like that. But it still hurt to realize she wasn’t trustworthy in the eyes of one of the ponies that had a reason to love her most of all in Equestria. “Sorry. I’ll wait until you and I are alone. Date night or something. Hey, you know…” She sidled up to bump against Colgate’s flank, popping her eyebrows. “We’re alone now. The little squirt is out with that Dinky girl and her moms. Wanna share a couple of mouthfuls? Maybe she’ll want a sleepover and we can have ourselves a night…”
“Do we need wine for that? Really NEED it? I mean, we have chocolate and ourselves. We don’t require any liquor.”
“Ah, I didn’t think you were a teetotaler. You never complained before. I mean, yea you did but… Come on, honey, just one glass. We’ll share some chocolate, have some wine, and settle up against each other. Pinchy’ll never know.”
“She’ll never know we had a date night? Did you really want to say it like that?” Colgate raised an eyebrow, boring a hole in her wife’s eyes with her strength of her gaze.
“I didn’t mean it like that! Jeeze, I have one drink and suddenly Equestria’s going to blow up.” Berry Punch looked aside quickly, staring at the ground and turning away slightly.
“Do you remember before Pinchy came around? Remember the bars and clubs? Where we met, with you on the floor and the first thing you said to me? ‘I think I threw up my pancreas.’ I know you. I cleaned you up, I poured coffee into your throat, and I let you work out your hangover on my couch. And a few months later I was managing your DTs, mopping your forehead, putting up with your mood swings and keeping you on your hooves. I KNOW what happens to you. I can’t go through that again. I’m NOT putting Pinchy through that. I’m her mother too. Please…” Colgate bit her lower lip, trying to keep looking firmly, with her eyes wavering and liquid.
Berry Punch looked quickly to her wife, meeting the mixture of stern and uncertain with a shiver and sudden slump. “Sorry. You know what the subject is like for me. I’m just… Oh Celestia, how do you manage to put up with me? I’m a raging nag sometimes.”
“Because I love you, Juicy.” Colgate came over to kiss her wife on the cheek, pressing up against her solidly.
“Oh, right. That.” Berry Punch laughed softly and gave her mare a kiss. Crisis averted. None of them suspected what lay beneath the sink. Perfect.
- - -
The perfection was much more tangible when Colgate announced she had received a letter from her mother and father in Gaskinwich. The wanted to meet with Pinchy, whom they hadn’t seen since Berry Punch had given birth to her. It wasn’t much of a surprise: Gaskinwich was a fair trot away, but Pinchy was their biological child by donation from their son Dentifrice, and they had a great desire to see her. They were nice folks, retired dentists residing in a comfortable suburban home. Too far away to be proper child-spoiling grandparents, they wanted to make a good effort at it when they could.
“Are you SURE you don’t want to come with us? She’s your child too.” Colgate looked pleadingly at her wife, lower lip quivering slightly.
“Yea, but they’re your parents. She doesn’t look much like you, aside from the horn, and you two deserve some close, personal bonding time. I know you get it a lot here, but it’s a long trip and family bonding. That’ll be good for the both of you.” Berry Punch lounged comfortably on the couch in the living room, looking lethargic and lumpish.
“They might want to see you, too.”
“Did they say that?”
Colgate didn’t answer for a time. “… No…”
“Your parents never thought I was good enough for you. I never finished college; you have a degree in orthodontics. I’m a housemare and you’re a professional. Sure, that’s nice and traditional, and that probably makes them very, very happy. But they wanted a better-educated housemare for you.”
Colgate sighed and shook her head sadly. “I just… I’ll tell them you sent your regards.” She trotted away a short distance, turning to regard her wife again. She was just sitting there, inoffensively eating a bowl of popped corn while she watched television. She knew that she cared. But some days she just let all the negativity in her life get to her. Colgate decided to be dumb. “There’s nothing wrong with being a housemare. It’s a respectable and honorable thing. Taking care of a foal, minding a whole house, making sure everything is working fine… It’s an important job. Please just… Can’t YOU appreciate it? I don’t care what my parents think of it. All I care about is you.”
There was no response from Berry Punch for a while, until a tear slid down her cheek and her teeth ground against each other. She sniffled sharply and looked over at her wife. “Tell ‘em you’re too good for them.”
Colgate smiled and gave her head a nod. “I will. And you; try to keep busy. Stay there long enough and you’ll put down roots.”
Berry Punch managed a small chuckle as she wiped her eyes. “Yea… Yea, I know. I’ll get some exercise in.”
Colgate nodded her head and trotted away happily. She was confident it would be a good trip with her daughter, and she was sure her wife would be fine on her own.
- - -
It was one hour after Pinchy and Colgate were off before the cabinet under the sink was opened and both jugs were out in the yard with Berry Punch. Sheltered in the backyard she regarded the jugs of liver punchers. She also thought back on her wife’s trusting concern. With a cry of anguish she brought her hoof down on one of the clay jugs, chipping it and knocking off one of the handles. She smashed the jug repeatedly as tears poured down her face. At last the barrage of blows split the jug into pieces, spilling the sharp-smelling liquid.
Berry Punch panted slowly, her nose filled with the heady, heavy vapor of alcohol and sour apples, taking in a deep breath and releasing it with a long sigh. She regarded the other jug with her teary eyes and brought her hoof up once more. She hesitated, watching the liquid drip off her hoof, a mix of dirt and alcohol. Her tongue first licked over her dry, trembling lips. And then licked the muddy mess from her own hoof.
What followed was a week of rollercoaster infidelity to promises made, and clumsy attempts at remaining faithful to agreements. A few mouthfuls of Apple family moonshine were followed by desperate attempts to distract from the desire for more by watching mindless daytime television. That was the pattern for the week. She broke out the hidden booze she had once promised she would never touch. She drank the wine she had and three bottles more, guzzled the Caballito-made tequila she had, unlocked a bottle of Capall-made whiskey, retrieved her two bottles of scotch and finally finished off the jug of ‘shine. In between her binges she tried everything to resist, from overeating to trying to read whatever books came into her hooves when she grabbed from the bookcase. Through it all, she never blacked out. She was still herself, and still had the amazing alcohol tolerance that her shallower friends thought meant something. She also never left the house. No pony would ever have gossip to hurt her. Colgate would never know. Pinchy would never know. And she had her stress-filled and self-hating week of drinking herself into idiocy just like before.
She finished off her last mouthful of high-octane stupidity fuel a day before her wife and daughter were scheduled to be back home. With all the reasonable intellect she could pull up from behind the foggy brain she had she managed to cobble together a workable and generally clear house. The shards of crockery were cleared up and thrown away, while the whole bottle was hidden back under the sink for eventual covert return to Sweet Apple Acres. She went out for the first time in a week and stealthily purchased a bottle of wine and a bottle of tequila, draining both to the appropriate level and placing them in the locations of the old bottles. Finally, she did all she could to fix herself up. Washing repeatedly, brushing repeatedly, repeatedly using eye drops and getting food packed down her gullet. She hoped it would be enough to make her look presentable.
The next day she was out in the front yard waving happily as she saw the taxi coach pull up, Pinchy waving enthusiastically from the window and Colgate waving more sedately further within. As soon as the coach had stopped Pinchy was out and dashing into her mother’s arms, squeezing her tightly. “Mommy! Did you miss me? Did you miss me?”
“You bet I did, squirt. So, how was it over at their place?”
“It was weird! It smelled like dust and mommy’s office, they didn’t have any candy and they made me brush my teeth like five times a day.”
“Pinchy, I told you they might do that. They may be retired but they still care a great deal about dental hygiene.” Colgate trotted sedately to Berry Punch and gave her a warm, deep kiss. It tasted strongly of mouthwash. For a moment that was suspicious, then she tasted a smidge of chocolate on the other mare’s lips. She must have been overindulging on treats. Silly filly. “You’re looking a little… Well-fed, dear. You haven’t been overindulging, have you?”
A drop of sweat slowly slid down Berry Punch’s forehead, her eyes going wide. “U-uhh… Just what do you mean by that? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Colgate brought her hoof up and wiped it along Berry Punch’s lips, finding still more little smears of chocolate. “Right. And this is just a new lipstick. My silly filly. I won’t care if you put on a few extra chocolate pounds. Juicy, I love you for you.”
“Hey! I’m still down here! Don’t go getting all mushy! Dinky’s moms already do all that and it’s just as bad.” Pinchy tugged at both her mothers’ legs, looking sternly up at them.
“Heh, the squirt’s right! We shouldn’t just leave her out. Come on, who wants to go out to eat? What do ya say? Percheron, Cavallino or Caballito?”
“Cavallino! Cavallino! I wanna have some pizza and psketti!” Pinchy hopped madly around her mothers, practically twitching with enthusiasm.
“I agree. Cavallino sounds delicious. And you don’t need a reservation like at that stuffy Percheron place.”
“Yea, but it’s nice and dark, and you remember the last time we…”
“HEY! No more mushy! Time for pizza and noodles!” Pinchy got behind her mothers and started pushing on their flanks.
The restaurant, Cucina Ponenze, was a homey, rustic restaurant, with the inside of the building in the Cavallino style of plaster curves and arches, hanging baskets of plants, tables with traditional fiasco bottles containing candles, and brisk waiters and waitresses dressed sharply and carting around plates of savory sauces and noodles. There was very little wait, thanks to it being a weekday, and the family of three found itself seated and ordering right away.
“Spsgetti with tomato sauce and soy balls! Oh, and a little cheese pizza. Please.” Pinchy was loud but polite, folding her menu and setting it down gingerly on the table.
“We’ll have a large order of the lasagna with extra garlic, and two side salads, no dressing. Oh, and I’m going to have a minestrone soup. You, dear?” Berry Punch looked aside at Colgate.
“Yyes… Yes, that sounds good. But that’s so much. Best keep a takeout box ready.”
“Right. I’ll bring the salads and soups out right away, and the pizza in just a bit.” Their waitress was Sparkler Doo, in a sharp black vest and a nametag with a spray of small gems.
Colgate watched Sparkler walk towards the kitchen with a slight tilt of her head. “Was that Ditzy’s older daughter? I’m afraid I don’t know her that well.”
“Yea, that’s Sparkler. Ditzy mentions her now and then when Pinchy’s doing her playdates with Dinky. She lives in town and visits sometimes, but I don’t think I’ve ever met her before. How about you, squirt, you ever met her before?”
“Yea, she came by one time. She brought her birth mom a muffin basket and then talked for a while with both of them. Dinky got really excited when she came in to play with us, but I guess it’s just ‘cause she lives on her own and only stops by now and then.”
“Rather like your little sister, dear. You live in the same town but you seldom see her. Wasn’t the last time at the Sisterhooves Social?”
“Mom and dad don’t really bring her around much because… Ah, no matter. We just don’t see each other much.”
“Mommy? Why don’t grammy and grampa bring auntie Apple Core over? Is it because we’re so close in age that it’d be weird?”
“Umm… No, that’s not it. Mommy just used to be… Well, I was a bad filly when I was younger and they just leave me to be on my own. But that’s ok. You’ve got enough friends your own age, like Dinky.”
Before any more could be said, Sparkler was back at the table with a tray balanced on her back. Her horn glowed lightly as she levitated the plates and bowls off of her back. The steaming bowls of soup settled before the two mares, followed by the plates of salad settling down alongside them. “Dinky? Oh right! You’re that little Pinchy girl. My sister talks about you. You’re her best friend, you know? It’s good to know she has a good friend. Oh! I forgot your breadsticks. Just a minute.” She slipped off quickly towards the kitchen.
“Such a lovely girl. See that, squirt? That’s manners.” Berry Punch nodded her head to her daughter and then laughed a little. “Seriously, though, try to act a bit more like her. She knows her stuff.”
“Awwww, mommy!” Pinchy looked to Colgate, pointing her hoof at Berry Punch. “Mommy’s being snarky at me again!”
“It’s out of my hooves, dear. I married her for a reason. I love her sharp wit. She’s got a good head on her shoulders.” Colgate leaned in to rub her muzzle along Berry Punch’s. “But that’s beside the point. For now, dinner. Why the extra garlic, dear? I didn’t know you were such a fan.”
Berry Punch leaned down to lap and slurp at her soup. She licked her lips and smiled confidently. “When is garlic ever a bad idea? It’s kind of the best part of Cavallino food. That and the free breadsticks.” She said that with a glance aside, watching Sparkler coming up with the basket of bread.
The family savored their meal, with Pinchy eating her spaghetti as cleanly as she was able, using her hooves to work her fork, and practiced using her magic to lift the noodle-laden fork now and then, only dropping it a few times. As predicted, there was a great amount of food left over. Most of the lasagna was left over, after the salad, soup and several breadsticks, and half of Pinchy’s pizza was also left behind. All told, the three had a great time that night, and the next morning, there was nothing to do but savor the wonderfully full feeling, and deal with the garlic aftereffects.
“Oh there’s not much quite like the feeling of a good meal. Wasn’t that just spectacular?” Berry Punch patted her stomach under the covers, sighing contentedly as she snuggled in bed.
“I’ll admit. I missed the chance. Mom and dad enjoy their home cooking. And they’re not very… Exciting with their selections. And I just… I missed being out with you and Pinchy. It was a wonderful little family night. Thank you for suggesting it.”
“I felt like a big meal and figured you two would pick that one. And wasn’t I right? Garlic. It’s like magic for food.” Berry Punch snuggled up against Colgate and nuzzled against her neck.
Colgate wrinkled her nose a little bit and turned just slightly away with a smile. “Mm, yes, magic. And it is very… POWERFUL magic. I’ll get you some of the mouthwash from the office. Garlic does have its own aura for a few days after, doesn’t it?”
“Ahhh, it’s not that bad.” Berry Punch dipped her head down and nibbled at Colgate’s neck. “I locked the door last night. The squirt isn’t going to be getting at us for a while.”
“Hey now… I’m a mess! My breath stinks like garlic and I think my skin does too. Not to mention my mane. You couldn’t possibly feel anything romantic for me.”
“Wanna bet?” Was Berry Punch’s only comment before she planted a soft kiss on her wife’s lips.
- - -
A few days later things were back to normal, by and large. Colgate was back home from her office, Pinchy was off at a sleepover, and Berry Punch was sweeping the living room, looking somewhat distant and distracted. Colgate noticed she had swept the same space more than once, despite there being nothing there that she could see. “Is everything alright, dear? You seem pensive.”
“Hmm? Pensive? Me? Nah, I’m alright. Just trying to focus on what I’m doing.” Berry Punch looked up quickly, putting a smile on her face and trying to look fairly normal.
“I see. Well, let me just assure you, that area is clean. No need to go over it that many times.” Colgate chuckled softly, trying to keep the mood light.
“What? Oh. Yea, sorry. Just being thorough. I’m not… Look, absentmindedness happens. Just let me do this, ok?” Berry Punch snapped at her wife, glaring at her with a sharp look.
“Hey! I was just mentioning it!” Colgate stood up from the couch and approached Berry Punch slowly. “What’s the matter with you?”
“You’ve just got this… All your passive aggressive stuff is getting on my nerves. I mean, just SAY you’re pissed off or tell me I’m being stupid. Don’t just scoot around it! I can’t stand it.” Berry Punch was in her wife’s face, quivering a little bit and trying to maintain her hot-eyed glare.
Colgate was about to comment on what had been said but suddenly wrinkled her nose. “Ah… That scent…”
“I ate the last of the lasagna.” Berry Punch quickly dropped her anger and looked shiftily around.
“No you didn’t. Pinchy took it for lunch. You’re not leaking allyl methyl sulfide out of your pores and mouth. I know that. I have to help ponies get rid of that at the office all the time. I remember what that means. It’s been so long.”
“Hey! Don’t start getting accusatory on me! And don’t try to dodge the subject! We’re still talking about…”
“You promised me! You told me this would stop! You told me you’d STOP! Juicy you…” Colgate got in Berry’s face, a small hint of anger finally coming upon her face.
Without a warning, Berry Punch’s forehoof came out and smacked against Colgate’s cheek, knocking her to the floor. “QUIET!”
Colgate hit the floor with a cry, laying out still and stunned for a moment. She looked up with unimaginable shock, hoof gingerly caressing her stricken cheek, while a slight trickle of blood peeked from her lips. Her breath huffed hard through her nose, tears in her eyes. “Juicy..?”
Berry Punch stood trembling, looking down at her hoof, jaw dropped, tears pouring down from her face. She fell down to her three knees and then down onto her side, starting to shake harder and gasp. “Oh Celestia, what have I done?”
- - -
“I never thought you would come to see me for something like this. I mean, I heard the rumors. But I never believed it was ever as bad as the gossips indicated.” Doctor Whooves shook his head lightly at Berry Punch, who was looking down dejectedly, sobbing softly. “How long has she been like that?”
“I brought her down here as soon as I could. It’s why I called you. I needed this taken care of quickly and quietly. We need professional help.” Colgate held an ice pack against her cheek, also looking at her wife.
“No, there’s nothing quick about this.” Doctor Whooves shook his head and looked at Berry Punch. “This is hard, and I think you know that. Let me see…” He sniffed softly and nodded his head. “Mm, yes. She’s clearing out her lymph nodes. She’s been a regular drinker and stopped, cold, just recently.”
“You never did this before. You stopped? Completely?”
“I… I felt guilty about what I did while you and Pinchy were at your parent’s place. I… I drank a bit… Drank a lot. Drank like a bucking fish!”
“And then stopped because you felt like you had ‘filled your tank’, so to speak. Yea, it doesn’t quite work like that.” Doctor Whooves moved over to a desk, taking out a clipboard and a pencil. “Alright, you’ve got the lymph nodes going. And the mood swings. The violent mood swings. Going cold will do this to you. She said you put on some weight. Empty calories from all that alcohol. Liquid imitation nutrition. Any nightmares? When you start cleaning out you’ll get a serious dose of nightmares all about being found drinking.”
“I… I had a few. But I didn’t wake her up. I didn’t want her to worry. I figured it would just go away.”
“It will. On the other side of this. You’ve gotta make it through, first. So, you’ve got all the DT symptoms. And your very perceptive wife caught on. How did you even know what to look for?”
“We’ve been through this before.” Colgate responded softly, not looking at the doctor.
“What? Are you serious? If she’d already been through it she should never have fallen back into this. What happened? This kind of thing could only happen if she had stopped and started again.”
“She was suffering. She was suffering so badly during that time. I remember the smell of the detoxing. The night sweats, nightmares, mood swings, vomiting, all the digestive problems. I couldn’t… I couldn’t let her suffer like that. So I made her a deal. Small amounts. Moderated amounts, even when she was pregnant. Small amounts are safe for growing foals, you know. I checked. That’s why she had Pinchy. She could manage it. I’m so sorry, Juicy…”
“Hey… I’m the stupid, bucking souse. You’re just the mare that’s way too good for me.” Berry Punch smiled weakly at her wife, but looked away when she saw her holding the ice pack against her cheek. A wave of nausea welled up in her stomach and she vomited what little was left in her stomach into a provided bucket.
“That was the problem. Berry Punch, not only are you an alcoholic, but you were one that didn’t finish getting better. Here’s how it works. You’re predisposed to addiction to alcohol. But therein lays the trap. Alcohol acts on your brain and doesn’t want to let go. Your body already craves it. But now, your body starts to need it. It would be like suddenly not needing to breathe. Your body would move along fine but your lungs would scream for air. They don’t know you’re not dying. Your body needs that alcohol, even if it never requires it. Just remember that. You can’t control your desire for it, and your increasing need will spiral into a uncontrollable thirst. You gave your body more than ever before when you binged. Then said, “No more.” Of course it rebelled. You had a minimum level in your system. And you denied it everything.”
Silence reigned in the room, the other two ponies digesting what had been said. Berry Punch looked up from the bucket, finally looking her wife in the eyes. “We have to tell Pinchy. Have to tell her mommy’s sick and needs to go away for a while.”
“Do you know of any good “distant relatives” for her to go visit?” Colgate looked hopefully to Doctor Whooves.
The doctor wordlessly walked over to his desk and shuffled through some papers, eventually coming up with a small pamphlet. “There’s a clinic in Hoofington. Very nice, in the country, professional, and discreet. No one would ever know. But, you HAVE to finish the treatment. Get yourself clean and sober.”
“And then I’ll be fine, right? I can come back to my family and everything will be normal, right?”
“I want to tell you yes. You have no idea how much I want to. But I’m not going to lie to you. No. It will never be normal. You’ll have that craving, that desire for alcohol. But you can’t have any, or else this will happen again. But now you know. Your wife will help you maintain. Or at least I hope she will.” The doctor looked to Colgate sternly.
“Of course! Anything! I’ll do what I must to keep her healthy.”
“And I’ll do anything to stop the rumors.” Berry Punch added quickly.
“Oh I doubt the rumors will stop, no matter what you do. It’s too ingrained in Ponyville. But don’t listen to them. You’ll be fine. Just maintain your sobriety and keep your family close by. And your friends too, if you can confide in them. Even if not, just having friends will be useful.”
Colgate walked over to Berry Punch and gave her a warm and comforting squeeze. “We’ll get through this together, juicy. Friends and family. And you’ll be fine.”
Berry Punch snuggled against her wife, with tears in her eyes. “I’m going to hate it. But that’s fine. I love you and Pinchy more than I’ll hate detoxing.”
Twilight Sparkle sat uncomfortably before a low, wooden table, a blank smile pasted onto her face as she contemplated her situation. She was entirely out of her element, in situations she could not predict or study, and unsure if she would make it out of there intact. All she could do was nod slightly when attention was given to her, and hope that nothing else was said to her. She wasn’t exactly afraid… She was terrified. This situation was the most nerve-wracking thing she had encountered, more so than anything she had done for the princess.
“Miss Sparkle, may I offer you a bran muffin? They’re homemade. Not quite what you’re used to in your fancy city’s fancy school’s fancy cafeteria, but we like them just fine.” Goody Pie sternly held out a tray topped with irregularly-shaped but good-smelling muffins, nearly stuffing them in Twilight’s face.
“O-oh… Thank you very much, Goodwife Pie. Oh! I mean… Mother…” Twilight blushed a little bit and daintily lifted a muffin from the tray with her magic, though quickly remembered herself and took it up with her hoof. She took a nibble of the top and nodded her head. “It’s delicious.”
“Goodwife Pie will be proper. Ahem. For now.” Goody Pie settled the tray back down on the table. “I understand you are Pinkamena’s… Close friend, but you are not wedded yet, according to Equestrian laws making you our daughter in a formal sense.” The earth pony coughed into her hoof and moved away to her husband’s side.
“Aren’t they great? I told you you’d like it back at the rock farm.” Pinkie popped up suddenly beside Twilight, munching a muffin in one bite then planting a kiss on Twilight’s cheek.
Goodman Pie and Goody Pie both reacted to the kiss with a balking face, but quickly pulled on their socially-acceptable neutral appearances. Goodman Pie casually chewed on his muffin, looking hard at Twilight Sparkle. “Thank you for remembering to use your hooves. Not that we hold anything against unicorns, but we have our ways of doing things here in our Cannonite community.”
“I understand, Goodman Pie. I’m well studied in this community. I understand you and your neighbors hold to an older social understanding, freshly from the grip of the age of Discord, though I understand there were some differences. However, I could not seem to gather any information on what it was before the change to the beliefs of the Cannonites.” Twilight intentionally passed on all commentary about the reactions she received. She couldn’t understand how Pinkie could just ignore such obvious enmity.
“Oh Twilight. You don’t have to understand the rock farm, or the rest of the community.” Pinkie Pie kissed Twilight again and rubbed her head against the unicorn’s neck. “We don’t need to live here. And they can’t actually stop our marriage.”
“M-marriage!? Pinkie! We haven’t made plans like that yet.”
“Don’t you WANT to get married, Twilight?” Pinkie looked at Twilight with huge, wavering eyes, biting lightly on her lower lip.
Twilight looked into Pinkie’s face, and then sighed. “Of course, my little cookbook.”
“Excuse me. I need to… tend to the fields a bit before it gets too late.” Goodman Pie rose from beside his wife and slowly made his way out the door, shaking his head and shooting dark looks back at Twilight, who was focused on the empty, pleasant chattering of his wife.
Goodman Pie slowly trotted along the path outside the rock fields, not even noticing the fine crop of gravel-grade rocks. He was too depressed to be joyous. A filly fooler. One of his daughters was involved with another mare. Talking about marriage. To a unicorn. He could not believe it, yet he was unsurprised. He had allowed Pinkamena to leave the farm, and the community. He had no choice. Her parties were pleasant, but not in keeping with the serious austerity of the community. She had to have her wilding immediately. He should have known she’d love it so much she would remain gone.
Along the road to the next farm he came across a fellow Cannonite, in his plain clothing and dour appearance. He was unfamiliar, but he may have been from a far community. He was a deep gray stallion with a pale brown mane. Upon his back there was a box, and around his neck a string, which held some kind of charm hidden by his shirt. “Good morrow, brother Pie.”
“Good morrow brother. I am sorry, you have me at a disadvantage; you know me but I don’t know you.”
“I know many things, brother. As for me… My name is unimportant. It is enough to know that I am like you, in so many ways.”
“Yes. A fellow Cannonite. But that doesn’t say anything about why you know me.” Goodman Pie suddenly became very suspicious of the other stallion. He didn’t like mysteries. He had enough of that with his curious daughter. Any more mysterious circumstances were unacceptable.
“Oh brother, do not look at me thus. I am merely a stallion from a distant community. And I have come to deliver something to you.” The other pony turned slightly to present the plain, brown box to Goodman Pie.
“And what is this, brother? Haven’t you got a name to tell me before I take this?”
“There’s no need for such suspicion. It’s not even for you. This is for the interloper. The invader. You don’t want her there, don’t want her near your daughter. Go ahead and take it. Take it and deliver it to her before she leaves. You will have your will. Be rid of the filly fooler.” The mystery pony approached closer, offering the mysterious box insistently.
“Away, away! I don’t know you, I don’t trust you! Brother Cannonite or not, I will not simply take that box and give it to anypony. Now please leave or I will summon the elders to judge this case.”
“No, you will not.” The other stallion revealed what the pendant under his shirt was. It looked like a flat disc marked with a crude picture of Discord. The stallion snapped the disc in half, which caused the entire necklace and pendant to disintegrate. His eyes went all swirly and he held Goodman Pie in his gaze. “You will take the box and give it to the filly fooler.”
Goodman pie nodded his head, and took the box, placing it on his back. “To the filly fooler.”
“And you won’t remember you were ordered to do this… Only that you took the box.” The stallion slowly turned and trotted away.
A moment after the stallion vanished Goodman Pie shook his head and looked around again. The other Cannonite was gone, though he could not recall where he had gone. Shrugging his shoulders he turned around and walked slowly back to the house.
“… So we took some pictures at the top of the waterfall in Canterlot, and now we keep them in our houses. Twilight has hers over her desk, and I keep mine over my little workstation in Sugarcube Corners. And in my garret over the bed. And in my mane. See!” Pinkie Pie reached into her puffy mane and took out a small frame, showing off a photograph of herself and Twilight by a tremendous waterfall.
“Yes… That’s very nice, Pinkamena dear.” Goody Pie sipped from her teacup with a slight shiver. “Ah, dear, welcome back. How are the fields?” Goody was rescued from the uncomfortable situation by the sight of her husband.
“Fields? Oh, fields. Yes, they’re… They’re fine. Miss Sparkle? I have a gift here, from the Cannonite community. I received it from a passing stallion and I’m guessing it was collectively given. Please accept this as a token of esteem.”
“Oh thank you fa- Goodman Pie! I’ll wait to open this until we’re back home, but thank you very, very much. I appreciate it greatly.” Twilight took the box and hugged it to her. Pinkie looked at the box curiously but said nothing. Something was wrong with that. She knew the Cannonites. They were generous, but Twilight was an outsider in so many ways. She wouldn’t receive the benefit of their generosity so soon, especially as she was going to become part of the community by Mare marriage. But she just pressed up against Twilight and accepted it. Maybe things were changing.
Later on that night, while everyone in the Pie household was asleep, Pinkie and Twilight in Pinkie’s old bedroom, which was no longer occupied by the other sisters; Goodman and Goody pie were in their own room. However, Goodman Pie could not sleep. He stared at the ceiling, the events of the day thrumming through his head. He couldn’t stop thinking about the box. He wasn’t sure why but something just made him terribly uncertain about it.
To that end he quietly slipped out of bed and slunk through the simple house. Twilight had left the box in the living room, so she would not forget it in the morning. There was hardly any light in the house, so he lit a match and touched it to one of the candles in the living room. The tiny bit of light allowed him to see the box better. He pulled up the corner of it, peering through the tiny crack and tilting it as much as possible to let the light into the small opening.
In the darkness of the box he could barely make out a shimmering edge of gold and the polished surface of a mirror. He caught a bare glimpse of his eye in the mirror.
Red. Splash of red across the surface. Anger. A hoof thrust out, Goodman Pie’s hoof, thrusting out to hit Goody Pie…
Goodman Pie stumbled back with a gasp, the candle blowing out, his heart throbbing in his chest. His breath was sucked in hard and released with a wavering shudder, his eyes wide. The image was fading from his mind quickly, leaving nothing behind but what almost felt like a greasy, disgusting stain on his mind, the tiniest, lingering smudge without details. Just something that felt… Wrong.
- - -
The next morning Goodman Pie was a wreck, having suffered through vague nightmares that bothered his sleep. However, he put on a brave face and saw Pinkie and Twilight off by his wife’s side. He couldn’t even remember what he had seen in the box. It left no impression on his mind. But he knew there was something wrong with it. It felt wrong to give it to Twilight. Yet he couldn’t help but allow her to take it. The filly fooler.
The two mares made their way back to Ponyville with a small cart, which they had used to haul along their personal items, including several items of Pinkie’s cookware. They just added the box to it and pulled along, talking placidly and sharing numerous kisses and leans of their heads. Both of them entirely forgot about it until they got back to Sugarcube Corners and were unloading the various supplies. “Oh, right, that community gift. Pinkie, could you take it upstairs? I’ll put these cooking things back in the kitchen.” So saying, she levitated some of the pans and stockpots.
“Okie dokie lokie!” Pinkie Pie placed the box on her back and bounced her way up the stairs, feeling whatever it was inside the box bouncing wildly around. She wasn’t worried about breaking it, after all, it was probably a hardy, simple object that was easy to replace or repair. Twilight could do that kind of thing. Her magic was really amazing. Pinkie set the box down on her bed with a sigh and a smile. She wanted to open it up right away. Surprises were ok, but they could be so nerve-wracking. She wanted it to be over right away. She really, really needed it to be over right away. Her hoof reached out to open the box…
“Pinkie! Are you opening the gift before I can get there?” Twilight’s voice practically boomed from below, startling Pinkie into pulling her hoof away.
“Ummm… No!” She wanted to. She wanted to so badly. But she would be a good pony. She liked being a good pony for Twilight. She could manage to wait.
It wasn’t even that long of a wait. Twilight came up into the garret with a bounce in her step, humming a light tune that was very popular around Ponyville. She looked at the box and nodded her head. “Now, to get to this probably lovely gift the community gave us.”
“It’s probably a corn husk doll. Or a plain outfit. Or a rock. But not a really good rock that we plant to make good slabs. A gravel rock.”
“Pinkie, I’m sure it’s something nicer than that. After all, we were guests, and they recognize that we’re somewhat important. I’m sure it‘s… Nice…” Twilight had opened the box with her horn and lifted out the contents with her telekinesis. The contents were more than nice. What they found inside was a kind of personal mirror. An apple-shaped upper portion with a long handle. They were looking at the back of the mirror, which seemed to be made of gold. The perimeter looked like a snake, which led down to the entwined handle with the snake eating its own tail at the bottom. In the center of the rounded portion, there were the cryptic letters, KALLISTHI. (Note: As formatted, this was in Greek.)
“What? You mean they had something like THIS and I never got one? All I ever got were corn dolls and shoofly pie!” Pinkie looked at the mirror with an incredulous narrowing of one eye and a huge opening of the other.
“I don’t think this was really from them. I don’t know…” The telekinesis turned the mirror slowly, revealing the front of it. The snake body around the mirror itself was etched with additional words, on the left, upper middle and right, in the same cryptic script, this time the words, mhlon ths Eridos (This, too, was Greek). But once the words had been seen, the mirror itself absorbed their notice…
“My faithful student…” A haze of brown liquor and mysterious stings over the exposed hide of a grinning madmare. Fire burned and ponies screamed in fear and agony. The wind rushed past twitching ears as hooves hammered the grassy ground. Hooves… Hooves and horns everywhere, familiar. Betrayal by the familiar contact. A splash of white and burning sunlight tracing flaming caresses across a vulnerable body. No. No… No more. No more contact. No more. It’s not right. But it won’t stop. The madmare is fed by the staunch refusal to be slaked or moved by pity. Madness for the madness within. Drunken wheeling, bruises over the whole form, all in a haze of perfidy. The Cocytian realm would tremble at such an act of infidelity. But no. As the madmare grinned and the world burned, the traces of touch continued to invade the secret places.
“P a r t y . . .” The distant, echoing word was said without mirth, without joy, without any emotion. It was a stretched expulsion of noise devoid of meaning. The steady drip of thick liquid was not terrible. The terrible part was the horrid squirming. So noisome and improper. The shine and quick motion. The squirming ceased, to leave only the purity of each drip. Drip. Drip. What friends were there in the dark? There were only bits and pieces of memory left. All with the tiny trophies to signify their passing through life. What did friend matter when there was all the beautiful drip? Drip. Drip. But soon it would stop. The squirming would come again. But that would end too. No worries in the dark. Only the fear that there might one day be no more smiles for the darkness and only some kind of hope for the outside. Blasphemy. Only the dark could be happy.
Twilight finally lost control of the mirror, dropping it back into the box and sending the hideous glass out of eyesight. Twilight and Pinkie both dropped to their sides, hooves over their eyes. They could see it. They could still see it in the spaces behind their eyes. Like a greasy corruption on their minds, fading away into an unclean smudge that buzzed like a distant bee. There. So very there but indistinct. Just something wrong.
Both mares trembled and panted hard, silent for a long few moments, chancing a glance to each other after they uncovered their eyes. Neither had seen the other’s nightmare in the mirror. The sight of one another was the only comfort cutting through the unclean stain that had been stamped on their minds. They quickly clattered closer to one another, embracing tightly, Pinkie in tears, Twilight on the edge but trying to be strong. “What was that, Twilight? What was it?”
“I don’t… I don’t know, Pinkie. The writing was unfamiliar. I know it’s Hipposian, but I don’t know it that well. I can still see the letters themselves and I know I have a Hipposian-Equestrian dictionary at the library. Let’s just leave it here and see what the words mean.”
Pinkie, wanting to be as far away as possible from the thing, nodded quickly and quietly, looking fearfully at the box as though at some kind of monster. No laughter this time. Something hazy and indistinct kept her from giggling at that particular ghosty. She just got up with Twilight and walked out.
Not more than a half hour after Twilight and Pinkie had left Pinkie’s room, Rainbow Dash poked her head into the door. “Twi? Pinkie? You guys home?” She trotted into the room, casting her eyes around until she saw the box. Peeking inside she could see the shining gold and etched letters on the back. “Whoa! Sweet mirror! Man, Twilight is so SAPPY! She gives Pinkie way too many flashy gifts.” Dash stroked her chin as she considered the box and mirror. “I’ve totally got to show the others. I’m sure Twi won’t mind as long as I bring it back.”
- - -
“Well, well. What have y’got there, RD?” Applejack came across Dash at the back door to Sugarcube Corner, upon which she had been about to knock.
“It’s another one of those sappy gifts Twi keeps giving Pinkie. Look at this.” Dash showed off the mirror, placing it in a patch of light that showed off the shine of the gold.
“Well ah’ll be! That reminds me o’ auntie and uncle Orange! That Twi jes gets too fancy. Pinkie’s jes a simple country pony, like me! We don’t need fancy baubles an’ trinkets. We jes need t’know we’re loved.”
Dash suddenly threw a leg around Applejack’s shoulder and snuggled her in close, kissing her cheek. “I love you, Applejack. You and your crazy family and your dozens of dinner parties.”
“Rainbow Dash! Ah told you, that was all Granny’s doin’. She jes wants y’all t’stay around. And ah’ll admit, ah want y’all t’stay too.” Applejack leaned against Dash and rubbed cheek to cheek. “So where was ya goin’ with that?”
“I’m gonna show it to Rarity. This is SO the kind of thing that makes her get all spazzy.”
“Did y’all remember t’ask permission?” Applejack looked sternly at Dash, who started to sweat a little.
“Well, you know… Th-they’re friends. They won’t mind as long as I get it back to them quickly. I’m not gonna lose it. I just wanted Rarity to have a look and get crazy jealous.”
“Sugarcube… That ain’t very kind o’ you.”
“It’s all in good fun. Rarity gets a kick out of it. Besides, it gives her ideas about what she can give Fluttershy, who ALSO doesn’t need fancy toys. Man, our friends are weird. Two fancy-pants mares dating two simple mare that just want them to be there.”
“Don’t spread them ‘weirds’ out too far, Dashie.” Applejack kissed her marefriend and gave her a playfully mock-serious glance. “Ah’m a simple mare mahself.”
Dash chuckled, hugging Applejack to her before they both set off down the short walk between there and Carousel Boutique.
“… And the trim needs to be organdy; just use the iron for that, I have plenty of iron-activated fabric glue. That will be sufficient for this project.” Rarity was at her drafting table, putting some final sketches on a new dress design. She was giving directions to Fluttershy, who was working on a previous design.
Fluttershy pulled out a long piece of organdy ribbon, measuring it carefully by eye, cutting the piece off, then cutting strips of heat-activated fabric glue. She placed the ribbon halfway down along the lower edge of the dress, with pieces of the glue under it. She pressed the iron down at each piece, sealing the piece of organdy to the rest of the fabric. “It’s another beautiful work, Rarity.”
“Oh thank you, darling, but it’s nothing really. Just something I tossed together for those horrible ponies in Canterlot. It will be nothing compared to the magnificent perfection that I shall construct for your birthday.” Rarity turned from her sketch to looking lovingly upon her marefriend.
“Oh…” Fluttershy blushed deeply and set the iron aside, looking down shyly. “Y-you know you don’t have to do that, Rarity. All I really want is the day with you, and a little party. I don’t need anything so fancy.”
“Now, now… You have bound yourself to an artist, and my medium is clothes. My most precious gift… No, my most precious gift is you, but the pale shadow that approaches that would be the finest bit of couture in all of Equestria.”
“Oh…” Fluttershy was stricken into speechlessness, hiding behind her hair.
“Hey! Anypony home!” From the front shop area came Rainbow Dash’s voice.
“Yes, we’re in the design studio!” Rarity called out.
“Hey there, sugarcubes.” Applejack sauntered casually into the studio, followed by Dash carrying the box on her back.
“Oh, Applejack, Rainbow Dash. What a wonderful surprise. To what do be owe this visit?” Rarity got up from her design table and walked over to stand beside Fluttershy, a good compromise distance.
“You know Dashie. She found some cute li’l trinket that Twi was givin’ t’Pinkie and wanted t’show it.”
“Yea, and this one’s a doozy. You’ve gotta check it out.” Dash came closer, Applejack beside her, placing the box on a table near Rarity and Fluttershy, who crowded around to look in.
“Goodness me! Just look at the fine crafting on this mirror! Such finely-wrought gold, and such beautifully etched lettering. And look at it, Hipposian. That is so Twilight, trying to impress Pinkie Pie with sophisticated foreignness. She really goes over the top.” Rarity looked around at all the eyes looking to her and lightly bounced her hair. “Well, she DOES.”
“Come on, let’s see the rest of it.” Dash nudged at Rarity, indicating the mirror with her hoof.
“Yes, I do suppose we ought to have a look.” Rarity lifted the mirror out with her telekinesis, slowly turning the mirror’s face to them, letting them all see the reflective surface.
The sky was far away, and would be far away forever. The world was black and choked in ash, all the future burned away, all the past faded into a colorless plane of razors. Only pain came from looking back, to a time when all was hopeful and happy. But it had only taken one mistake to turn all that hopeful happiness into the nothingness of the present. Nothing was important anymore, nothing was there to hang onto. There wasn’t even a point to living, there was nothing ahead but the bleak, broken future. Nothing to do but escape.
Tell them lies. Tell them soft, sweet, poisoned little lies to make it easier to get through the day. Sometimes for their benefit. More often for the sheer joy of lying. So much joy in deceit. What could be so pleasant about the truth when lies flowed so much easier and never hurt unless somepony was foolish enough to believe? It was all their own fault if they had the foolish trust to believe. Show them the price of belief. Teach them to never trust again. Loneliness is the only solution. Solitude. Do it all as a single being. No pain in solitude. No sorrow in seclusion.
Gonna cry, little foal? Gonna cry like a little foal and run away? Good! Nopony cares about you anyway. Awww, is that sauce a little hot? Too bad! Aww, it burns and blisters. So what? Don’t be such a little foal! Awwww, your throat is swelling? Stop complaining about it! Why are you all such foals? Stop crying! You make me sick!
Oh dear oh dear… Such unfortunate scars. What a terrible thing to happen to pristine porcelain features. So much promise gone up in flames. Flames… No. No. Just blood. Flames are so base. So coarse. No no… A cut, a cut, a cut… Yes. Blood. So lovely, standing out on the alabaster form. Such ugly scars but such beautiful blood. So sad the scars must always come. Self respect? Self respect comes only from mutilation. Worthless. Worthless without beauty. And beauty flows from liquid life, splitting the fonts of the body to pour and paint the beauty on like camouflage.
- - -
“Ok…Here it is…” Twilight Sparkle was surrounded by books as usual, tomes on grammar, books containing full lists of conjugated verbs and case-modified other words, as well as the Hipposian-Equestrian dictionary. “It’s kalos. And it means beautiful. The one on the mirror was a modification that means it was given to the most beautiful.”
“Oh! Does that mean you’re the most beautiful, Twilight? I knew it! I knew you were beautiful! I told you…” Pinkie continued to chatter and babble in the background, almost running out her own tongue. She wasn’t filled with her normal chipper energy. Rather, she was putting on a brave face. There was still the unsettling something that had been seen in the mirror. Even if she couldn’t remember, she could feel its wrongness in her subconscious.
“I don’t think it really was for me… I’ve been looking up the rest of the words that I saw. One of them means apple. The shape was enough to tell. The rest of it was a preposition, and the last bit…” Twilight went silent, the book falling to the floor with a heavy thud.
“T-twilight? Twilight? What’s wrong? Twilight!” Pinkie went over to shake Twilight softly, looking at her with fearful eyes.
“E-eridos… A version of a noun. A proper name.”
“What name?”
“The Hipposian Eris. Their name for Discord.” At that moment, there was a scream of several voices from across the town.
- - -
Rarity flung the mirror through her window, the golden abomination flying out over the town, landing with a light bounce in a cart being pulled by Big Macintosh. He heard the object fall into the hay and quickly looked back. He could see the flash of gold but was positioned improperly to actually note what it was. He unhitched himself from the cart and looked into it. He reached in for the handle he saw protruding from the hay and brought the object up to his face.
Muscles. Big muscles. Powerful all over. Pride. But a very well-earned pride. Mares were everywhere. Beautiful mares. All of them fawning and swooning without shame. None of them cared that the others were there. They were only eager to be there with all those muscles, all those bulging muscles. The handsome smile and wonderful flip of hair. Mares loved all of that. They were so easy to draw in. Nothing better that all the mares. ALL the mares. Mares everywhere…
Big Macintosh held the mirror with wide eyes and a dropped jaw. He stuffed the mirror into the space of his horse collar and quickly galloped off, leaving behind the cart of hay and passing by Twilight and Pinkie, who were dashing in the opposite direction.
The two mares burst into the boutique, finding Dash huddled on the floor, Applejack shaking her head, Fluttershy clinging to Rarity and Rarity staring blankly out. “Girls! Girls, are you ok?”
Appleback was the first to respond, finally seeming to clear her head enough. “Ah… Ah jes don’ know whut we jes saw. But it feels terrible in mah head.”
“I don’t know why, but I just want to hold Rarity. I’m always afraid but now it feels like I really NEED her.” Fluttershy squeezed Rarity tightly, hiding her face in her long hair.
“Oh Darling… Y-yes. Hold on tightly. I’ll be here for you. I’ll help you with… Whatever it was…”
Twilight understood, suddenly. “The mirror. What happened to the mirror?”
“That hideous thing? I threw it out of my shop immediately! Twilight, how could you keep such a horrible thing?”
“It was given to me, but not by who I thought. Who took it out of Pinkie’s room anyhow?”
The other three mares looked at Rainbow Dash, even Fluttershy, though from behind her hair. Rainbow smiled sheepishly and cleared her throat. “W-well, I was just borrowing it. I was going to bring it back after I showed Rarity.”
“Oh no, this is bad. This is bad! I checked the writing on that! It’s something connected to Discord!” The other mares started to chatter between one another after that statement. “The mark on the back says it’s for the most beautiful and its front says it’s Discord’s apple. According to ancient Hipposian legends, Discord tossed a golden apple marked with that to the wives of the three leaders of the earth, Pegasus and unicorn ponies of the time. Each one thought the apple was for his wife. That ended the second inter-bellum period and began the third civil war of the Discordian period, the last one before the history gets muddled and completely indistinct. Discord seems to have erased everything.”
“Gracious! I thought we had sealed away Discord and all his horrible little tricks.” Rarity shook her head disbelievingly and stood up, with Fluttershy still attached.
“I don’t think anypony can truly do away with Discord, no matter what. Some pieces will always remain, even if the most troublesome part is locked away. That mirror must have been something he created just in case he was ever defeated. A way to keep spreading chaos through the world. And it does. I don’t remember what I saw, I only remember it was terrible. I can feel it.”
“Yea. Something’s humming in my head. I just don’t know what. It feels really wrong.” Rainbow Dash finally got to her hooves and rubbed at the side of her head.
“That’s what Discord wants. Fear and uncertainty. We have to find that mirror. I’ll write to Princess Celestia and tell her what’s happened. Everypony, find that thing before it hurts somepony else!” Twilight knocked her hoof on the ground then ran off out of the boutique, followed by the others.
The six separated and filtered out through the town. Twilight went to find Spike, who had been given liberty to do as he chose; Rarity carried Fluttershy on her back as she used her horn to try and find any trace of gold, a difficult thing given all the gold used in everyday applications. Rainbow Dash took to the sky with a desperate hunger despite the nagging in her brain, while Applejack happened to notice the hay cart. It was one of the Sweet Apple Acres delivery carts that Big Macintosh used when he wanted to haul in groceries and other items. Applejack ran to Sweet Apple Acres, to get Winona. Big Macintosh would never abandon the cart without a reason. She needed to track him down.
- - -
Big Macintosh ducked into another alley. He had been hiding for some time. Each time he found a quiet, dark place he had to leave thanks to the approach of somepony. He was dedicated to his solitude and privacy. Once he was certain he was safely hidden from ordinary view, he eagerly reached into his horse collar, pulling out the mirror, and dislodging Smarty-Pants, dropping her into the filth of the alley.
All the mares. ALL the mares. ALL THE mares. ALL THE MARES. All the muscles and all the power and all the studliness and all the good mane flicks. All the sunglasses. All the love and adulation and greatness and…
Big Macintosh looked just past the edge of the mirror. He caught a glimpse of Smarty-Pants laying on the floor of the alley.
They all want to snuggle up to all those muscles. Every mare wanted to be the one to feel those things flex, to know what it was like to be pulled in a cart by the strongest stallion in Ponyville. In all Equestria. All the ladies everywhere wanted…
Those mismatched button eyes looked up. Round and pure and sweet. Unconditionally loving. They still had all the emotion in them. He could see it. The mana envelope was still there, gathering impressions. Gathering memories. Seeing what was happening.
All the mares, all the cows, all the hens, all the jennies, all the b…
But no Smarty-Pants. In all the mirror’s empty promises, there was no Smarty-Pants. That was when the addicting buzzing in Big Macintosh’s head started to feel horrible. The mirror was offering everything but what he wanted. Visions of wonderful things empty of meaning. It was all worthless without Smarty-Pants there to be his companion. Seeing the true uselessness of the mirror, he threw it out of the alley with a grunt, somewhat satisfied when he heard the hateful thing smash to pieces. He then took up Smarty-Pants and placed her lovingly back in his horse collar.
“Over here!” Applejack ran into the alley from the opposite direction as the mirror had flown, trailing Winona and followed by her friends. “Alright, Big Brother. Y’all’d never leave the hay cart like that. Where’s the mirror, Big Macintosh? ‘N whut did th’thing do to ya?”
“Mm, never mind whut it did. Ah got rid of it. It was a’ ugly, hateful thing. So’s ah threw it over that way an’ smashed it t’pieces.” Just as Big Macintosh said it, there came a scream from the street.
One more round. One more one more round. Last call? Fine. There’s cabinets full of magic, unending booze bottles at home. The terrible, terrible home filled with screaming and emptiness. Where SHE is hurt. Emotionally. Physically. Constantly. But it’s funny. It’s funny when she gets hurt in alcohol-fueled moments of rage, cruelty and sexual impropriety. If she wasn’t meant to get hurt, she wouldn’t have a disgusting, worthless lush for a mother. No need to think of that. There’s all the colors of the distillery to enjoy. Clear, brown, red, pink, off-pink, green, orange. A rainbow of inebriety drowning in an ocean of flavorful mixes with all the accessories any slowly-dying liver could barely tolerate.
“I’m not that way! Was never that way! I love Pinchy! Colgate’s good to me! I’m getting’ help for that! St-stop it!” Berry Punch violently kicked the mirror from before her, the whole and undamaged thing sliding and bumping along the cobblestone streets while the other ponies looked on in confusion.
Applejack and the others, with Big Macintosh and Winona, emerged from the alley to see the mirror sliding along the ground, breaking and repairing as it bounced, to come to a stop before Ditzy Doo, Carrot Top, and Dinky Doo. “Ditzy! Don’t look at it!” Twilight Sparkle screamed, but it was too late. Ditzy, in eye-spasm mode, had seen the mirror and picked it up.
I cleaned out your fridge! Muffins! I cleaned out your fridge! Muffins! I cleaned out your fridge! Muffins! I cleaned out your fridge! Muffins! I cleaned out your fridge! Muffins! I cleaned out your fridge! Muffins! I cleaned out your fridge! Muffins! I cleaned out your fridge! Muffins! I cleaned out your fridge! Muffins!
“Honey, do we need to go shopping? It keeps saying I cleaned out the fridge. And keeps saying something about muffins. I mean, I love muffins but this is a lot of them.” Ditzy looked confused, and not just because her eyes were still out of focus.
“Ditzy, look in it again, but don’t show it to anypony else.” Twilight approached slowly, cautiously, keeping her face to the mirror’s back, while all the other ponies looked away.
I cleaned out your fridge! Muffins! I cleaned out your fridge! Muffins! I cleaned out your fridge! Muffins!
“It just keeps on repeating the same things.” Ditzy looked at Twilight with a tilt of her head. “What is this? Some kind of joke mirror?”
“It’s no joke, Ditzy. I know this is going to sound strange, but I need you to drop the mirror and let it break. It’s very important that it breaks.”
“If you say so.” Ditzy dropped the mirror on its face, a loud shattering sound ringing around the area. Shards tinkled as they bounced on the solid stones before settling. But almost as soon as they stopped moving, they all flew back again, the mirror repairing itself as it lay on the street.
“Oh no. I should have known. It can’t be destroyed by ordinary means. I sent the letter to Canterlot, now we just need the Princesses here to deal with this. Until then, nopony look at that mirror.”
Those ponies that did not run away from the mirror trembled in fear and looked away from the gold mirror. Carrot Top and Dinky moved away from Ditzy, who stayed by it because Twilight motioned for her to remain there. It was an uncomfortable waiting period, but it ended soon enough, Celestia and Luna flying grandly over Ponyville and dropping to the street.
“We came as soon as we received the letter. Where is it?” Celestia looked down at Twilight with great concern.
“Over there, by Ditzy. She’s not as affected by it as everypony else.”
“We shall retrieve the hideous glass.” Luna grasped the Mirror with her telekinesis and brought it up to before her face. “So this be the offending object.” She slowly turned it from back to front, to face herself and Celestia. “Discord be a fool. This misfit magical contrivance be not powerful enough to…”
The moon… So bright and full. And not passed in a dream. Walking the surface. Bleeding blackness from her eyes, the drops of Nightmare Moon, while she, the princess, suffered in solitude and misery upon the cold and unfeeling lunar surface. Why isn’t Nightmare Moon trapped here? Why only the innocent one? Why must she be tortured with solitude while the malevolent mare lives in a limbo of uncertain location? Why this loneliness for the princess of the night? Why the torment of having to know that time is passing?
Flanks. Flanks. Legs. Bottoms. Horns and tongues and lips and all the rest. No subjects, no students, no personalities. Victims. An endless buffet of helpless, trembling, trapped victims. Violate. Destroy. Humiliate. Horrify. Care nothing for how they suffer. Lascivious miseries and drunken cavorting. Drink the suffering and torture in. Breathe in the heady incense of screams and sobs, violating all and taking away innocence, wants and preferences. Marriage? Relationships? Connections? Burn away paltry concerns in the crucible of lust and indulge in terrible things, to create monstrous situations. Smile with poisoned intentions flashing in hungry eyes. No mirth and no joy in that smile. Only intent to hurt. The promise of ruination.
Luna threw the mirror down onto the stone street with a sudden cry of pain, shattering the glass to pieces and having to watch it come together again. She took up a rock with her horn’s magic and repeatedly smashed the mirror. “Thou insolent glass! We are not thy playthings!”
“Luna! Luna! It’s not working! It’s not working…” Celestia softly rubbed her head, not remembering what scared her so much in the mirror, only feeling the stain of terror.
The mirror recovered after each smash, breaking and repairing and giving up visions of terror from each little broken piece. “Infernal Discord! The infuriating monster doth not give us any rest. We must seal the thing away from all view.” Luna flashed her horn and attempted to coat the mirror in a sheath of stone. But as the stone was laid over, it simply cracked the shell.
“Here, sister, let me help.” Celestia added her own horn’s magic to Luna’s. But even so, the mirror still resisted the coating of stone.
Luna stopped trying to stone the mirror and instead smashed it with the rock again, grabbing one shard of the glass and holding it tight, trying to keep it from flowing back. She held it tight, grunting with effort. And each time she looked at it, she got a small eyeful of her nightmare behind the glass surface. “S-sister… We… We cannot…” Luna finally turned away, letting the piece fly back into the mirror. “We must be utterly out of sight of this monstrosity. We require direction from some pony that may freely look with no fear of horror.”
“Princess!” Two heads turned towards Twilight. “…es! Princesses! I know how you can do this. Close your eyes and get behind a barrier. Ditzy, we need you here. You can guide the princesses’ magic to each piece, they can pull them away and maybe the pieces can be covered in stone.”
“Thy words be most wise, Twilight Sparkle. Thou! The one named Ditzy, come forth and serve thy nation proudly.”
Ditzy walked up obediently, looking just a little intimidated by the presence of both Equestrian princesses. “So what do I have to do?”
Luna pushed the rock to Ditzy’s chest and waited for her to take hold of it. “Thou wilt crush the hideous glass repeatedly and then direct myself and my sister to each shattered piece. Tell us where the fragments lay in relation to our horn’s grip. We shall do the rest when we have it held properly.”
Ditzy nodded and then lifted the rock up, as the other ponies cleared the street. The princesses pulled several loose boxes into a makeshift barricade, their telekinesis then sent to hover over the mirror. “Smash away. And just tell us which way to go.”
Ditzy brought the rock down with a swift motion, loudly smashing the mirror into pieces. Immediately there was a scramble with the auras of telekinesis. “Right, no, left. Right. Forward, down. Princess Celestia, down, got one! Princess Luna, grab on, left, yes!”
The Princesses ended up holding one small shard, separated from the re-forming mirror. They held on tightly, restraining the tiny piece of mirror as it attempted to return to the mirror. A crust of stone slowly formed over it, engulfing it completely and being released. The thing clattered to the ground, trying to situate itself back into the mirror but unable to fit into the space it once did.
Things proceeded like that, for a long while, Ditzy directing the princesses after she smashed the mirror a few times. Eventually, all that remained was the golden portion of the mirror, with irregular chunks of stone crowded around the face of it desperately attempting to fit together. “Huzzah! The deceiver hath been out-done! We are victorious once more!” Luna stepped out from behind the barricade, looking down at the useless mirror.
“We can try to lock the rest in stone by breaking it apart in safety. But later. Where did this mirror come from, my faithful student?” Celestia turned her eyes to Twilight, who suddenly looked scared.
“I… Umm… Well, you see Princess, it was… I just…”
“Oh! My dad gave it to her. He said it was from the community but I think he was lying. Which is weird because he’s a Cannonite and Cannonites aren’t supposed to lie.” It was Pinkie who popped up and sold out her father, drawing a gasp from all the gathered mares, but most of all from Twilight. “What?”
“P-pinkie… He’s your father! He’s going to be my father! You just… Gave him up. I know Rainbow Dash is loyalty, but we should all be loyal.”
“And hooooooooo-neeeeeest.” Pinkie smiled and spoke in adorable sing-song.
“Yes. Honest.” Twilight sighed and shook her head.
“This news be informative. Cannonites, is it? Well, they have long been mistrustful of our rule. Come then, Twilight Sparkle. Bring thy betrothed. We shall all go to question this stallion.”
“They’re a lot more quiet and stable these days, sister. We don’t need to be too worried about them. But she’s right, my student. We must go to their rock farm to find out what we can about where the mirror came from.”
- - -
“I know this is very unusual, Goodman Pie. But I have to learn where the mirror came from. It was an artifact from the Discordian period, or a new creation during his second reign. It came from him, and it spread a lot of hurt. I know you didn’t mean to do anything to hurt anypony. Please, tell me all you can.” Shortly after restricting the mirror, Celestia, Luna, Twilight and Pinkie were all crowded into the small, humble front room of the Pie family homestead.
“Be not so mild, sister. Cannonites have their hatred for us and our ways. We may trust this stallion, so far as he is known to thy student, but his kind have enmity to us. Tell us the truth, sirrah. We are not thy enemy any longer, or so we have been told.”
“I’m telling you the truth, princesses. I took the box. And I gave it to the filly fooler… I’m sorry. I can’t stop saying that when I think about or talk about the box. I didn’t even know what was in it. I saw… Something when I peeked in but it just turned into this feeling in my head. This odd, unsettling feeling, that went away recently.”
“Yes. We have felt that same. The feeling vanished when the mirror was no longer whole. With no reflection remaining the hex was broken. Dost thou remember any detail from thy receipt of that package?”
“I was talking to another Cannonite. He wouldn’t tell me his name. He had the box. I had the box. Then I was giving it to the filly fo- her. It seemed the right thing to do. He was like me. Same build, same clothing, deep gray coat and pale brown mane. He said we was a Cannonite. But that’s all. I don’t even remember where he went after I took the box.”
“This information will be useful. Thank you, Goodman Pie.” Celestia bowed her head slightly and rose, trotting out of the house flanked by Luna.
“The information be trivial at best, sister, but sayeth much all the same. A Cannonite with a Discordian item. You know as well as I that wast no real Cannonite. Even after a thousand years I know it well enough.”
“I know. It’s… I didn’t think there would ever be the need. But I will contact the mountain, see if he can pull away from exile to…”
“Nay, sister. There is a simpler way. A less obtrusive and official way, to reduce the fear that may arise.”
“But that is the job that he had in times before, and there’s no other way…”
“There is. You may not believe in the potency, but there is. Put a price upon this indistinct stallion’s apprehension. And leave the rest to the shepherd of chastening.”
- - -
“Hey! Some more of that stuff over here!” In a dive bar not far off from the Cannonite community by Ponyville and Cloudsdale, one annoying stallion was making himself more annoying. He had been a dink-swilling parasite before, but this time he had bits. Lots of them. He pulled them from a pouch pretty freely and was ordering the good stuff, tipping generously as well. So the servers dealt with his annoying nature for the sake of their pouches. “Come on, bring it, I paid for it.”
“Here you go… Brother.” A glass of dark liquid hit the table and was passed along the surface by a hoof. But it did not belong to any of the servers. It was attached to a stallion wrapped in a bark brown cloak with a hood up, hiding all except the caramel end of his snout. His hoof was at the end of a leg covered in black, like a proper Cannonite. “I thought I would be polite.”
“Heh. Brother. Works for me. Have a seat.” The slightly-buzzed stallion took up the glass and nodded his head, taking a long, slow sip. “So, you’re a Brother, are you? Brother in what?”
“Brother in Brotherhood.” The stallion had a seat close to the drinker, head turned towards him. “Just a fellow-traveler as far as these things go. A little bit Cannonite. A little bit… Chaotic. Aren’t things like that these days?”
The other one stopped drinking and slowly nodded his head. “Yea… Yea, it is. But a little chaos, now and then, is the mark of the best stallions, right?”
“Stallions over all.” The hooded one smiled a little, sliding his hood up to reveal a handsome face and shiny black mane slicked back with pomade.
“Stallions over all… That’s right. So, what brings you out here?”
“I heard you did something clever. Very clever.” The cloaked figure leaned closer, scooting a little bit nearer.
“I wish I could take credit. But it only happened thanks to the return of… Well, it was the return. You know well there’s still a few of us around. And it pays well. Really well. All I did was pass on a box and suddenly I’m loaded.”
“In more ways than one. But hey, that’s what money is for.” The caramel one chuckled, leaning in closer than before. “And you got away with it?”
“I had a little one-shot mind bender. I told him to forget he had been ordered to deliver the package.”
“Well, there was a little problem. Next time…” Suddenly the second stallion’s leg came up, bringing his hoof to the back of the drinker’s head, quickly slamming it down on the table. “Tell him to forget what you look like.” His other leg reached into his cloak and brought out a set of manacles on a chain, locking one end on the stunned stallion’s leg and the other to the heavy, bolted table.
The rapid assault caught the whole room by surprise, but once the shock had passed several of the larger stallions got up threateningly, while the bartender took up a metal pipe. “I think you may have made a mistake, stranger.”
“Did I? Well, that’s curious. This is a Discordian. You know what that means. Not exactly the most beloved sort around. But maybe you’re especially loving and tolerant. That’s fine. I just wanted you to know…” The caramel stallion opened his cloak, showing a hidden silver badge in the shape of a crescent moon. “Equestrian Constable! Nightwatch patrol stallion executing an arrest warrant on this individual! Anypony want to stick around when the rest of the corps gets in? Nightwatch doesn’t mess around and you know it.”
That was enough. Several of the patrons, stallions and mares, simply ran out of the door, while the others backed slowly away, eventually leaving on their own, the bartender included. “Nightwatch? Constable? How did they find me without tripping any alarms? I wouldn’t be here if I knew there was an counter-Discordian crew after me.”
“Yea, about that. That was a lie.” The stallion took a piece of parchment out of his cloak along with a graphite stick. He wrote out a quick message and then burned the paper on one of the lantern flames along the wall. “Oh, they know I’m here, and my badge number is official. I’m technically connected to the Nightwatch. I’m just not a real constable. I can’t arrest just ANYPONY. But if there’s a warrant out for you, I can get you. For a fee.”
“A bounty hunter? Since when does a bounty hunter have access to this kind of high-level stuff? I thought you guys were low-level subpoena servers telling folks to come to court over vandalism and stealing fruit.”
The bounty hunter pulled out another piece of paper and wrote out another note, after taking the manacled stallion’s pouch and weighing it carefully. He left the note on the arrestee’s table as he walked out of the bar. “I told you. I’m not quite what you think. It’s complicated. But it works for me.”
The restrained stallion pulled at his chain and cried out for help from the ponies that were no longer there. He did that for the entire period between his captor leaving and armored ponies arriving. Gold armored pegasi and silver-armored unicorns. Both sisters had sent their guards. They took the stallion into custody, and looked at the note that had been left for them.
“Hello fellows. I confirmed this was the one. He owned up to it. Don’t bother forwarding the bounty, I took his ill-gotten bits. By weight they seemed to be about right. I’ll remit overage or bill for underage later. Ha! Kidding. Don’t mind his head, I had to stun him for a moment. Eh… Bill me for that if it’s billable. Take care! Nightwatch-supported warrant-server badge number 7777.”
- - -
Luna trotted through the grounds of Canterlot palace, reading a dispatch from the guard detachments that had been sent to formally arrest the Discordian responsible for the mirror fiasco. She smiled at the successful operation, and chuckled when she read the words from the one that had restrained the criminal. She made her way to the hedge maze which held the petrified form of Discord, where Celestia was setting the remains of the mirror. As stated, the gold portion had been broken to pieces and encased in stone. All the separate, stone-coated pieces continued to try and reassemble, but had been pushed away from one another by long stone rods, looking like a spiny ball, or a frozen explosion. That ball had been coated in glass and mounted on a carven pillar, which Celestia was settling near Discord. “Sister! Did I not say it would be so? The notice hath come. The profusions of sevens have marked the capture of the wrongdoer. Without need of payment. The matter is thus concluded, successfully.”
Celestia anchored the pillar solidly beside the encased spirit of chaos, looking at him with a triumphant expression. “You always knew how to be a pain. You left your little followers even after we sealed you away. We did all we could to reduce their impact and I think we did a good job. But you just can’t help yourself, can you? I’m sure there are more little traps laid out somewhere, just waiting for the unwary ponies. But this one isn’t here anymore. I don’t even remember what I saw in that thing, and I don’t feel the same unsettled ugliness I did when it was still whole. But I have a memory of that memory. You haven’t broken us, Discord. Whatever ugly horror you intended, failed.” Celestia started to walk away with Luna, but paused, thought a moment, and turned to add, “And it always will.”
“She can kill with a smile/ She can wound with her eyes/ She can ruin your faith with her casual lies/ And she only reveals what she wants you to see/ She hides like a chick/But she's always a ma-are to me.” Gilda's naturally husky voice crooned out the words that passed along the karaoke screen, the mic held good and close to her beak, almost hugged to her keel.
Trixie cut in on the next verse, snuggling up close to Gilda, microphone held in her magical grip. “She can lead you to love/ She can take you or leave you/ She can ask for the truth/ But she'll never believe you/ And she'll take what you give her as long as it's free/ She steals like a thief/ But she's always a he-en to me.”
The two ladies pressed front-to-front, dropping the mics and ignoring the song as they melted into a passionate kiss, limbs entwining. They remained pressed together for a good, long while, Gilda stroking down Trixie's back, using her digits to tap out pleasant little melodies along Trixie's spine. When they finally parted, the griffiness leaned in and nuzzled at the mare's neck. “Told ya griffin songs were cool. Just change the word to “mare” and it was made for you, dude.”
Trixie had become an expert in affecting a look of wounded dignity, because it worked so well on her love. “Really? You think that sounds like me? That I, the Grrrrrreat and Powerful Trrrrixie, would wound you with my eyes? Well, they are powerful eyes. Perhaps you are right. And the song is good for you! Thieving griffin.” With a deft, acrobatic move Trixie danced around Gilda, sliding her body along the strong hen's powerfully muscular body. “You stole my heart. And didn't even apologize.”
“I take what I want. Griffins are powerful creatures and get all kinds of things. Like the prettiest mare in all Equestria.” Gilda's talons slid down Trixie's flanks, toying lightly with her Roani tail ribbon, while she traced burning hot kisses down along the mare's neck.
“Ah! Watch the ribbon! That is a very special and highly prized family heirloom.” Trixie flicked her tail about and wiggled her body in Gilda's grip.
Gilda gave her lover a playful-but-incredulous look, from just barely behind the feathery bangs. “'Family heirloom'? Dude, I was there when you bought that in that little boutique in Lower Canterlot Mountain after the fair show.”
“What I mean is that it is our family's heirloom. You do think we should have things like that, yes? And they should be prized and special?”
“Oh right... yea! Totally. Yea. Our family heirloom. Our family...” Gilda trailed off, slowly taking a seat while drawing Trixie in right against her powerfully muscled keel. “Ours.”
“Yes. Ours.” Trixie casually used her power to turn off the karaoke machine. “Like this. That was very kind of that club to give us this machine. And to pay us.”
“It's easy to be generous when there's an angry Bald scraping talons on your bar while you're blabbing about the hazards of being in a club. Those hooves did not belong on your flank no matter what. Crowded or not. You should have let me punch his horn into his chest.”
“The Great and Powerful Trixie does not condone gratuitous violence... often. Besides, we got a karaoke machine. It makes our lovely home all the homier. I never knew there was so much to having a home without wheels.”
“You always think flying free is the best thing in the world, until you're puking scrub liqueur and your guts out on the floor of some dive because you never bothered to settle somewhere. I thought I found freedom I could enjoy before. But... hey, let's forget that. We both found out there's something to this aerie thing. Bring your little Roa flank to the nest. I feel like dancing.”
Trixie gave her hindquarters a quick shimmy, shaking her natural dancer's body with a pleasant laugh. “Should I bring my cape and witch's hat? Should I take off my ribbon? What really excites a griffin besides the perfection of my body?”
Gilda licked her beak lasciviously as she climbed into her pillow-filled nest, staring at her equine partner with obvious, burning lust, and no small amount of love. “Leave the hat and cape off, but keep the ribbon. I love to watch that thing swing. And if I grab it just right and pull it just so I can bring you to all four knees in a neighing heap. It's just one of those special skills that makes me awesome.”
Trixie barked a derisive laugh, but with a gigantic blush coloring her cheeks while she gave her griffonic paramour a similar look of loving desire. “Ha! Your skills are nothing compared to those of Trixie. Surely, your little ribbon-trick is good for small time shows. But when it comes to the big-time only Trixie's feather-fluffer spell deserves to be called 'awesome' as you say. And of course, knowing exactly where you keep all six of your tugs. On the fly, with non-anchored magic.” As illustration, she let off a periwinkle burst of magic, six tendrils striking straight out at Gilda's exposed belly and lower chest, magical energy seeming to crackle over six pink spots.
Gilda tossed her head back with a restrained screech, a strong huff of breath puffing out through her beak, body twitching a tiny bit, rolling in the nest some. She sucked in a strong breath and released it as a huge sigh as she regained her composure. She then held up her talons and gave them a suggestive wiggle, showing off the ridges of the scaling on the digits, and the carefully-blunted claws at the ends. “Com'ere, dude. Lemmee show you my magic.”
- - -
“And I wish you joy and happiness./ But above all this, I wish you love./ And I-I will always love you...” The husky, deep voice of Dolly Patron resonated around Pinkie's room, a slight hiss from the record adding a richness and depth to it, enriching the ambiance all the more.
Pinkie was free to play such things. Songs by the likes of country crooner Patron were enjoyable even when the volume was low; she had warned her bosses early so they could securely settle the twins to bed in a timely fashion, meaning they were less likely to be bothered by hearing any noise; and because she had long ago soundproofed her room. Pinkie snuggled under her covers, a giant smile on her face. “I just love, love, love this song...”
“Don't forget to thank Applejack for lending you the record.” Twilight adopted a slightly-scolding tone, a teacher's voice. She then planted a kiss on Pinkie's ear and settled down against her. “Thank you for inviting me over tonight, Pinkie. Spike said he wanted to have the library to himself, and Owlowiscious can handle anything that might happen if Spike forgets to do it.”
“Awww, it's no problem, Twilight! I knew Spike wanted the library because I saw him stocking up on popcorn and sodas. And he wasn't wearing that weird robe. So he wanted to stay in.” Pinkie beamed proudly and started to playfully nibble on Twilight's neck.
“You're amazing, Pinkie. You notice all the little details. You're getting much better at investigation and clue reading. You're not the same pony that undertook that MMMM incident.”
“Ohmygosh! I'm not?! Oh no! Who am I, Twilight? Who am I? Has another mare been loving up my sweetie while I've been there, being not-me?” Pinkie clawed at the sheets and began to probe at herself with a manic energy.
“Awww, Pinkie. It's that point...” Twilight calmly embraced Pinkie and gave her comforting nuzzles. “I no longer find your zany histrionics frustrating. Now they're just adorable.”
“Thanks, Twilight!” Pinkie was back to normal in a flash, snuggling back against Twilight as if nothing had happened. “And I think all your silly-dilly episodes of blind panic and jumping to conclusions are super-duper sweety-cute too.”
“Heh. Yes.” Twilight blushed lightly and lipped over Pinkie's ear. “Well, I am trying to work on that, too. But don't worry, I won't change too much. After all, you fell in love with me, as me.”
“You'll always be you. In here.” Pinkie touched Twilight on her upper chest, right over her slowly-beating heart. “Cannonites are funny. The don't fit in well. But they still say nice things. No matter what happens on the outside, you're always you deep inside. That can never change.”
“P-pinkie...” The blush on Twilight's face deepened, and she snuggled up even more securely. “That's beautiful...” She then noticed that the music had stopped and there was only the hiss of dead air. “Oh, let me...” With a flash of magic Twilight flipped the record over and set the needle down.
Almost the instant the music came on Pinkie had popped out of the bed. “Oooooh! This is my jam!” From somewhere, she produced a gigantic and perfectly-fluffed blonde wig, and strapped a halter across her lower belly, which was stuffed with two very large pillows. “Working nine to five, what a way to make a living!” She sang, completely out of synch with the record and not caring in the slightest.
Twilight slid her hoof up against one cheek and regarded Pinkie with a bemused smile. “Do I still need to be here, looks like you're pretty entertained all on your own...” She gave the pink mare her best sultry, smoky hit of bedroom eyes.
“Sorry!” Pinkie swooped back into bed, practically tackling Twilight into the mattress. She coated the other mare's face with kisses and giggled. “How did you learn to do that? That's like the mares in those magazines Spike keeps under his bed.”
“He moved back to there, eh? Clever. He thought I'd never look in a spot I already checked. Gotcha again, Spike.” Twilight shook her head and grinned. “Sorry. Mother Mode kicked in. I'll be a little more reasonable with our foals.” She licked Pinkie's throat with the feather-softest touch of her tongue and ended with a flick off of her chin. “Everything is in books, or in magazines and videos. And I am very good at studying. I thought you might like bedroom eyes and 'come hither' looks. I've been told librarians are sexy. I forgot my glasses but I think I pulled it off.”
Pinkie responded with a long, hard, deep passionate kiss that seemed to consume and subsume both of them. Most amusingly, it caused a wild-magic spark to course up and down Twilight's horn, tiny flecks of energy leaping off to the spot on Pinkie's forehead where a horn would be on another unicorn. That seemed to set her to wiggling. The kiss ended a compressed-eternity later with a loud pop and the lingering slide of both tongues against one another. “I just love that sexy librarian look! Of course, I only know one sexy librarian. But you're really sexy. So that makes you like... two sexy librarians! Or maybe even three!”
Twilight was completely out of her element. Even though she had been with Pinkie for a long time, and had grown comfortable with her, mentally, physically and emotionally, she was still putty in her hooves, and a blushing machine before the mighty pink flatterer. “Pinkie... thank you.” She just kissed Pinkie again and let off a lavender spark at her forehead again.
“Woo! Now THAT'S a doozy!” Pinkie rolled her eyes into her head for a short moment and then shook her head, kissing Twilight a few times. “It makes me all tingly all over. Like I'm having a twitcha-twitch in ALL my spots.”
“That's hardly a surprise. Now that I know how it works, I know how to make it work for me. Your wild talent could benefit from a horn. But even without one your hyper-aware nerves are very responsive to my mana input. I can practically overload it. As you know.”
“Yea! Wednesday night. And Friday afternoon. And Saturday morning. And alternate Thursdays!” Pinkie cuddled up tight against Twilight's side. “I call it the snow melt, because it makes a great big flood right down...”
“Yes!” Twilight placed a hoof on Pinkie's lips, a blush consuming her face entirely. “Ahem. Yes. Well... let's just...” She took the record off the player and slid it back into the sleeve. Then she extinguished the lights and pulled Pinkie up to her. “It's Monday. No flood. But we have that thing you do...”
“Ooh yea! THAT thing. It works better with frosting, but you know I can make it work...”
- - -
“So, we got any shows lined up?” Gilda lay back in the nest on the mountain of colorful pillows, looking sated and also very contemplative. “You usually have a better head for this stuff. I just show up and fly.”
“Nothing for a few weeks. Our savings are sufficient to last in that time, and then some. Daj always complained about the headaches of managing a family. Stallions have it so easy, primping and decorating and able to shirk responsibilities. But at least there are two of us here.” Trixie ran a brush through her mane in front of one of the many mirrors in the house. “You're very good with the budget.”
“Hey, I had to live on my own for a long time, and cut off from easy money. And here I am, homeowner, fiancee, celebrity at the best venues the middle time can offer. With the hottest mare. Totally the hottest mare.” Gilda added the last bits with a start, smiling a familiar strained smile.
“Mmm, nice recovery, gadji. Kamaù tut, all the same.”
“Back atcha, mo chroi.” Gilda popped her eye ridges and winked at Trixie. “You coming back to the nest anytime soon?”
“Hold your lust, griffin! The great and powerful Trixie shall only be there when she has sufficiently beautified herself.” She giggled cutely to herself and stared into the mirror. Her image seemed to... distort. Just slightly, just around the edges. It wasn't the mirror warping, she was just seeing things differently. An image appeared, almost superimposed over her. That unicorn from Ponyville. The famous one. Twilight Sprinkle? Sparkle? Her face offset itself, just a bit. She had... a severe case of bedroom eyes. They were unsettling. Yet oddly...
“Hey! Something wrong?”
"Ah! N-no...” Trixie looked back at Gilda and smiled, breath coming in soft pants. “Nothing at all...” She turned back to the mirror. Nothing. Yet she had looked oddly... alluring.
- - -
“Ugh... how does she survive this?” Twilight was in Pinkie's bathroom, the private one she had paid to install for comfort and convenience. The main one was nice, but it was hardly private. With a personal one, they could soak in the tub for hours, playing with Gummy or staring into each other's eyes. They did that anyway. But there was something to it when they were soaking in a warm tub with bubble bath and a snack tray. Which sometimes included what had brought her to distress...
“Hot... sauce... cupcakes...” They were only doused in hot sauce. Pinkie had not yet perfected the integration of hot sauce into the cupcake matrix. But she loved pouring it over the treats. She called them “Pinkie Fuel.” Twilight called them indigestion. But oh how she ate them. Gobbled them down like the treats they were. To put that smile, that innocent, giggly smile on Pinkie's face it was more than worth it.
But the repercussions were unavoidable. She had already slugged down her usual one-two punch of antacid types, both the bismuth and the calcium carbonate. She was in the bathroom preparing the fully liquid remedy, part seltzer and part baking soda. There was certainly plenty of it at the bakery. She spooned a generous helping into the glass and hit it with regulated shots of the seltzer, making up a foamy concoction. She downed it in one huge gulp and sighed, before releasing a tremendous belch.
“That's love...” Twilight laughed softly and shook her head. “Real love is the moments we are imperfect.” She scribbled that observation on a note card, filing it away in her pile of cards, notes for a dissertation on romantic love. It would look good on her CV, even though she was already defending her thesis on friendship. It added to her prestige. And that... made Pinkie proud. She practically glowed when Twilight got a new honor.
She set the glass down and looked in the mirror. Mane disheveled, gassy look about her, tiny flecks of saliva at the corners of her mouth. Pinkie would say she was the most beautiful mare in the world. Then feed her a bit of Pinkie Fuel. But that was fine. More antacid couldn't hurt.
The mirror wavered. Or her image did. “Fascinating... it appears to be a distortion of the image itself and not the surface of the mirror. Magic of this type is very uncommon and typically...” The assessment ended when she actually looked at it closely. The second image resolved itself into a figure she could identify. It was the boastful mare. Trixie. Once a reformed scoundrel, now a small-time celebrity on the traveling show and local fair circuit. She was looking... sultry. Provocative. Her gaze was attractive. She was almost mouthing 'come hither.'
“Twilight! What did you want for lunch? Mrs. Cake says she'll make anything you want!” Pinkie called up from the bottom of the bakery, snapping her attention from the mirror.
“Uh... a daisy sandwich and hay fries! And an apple soda! Please!”
“Okie-dokie-lokie!”
Twilight turned back to the mirror, panting softly. Nothing there. She lit her horn and felt the traces on the mirror. Nothing. A normal mirror by all investigation. That was... disconcerting, to say the least.
- - -
"Maybe like this..." Trixie swept her mane up into a large beehive and examined it from several angles. She then stuck out her tongue and gave a raspberry, letting the hair fall. "Too high. I'll never get it under my hat." She then braided her mane into long rows that hung down the back of her head. "Hmmm. This is a popular look. The zebras swear by it. No. No, I cannot take another tradition..." She let the hair loose and started snaking chains of silver and gold through her mane. They wound around thick bundles of hair and settled there, lightly glinting as she turned her head. "Home traditions are the best."
The view in the mirror distorted again, with an accompanying heavy feeling running through the air, like an all-over press of mana that weighed on the thaumatic flow. The image of Twilight appeared once more, looking less like she was offset from Trixie's reflection and more like she was simply standing in a room accessed by the mirror. “Trixie...” Her voice was far more sultry than it had been during their two encounters. Thick, husky, an attempt to seduce.
“Wh-what do you want Sprinkle... Sparkle... whatever your name is? I moved on. And I'm happy. Why would you even try this? You chased me out of town.” Trixie slapped her hooves on either side of the mirror and pushed her face close to the surface. “Twice.”
“I want you, Trixie. I want you... you know it's true. It's our destiny to be together. Don't you know it? Don't you feel it all the time?” The mirror-Twilight moved closer to the surface of her side, her eyes almost seeming to smolder like embers, her tongue sliding out to lick her lips. “We are unicorns, and magically-inclined. What more could we need? That must be enough for an intimate relationship.”
“You're crazy!” Trixie pushed away from the mirror, repelled by the close approach of the magical image. “We hated each other! I tried to get drunk over that repulsion, even if we were supposed to part on good terms!” She raised a chair in her grip. “Get out of here. I have a good thing here.”
“You'll understand. You'll agree. It's inevitable.” The image slowly faded from the mirror. “It's our destiny...”
Trixie dashed up to the glass and peered deeply into it, seeking even the slightest trace of the other unicorn. She saw nothing, and realized that she felt nothing. The oppressive pressure of mana had vanished with the image. “I don't know where you went... but stay there.”
“Hey there, dude. Love the new mane-do. Redecorating?” Gilda strolled into the room, head slightly tilted in curiosity, noting the chair still held up in Trixie's magical grip.
“Yes. And... yes.” Trixie cleared her throat and slowly set the chair down at a slightly different angle from where it had been. “There. Perfect.” She quickly bounced her mane and smiled brightly to her love. “So... you really like it? It's just an old Roani tradition. Another way to put beauty in our lives in some small way. And with charms they make a wonderful jingle.”
“It's totally you, dude. I'll buy you all the little trinkets you want. Silver even. I remember that Roa like silver because it's representative of Luna.” Gilda sauntered up and nudged Trixie's flank. “And you thought I wasn't reading those books you gave me.”
Trixie gave a small smile and nuzzled under Gilda's beak. “I always knew you were paying attention.” The mirror's words rang in her ears. 'Inevitable. Destiny.' With some virtual stranger that knew nothing about her? Preposterous. She kissed at Gilda's beak. “And our phuri daj chose to visit us. Us! We're moving up in the world.”
“Maybe we can keep this place as a summer eyrie. It's rustic, and that's what Balds like; it makes us look like we're humble. My da was totally into that scat. He even thought other birds believed it.”
“I can't even imagine... it was never something I could conceive, having one home. But more than one... it's something Roa never even consider. Do you... do you really think we'll have two houses?”
“If I could, I'd buy you a thousand houses. And every one would be more beautiful than the last. But even if they had a hundred rooms none would ever be worthy of holding you.”
“Oh... oh...” A small blush smeared over the bridge of Trixie's snout, which quickly went away as she forcibly regained her composure. “I-I mean... that is very... lovely a sentiment. But it sounded rehearsed. Am I being given recycled adoration?”
“Heh. Yea, sorry. It's sort of a dweeby thing to say. It's an old line from the Kingdom, one of those ones we keep around and print on postcards and magnets for tourists. I used to just make fun of it. Now though... I kinda see it...” Gilda nibbled around Trixie's ear, huffing softly and making the mare twitch from the ticklish waft over the inner cup.
“I should say that I, the great and powerful Trixie, deserves and demands fresh and new promises, only the newest and most original praises. But... there is charm in your tradition. I will always respect tradition.” She looked aside at the mirror, eyes narrowing. For some reason she couldn't stop thinking about the unicorn in the mirror. And it was greatly disturbing to her.
- - -
Twilight was in her element, surrounded by a vast array of reactive chemicals quietly waiting in their vials and flasks and tubes while low fires burned under retorts and alembics. In addition to the lovely surroundings and fun possibilities Pinkie had Pinkie Promised to leave her alone unless it was a very true and genuine emergency based on a very, very exhaustive list that she had provided. Pinkie, being dedicated to her promises and to her relationship, would not try to loophole her way through.
She ran through her usual mixtures at first, the standard apothecary productions that she used to stock her medicine cabinet and first aid kit. It was an excellent warmup, muddling the herbs and mana-infused minerals, washing the mortar with the appropriate liquids into her distiller. There was a strange tactility to it, despite doing most of the work with her horn. She would move several things at once, moving them around her in a magical swirl.
She moved along into the recipes that Zecora had given her, using her own techniques, as opposed to the single-cauldron method generally favored in the Grand Veldt herbalist tradition. There was not a lot of difference to it, though it involved a lot of experimentation to get it right. As she had discovered by trial and, often embarrassing, error, the individual components interacted with one another in unique ways when not in the presence of others, requiring the mixing of those that did not react and then the infusion of the rest to have the proper outcome.
With her magical muscles stretched and limber she was up for light experimentation. She had been working on quicksilver analogues, trying to make liquids with similar mobile and visual properties to mercury but without the harmful physical properties. Safe quicksilver would be a boon to the entertainment industry, and make for a wonderful feather in her cap. Cross-discipline successes would also look quite impressive on her CV.
Her mixtures were not all that impressive. The viscosity always seemed wrong, the opacity varied badly and the reflectivity tended to be off, especially since the mixtures tended to settle. She still persisted, to have a personal project and to eat up some time before her regularly scheduled, list-noted date with Pinkie.
She was in fine form that day, churning out several potential liquids. They weren't perfect, but she had focused on just one element and finally gotten consistent reflectivity. The opacity meant most were too clear for use but they still reflected better than most liquids, and the viscosity wasn't quite right on any of them but they looked passable while still. It made her dorky heart swell, seeing all the containers of silvery liquid, each one's shortcomings looking to her like endless amounts of data that would tell her exactly how not to proceed and give her a focus for fixes.
She peered at one of the vials and gave it a soft tap, to see if the material would settle. There was a wavering through the liquid that slowly replaced Twilight's image with Trixie's. Once more she was looking sultry and seductive. The mana field was heavy, infused with some sort of powerful energy that seemed to vibrate in the field at a low frequency, creating an oppressive force that weighed on the sensitive. “Sparkle... the Great and Powerful Trixie has come to say we are meant to be.”
“What? What are you talking about?” Twilight looked in on the reflective substance. There was no distortion of the image, as there would be for a refection following the contours of the container. It was as though the liquid itself was an opening into the place where Trixie was standing. “Meant to be? That's ridiculous. We don't even like one another. You ran yourself out of Ponyville once and the second time I politely let you leave because reconciliation is preferable to resentment.”
“That makes no matter. The Great and Powerful Trixie is your match in all things that can be neutral and superior in many ways. But she still desires to be your passionate sexual partner because we are unicorns and magically powerful. There is nothing deeper and more important than that when choosing a lover and that is a fact.”
“That is most certainly not a fact!” Twilight levitated a dictionary to herself, slipped on her glasses and opened to the proper page. “A fact is an objective statement of observable reality, truthful information on a subject, the concrete and bedrock basis for investigation or, in Luna's time, an action.” She pulled off her glasses and set them aside on top of the dictionary. “The fact is, Trixie, that relationships need a lot more than merely being of the same race and having the same basic capabilities. That's almost a horrifying thing to say! As though we'd be forced together over trivial things. Ponies aren't required to stick with their own race, or even their own species.”
The seductive refection laughed softly, the sound soon multiplied as every experimental substance was made into a portal for Trixie's image. “Silly, silly Twilight Sparkle. It is a fact that you will be mine and I will be yours and that our encounters will be glorious. We met, and we have magic. That is all that is needed. You will not deny the Great and Powerful Trixie. She will have you.”
“You might be single but I have Pinkie Pie now, and I'm not going to give her up just because you say so. Nothing is going to change my mind.”
“You mind will change, Sparkle. You know it will. Your body lusts for what it lusts for. And that is me.” The Trixies all pressed in close to the surface of the mirrored liquids, tongues running over their lips.
“Ugh!” Twilight released a burst of magic, shattering all the containers at once. As the various liquids splattered on the ground all the images vanished, along with the pressing mana field. Twilight scanned each puddle, and the surrounding area. Nothing. Just like before.
She slowly made her way to a pillow and flopped down, rattled, her mind going a mile a minute. The first vision had been a fluke, she thought. Some strange fatigue or a quick magical hiccup of some kind. The latest had been far more meaningful, and the heavy magical presence... Trixie couldn't have actually mustered it on her own. She lacked focus and skill. It could not have been the Amulet, that had been locked in Canterlot like the Mirror. It was a great mystery. More pressing matters, however, soon gripped her attention. She was covered in stray chemicals, her work area was a mess, and she had a date. With a sigh she took up a broom and started sweeping up shards.
- - -
Gilda scowled at the book she was reading, furrowing her feathered brows as she dragged her eyes over words. She was not a naturally bookish type. She was no dummy, of course, and got decent marks in non-physical education. But she wasn't well suited to sitting around reading, unless there was a greater purpose to it. She always preferred action and activity, even just basic practice was preferable to idleness.
The book was quite important, however. The cover showed it to be a colorfully-illustrated Roa-produced foal's primer on language and culture. Gilda licked her beak and said, “Sah-steep-ay... sass-tee-pay... sahst-pay. Sas... sahs... ugh!” She closed the book in frustration and flopped back onto the nest.
“I heard frustration and negativity. The great and powerful Trixie is very sensitive to negative vibrations in the local fields. What's wrong?” Trixie sashayed out of one of the other rooms on the ground floor, carrying several buckets of pastel paint.
“It's this book. It's for foals but I can't do much with it. I blame school. We learned common Equestrian and Bald, but nothing else. I haven't got a clue how to pronounce these things.”
“It's mostly supplemental. Your phuri daj or daki daj is supposed to help guide you through. Now we just have to use what we have.” Trixie took up the book and cleared her throat. “Now... sastipe.”
“'Sastipe.'” Gilda repeated, one set of claws at her throat to keep her mindful of pronunciation.
“Lachho dives.” Trixie gave a small bow. “Good day.”
“Lach... lach..?”
“Lachho...”
“Lachho... dives.” Gilda smiled and chuckled a little. “Your family's gonna hate me, aren't they?”
“Of course not! You may be a gadji but you are also mine. They will give you a hearty t'aves baxtalo ando amaro familija. Roa can't afford to push anyone away. And I won't let them push you away. Believe me, you are becoming family no matter what.”
Gilda gave a happy shriek and puffed up her feathers. “I don't need to look that up. It sounds good. And I think it has the word 'family' in it.”
“It means, 'welcome to our family.' I haven't asked yet, but I think the tribe will like you. As amazing as I am, your unique presence will add something to the prestige of my clan and my family line. Aren't you proud?” Trixie popped her brows and gave a soft laugh, looking into the book again. “Shall we continue on?”
Gilda rolled her eyes, with a smile on her beak, and nodded. “Yea, sure.”
“You will discover that everypony is your uncle and everypony is your aunt. We don't have words for 'mister' or 'miss.' Mares are titled 'bibi', aunt, and stallions are 'kako', uncle. The word for a young female of any species is 'chej', for a young male of any species is 'chavo' and Twilight Sparkle is beautiful.” Trixie dropped the book from her magical grip and slapped a hoof over her mouth, looking completely shocked and horrified.
Gilda blinked slowly, tilting her head in her griffonic way, peering closely at Trixie. “Who's Twilight Sparkle?”
“She's... she's the unicorn that sent me out of Ponyville those two times. I tend to forget her name but this time I didn't... I don't know why I did that. I guess I've just been under a lot of stress lately.”
After a moment of consideration Gilda poked Trixie in the stomach. “Do you need to go have some kind of moment with her like they have on those cheesy daytime shows about moving on with relationships?”
“No! We never had one. We hated one another. Now I just tend to forget about her.”
“You were getting drunk over that...”
“You were getting drunk too!” Trixie caught herself before her anger manifested itself, and slowly took a deep breath. “There's been something going on. Magical trickery, something powerful that makes her show up in mirrors. Maybe the stress of that is getting to me. I might just need more sleep.”
“If you say so...” Gilda fidgeted about, but dropped further commentary with a sigh. “Want to get a late lunch in town?”
“We have the bits... and I think a date is just what we need.” In the back of her mind, slowly stewing just barely within conscious reach, was the name and image. Twilight Sparkle.
- - -
“Pinkie... did you ever consider going to university?” Twilight looked across the Sugarcube Corners kitchen at the pink pony. Both were lightly covered in flour, working on the dough for the next day's pastries.
“I went there once. I didn't like it.” Pinkie answered with her usual chipper energy, her hooves in whirling, blurred motion, pounding down several piles of dough, and working over one lump of what would eventually become a sheet of puff pastry.
“Really? You went to university? Was it a scholarship or did you come out of a junior college?” Twilight continued to knead her dough with magic while approaching Pinkie slowly.
“No, silly! I went to one of the universities to visit it and have a party! I was totally good at arranging parties there. But everypony looked so rushed. They were all busy and stressed and frustrated. They were like you, but they didn't know how to have fun! I don't think I'd fit in.”
“Oh... yes. I noticed a lot of the other students got very stressed. I guess the pressure of success gets to some folks. Maybe my natural talent made me immune to the stress.”
Pinkie turned her head practically all the way around, one brow quirked up high, her gaze piercing into Twilight's eyes. “Twilight..?”
Twilight blushed and turned her head back around, becoming intensely focused on her dough. “Yes. Well... never mind. You don't need to go to university to impress me. You do so many amazing things, and they always impress me so very, very much.”
Pinkie turned her head back around with a cheerful giggle, focusing on the puff pastry, making sure all the folds were precise and pushed flat, to really bring out the layers once baked. “I love you, Twilight.”
Twilight stopped her work at that moment, one hoof pushed deep into the dough blob, the other lifted high to prepare to squash down. She turned around and quickly rushed over on her hind legs to Pinkie, squeezing her body tight. The scholar put every once of her strength into that hug, to show her passion, knowing that her unicorn form could never hurt the solid earth pony. “I love you, Pinkie. I'll always love you...” The strange magical illusion came to her mind, and suddenly nothing she did seemed sufficient to express her love and desire for the wonderful baker in her grasp.
Pinkie giggled and wiggled her body lightly. “Hey, that's our song...” She turned around a bit and kissed at Twilight's face. “But we need to finish the dough. Wash your hooves.”
Twilight lingered in the hug for a bit longer but finally pulled away with a small smile. “Yes, Mrs. Pie...” She said, with a teasing tone.
“-Sparkle.” Pinkie added, some quirk of her voice actually managing to vocalize the hyphen.
“What?” Twilight snapped her head around as the water flowed over her hooves.
“Mrs. Pie-Sparkle. Mrs. Pie is my mother. And I want a way to show we're together.” Pinkie made the comment in an even tone, never ceasing her work.
Twilight blushed up a storm, suddenly extremely interested in washing every part of her hooves extremely well. “And I'll be Mrs. Sparkle-Pie. I want the same thing. I want the whole world to know we're together, Trixie.” She splashed the water around as she realized what she had said, crying out, “Pinkie! Pinkie! I want the world to know we're together, Pinkie!”
Despite her scatterbrained reputation, Pinkie was sharp as a tack and never missed anything Twilight said. “Trixie? You mean that meany-mean-mean-pants unicorn that came into town twice and kept trying to make you sad?”
There was no escaping it once Pinkie caught the scent of anything unusual. Twilight had to come clean. “Yes. That one. There was a magical incident the other day. Remember when I was almost late for our date? I was cleaning up after her image appeared in my imitation-mercury experiment vials. I shattered them to stop her from talking. The same thing happened in a mirror a couple of weeks ago. Powerful magic that leaves no trace is involved somehow. Did your trace detectors pick up anything?”
“Nope. I just thought you got busy with your experiments. You still sorta smelled like all your funny chemicals. Do you think she got the Amulet back?”
“I asked, out of pure curiosity. Princess Celestia assured me that powerful safety precautions had been taken. The Amulet had been destroyed, encased and put away, just like that evil mirror we found. It wasn't that. And I almost don't think Trixie is to blame. She didn't think much of me either time, and I only remember her because I read several newspapers and she sometimes shows up in theater reviews or advertisements for fairs.”
Pinkie began to put her dough away, some going into bowls, the puff pastry dough going onto a sheet which she placed in the walk-in refrigerator. “Maybe she paid somepony to do it.”
“It was still a lot of power, yet a power that didn't trip your ability to detect trace fluctuations. That's the really strange part. I don't think even Professor Sliver could do it, and he was Princess Celestia's Arch-Mage. This is just an uncomfortable mystery.” Twilight sighed and dropped down to all four hooves.
“Awww, come here...” Pinkie gathered twilight up into a big, flour-smearing hug that threatened to crush the unicorn like a twig. The hugs never did that, but there was always that feeling. “Don't worry about it. You still love me, right? With all your big brain and your squishy heart, right?”
Despite the name sinking deep into her mind, and all the uncertainty remaining below the surface, Twilight put on a smile and hugged Pinkie back with all her might. “I love you. With all my big brain and my squishy heart, I love you.”
- - -
“Ahem!” Gilda cleared her crop and gave a small bow towards the hastily-assembled pony-shaped stand before her, which had been dressed in some of Trixie's spare costumes. “Sastipe, bibi Lulamoon. Lachho dives. Sar san?” She hesitated a moment, opening one hand to look at her hastily scrawled notes. After waiting a moment for what was supposed to be the reply from the other side she added, “Mishto, palikerav tut.” She nodded in response to an unstated comment and smiled. “Achh devlesa.” She then sauntered on past the stand. “I think I've got this thing.”
She normally expected Trixie's input, but her fiancee had been busy all day. She was indulging her usual Roa creativity and love of color, painting a spare room. She had saved up a few bits for the paint and decided that the room would make a decent guest room, assuming they ever had guests. It was harmless enough, and kept her away from the big project, putting the floor back on the second story. That would be a messy hassle. But she would never stop her.
Gilda carefully began taking the clothes off of the stand and smiled to herself. She could be annoying. But they were a couple, and she was finding out that those romantic comedies she used to mock were right. Couples annoyed one another, they got to one another, they made mistakes and did ridiculous things. But she couldn't imagine being with anyone else. There was lots of talk of marriage, families, clan prestige, even children. It was like all the dreams she had never cared about when the Griffin traditions were promoting them had become irresistible because the Roa were offering them. All because she could be herself. An Egg Grabber. A Filly Fooler.
She gently hung up the clothes back into the cedar wardrobe from which they had been taken, a beautiful and severely underpriced little second-hoof piece they had found in a shop after a show. Not even three years ago should would have made fun of herself for owning a cedar wardrobe. For owning a wardrobe. Her priorities had really changed. She was acting like a griffin male, or like a mare. Getting the details in order, arranging the household, making sure every little thing was settled and right. She let out a little squawk of pride and puffed her feathers. She thought that the language practice had made her feel good, but the development of her life made her feel even better.
She swaggered down the hall to the room being made over, to practice her lesson with Trixie, who could correct her as needed. She caught sight of the walls immediately, a sliver at a time. The paint was practically slapped on in wild strokes, and the color was not consistent. Besides the ugly brown of the original walls there was a lovely pastel periwinkle that matched Trixie well, as well as a purple color that was somehow familiar. The purple was below the periwinkle, the top coat running down in thick streams.
She finally managed to look in and saw Trixie practically on her knees, horn lit and her magical field holding two brushes. One dipped violently into the purple paint and slapped onto the walls, lashing across the surface, creating letters with short strokes. T. W. I. L. I. G. H. T. The other brush was almost immediately there, covering up the letters with thick applications of the periwinkle paint. Though she wasn't making a sound her lips were pulled back and her eyes were shut tight. Her body was practically shuddering as she attacked the walls with the two different shades.
Gilda backed away from the door slowly, eyes wide, fur bristling in fear. She never bristled in fear. But there was a reason. Her mare, her wonderful mare, writing another mare's name on the wall then covering it up, a mare that she had a history with.
She had said that there was nothing left to resolve between the two of them. She had made promises before the matter came to light. And then some talk of strange magic and being compelled by fatigue to say the name. She just didn't know what to believe about it.
She almost went into the room, to ask about it, to grab the brushes or knock over the paint or something her old self would have done in a heartbeat. Her immature rage never had a chance to surface all the way. Her growing responsibility smothered it down and crushed it into submission. She would wait. Trixie still lived there, she would come to the nest, she would mention something. The issue would not go unresolved.
She slipped into the nest and snuggled herself down into the huge pile of pillows contained within. She closed her eyes and curled up slowly. Though her breathing grew light and she gave the appearance of sleep, she couldn't drift off. She had to know. She would wait all night if she had to.
The time that passed could have been a few minutes, it could have been an hour. She didn't know. She didn't care. All she cared about where the wavering, uncertain hoofsteps coming down the hall. She heard Trixie panting hard, muttering something to herself between each breathy pant. She fell into the nest without care, releasing a puff of air from the pillows and the smell of paint from her body. She continued to mutter, no louder than she had been and still impossible to hear.
Gilda turned around, regarding Trixie. She was still splattered in paint, in defiance of her usual fastidious manner. Her eyes were closed and her mouth moving in a regular pattern, like she was repeating a mantra. “Hey dude... is there... something wrong?” No response. “Did you, uh, have fun painting?” Nothing. “What were you painting in there.”
“I erased it. So it's fine.” Trixie's voice was flat, and she never turned to look at Gilda. “The paint will smother it. It's fine.”
Though there was much, much more to say, Gilda's new maturity told her to leave it alone. “Lachhi tjiri rat, mo chroi.” The fact that silence greeted her hurt more than the fact that Trixie did not curl up with her as she drifted off into a dreamless sleep.
- - -
Pinkie had not seen Twilight all day. That wasn't excessively unusual, they didn't live together after all. But they were deliriously in love and tended to see one another with great regularity. The passion of the meetings was also very strong. She wasn't a clingy Pinkie but she liked knowing Twilight was alright. She tended to wait for an invitation, or Pinkie Sense twitches telling her Twilight secretly or no-so-secretly needed her there.
She was doing her usual, hopping around Ponyville after her job at Sugarcube Corners let out. She hadn't seen Twilight in for lunch, and Spike hadn't been in to pick up an order. He was probably being overworked again. She had to smile at that, despite the fact that Spike was toiling. Despite his huffing and protesting he really enjoyed his job and savored the opportunities he had.
She had a sudden feeling. It wasn't a Pinkie Sense twitcha-twitcha, but it was something. She remembered what Twilight had said about the strange magic that had put the image of the mean mare Trixie in her experiments and in her mind. She was very bothered by it. Twilight being bothered was something Pinkie never, ever wanted to see. It only made sense to stop in and check on her.
She burst into Golden Oaks with a shower of confetti and a loud, “Surprise!” She looked around the main room of the library, seeing it devoid of any ponies, and populated only by Spike. The dragon was doing his best to gather up piles of scattered books.
“Oh, hey Pinkie Pie! Sorry Twilight hasn't been around. But she said she was working on an important project and wanted me to clean up after her late research. It was one of the more epic research sessions. I'm impressed. She hasn't worked this hard since her undergrad stuff.”
“Awww, that's no fun. I know she doesn't like me to bother her but she never made me Pinkie Promise not to bother her today. She'll like a break. Maybe I could take her some cake. Ooh! She loves cake. Or cupcakes! I can bring her some Pinkie Fuel! She loves it!”
“Yea, she also loves bismuth, calcium carbonate and baking soda...” Spike snarked, just soft enough to be unheard, he hoped.
“Oh Spike, that's just part of the fun of Pinkie Fuel.” Pinkie gave the little dragon a quick noogie then bounced her way to the ladder to the second floor.
“Not that she's wrong about the mix of a heavy metal and light minerals...” Spike stroked his chin thoughtfully then gave a shrug and went back to work.
Pinkie hopped herself up into Twilight's private space. She was allowed to do that. She had slept there more than a few times. She had... done more than a few things up there. Some of them involved frosting and chocolate chips and little gummy candies. And some of those things even involved desserts! “Twilight! I wanna take you out to dinner! Twilight?”
She wasn't in any of the usual, lower spaces of the room. At first she appeared to be absent from the room. Then Pinkie picked up a soft scratching, as of a quill on paper, as well as a soft, frantic muttering that was unmistakably Twilight. It was coming from the highest part of the room, Twilight's windowside bed, with the extra-heavy curtains to keep private time private.
Climbing up to it showed Twilight in bed, surrounded by a semicircle of books and a scattered collection of papers. She was hunched over, ignoring the open books around her, focused solely on the bottles of ink, quills and pieces of paper. She was writing something, over and over. She could tell that it was the same thing, the motions extremely exact. She was also muttering, like when she got overworked.
“Twilight? What's the matter? What are you studying today? Did Princess Celestia give you a new assignment?” She approached the strange nest, and picked up one of the pieces of paper. It was covered in ink spots from poorly-shaken quills, and scribbles that were hardly what she expected out of a careful writer like Twilight. It was hard to see what she was even trying to write as every one had been scratched out.
“Trixie... Trixie... Trixie...” Her horn glowed weakly, but the quill moved with its usual speed. She sloppily scribbled out the name 'Trixie' before quickly and almost angrily scratching it out. The process repeated without even the slightest pause. “Trixie...”
“T-twilight? What's the matter?” Pinkie came up and shook the fixated unicorn firmly.
The glow remained on her horn, though it slowly faded out as the quill dropped from her magical grip and fell to the bed. “Trixie... Trix... Pinkie? Dinner? I... I'm not very hungry right now...”
Pinkie gingerly held up the paper and showed it to Twilight. “What is this?”
“I scratched it out. So it's nothing. Nothing at all. Don't worry. I'm... I'm tired Pinkie. Let me get some sleep.”
“I can get you some Pinkie Fuel and...”
“Sleep.” The statement was curt and firm, her eyes hard. “Just sleep.” Twilight promptly flopped over onto her side and just drifted off.
“O-okay...” Pinkie slowly slid off the bed and walked away, looking back frequently. That wasn't Twilight. That wasn't Twilight at all. She looked like her, even acted like her in her more manic modes. But that... whatever it was, it was not her.
- - -
Gilda stood over the stove, looking with some trepidation at the steaming pots. Two of them were normal, large, mismatched stockpots, and one was a refurbished but well-put-together pressure cooker. She lifted the lid on one and inhaled the steam. She smiled and let out a soft sigh, pleased by the warm mixture of pine scents.
She dipped a large wooden spoon into the pot and slowly stirred the contents. She was a griffin, a mighty hunter and top of the food chain. Yet these days she ate a lot of tofu steaks and enjoyed it, and now... she was willingly cooking up a very vegetarian meal of pine cones.
It was not very common for folks to eat pine cones, and yet Trixie not only did it but she looked upon it as nostalgic and comforting. As she stirred she remembered hearing about it...
“Really? You really do this?” Gilda looked incredulously at the back of Trixie's head as they strolled through the pine forest around Schwarzwald with large wicker baskets on their backs.
“Do not sound so disbelieving. It is a good, frugal and well-remembered family tradition.” Trixie lit her horn every so often and pulled down branches laden with unopened pine cones. She carefully examined them, turning them and prodding at them, pulling some off and tossing them into either her or Gilda's baskets.
“Okay... I know that you ponies are vegetarians, but I never heard of pine cones as a meal before. Then again, I used to eat at fancy dinner parties, and then cheap dives that had whatever was on the lawn. Is this a Roani thing?”
“I suppose you could say that. It was my most august phuri daj that had the idea. She saw us wander by pine trees and noted nopony ever complained if pine cones were taken away. Many pines were not even privately owned. They were plentiful, easily obtainable, and with seeds in them quite nutritious. Proper boiling softened them for eating and could even be reduced to create a delicious pine broth or gravy to go over them.” Trixie picked a few more and threw them in her basket. “After all this time the ponies in the clan have become connoisseurs of pine cones, knowing good mixtures and recipes to make them palatable, even to foreign tongues.”
“You mean me, right? You're going to get me, a griffin, to eat pine cones and like it? Don't you think you're already stretching with the reduced fish and tofu-everything-else?”
“It will not kill you to sample my family's cooking. After all, I assume you have expectations of becoming a very integral part of it someday, do you not?”
“Well yea, that matters a lot to me. But will I really be judged on my ability to cook and eat pine cones?”
“Of course! Now, please continue to be useful. Help me select succulent cones. No damage, no rot and no insect activity. It is simplicity itself.” With that Trixie turned all her focus over to pulling down and examining the branches heavy with cones.
Gilda considered just not doing anything, but the thought, the promise, of becoming part of a family that wanted her, caused her to reach up and pull down a branch full of cones. She poked at them with a talon, pulling off a few likely candidates and throwing them into her basket. “Are these, like, your favorite kind? Do you even have a favorite kind? I can't imagine there's much difference...”
“You will learn, sooner or later, there is a great difference. Some are better than others, often just because of seed size. These are acceptable though very plain. If given the chance I would much prefer sugar pine cones. As you may be able to guess, they are quite sweet, plus the cones themselves are extremely large and the seeds are quite delectable roasted or boiled. But sugar pines do not grow here, they are in the mountains of the coast. But I will have some again. Some day.” With a shake of her head Trixie went back to gathering cones.
That night, Trixie had demonstrated the methods for cooking cones. As it took many for a decent meal, at least two stockpots were needed, filled with fresh water. After being brought to boil the cones were added and cooked covered until tender and open. If allowed to sit and boil off some it made a broth. More boiling resulted in a thin but passable pine gravy. She also related that a pressure cooker could achieve proper softness in decent time at the expense of broth production.
They sat down to the meal, with some trepidation from Gilda. She barely had the nerve to bite off the tip of a cone. But after some chewing, she found it more than passable. Her first mouthful of seeds provided even more reason to keep eating. Eventually, she and Trixie had polished off what they had cooked.
“They do not keep well, not if you want good flavor. They must be eaten fresh from the tree. And since they open eventually they are very much a seasonal dish. But while they are here, we may eat like Princesses for free.”
Gilda patted her belly and let out a light belch, having just enough decency to blush a little. “Oh yea. I could get used to this. Eating like a High Queen, and all it cost was a walk in the woods.”
She had decided to surprise Trixie with her cooking prowess, as a kind of augmentation to her growing command of the Roani language. Nothing was more appropriate than the food she said would impress her family.
But more than that, she needed something to bring her sweet mare back from whatever strange state she was in. Things almost normalized after the painting incident, but there was always some distance in Trixie's look, a strange sense of distraction and lack of focus. It was only fortunate they did not have shows lined up, they would have been disastrous.
“Do I smell... pine cones boiling?” Trixie shuffled her way into the kitchen, sniffing disbelievingly at the air. “Fresh pine cones! You're cooking pine cones!”
“Surprise?” Gilda smiled a little sheepishly and indicated the pressure cooker. “And I even have a surprise in here. Go on and have a seat, I think they're ready.”
“Very well. The great and powerful Trixie needs a filling meal, and pine cones are acceptable.” Though she attempted to speak with her usual easy pseudo-arrogance, there was a rehearsed quality to it, as though the mare was trying hard to sound like herself.
Gilda carefully vented the pressure from the cooker and opened the lid up, unleashing a cloud of steam and a sweet scent through the air. She reached in with the spoon and extracted a foot-long, narrow cone, its scales open and showing numerous seeds. She placed it reverently on a plate and set it before Trixie. “I asked a few folks, and they actually found this for me. A sugar pine cone, right from the coastal mountains.”
Trixie looked on the cone with some amount of awe. Her eyes grew bright and moist, smile threatening to turn down. “You... you... found me a sugar pine cone... you really did...” She cracked, shoulders slumping, head falling as the tears fell from her eyes.
“Hey, hey... dude...” Gilda grabbed Trixie up in a warm hug, rubbing her beak over the unicorn's horn. “It's not much. But I thought... after all the weirdness... you deserved it.”
“I wish I understood what was happening. There are so many things wrong and they scare me. But you are here. You will keep me safe. I know. You really love me. And you said it with a sugar pine.” Using her magic, Trixie lifted the cone and took a big bite out of it, sobbing anew as she spoke with her mouth full. “It's delicious. So delicious.”
The rest of dinner proceeded in that fashion, a wonderful experience for both. Trixie seemed far more like herself, recovered from the strange mental effect that had gripped her. Gilda was looser and more casual, relieved that her mare was no longer suffering. She had never felt more competent. A good dinner, a romantic gesture, and talk about being a strong protector. Life was finally back on track.
That night though, after a tender lovemaking and a cuddling settling into the nest, Trixie awoke with a start. There was almost a stabbing in her brain, magical pressure almost compressing her head as the strange sensation jabbed into her consciousness. She could see, behind her own eyelids and in every place she looked, the seductive image of the virtual stranger, Twilight Sparkle. She was being called. It was not a request. It was not a demand. It was destiny. Fate.
“Des-ti-ny...” She spoke against her own will, though it was her will that moved her. She rose up from the nest, disturbing Gilda into wakefulness.
“Dude? What's going on? Where are you going?”
When Trixie turned back to respond there was a hollowness in her eyes. They were rheumy and washed out, and almost did not seem to truly see anything. “I am going to my destiny. I am going to see Twilight Sparkle. My fate.” With that statement delivered in an airy voice she forcefully opened the front door with her magic and galloped out into the night.
- - -
Pinkie Pie wiped her brow and looked upon her creation. It was a smaller version of the MMMM, suitable for sharing between two ponies. It was not perfect, of course. She did not have Carrot and Cup's skills with baked goods quite yet. She was no artist on her own. But it was not to be set before Celestia's critical eye, it was for her marefriend.
The Mini-MMMM was set in a place of honor on a table laden down with so many sweet treats it nearly groaned under the weight of it all. She had rented out the party space with her own bits, and equipped it properly with a stereo system, a dance floor, and blown-up photos of herself and Twilight in their most romantic poses.
Pinkie nervously paced the floor as she checked the clock again. Twilight would be there soon, after finishing some library things. She had been obsessively fixated on her duties lately, performing everything with a preternatural focus and drive. She was consumed by it all, yet it seemed necessary. In times when she was not fixed on a task she was distracted and distant. Even after the obsessive writing things were not back to normal. And even for an abnormal soul like Pinkie that wasn't right. She wanted things to be abnormal on her terms, the fun terms.
A few minutes later, Twilight made her way sedately into the room. Her mood, and indeed her features, were very subdued. She was half there at best, head slightly turned away. “I'm here, Pinkie. What was it you needed..?”
Pinkie suddenly slammed the doors shut and threw out piles of confetti, screaming, “Surprise! A party! Just for you!”
“Pinkie? What..?”
“You've been so weird lately. And I know weird! So I wanted to throw you a party to try and make you the right kind of weird! I made all your favorite treats, I got all your favorite music, and, well, I'm here.” Pinkie smiled her biggest, brightest smile, showing enough teeth for three sets of mouths.
“Pinkie...” A little of the distraction faded out of Twilight's eyes and she focused, for the first time in a while. She looked over the sweet panorama, the ready sound system, the dance floor and Pinkie. “I... I don't even... is this really alright with the Cakes? Won't the noise bother Pound and Pumpkin? It's a little late.”
“Don't worry! This party room is really, really soundproofed, like the bathroom and the bedroom. We can get our jam on and nopony will notice.” Pinkie zipped quickly to the sound system, fiddled with some of the dials and levels then mashed play. A wild stream of horns and piano erupted from the speakers in a swinging beat. “Let's dance, hotsy-trotsy mare!”
Twilight had been sampling the hot-sauce-free cupcakes, but ceased her foraging when the swinging tune came up. She turned around, cheeks full of cupcake, frosting smeared all over her face and a giant smile on her lips. After wiping her mouth with a hoof, and succeeding only in smearing the frosting around, she practically leaped onto the dance floor, once more performing her flailing, spastic dork dance. “You really do have my favorite music!” She said, with a small spray of cupcake crumbs.
“Yup yup yup yup!” Pinkie was upon the dance floor right beside Twilight, suddenly wearing her spandex warmup suit and leg warmers, with headband, doing a dance that was also inappropriate for the music, but which was at least a coherent, put-together dance with rhythm and style.
“And none of the cupcakes have hot sauce on them!” Twilight suddenly stopped, mid-flail, sweat springing up on her forehead and face. “N-not that there's anything wrong with hot sauce on cupcakes! I love them! They're delicious! And they really get me moving!”
Pinkie moved in to noogie Twilight, giggling cutely. “Silly filly! I know that Pinkie Fuel makes you all rumbly in the belly! I know you have to drink all that stuff and burp a lot.”
“Real love is the moments we are imperfect...” Twilight said softly, repeating the observation she had recorded in her notes on love. She blushed a bit more deeply, really looking like herself. “This is amazing, my little cookbook. This party is making me feel like myself.”
“Why would it do that? Aren't you always you?”
“Not lately... not with all the strange magic that has been haunting me. I was... feeling like somepony wanted me to act and think a certain way. But now, well, now I feel right. This feels right. This is what is supposed to be.”
Pinkie pressed a hoof softly against Twilight's chest, right over her rapidly-beating heart. “You'll always be you. In here. No matter what happens on the outside, you're always you deep inside. That can never change.”
“It was inside my head... but it wasn't me. What I am, deep in here.” Twilight placed one hoof over Pinkie's, giving her a warm, loving look. She then cast a spell that secured the door with numerous magical locks. Her look turned sultry, with a giant blush accompanying it. “Let's test that soundproofing...”
Later on, when the Mini-MMMM had been mostly eaten, and slightly smeared over various places, and the rest of the treats tried or tossed aside, Pinkie and Twilight lay together in a heap. Both were quite clean, thanks to magic, and rather well put-together, save for Pinkie's leg warmers being on Twilight's horn. They looked quite content together.
Twilight's eyes snapped open, a sickly magical light shining in them while her face took on a pained expression. A spike of purely malevolent magic was driving itself through every part of her brain, her synapses set alight by whatever strange force was acting on her. She tried to shake off the effect, all her power pouring into her horn to push off the assault on her mind. “Trixie... my fate...”
“Twilight?” Pinkie opened an eye and looked up at her risen marefriend. The look on her face sent her to her hooves in an instant. “Twilight?! What's the matter?! What's going on?!”
The light faded from her eyes, leaving them watery and dull. She cast a spell on the wall, creating a door leading out into Ponyville. “I must... I have to... my fate. Destiny... Trixie...” She ran out into the night, followed closely by Pinkie.
- - -
Trixie and Twilight tore through the night, rushing headlong into the darkness, blind and heedless of any obstacle, going over, around or even through as appropriate. They were not bound for any particular point between Schwarzwald and Ponyville, but for some different place, at a crossroad. Trixie traveled farther than Twilight, and ran all the harder. She arrived lathered and gasping, yet did not stop until she managed to catch sight of Twilight on the other side of the crossroad. “Twilight!”
“Trixie!” Twilight did not look very pleased. She was just a step above neutral, and had been pacing with a nervous energy, even if there was just a hollow look to her.
“Wait!” Pinkie popped up in front of Twilight, grabbing onto her and holding her tight. “T-twilight, you can't do this. You said you loved me... I was your little cookbook. You remember, Twilight? Snuggling in bed, spreading frosting all over each other, bathing together... please remember...”
“Wait! Wait! Ummm... uh... k- kamaù tut! Th-that's worth stopping, right?”Gilda swooped down and crashed into Trixie, pushing her back with all her strength. “Stop! I thought you were getting better! You weren't afraid anymore!”
“My fate...” Twilight, pulled and yanked at Pinkie's tight grip, struggling against the might of the earth pony. She almost seemed to have some force outside of herself that made her able to fight through the restriction, approaching Trixie and the crossroad meeting.
“Destiny...” Trixie, as well, used some strange power to scrape forward little by little, in spite of the powerful griffin latched onto her body.
“No... you promised me...” Gilda tried to hold back her tears, gritting her beak. “You promised me a family... your clan would love and accept me. I learned your language, cooked you pine cones... I did everything... I love you...” Choked sobs seethed through her teeth as she felt her grip getting weaker. Through the thickness of her throat and the tightness in her beak, she managed to whisper out, “She can kill with a smile/ She can wound with her eyes...”
Trixie did not respond, but Pinkie seemed to notice from across the distance between them. “It is destined, written in the stars...” Trixie continued to look straight ahead, in a vacant stare that spoke of no real love in her love.
“She can ruin your faith with her casual lies.” Gilda's voice was growing softer, her limbs feeling weaker. She was fighting against more than Trixie's strength, far more. She was not only pulling against a force stronger than her, some external magic was sapping the strength out of her body directly. “And she only reveals what she wants you to see...” She was losing, not something that she was used to. But she still held on. She was too invested, too much in love with Trixie to let some magical force beat her. Even though her voice and strength were waning, she gave it one more go. “She hides like a chick/ But she's always a ma-are to me...”
Trixie continued to scrape her hooves against the dirt road, making more and more progress as she pulled on. After the last, quiet, line, however, she gave just one last scrape and stopped, the watery look in her eyes clearing some. “She can... lead you... to love...” She sang with a shaky, forced voice, struggling against her own body and shaking her head hard as a pained look crossed her face. “She can take you... or leave you./ She can ask for the truth/ But... she'll never believe you./ She'll take what you give her as long as it's free...” Her teeth ground hard, the pained expression growing with each word. Even so she used every bit of strength to force herself to turn away from Twilight and towards Gilda. “She steals like a thief/ But she's always a he-en to me...” Then she threw her head downward, hooves going to it and grabbing it as a scream tore from her throat.
“Hey! C-come on, it's okay it's... what is that?” Gilda cradled Trixie's shuddering body and looked around for the source of a strange, high-pitched whine she could suddenly hear. It was starting to get piercing, and she was certainly getting a headache. Besides that she was having rather disjointed and fuzzy memories of Rainbow Dash for some strange reason. She shook it off and started to rub Trixie's head. “It's okay, dude. I'm here...”
Though Trixie had halted, Twilight had not. She was still fighting to move against Pinkie, but it looked like Pinkie was suffering the same weakness. On seeing the success Gilda had, she screamed out at the top of her lungs, “And I-I with always love you and I will always love yooooooou!”
Twilight moved on, scooting forward a little at a time. She looked very confused. “My fate? My destiny? But it's... my fate...” She stopped trying as hard to go forward, then lit her horn, a wave of energy passing through it. “My fate!”
Pinkie was stunned by her failure. Her Twilight. Her sweet, wonderful Twilight. Was there something different about them? Singing had worked for the meany-mean-mean-pants griffin to get another meany-mean-mean-pants to stop acting like Twilight was acting. Couldn't she..?
The idea came unbidden, like most of them did. Of course. She leaped up into Twilight's path, wearing a gigantic fluffy blonde wig and a halter on her belly stuffed with two huge pillows. “Workin' nine to five/ What a way to make a livin'!/ Barely gettin' by/ It's all takin/ And no givin!”
Twilight actually seemed to see her there at last, her distracted gaze locking onto Pinkie's absurdity. A blink cleared the wateriness from her eyes, her mouth opening slightly and horn powering down. “Pinkie... my little cookbook... Ah!” She fell to the ground, clutching at her head.
Pinkie drew Twilight into a tight, warm embrace, nuzzling her neck lightly, trying to ignore the headache-inducing whine she was hearing, which also seemed to somehow be making her think of Mr. Cake. Sure, he was an awesome boss and would probably have wisdom for the situation but it was hardly the time. She laid little kisses on Twilight's neck and stroked down her neck. “It'll be okie-dokie-lokie, Twilight. You trust me, right?”
“I trust you, Pinkie...” Twilight whined, leaning up and pursing her lips, planting a trembling kiss on Pinkie's lips. As soon as she made contact a warmth began to move through her that eased her aches and restored her strength and autonomy.
Gilda noted what was happening on the other side of the crossroad, her stroking moving up to Trixie's cheeks. “Fight it. Whatever it is, fight it! If the Ponyville dweebs can do it, we can, right?”
“Y-yes, of course. We can. Together.” Trixie leaned in for a kiss, her body relaxing, her shuddering slowing to a halt. Her head finally felt like it was out of the magical vise and the stabbing pain ceased.
Both couples kissed on, affection feeding one another strength and security. All the fatigue, the tension, the fear melted away, replaced with a sensation of peace and security. In some way it was a sense of normalcy, especially for Trixie and Twilight. Increasingly, both mares felt like themselves, more so than they had in a long while. Their minds were fully their own, every alien, forced trace scrubbed out.
The kisses parted at exactly the same time, and four sets of eyes noted that their owners were wrapped in a glowing shell of energy like a smaller version of Cadence and Shining Armor's love shield. The whirling magic pulled in and then sprang out, first in a rippling wave, then pulling into a sinuous line of light which snaked out and struck a point behind a few boulders near the crossroads. As the last of the energy surged in there came a scream of agony, the sound of a modest explosion and a flash of magical energy.
Though the four sat there for a moment, looking thoroughly nonplussed, the all had the notion to get up and run for that spot, to see what had transpired. On arrival they found a truly horrible scene. There was a unicorn stallion, a rather nondescript all-dun figure with a wild mane. His head and the surrounding rocks were covered in blood, the flesh of his head hanging from his skull, which appeared cracked. Beside him was a bloody golden circlet, which looked to be Discord eating his own tail. Near that was a pile of bloodstained papers. Even though he was critically injured, he was not only conscious, but spoke when the quartet found him. “Why didn't you come together?”
“Oh my gosh! Sir! What... what happened? I'll get some medical attention for you right away!” Twilight prepared to set off when the unicorn pointed at her and glared with a hateful energy.
“It was fate. I saw in Ponyville. Unicorns. Magically inclined. That is fate. Destiny.” The injured stallion struggled to his hooves, splattering blood over the scene. “It was meant to be. It was always meant...”
“If you weren't already injured I'd give you some of this...” Gilda balled a fist and shoot it threateningly at the stallion. “You've got your nerve hurting my marefriend like that. What was it that you did?”
“Yes it seems impossible you could manifest the power we saw. Though seeing that artifact...” Twilight looked aside at the circlet, practically feeling the malevolence emerging from it.
“The Serpent Crown. The promise of propriety.” The unicorn reached down and pulled the bloody golden circle to his face. “It promises to make the world right. If things do not go as planned it will change the minds of those who refuse to play their parts.”
“The great and powerful Trixie is not a puppet or actress in some cut-rate production here for your amusement! She is her own pony and free to-”
“No!” The stallion cut her off with a shout that sent him to the ground, and left him groaning in agony for a moment. “Meant to... meant to be... unicorns. Magic. Fought. That means you are secretly sex perverts. Meant to be one as lovers. But you kept... doing it... wrong...”
“I don't see how you could make that kind of assessment. We never liked one another. Civility or the veneer thereof was the best we could manage. Now please let me bring paramedics to you.” Twilight again tried to set off, but stopped herself when she saw the bleeding begin anew. It was already too late.
“Meant to be... saw it all... saw you part... wanted to make it... real...” The stallion struggled to rise and failed, limbs writhing in the bloody dirt. “The Serpent Crown showed me. Promised me. Perfection. It could have taken these interlopers away. They were to be shown their new roles.”
“I saw Mr. Cake. He's married. And I like Mrs. Cake, she's a nice lady. It would be very wrong to make them sad. I like to make ponies smile.” Pinkie shook her head down at the delusional stallion.
“That thing with Dash... that's long over. It could never come back even if I wanted it to. And I don't.” Gilda grabbed Trixie up in a hug and looked on the dying unicorn, almost with pity.
“I don't know where your ideas came from... but you were wrong to try and break us up. We have real love, and you can't force that away. You only hurt ponies when you do it.” Twilight nuzzled against Pinkie, tears in her eyes.
“Meant to be... I... saw... destiny...” The limbs slowly stopped moving, and the crazed eyes finally closed, the insane fire behind them fading well before. The four females were left with a corpse.
“I need to contact the Princesses. That Serpent Crown is obviously a dangerous Discordian artifact. It needs to be destroyed like the Mirror or the Amulet.” After they all moved away to the other side of the rocks, Twilight gingerly lifted up the Crown with her magic and futilely wiped it on the ground, attempting to get the blood off.
“What a strange, deluded fool. To think that I, the great and powerful Trixie, would submit to magical power and fall in love with a unicorn that drove me out of a town.”
“Uhhh, you kinda did, dude. I had to bring you out of it. Like a total heroine.” Gilda puffed her feathers proudly and put a possessive arm around Trixie.
“It was a joint effort, gadji! I provided the inspiration that made your efforts possible.” Trixie snuggled up into Gilda's embrace and softened her look some.
“So... this is... umm... I thought we agreed this was never going to happen again...” Twilight coughed into a hoof, one leg swung over Pinkie's shoulder. For her part the pink earth pony was subtly glaring at the griffiness across from her.
“Magical circumstances sometimes break agreements. This was not my choice at all. Truthfully the closest I have ever been to Ponyville has been the County Fair. Mares have to work to eat, after all.”
Gilda wasn't paying attention. She was glaring back at Pinkie. She softened her look just slightly and gave a civil nod. “Dweeb.”
“Meany-mean-mean-pants.” Pinkie returned the nod with equal civility in tone.
“Pinkie...” Twilight gave Pinkie and scolding look.
“Prove your civility. I am judged by your actions now.” Trixie struck a pose in Gilda's grip then poked her in the side.
“Fine...” Gilda rolled her eyes and held out a talon. “Gilda sen Electra O'Bald.” She looked down at the unicorn she was holding and added, “-Lulamoon. Someday.”
Pinkie eagerly grabbed the talon in both hooves, shaking it quite forcefully. “Pinkamina Diane Pie!” She took a quick glance at Twilight and pulled back in to snuggle the unicorn. “-Sparkle. It's going to happen sometime. I just need to get my family used to the idea. You know how Cannonites are.”
“What the screech is a Cannonite?” Gilda scratched at her neck feathers and tilted her head in her raptorish way.
Before Pinkie could answer Trixie spoke up. “They are a... curious order of earth ponies who live lives of simple austerity and forgo most magical or technomagical things. I worked for a time on a Cannonite rock farm, which is hardly easy for a Roa to do.”
“You're Roani? Suddenly so many things make sense. The iconography, the caravan, the polished performance.” Twilight nodded her head slowly, then stroked over Pinkie's mane. “Cannonites are leery about Filly Fooler relationships, in contrast with the rest of the nation.”
“Roa require those that marry into their clans be knowledgeable about their traditions and language, what they call Roanipen. And while it may be a difficult process to teach a griffin such...” Gilda snorted at Trixie's assertion and narrowed her eyes angrily. “There is nothing more satisfying than to hear her speaking Roani, and to know that she is trying hard because she wishes to become one heart, one blood, with me. And my clan.”
Gilda released a happy shriek and posed proudly. “Yea, it's pretty awesome.” She looked between Trixie and Pinkie and gave a soft laugh, before shooting a thumbs-up to Twilight. “Good luck with that Cannonite thing. For now, I need to take my mare back to the nest.”
Twilight nodded quickly. “Of course, of course. We need to get back to Ponyville to contact Canterlot, get this crown taken care off and the... unicorn... tended to.” She paused for a moment and coughed into her hoof. “We might not be friends, but at least we're not still enemies. If you come by Ponyville... we will smile on the street at you.”
“And we will smile in return.” Trixie slowly climbed up across Gilda's back, laying out languidly.
“Oh hey...” Gilda lifted her wings and looked back at Twilight and Pinkie. “Tell Dash... I'm sorry for everything. And, uh, you know, sorry to you too, dwee- uh, Pinkie.”
“Bye meany-mean-mean-pants! I mean, Gilda! Good luck with all that Roani stuff! It's totally worth it doing it right.” Pinkie threw herself against Twilight and clung on tight.
With a final smile from all parties Gilda took to wing and Twilight activated a teleport spell, leaving with Pinkie and the Crown.
“Let's get a move on, there, dear.” Early evening in Ponyville. At the lakefront house of Magnum and Pearl, parents of Sweetie Belle and Rarity. At that moment, Rarity was in her own home, cheerfully engaged with Fluttershy, while Sweetie Belle was at a sleepover with Scootaloo. Magnum was at the bottom of the stairs, hollering up to his wife. “Ya don't wanna be late, do ya?”
“Hold yer water! Jeepers, it's like ya go no patience.” Pearl was up in the bathroom, applying a last bit of mascara and a dash of rouge. “Ya know we gotta make a good impression.”
“They see us every week there, hon. Not like they're gonna be all up and bothered because ya didn't add enough-a that eyeshadow.”
Pearl appeared at the top of the stairs, properly made up, in her usual stretch pants and blouse. “I was addin' some rouge and mascara. Honestly, after all this time ya think ya wouldda learned about makeup. I sure wear enough-a it.”
“Ya always looked good ta me, babe.” Magnum gave his wife a kiss when she had come down the stairs, careful not to mess up her makeup. “Let's got a move on, then. Can't keep the rest-a the swingers waitin'.”
“We sure can't. We been in it for a long time. Let's keep up our good reputation.” With a counter-peck that did not mess up her lipstick Pearl walked on out the door, followed closely by her husband.
“Now are you sure you girls can take care of everything?” Mrs. Cake gave a nervous smile that was meant to try and look confident and trusting. She hated to imply she did not trust anypony but...
“You know me, Mrs. Cake! I'm the best foalsitter there ever was!” Pinkie Pie saluted grandly, a baby bottle diapered to her hoof. Oddly enough, it seemed to be intentional. She was also wearing a huge diaper bag packed with stuffed toys, bottles, diapers, musical instruments and books.
“No need to worry, Mrs. Cake. This time Pinkie didn't turn down my help.” Twilight gently fluffed Pinkie's cotton candy mane and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “And having been foalsat by Princess Cadence, another pony in the running for greatest foalsitter, I know plenty of techniques for taking good care of little ones. Especially unicorns.”
“Come on, Cup, you know we can trust Pinkie. And with Twilight here, well... oh...” Mr. Cake considered that and looked down with an 'angry father' glare.
Twilight withered beneath the intense glare, smiling nervously and fanning herself with a hoof. “Oh my... and I thought Goodman Pie could glare. D-don't worry, Mr. Cake. We'll focus on taking care of Pumpkin and Pound in case anything happens. I promise we'll be very chaste...”
“Oh but I don't wanna chase you. You never run that fast and I always catch you...” Pinkie casually spoke until Twilight practically stuffed her hoof into the earth pony's mouth.
“What I mean is, we will abstain from intimacy and focus completely on the foals. Promise.”
“Pinkie Promise!” Pinkie pulled back from Twilight's hoof and set herself beside the unicorn.
Both mares went through the motions and spoke the words as one. “Cross my heart and hope to fly, stick a cupcake in my eye.”
Both Cakes gave soft chuckles, Mrs. Cake giving a relieved sigh and a nod. “Alright, now I feel relieved. You girls can go ahead a raid the fridge... within reason.”
“No need to worry. We'll play a quiet game of Catacombs and Creatures.” Twilight laid out a collection of books, folders and bags that clattered as if filled with rocks.
“Thanks again, girls. Come on, sweetie.” Mr. Cake nudged gently against his wife and smiled at the girls.
“Yes, of course. Bye, girls!” Mrs. Cake snuggled up with her husband and both of them headed out the front door.
“Bye!” Pinkie waved her bottle-holding hoof as the two adults walked down the street.
“Pinkie... I know the Cakes are a married couple and do need their private time, but... do you know where they go on their date nights?” Twilight was at the table, setting up her screen and laying out dice from the pouches.
“I dunno. It must be fun, though, they always come home happy!” Pinkie set down the diaper bag and sat down at the table, flipping through one of the folders. “Do you have my Sorceress in here?”
“She's in there but you'll need to spend a lot of your exploits to get out of the palace of the Blood Prince. Why did you make her an earth pony? Spells require higher successes.”
“Well duh, because then she can rescue the unicorn Archmagus and learn all the super-rare earth pony spells! And the Archmagus held by the Blood Prince is a cute mare...” Pinkie winked a bit and giggled.
Twilight gave a deadpan look to Pinkie, then flipped through one of her folders. “Pull out your Petromancer, we'll get her through the desert of glass.”
“Oh right, Pinkie Promise. Got her right here.” Pinkie pulled a few sheets out of the folder and set them on the table with a small blush.
“I know this is something of an imposition, but we're at a bit of an impasse.” Carrot Top lightly blushed and nervously rubbed the back of her head, under the fluffy orange mane. She was standing on the threshold of Lyra and Bon-Bon's house, accompanied by her wife Ditzy, their daughter Dinky, and family friends Colgate, Berry Punch and Pinchy. “Our regular foalsitter canceled very suddenly and we needed a replacement right away. You've always been such good friends... I know it's sudden but could you..?”
Lyra looked down at the two foals, who were giving their best, brightest smiles, backs almost bending under large knapsacks. “It's not such a bad idea. We need practice before we have our own foals. And these two are older. Not like we're taking care of Pumpkin and Pound or anything.”
“I don't know... you know we're not really foalsitters, right?” Bon-Bon did her best to look friendly, but there was clear strain on her face.
“Hey, Bonnie...” Lyra nuzzled against Bon-Bon and gave her flank a bump. “We can manage...”
“I know you're not foalsitters, but you're friends and we trust you.” Berry gingerly nudged Pinchy forward. “They've got big bags worth of stuff to keep them entertained. It's really a no-brainer.”
“Be a good girl for Lyra and Bon-Bon. And don't clean out their fridge. That's bad manners.” Ditzy grabbed up Dinky in a big hug, soon finding herself joined by Carrot Top.
“Behave, squirt. Make a good impression.” Berry kissed her daughter on the top of the head, Colgate coming in to kiss her afterward. “Ya know mom needs all the good press she can get.” Both Berry and Colgate laughed at that, while Pinchy rolled her eyes.
“Alright...” Bon-Bon laughed, a genuine and casual laugh. “Come on in. Make yourselves at home. And don't mind the way Lyra sits. That's just her.”
“Oh sure, make fun of the sitting. You never seem to mind. I don't make cracks about your snacking, and then the five hours on the treadmill.” Lyra shook her head, gave a 'what are ya gonna do?' to the four mares outside, and casually shut the door.
Colgate checked on her watch and nodded to the three other mares. “Glad that worked out. We've gotta go. The others will be gathering.”
Ace looked at himself in the mirror, regarding his mustache carefully, lightly tapping it with a hoof to ensure it was in proper shape. He adjusted his sweatband a touch and gave a very confident pose. “Alright, Pokey, we've gotta go. I'm as ready as I'll get.”
“Don't sound so enthusiastic.” Pokey swept into the room and wrapped Ace up in an embrace from behind and to the right, rubbing cheeks and looking in the mirror. “I thought you said it was fun.”
“I mean... I enjoyed all those times. It's new and exciting and I never even knew... but it's just so weird. You know I'm... well...” Ace blushed a bit and turned to kiss Pokey. “You really can talk me into anything.”
“Just one of the many special powers I have.” Pokey laughed softly and kissed Ace back. “Come on, you love it. You know all of them, we're friends, it's all in good fun.”
“But swinging... it's very unusual. I never expected that out of somepony like Mr. Cake or Colgate. Maybe Berry or Ditzy, sure but... I guess you just learn new stuff.” Ace patted at his mustache again. “Think it looks alright?”
“Oh honey... nopony is going to be looking at your face.” Pokey laughed again, gave Ace a squeeze and disentangled himself.
“Is everypony here?” Carrot Top looked around at the assembly, who were all gathered around a basement entrance.
“Not yet. I invited a new couple.” Colgate spoke up, all eyes turning to her.
“What? That's a bit sudden there.” Magnum rubbed his chin a little.
“No, it's fine. They promised me they could be very discreet. And on explaining what this entailed they were quite excited.” Colgate blushed a bit and rubbed the back of her head. “Well... she was fairly excited. He was less so, but she convinced him.”
“There's always one.” Ace looked aside at Pokey, who was grinning up a storm.
“Here they come now.” Colgate pointed down the road to two figured approaching slowly.
The two figures resolved themselves into brown bodies, long-eared and knob-kneed. Matilda and Cranky. Matilda was still wearing her lacy collar, while Cranky had on his Dreamboat Special. “I still don't know about this, Matilda. We're not exactly young folks. Do we belong here?”
“Oh don't worry, Cranky. They seem like friendly folks. They're all so nice during the day. This should continue that friendliness.” Matilda leaned against her lover and gave him a kiss. “Now smile, Cranky. I know that Pinkie Pie taught you how.”
Cranky gave a sincere smile, chuckling softly as he reached the group. “I'm surprised Pinkie Pie isn't here.”
“She's foalsitting for us, along with Twilight,” Mr. Cake noted. He then held out a hoof. “Cranky, good to see you. Glad you decided to join us.”
Cranky shook the offered hoof and sheepishly nodded. “Well, Matilda convinced me. She can really talk me into anything.”
“Do I ever know your situation. Pokey know how to make me do anything.” Ace threw a leg around Cranky and laughed loudly.
“See, you're making more friends already. Pinkie really did rub off on you.” Matilda laughed softly behind a hoof and nodded towards the basement entrance. “Is this the place?”
Berry nodded and took a key from her mane, opening the lock on the wooden double doors. “I lease the space down here. It's separate from the house so we have total privacy. Soundproof and all.”
“We all pay up a portion of the lease price. It's cheaper that way,” Colgate said. “It's like dues. Seems strange for a group like ours but, I'm a practical professional and I thought it made sense. Defraying costs means I don't have to worry about Pinchy.”
“I understand completely. We donkeys are well known for our practicality. We'll have dues next time.” Matilda nudged Cranky, who had been hanging back.
“This time, you can trust a 'first one's free' offer,” Berry said, apropos of nothing. With that comment hanging in the air they all set forth down into the basement.
As they went down Ditzy began to recite. “For entertainment purposes only. Come together, leave together. It's all in good fun. Keep track of all personal items.”
All of the rest, save Cranky and Matilda, joined in on the last line, “And the children must never know.”
“What was all that?” Cranky tilted his head curiously.
“It's our little code of conduct. It keeps things organized.” Berry pulled out another key for the door found at the bottom of the stairs. She unlocked and opened the door, revealing a room in complete darkness. “Are you ready?”
“As we'll ever be.” Cranky adjusted his hairpiece with a wry look.
“You'll be enthusiastic about this...” Colgate used her magic to turn on the lights in the room. The tasteful recessed lights and single strip of trendy track lighting threw soft white light across the inside of the room. The room was plushly carpeted, in a lovely cream shade. The walls were painted eggshell white and had a decent semi-gloss tone. It looked like a large, nicely made living room. Fresh air was being provided by several ceiling vents that hummed with an electrothaumatic fan system that started when the lights had come on. All around the room were numerous types of swings. Some standard chain swings hanging from the ceilings, a large four-pony porch swing type, a rigid-frame two-double-seat garden swing, and even a few adult-sized harness swings. “What do you think?”
“Well that's not what I expected at all! I thought it would just be some playground swings...” Cranky nodded his head and took a slow step inside.
“We've got those! They're good for a bit of crazy swinging if yer inta that.” Magnum ran in and hopped up into one of the playground swings, immediately starting to swing rapidly, legs kicking hard.
“Makes for a good competition.” Mr. Cake leaped into the swing beside Magnum, kicking out his long, gangly legs and using his earth pony strength to push against the ground.
“Colts will be colts I suppose.” Mrs. Cake shook her head with a smile and sat down on the extreme right side of the two-couple porch swing. “He'll tire himself out sooner or later.”
“Oh yea, they always do, there. Jeepers they're just like little foals.” Pearl took the far left side of the swing, slowly rocking back and forth along with Cup.
“It's a good way to reconnect and just be romantic. For some of us.” Carrot Top threw a joking glare to the two stallions then flopped down into one side of the garden swing, snuggling up with Ditzy.
“No refreshments this week. We usually bring sodas and juice and some treats from the shop but there was no way to arrange it without Pinkie asking questions.” Mrs. Cake leaned back a little and poked her belly. “Perhaps it's for the best.”
“You still look perfect to me, Cup, dear.” Mr. Cake popped his eyebrows and smiled a big smile.
“Oh this does seem wonderful, don't you think, Cranky?” Matilda settled herself on the other seat of the garden swing, pulling Cranky up with her.
Cranky placidly settled against Matilda and smiled blissfully. “It's really nice... and I understand the rules. But why not tell the children? I may not like them but what could it hurt?”
Before anypony could answer Magnuum slipped a hoof from one of the chains by accident and went flying off to the ground, rolling and thumping until he hit the wall. “Oh! Great day in the mornin'! Oh that's gonna be a bruise there. Honey, I'm gonna need the massage ointment. Again.”
“See, that's why we don't have kids here.” Ace shook his head and snuggled warmly with Pokey on the same playground swing. “It's bad enough with adults that act like them.” Everyone in the room shared a hearty laugh.