Crime Of Fashion

by Estee

Rating: everyone
Tags: Slice of Life, Twilight Sparkle, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Rainbow Dash, Comedy, Rarity
Length: 7576

The variable nature of autumn makes it impossible for a dignified mare like Rarity to properly dress for the weather. Clearly the thing to do is altering the schedule through breaking into Rainbow's office. Isn't that right, Twilight?

Oh, autumn. The season which has the Weather Bureau arrange for the temperature to fall below freezing overnight, followed by what almost seems to be random shifts of wind and climate during the day until you reach the point of perfect comfort -- which lasts for about three seconds. It's the sort of weather which a mare of dignity and taste can't possibly dress for without dragging a complete wardrobe behind her in a cart, along with optional changing booth. And Rarity's just a little fed up with this. Really, the eye twitches are hardly noticeable. And what's her solution?

Adjust the official schedule. After breaking into Rainbow's office.

Well, of course Twilight will help! What are friends for?

Now with author Patreon, SubscribeStar, and Ko-Fi pages. While this story is tagged as a sequel, this just indicates that it takes place after those events: no previous reading is required.

Rated C for Cumulonimbus Crackfic.

Published 2023-11-15 03:50:02 UTC
Last updated 2023-11-15 03:50:02 UTC

It's Not As If They Wore Socks With Sandals

In Twilight's experience, what friends were really good for was getting her into trouble.

As lessons went, it was a rather fundamental one. It also tended to be repeated at distressingly regular intervals, and she sometimes felt as if it was just going to keep cropping up until she finally put it into a scroll. But she'd never asked Spike to write it down. Sending out the sort of lesson which probably couldn't be appreciated without Direct Experience was a rather tricky thing, she hadn't been able to find the wording which might somehow make the whole thing come across as a positive and anyway, whenever she'd tried to vocally figure out a first draft, no actual words had been recorded. Her little brother's clawwriting became utterly illegible when he was giggling.

But as lessons went, it was still a truth. Friends got her into trouble. Sometimes they would talk Twilight into it, and she wouldn't completely recognize what she'd been persuaded to do until the first police officers arrived on the scene. There had been other occasions when she'd recognized that there was the potential for something to go wrong and therefore, the best thing she could possibly do was come along and try to prevent it. This had about the same success rate as 'but maybe I can moderate the damage' and she kept trying anyway because they were her friends.

If she hadn't had friends, then she would have had to talk herself into the truly bad ideas. (She generally considered herself to be rather intelligent and thus when it came to talking herself into things, Twilight could come up with some truly outstanding arguments.) She would have been out there in the world, acting like an utter moron on her own. This, despite the wealth of non-scroll-recorded experience to the potential contrary, did not feel like much of an improvement.

So she kept going along because that way, when it all started to go wrong, there was at least a theoretical chance to stop it. To some extent, Twilight lived by that theory, was still waiting for it to produce anything in the way of Evidence, and always failed to see that her friends kept going along with her because when it came to the brilliant idea which she'd just talked them into, they were pretty much hoping the same thing and none of them had written it down either.

And there was a sort of subclause built into the lesson. The one which said it was best to have a lot of friends.

That way, after matters resolved in the most typical fashion, there was a chance of still having somepony left on the outside to bail them out.

Oddly, having friends had also led into developing skills beyond the social ones. However, regardless of how frequently she was forced to put it into use, Twilight had to admit that her hard-won education in crisis evaluation was rather -- specialized.

It started when the tree's entrance door was virtually kicked open by a thrust of soft blue glow: something which had spikes of anger coruscating around the borders. That sort of open display was always going to get Twilight's attention, and she watched from her desk as Rarity hard-marched across the floor.

The glow of warm sunlight momentarily streamed in behind the designer, because it was the middle of autumn and if you waited long enough, you would reach the point where Sun's radiance was effectively perfect. The gust of near-arctic air which served as chaser, however, mostly served as a reminder that the center of autumn served as a tipping point towards winter and if you stood still within warm radiance for a little too long, that was how it got you.

Twilight's corona ignited around her horn, projected across a patron-vacant library and hastily closed the door. Rarity hadn't bothered to shut anything behind her. She wasn't doing anything except pushing towards the desk with narrow-eyed determination.

It was a process which produced echoes. Rarity wasn't particularly large for a unicorn mare, and her physical strength wasn't all that impressive -- but anger had a way of substituting for mass.

Twilight hastily squinted.

Evaluate.
Fully dressed, but it's not sitting well. Most of the cloth which should be on her shoulders got twisted back towards her flanks. The hips are sitting somewhere near her dock, and most of the back is halfway around her barrel.
Tail's lost some curls. Tip is a little frayed. Lashing.
Mane's mostly okay and by 'mostly', I mean I'm pretty sure she remembered to straighten that up before she came in.
Eyelids...
...uh-oh.

The little alicorn took a deep breath, and did her best to smile. Several vital muscles immediately decided to put on a minor show of strain.

"Twilight, dear," the designer pushed out through half-clenched teeth as she reached the desk, "I wished to inquire as to your plans for this evening. Are you available to go out with me?"

The librarian blinked.

"I was originally thinking about running an experiment in the basement," she admitted. "But it's something which needs precise thermal control for surrounding conditions, and the tree's been leaking a little." She had to get Rainbow to look that over. Thermal sealing was a pegasus domain, and Twilight was nowhere close to mastering it. "If there's a change of more than two degrees in either direction... well, you know what it's been like after Sun-lowering this moon. I've been postponing it over and over!"

The white eyelids twitched for the second time.

"...yes," Rarity forced into the world. "I am aware. Fully."

Um...

"But I didn't have any other plans and Spike's just going to bed early until his body fully adjusts to the season," Twilight hastened on. "So sure, I'm free! You said going out, right? Let me just check the weather schedule --"

This time, the false eyelashes jumped. Several strands of weak binding glue audibly snapped.

"-- I should fix that for you," the little mare not-so-smoothly switched. "I think you left a backup tin of adhesive in the bathroom --"

"-- as it so happens," Rarity tightly cut her off, "the subject of my concern is the weather schedule."

Twilight thought that over.

"I didn't fully memorize the night portion," she admitted. "Am I going to need a really thick jacket?"

Vocal silence, added to a hard blue stare. Breaking adhesive twanged out a song in the key of minor insanity.

"...saddle blanket?" Twilight valiantly tried.

Rarity took a breath. The exquisitely-hued outfit further twisted along multiple axes, and most of the hindquarters stitching tried to wrap itself around the unicorn's hocks.

"You have been in Ponyville for a few autumns now," Rarity too-calmly observed.

"...yes..." was sent into the battle to buy time, and the syllable placidly waited to die.

"Have you ever noticed," the unicorn evenly continued, "that our weather schedule for the season could be best described as -- well, I suppose 'inconsistent' might apply, at least when considering how it behaves across any given cycle. But as a native, I prefer the much more precise definition of torturous."

"Um," had been designated as rescue personnel, and still knew it was going to be shot at.

"Frost under Moon," Rarity bitterly went on. "Remaining in place for some time, at least until Sun starts to dictate that it move across the exact line from solid to liquid. By one degree. Meaning that the chillest water which can exist will exist, generally at the precise moment when I am passing through that exact section of grass. And then it soaks into the fur of my legs, casually disregarding any attempt at protection I might have placed over them. It phases, Twilight. It becomes part of the strands themselves and after it does so, it never warms up." The false smile arrived at the moment as the next very real twitch. "Isn't that interesting?"

"Um," as reinforcements went, mostly wanted to know why Equestria's policy against never sending identical twins into combat had just been violated.

"Then the air tries to warm, when the water will not," Rarity continued. "In fits, starts, and stutters. There is the occasional backwards slip. The wind becomes -- let us say 'variable'. In speed, direction, and chill. Or rather, it does so while the ambient temperature is still trying to increase. But... it does grow warmer, Twilight. Too slowly at times, too quickly at others. Rather unsteadily. But on nearly any given autumn day, there will be a single moment of Sun's radiance which is simply perfect --"

The right foreleg briefly lifted, and then the hoof slammed into the floor --

"-- which matches the precise second when the wind direction and speed become utterly predictable. Too fast, imported from the Empire, and aimed directly at my face."

"Rarity --" had been sent out to recover the bodies.

"Do you have any idea how difficult it is to dress for such weather?" was a near-whisper. "I do. A single outfit does not suffice. Not unless it is constructed of so many layers as to give the wearer the rough appearance of a billowing cloud. And then one is forever donning and removing them, trying to be just warm enough because of course, the schedule loves to watch a mare overheat. I gained a headache simply from the attempt to keep up, Twilight. Imagine what it must be like for the earth ponies and pegasi."

She paused.

"Of course, the other solution is to bring along more clothing."

"Oh?" asked the battlefield's mop-up crew.

"As much as is necessary to accommodate. Changing outfits at need." Thoughtfully, "I would imagine earth ponies have an easier time dealing with the weight. Even after loading my full wardrobe into a cart with well-greased wheels, I barely got five blocks."

"...oh..."

"I blame that minor uphill near Sugarcube Corner," Rarity off-hoofedly added.

"Oh."

"And of course, bringing the collapsible changing booth along hardly helped with my mass limit."

"...a -- changing..."

"One does not simply undress and redress in public, Twilight. But with the sheer frequency required... well, you can see the effects upon my current draping. I did my best to stay in the shadows for the last part of the journey here." In open contemplation, "I'm simply hoping nopony tickets the cart. It was left in a rather awkward spot."

The very last member of the "Oh," family effectively committed suicide.

I can't just suggest that she not get dressed.
Just that anypony else --
-- it's Rarity...

"I am rather wearied of our autumn weather," the too-calm voice understated, while twitching eyelids did their best to restore proper emphasis. "I have felt that way for a lifetime. Today was simply the final hay strands from the bale. And so I ask again. Are you available this evening?"

"To --" she felt it was a logical guess "-- give you some company when you ask Rainbow if she can tweak the schedule --"

"-- I have spoken to Rainbow about the matter," Rarity steadfastly stated. "Several times. The most recent was roughly thirty minutes ago."

Rather carefully, "And?"

"She continues to inform me that Ponyville's weather schedule is dictated by the Sphere."

"That's the Weather Bureau headquarters, right?" Twilight checked.

"Yes. An airborne globe of eternally-perfect climate, hovering on the outskirts of Cloudsdale." Another breath. "And somehow, despite all of the minor alterations she makes for her own amusement, she feels that any truly major changes would draw their attention. Somepony would report that Ponyville's weather had not matched the schedule which was posted in their home, and without an updated master copy to show proof of change, there would be -- complaints." Breath and twitch. "For some reason, a mare who is forever fending off small claims lawsuits from ponies who were distressed to find emergency landing craters in their lawns wishes to avoid mere complaints."

"She's trying to maintain the schedule --" Twilight desperately pointed out.

"A task I happen to understand," Rarity indignantly reminded her.

"Err," tried to believe there was some chance to survive.

"Well, not on the level of how to actually execute it," the unicorn conceded. "But I certainly comprehend the duty of trying to bring comfort to residents. And at one point, I tried to remind her of that. I said 'When I was weather coordinator...!'"

Twilight waited for it.

She kept waiting.

"What did you say after that?"

"Nothing," Rarity fiercely announced. "She interrupted me."

"What did she say --"

"'Gameboard cloudy with a chance of stoning!' And if she had not managed that turn before getting out of my range..." Darkly, "Rainbow will not help me, Twilight. Not of her own initiative. Accept that as a given."

"So you want me to..." It felt like a logical option. "...help you compose a letter to the Sphere? Asking them to change Ponyville's weather? Since they're the ones with authority --"

"-- I have written to them before," Rarity said. The right eyelash curve fell off.

"...you have."

"With a significant plural."

The "...and?" was on temporary loan from Fluttershy, who would hardly miss it.

"After a time," Rarity softly educated, "their rejections became less -- personal."

"Less --"

"Form letters. Anypony who fills up an entire file cabinet drawer with perfectly reasonable requests gets their very own form letter. Preprinted with their name."

"How do you know --"

"-- Roseluck accidentally received one of mine."

Twilight winced.

"It took surprisingly little time to convince her that the government was not attempting to turn her into me," Rarity mentioned. Which was followed by a soft snort. "One would think she might have felt better about the prospect. Twilight, Rainbow claims, truly or not, that her wings are bound. The Sphere, isolated, asking that an entire nation suffer their decisions while they remain forever perfect -- they are clearly out of touch." Twitch. "I am asking for your company this evening. Your help. Will you?"

Okay. I know it's bad.
Time to find out how bad.

"My help," Twilight risked, "to do what?"

And with utter false peace, Rarity said, "Your help in breaking into Rainbow's office and altering Ponyville's master schedule into something sane. Will you come?"

Twilight blinked.

"You see," the unicorn explained, "the Sphere does send out changes. And they have access to every local headquarters. Notices are sometimes left behind by a night shift." A little proudly, "Something a previous weather coordinator happens to remember. So it should be easy to make it look as if there was an official update --"

The blinks kept coming. They also steadfastly refused to help anything.

"-- her office."

Rather calmly, "Yes."

In utter disbelief, "Rainbow has an office?"

The designer's head tilted slightly to the left. "Where did you think she received her official directives?"

Twilight tried to picture Rainbow sitting in an office. With a desk. And cabinets. And probably charts.

Then she just tried to picture Rainbow sitting still, and that didn't work either.

"...that the Bureau dropped off the schedule in a tree," the librarian admitted. "And she didn't remember which one it was, so she flew around trying to find it. And curled up on top of the branches because searching was just boring, so she might as well get... in... a... you're -- sort of staring at me..."

"She is a government employee, Twilight," Rarity calmly said. "As are you. Such a job tends to come with an office. And desk. The rest of the weather team checks in there and receives their directives." Which was when the unicorn frowned. "I've never been there, though. Not when she's been in charge of it."

Neither have I.
Obviously.
...why try to find Rainbow at work? It's hard to enough to find her anywhere if you can't track the snoring. And...
Rainbow.
Office.
Does Not Compute.

"I know roughly where it is," Rarity added. "But any memories I have of personally using it..." A slow head shake. "You're familiar with the problem. As the only pony who didn't suffer from it."

Which just made Twilight wince again. The mark-switch spell had created what seemed to be a lifetime of false memories for each major target, but -- most of them hadn't been retained, and trying to bring them back was like fighting to recall a dream.

"I likely had something else," Rarity thoughtfully considered. "Given the obvious nature of her own office and certain species requirements. So. Again, will you help me to --"

"Break in," Twilight cut her off.

Calmly, "Yes."

A small body went half-upright on its bench: the forelegs pushed, and the hind stayed in place because reinforcements might be needed and the little mare hadn't decided whether to fetch the soapbox. "You can't solve problems by breaking into places!"

This time, the head tilt went right.

"Whyever not?" Rarity asked. "You do."

Slim purple forelegs spontaneously folded.

"...that was different," Twilight said.

"Was it?"

"I thought..." A little frantically, "Rarity, if my future self was so desperate as to burn off her -- my -- our -- one use of the time-travel spell, the only one we'd ever get --"

"-- my point stands," the unicorn calmly said. "A problem existed. You decided to solve it via breaking and entering. Even if it mostly turned out to be 'entering' at the end. Your moral high ground, Twilight, looks rather level from here. Will you come?"

"...why are you asking me?"

"Well, for starters," Rarity considered, "it's obviously going to take the cloudwalking spell. Plus I may need a lift. Of the vertical variety. And if there's any magical defenses, some expertise would be welcome."

"But they would be pegasus defenses --" represented the last desperate try.

"And I believe," the designer placidly added, "you remember what happened when I last tried to enter a place by myself."

The other eyelash mount fell off.

Twilight's final blink didn't help either.

"When you went to the pasta factory. To track the source of the flour weevils which got into your pantry."

And tried to mark the spots where you'd found them on the factory floor. Killing them along the way. To protect everypony else, because a mare with rupophobia really didn't take it well when her food was contaminated.
You started with bleach.
Then you ran out of bleach.
The only other thing you knew of which reliably killed them was fire.
And you didn't know how flour dust worked.

"Yes," Rarity peacefully said. "And I was equally as justified on that occasion, too. Even the jury agreed. Eventually." Both sets of eyelids executed a perfect double twitch. "But this time, I am asking for company." In what she probably thought was an encouraging tone, "Think about it, Twilight! We could make the entire town comfortable. Truly beautiful autumn weather at last! And you could conduct your experiment without concern."

The librarian was silent.

"We might even be able to arrange one last harvest for Applejack," Rarity pressed on.

"Applejack harvests eight moons out of thirteen anyway," Twilight observed. Paused. "Earth pony magic is weird."

"Rather," the unicorn readily agreed. "Will you come?"

Both eyelids. Added to all of the other signs.
Twitching is more or less on the same rhythm as What We Did To Her With Those Stupid Dress Alterations.

Crisis evaluation. With Rarity, this required measuring the current level of insanity. Or rather, you took the constant level of insanity and tried to spot whether it was on the verge of fully breaching the surface.

She's going to do it whether I'm there or not.
Maybe I can talk her out of it along the way.
...or at least minimize the damage.
For once.
All of my friends are crazy. I just have to try and help them through it --
-- and if she's going to try and alter the schedule anyway, then I could set up the conditions for the experiment.
Plus there's that one outdoor trial where just a little change to the barometric pressure would help everything.
Also, Sun keeps getting me through that one window in the morning, before I wake up all the way. And I haven't found any nice curtains, so maybe mandating one perma-cloud...

"When are we doing this?"

The 'We' made Rarity smile.

"After midnight would be best," she proposed. "Less hoof and wing traffic."

"Two a.m?"

"If that works for you."

A little proudly, "I'll get my stealth suit."

The designer winced. "...please don't."

"But I had it recut for wings --"

"-- and it remains dead. black," Rarity pointed out. "A color which, despite what our fiction writers would wish ponies to believe, stands out within the night. Take a cue from the natural hues of our police chief, Twilight. I believe the time remaining to us is more than sufficient for me to assemble something in dark blues and subtle greens..."

The first surprise inherent to Rainbow's office came from learning that she had one.

"I... was not expecting this," Rarity freely admitted.

"Me either," Twilight agreed.

Both mares had been caught staring up at the office, which was pleasantly lit by a nearly-full autumn Moon. It didn't require much of a head tilt.

The second shock was in being able to see the top of the office. From the ground.

It was a cloud structure: Twilight hadn't really anticipated anything else. But it wasn't all that large. A mare who felt that living alone required something very close to a vapor mansion (with mandatory fountains) presumably had some degree of freedom to modify her working quarters, and Twilight wasn't sure it was possible for the entire weather team to get inside at once. At a guess, the maximum capacity was around eight ponies. If that almost-impossible-to-picture desk was actually present, six.

It wasn't very large, and the exterior was rather plain: the most noteworthy decoration was a little plaque stating what the rough cube was for. And in terms of altitude...

"I'm starting to regret asking for the cloudwalking spell," Rarity decided.

"Why?"

"Because it'll all be solid for us now," the designer explained. "Twilight, if you dispelled it... I realize that I am not the most athletic of mares, but I'm fairly certain that I can jump high enough to get through the floor --"

"-- to the base of your neck, maybe." It wasn't unkind. "Applejack could get all the way in. For a fraction of a second. And then gravity would notice."

"A fair point," Rarity agreed. Followed by a thoughtful, "However, you could simply levitate me inside. Then fly in --"

"-- it's not a very big office," Twilight observed. "Even if I wasn't still having problems with using my corona while flying, you don't want an active wingspan around the whole time. We also don't know what the security is like yet. It might be designed to stop that kind of pony entry. And there's another problem with lifting you through the floor."

"Which is?"

"You think she has a desk?"

Rarity frowned. "I dimly recall something desklike..."

"Do you know where it is?"

"...no."

"I didn't bring anything to probe with," Twilight pointed out. "I'd rather not use your head."

"We could look for a branch," Rarity decided. "Something to poke with."

"I'd also rather not use my corona any more than necessary," the librarian softly said. "The light could draw attention."

"We've been all right so far," Rarity proudly stated. "Those three partying ponies went right by us. And they didn't even notice. My stealth hues are clearly working perfectly. And the hoods were an inspired touch!"

Twilight silently considered that several years of post-Elements life in Ponyville had potentially taught the locals a few lessons of their own and 'When you see two Bearers who are clearly trying not to be noticed, the safest thing to do is not notice them' was probably near the top of the list.

"We can try a branch," she reluctantly decided. "One of us can just hold it in her jaw. That should be you, since you're taller. And the wood won't conduct an electrical defense. We'll just be ready to run if anything else happens. Let me try to find a dead one..."

"Do you wish it sculpted?"

"...why would I want to be --"

"-- according to some of my bedtime reading," Rarity grandiosely noted, "burglary is an art. Imagine if the 'defenses' snap the branch off within the office. And all they find tomorrow is a tiny wooden sculpture of a pristine mare. The mystery --"

"-- the clue," Twilight pointed out. "Which would be fresh enough to still have traces of magic on it. And how many ponies in town know the wood sculpture spell?"

White lips twisted into a pout. "...spoilsport."

All my friends are crazy...

They found a branch. Twilight carefully trimmed it down to make sure the radius was just about even across the entire length, then added some cleaning.

Poking ensued.

"You're hitting something. I can hear the knocking."

"My toe."

"What?"

Rarity spat out the branch. "I know. Let me try another spot..."

The wood was recovered. And everywhere Rarity tried...

"It's the same everywhere," Twilight softly said. "The branch gets a little ways in, and then it's stopped. The cloudwalking spell doesn't conduct through your jaw: if it did, then the wood never would have gotten past the first billow. What did Rainbow do?"

"I don't know," Rarity reluctantly admitted. "Perhaps we should switch to the door? We can just walk up the ramp and test there."

"...there's a ramp."

"That shadow off to the side. You didn't see it?" Rarity frowned. "My night vision shouldn't be that much better than yours. We may need to have you tested --"

"-- ramp," Twilight repeated in open disbelief. "We can trot to the door?"

They could.

The ramp was normal wood, wide enough for two mares to stand next to each other, and featured the usual number of hoof-bracing divots. The incline was perfectly manageable. But the door, its careful molding visible under Moon's light, was still vapor and, for the enchanted mares, currently solid.

So was the lever.

Rarity had taken the previous risk. Twilight got her teeth on the lever, pushed down. Nothing happened.

"Locked," she said once her mouth was clear again. "I don't know how that's managed with pegasus magic, but it's locked."

Rarity nodded. "Our next move?"

"I could try to cancel the spell for myself and fly through it, but... defenses. It's got to have something." And when you look at this as a magical puzzle...

How did they solve it?

Could it really hurt to find out?

"Let me try pegasus sight," Twilight decided. "Maybe I can get a look..."

Her eyes momentarily unfocused. Narrowed, as the irises acquired a magenta tinge.

"Anything?" Rarity asked.

"There's a lingering ion charge here," Twilight quietly told her, flaring a wing towards the proper section of wall. "It's hard to describe, but -- it shows traces of being shut down and reactivated. Repeatedly. I think I'm supposed to neutralize it. And then the door would open."

Slowly, carefully, she began to raise her left foreleg. Both wings flared (with Rarity stepping back just in time), and careful flapping brought her to the correct height.

With open concern, "Twilight -- unless you have neglected to tell me about one of her lessons, then this is well beyond what Rainbow has been teaching you. I long for true seasonal comfort -- but I don't want to see you hurt. Are you sure --"

"-- I've got this," declared something more than a lingering instructional style. "I know I've --"

Her left forehoof made contact.

There was a low crackle.

This was followed by what was, strictly speaking, just a little explosion.

It was mostly soundless. The light production was fairly minimal, strictly temporary, and their bodies blocked most of it. Twilight benefited most from the exceptionally short duration, because the little mare didn't stay in a position to keep blocking the illumination for very long.

"TWILIGHT!"

"...ow..."

"I saw that! Your wings are still twitching and dear Sun, you were kicked backwards onto the ground! You're on your back and your tail is just about separated into individual strands! If the office wasn't so low -- we can stop right now, we must stop, we will shed the vastly improved stealth suits and I'll get you to the emergency room --"

Weakly, "-- what happened to the door?"

Rarity paused.

"...it swung open."

A slightly-blackened left forehoof gleefully kicked at the sky.

"YES!"

The Mystery Of The Branch-Resistant Floor was solved immediately.

They went in. (This took a little longer for Twilight, because that level of shock had a way of making the recipient uncoordinated for a while. Her dock was still twitching.) And their hooves, which had been enchanted to treat vapor as a solid --

-- stepped onto good, solid wood.

Both mares looked at each other, and found they were largely doing so in the dark.

The door was closed behind them. Twilight belatedly checked for windows, decided the lack of moonglow meant they'd been molded closed for the night, located the lighting device and activated it at the lowest possible level...

"It's like the safety platforms for tourists in Cloudsdale," the little alicorn softly said. "The ones they put in the major traffic areas, in case anypony's spell starts to wear off. She had wood installed."

"So that anypony could come in to see her, without fear," Rarity nodded. "Rather generous, really."

"And of course," Twilight added, "it keeps ponies from jumping up through the floor."

"Generous and practical," Rarity modified. "I would guess that anypony attempting to pass through the walls experiences those ions firsthoof -- do you feel any better?"

"Yes. I think I'm a little more current-resistant when I'm using pegasus magic."

"Very well," the designer allowed. "Then as we are inside..."

They looked around what was, for just about all intents and purposes, a normal office.

There was a surprisingly basic wooden desk: something from the balsa family. A well-padded bench rested behind it. Electrical scorch marks on both indicated that the primary user had a tendency to be easily annoyed.

Four file cabinets rested against the west wall. One appeared to be far older than the others. It was also the only specimen which closed properly. The tallest specimen was labeled Complaints, and papers overflowed it in all directions. Some of those directions required phasing through the drawers, but it was Equestria and minor effects cropped up everywhere.

A garbage cylinder was on the right. It rested on the office's only vapor section of flooring and because the town had an objection to Rainbow's original method of filing her complaints, it now had a bottom.

The other walls were covered with paper.

It was easy to find multiple maps of Ponyville, in all sorts of scales. There were written reminders of special instructions. Twilight spotted a copy of the national schedule: every city and town listed at the top of a wide poster, with their weather arrangements scrolling towards the lower edge in exceptionally small print. Charts showed where every member of the team was supposed to be working, along with what their current assignment was.

The master copy of Ponyville's weather schedule was mounted on the wall directly behind Rainbow's bench. It was easy to make out the Bureau's official seal, because that image was something which hung in just about every home within the nation. A constant part of the background. Nearly everypony kept their copy of the schedule on open display, for quick reference. You didn't even really look at the seal...

Twilight vaguely wondered what all the little icons within that seal actually meant. It was almost like heraldry. Gusts Ascendant On A Field Of Too Bucking Cold.

"The ink's different from the home copies," she observed. "I think the shade's a little off."

"We can find ink," Rarity assured her.

The two mares carefully stepped forward. Their hooves echoed on the wood.

Twilight forced herself to go around the desk. Looked at the schedule again, from less than two hoofwidths away.

"And the ink smells."

"...like what?"

"Sort of ozone-ish," the librarian reported.

"You did just take a shock. The hospital remains an option --"

"-- and the schedule is just for this moon," Twilight observed, careful to keep her volume low. "A moon which only has ten days left. We can't fix all of autumn with it."

Fix.
I could organize the whole season.
There's still some leaves which didn't come down from the Running. If I'm careful about the wind direction, I might be able to keep them off my lawn.

"She may have next moon's schedule already," Rarity considered. "I received -- she should receive it well in advance. We should be able to find it if we're careful."

"How long do you think we have?" Twilight softly asked. "The weather team starts setting up for Sun-raising pretty early. And with the wood in the floor, I can't just cancel the spell on both of us and then drop out --"

"-- the team begins early," Rarity smiled. "And based on that one chart, they already have their assignments. When do you feel Rainbow arrives?"

"That depends," the little mare considered.

"On?"

"Can she sleep in here?"

They both looked at the well-padded bench.

"Good for sitting," Rarity observed. "Or going prone."

Twilight nodded.

"Napping," the unicorn added, "not so much. As I don't see the outline of her typical curl embedded into the fabric."

"And being in the office means the rest of the team can find her here," Twilight decided. "Lots of sleep interruptions."

"So she would most logically arrive...?"

"After the first nap." Twilight frowned. "It could be the second, but I wouldn't want to chance that. Let's figure it's past the first. And we'll try to clear out a lot earlier than that. How long can it take to modify the schedule?"

"Not very," her friend decided -- and then, very quietly, added a laugh. "Twilight, you've experienced the variables of a Ponyville autumn. If anything, we are mutually making things simpler, and thus better for everypony. Decomplication, dearest. How long could that possibly take?"

"...so the way I see it, if I get the westerly gust started here, then Spike won't have to worry about that one corner of the goal any more."

"Howso?"

"He always swears that if anypony gets the ball into the prevailing current, it just carries everything past him for a score. The wind is clearly cheating."

"Ah. Yes. That should make the game a little more fair. Striving for equality in competition is always best."

"I don't want equality. I want balance."

"Twilight?"

"But we can have equality after things are balanced out. He's been dealing with cheap points for years. So the way I see it, if I rig this part to have the wind blowing over the goal..."

"I don't understand what you're trying to set up for."

"A green flash Sun-lowering. Or Sun-raising, as it can potentially happen at either time."

"I've never heard of --"

"-- you -- our astronomer -- have never encountered it? Well, it is rather rare. The window is but a few seconds as Sun is carried across the horizon in either direction, Twilight. Generally no more. And if conditions are exactly right, the top of the orb will seem to glow green. Or blue, if we're particularly lucky. I saw one but once, when accompanying my father to a game in Baltimare."

"You're lucky. I hadn't even heard of them. ...do you have pictures?"

"Regretfully, no. It was too quick. We can check the library, but the window is so small... well, this is how we arrange the opportunity. Incidentally, some say if you see a green flash, you will never go wrong in matters of the heart."

"Really?"

"Yes. And speaking from my own dating experience, clearly that's a lie. Now, viewing from the dam should help. Or looking over it. But we're going to be setting up for a perfectly clear day. There can't be a single cloud. We can't even risk a light haze. Nose over the team assignments? I think I'm going to put Flitter on that."

"I'm trying to remember everything she said about growing times."

"As am I."

"One last harvest, right?"

"To permit a chance of winter cider. Have you had that from her? She does mull it. The cinnamon would add so much..."

"So -- do you know what we're looking at for maintaining the warm spell over the Acres?"

"...no."

"Eight moons out of thirteen."

"I thought so."

"Maybe it's closer to nine."

"Possibly."

"...earth pony magic is weird."

"So this is the rain map."

"It would seem so. And the coverage is so -- uneven..."

"Not any more!"

"Perma-cloud?"

"Perma-cloud."

"You seem to have a rather odd vendetta against snowplows."

"First year, Winter Wrap-Up."

"You seem to have a perfectly understandable vendetta against snowplows."

"I think that does it. Once the cold front comes in here... it'll be like a mathematical proof written in the sky."

"A proof with exquisite color balance."

"And nopony will know."

"We'll know. Isn't that enough?"

"Yes. Everypony else just gets the cloud formations. But we'll know what they mean. Only us. That's... special."

"Well, to be fair, you will have to explain that one equation. More slowly."

"Tomorrow night?"

"Of course! Hmm. You know, if I modify the humidity somewhat, then the odds of a prism effect --"

"-- WHAT ARE YOU TWO DOING IN HERE?"

Friends were really good at getting you into trouble. (Twilight still wasn't sure how to put that into a scroll.) And a friend who was locked up with you in the same jail cell was currently doing her best to figure out why they were in trouble.

...well, other than the obvious.

"You could have teleported us out," Rarity calmly accused from her position on the cleanest part of the neighboring bunk.

"He already saw us."

"And? We had the stealth suits on. The hoods shaded our faces --"

"-- our horns stick out."

"For easier casting, yes. Your point?"

"My wings flare when I'm startled."

"...oh."

"There's four adult alicorns in the world," Twilight miserably said. "It would have been a pretty small lineup. Just jab a hoof at the short one on the right."

"Oh."

Friends got you in trouble. That was a fact, and probably a lesson --

An officer approached the cell door.

"You can go now," she gruffly said. "I'll take the horn restraints off before you leave."

-- but if you had lots of friends, there was a chance of having somepony on the outside...

The pegasus was hovering just past the police station's front door, with prismatic mane and tail well-lit by autumn Sun. Wind gusts, far more disorderly than what the two recently-freed mares had worked out, were busy tangling up the colors.

Rainbow crossly folded her forelegs across her rib cage, and glared straight down.

Two mares forced themselves to look up.

"Thank you for bailing us out --" Rarity began.

"-- it wasn't bail," Rainbow's simmering fury told them. "I didn't press charges."

"Oh," Twilight scavenged from the older battlefield. Troops were clearly about to be required. "Thank --"

The hover dipped slightly.

"Little secret," Rainbow said. "Doesn't really get outside the Bureau. But the master schedule copies? The ink's a little special. They only have it at the Sphere."

"To -- prevent somepony faking a change?" Twilight slowly asked.

Rainbow nodded.

"The Bureau's been around for centuries," the pegasus too-quietly told them. "It's not like you two were the first."

"So that's why it smelled like ozone," the librarian considered.

"Oh, it's more than the smell," Rainbow lectured, because you couldn't hang around Twilight for very long and not pick up the basics. "A scent could be duplicated. But if you channel a little current through the writing? It doesn't burn. It glows. And that's how any Bureau employee can pick up on the real thing."

Both horned heads dipped. The prismatic one slowly shook.

"Not that I wouldn't have figured out it was you two if Thunderlane hadn't caught you," Rainbow added. "If you hadn't just still been fixing everything past Sun-raising and didn't know that half the weather team can go into the office, in case anything needs to be checked. You started off trying to make the writing match, didn't you, Rarity? But then you started to put in the calligraphy. Oh, and Twilight? Thanks for organizing my complaint files. The drawers close now."

"...you're welcome."

"I'll be sure to tell Thistle Burr that his drawer has space again," the pegasus viciously continued. "So he can work on filling it."

Another head shake.

"Rainfall measured out by the drop. Color-coordinated sunsets," Rainbow half-spat. "And Twilight? You're smart, but you don't have the weather vocabulary. 'Orthogonal rain' is a thing. Correcting it to 'octogram'..."

The two mares on the ground seemed to be getting shorter. Spontaneous bends across eight knees had a way of doing that.

"So we're solving problems with break-ins now?" the pegasus checked. "That's good. Because I've got a few. One of them is called Twilight Has That One First Edition And I Don't --"

Which was when the designer's fierce blue gaze shot up.

"Do not take the moral high ground!" she furiously declared. "I remember what you've done to me in the name of setting up pranks, and then in carrying them out! Trespass would be the least of it --"

"-- so I've done some stuff for fun!" Rainbow shouted down. "Just fun! That's my job you two were messing with, Rarity! I soak you with fur dye! Not your stockroom, and not the Boutique's selling floor! I tweak a little here and there, I try to work with the schedule and when there's an emergency, I've got to kick it away -- but it's the same for every weather coordinator on the continent!" Static was beginning to crackle across fast-shifting feathers. "It all comes from the Sphere! They've got the basis for comparison! I can do little things, but this is how they feel autumn should be! It's how they've felt forever, and if the wrong complaint reaches the wrong pony...!"

Rarity's head instantly went down again.

"...I am sorry," she finally said. "I..." Took another breath. "Self-employment, I suppose. Every price extracted by a mistake is mine alone to pay. But you have supervisors."

"The same way," Twilight miserably said, "the library ultimately has to answer to the mayor. We never wanted to get you in trouble, Rainbow. Rarity was just... just..."

"I hear all of it," Rainbow quietly told them. "Read it too, whether anypony wants to believe it or not. I just can't do much. Not without having the Bureau clamp my tail. And they'd be a lot meaner about it than Applejack. I..." Her volume dropped. "...already push more than I probably should. So don't try to get into my office like this again." Paused. "Although it would be nice if you visited once in a while. Not like I don't check on you two at work all the time."

"What's the point of trying again?" Twilight's self-loathing inquired. "We'd never get away with it: you said that. It's the ink..."

She closed her eyes, and hoped she'd done so just in time to hide the spark of thought.

"Right," Rainbow brusquely agreed. "There's no point. Go home. I'll see you later."

Her wings changed the flap pattern. The sleek body began to gain altitude --

-- paused.

"Twilight? I'll stabilize the temperature for that experiment in three days. And Rarity? Green flash Sun-lowering sounds cool. We'll try in two weeks. I'll put Flitter on most of it and finish up myself. Sound good?"

Two stunned mares eventually shared a nod.

"I can do a little," their friend told them. "Here and there. But the rest is the Sphere. Ponies have been complaining about autumn weather forever, they yell and stomp and shout at me and my team, and -- it's the Sphere. Not me, not them. Just -- remember that, okay?"

And she flew away.

After a few seconds, the two mares looked at each other. Their eyes met, and then they mutually began to trot away from the police station. Moving out of hearing range.

"You heard her," Rarity finally said.

"Oh yes."

"We hardly want to get her in trouble."

"I never want to risk a friend's job," Twilight agreed, because that was what a sane pony said.

"Nor do I. But -- you heard the other part, correct?"

"It's all about the ink," the librarian grinned. "Getting autumn simplified for the continent requires ink which is only available in one place. Changing the schedules before they even go out. And once the nation experiences the improvements..."

"Indeed," the designer agreed. "So. Given that we would have rather more in the way of planning time: how difficult do you feel it would be to break into the Sphere?"