“Hello Dew Drop, how was school?” Dry Quill asked as Dew Drop walked in.

Dew Drop thought for a moment. “I think I’m the Queen of Recess, or something,” she said. She took her schoolbag off and set it on the table.

“Queen of Recess?” Dry Quill asked. “Well, I suppose it’s a start,” he said more to himself.

“Yeah,” she said, “but all anyone wanted to talk about was how I beat Diamond Tiara.”

Dry Quill raised an eyebrow. “Yes, Dew. I was wondering the same thing, not that I’m unhappy that you stood up for yourself.” He smiled.

Dew Drop smiled back. “I read a self-defense book that you had,” she said with a bit of pride. She started to mimic the movements of the fight. “Once I realized that Diamond Tiara had no idea how to fight, it was really easy to flip over her and put her in a headlock. But the ground we were on was pretty rocky, so she got bruised a little. It wouldn’t have been so bad if she didn’t struggle like a loony in a straitjacket. Daddy, I didn’t know that my first day of school would involve a coup.”

Dry Quill’s laughed. “Well, it seems you made one enemy, but many more potential friends,” he said.

“More like subjects,” Dew Drop replied. She looked sad all of a sudden. “I overheard you talking to Zakuru yesterday about how you were worried that all the new faces would be overwhelming to me at first,” she said, then looked down, “and you were right. I’m the center of attention now. I don’t like that.”

Dry Quill nodded slowly. “Yes, taking down a dictator does tend to make one popular.” He cleared his throat. “Look, Dew Drop. You are in a unique position, a highly advantageous one at that. It is not every new filly or colt that, on the first day of school, both gets the bully off of their back and becomes popular. Though, now that I think of it, the two aren’t mutually exclusive.” He gained a thoughtful expression as he continued to ramble to himself. “Let’s see, Dew Drop defeated the bully, thus gaining the adoration of her class, but what if she had first gained the adoration of her class. Would that have socially defeated the bully, and thus get her off of her back?”

“Daddy.”

“Ah, but she could have also befriended the bully, and gain the submissiveness of the rest of the class. This would have the same end result if she then used her relation of the class to her advantage.”

“Dad.”

“Or, or, if bad went to worse, she could have killed the bully, and have the rest of the class fear her, barring the fact that she would be taken away by law enforcement for that action.” Dry Quill frowned. “Maybe I should stop there.”

“Dad!”

“Yes, sweetie?” Dry Quill asked, as pleasant as ever.

“You’re monologuing again,” Dew Drop said with a none-too-amused expression.

Dry Quill looked himself over, as if he was checking for some visual confirmation of this. “So I was. Where was I? Oh, right. Dew Drop.” He cleared his throat again. “I know that this can be– will be overwhelming, but I ask that you continue to give school a chance. Remember, these other fillies and colts are your peers; you’re meant to get along. Why, I’m sure by the end of the week, you’ll be just as comfortable as any other school-goer.”

“That’s easy for you to say,” Dew Drop said dejectedly, “I’ve never had peers before.”

Dry Quill’s ears drooped and his face took on a somber, thoughtful expression. He didn’t allow Dew Drop to see it though, and soon returned to a more neutral, but caring expression. “I realize that, and I am sorry, sweetie,” he said. He walked up to her and placed a hoof on her shoulder. “But you do now,” he said quietly, “and you still have plenty of time to get to know these classmates, and for them to know you.” He smiled. “Besides, you youngsters have such short attention spans; I’m sure this will blow over in a few days. Now come here you.” They hugged, and Dry Quill noticed that Dew Drop’s breaths came out shakily. He stroked her mane. “I’m sorry, I’d moved around so much that I forgot how hard it can be at your age. You’ve been doing so well these first few days, but you shouldn’t need to hold anything in, okay? You can talk to me. I’m here for you.”

Now.

“Okay, daddy.”

“So, how about we bake something for dinner?” he suggested.

“Okay.” She smiled, and everything was mostly alright that day.

* * * * *

Silently, and at twelve forty-two at night, a befuddled scientist made his way to the door of the Quill residence. He didn’t seem to mind the cold, nor did he react to any sounds that he might have heard. Perhaps he didn’t notice. Automatically, and without managing to think of much anything else, he unlocked the door, entered the house, and made his way to his lab.

It was time to open up shop the following day. Dry Quill and Zakuru stocked the former’s part of the store, which consisted of smelly books and little trinkets and antiques. The pungent scent of old stuff wafted through the room and house, and a tired-looking Dew Drop walked through the back door into the store. She wore a grumpy expression and looked around, holding her nose as she did so.

Zakuru noticed her entry and addressed her. “Ah, Dew Drop, did you sleep well? We apologize if we are causing a smell.”

“It’s four-sixteen in the morning, dad,” she said grumpily, “I want to sleep.”

Dry Quill finished polishing a brass compass, and put it in the counter display case. “Sorry, sweetie, we’re in a bit of a rush here. Dad has to get the shop ready to open today.”

Dew Drop snorted, looked over her father’s wares, and grabbed a vintage gas mask from off its shelf. Giving a challenging glare to those in the room, she strapped it on and walked back up to her room, the echoed breaths of the mask fading as she did so.

Dry Quill scratched the back of his head and looked at Zakuru, who shrugged.

Brain Storm bolted upright from his bed, his eyes wide. “Old Book air fresheners!” he exclaimed, then collapsed back into a much-needed sleep.

Business could have been better that day. That is to say, many ponies came in to browse, and yet more did some window shopping out front, but hardly anyone bought anything.

“Perhaps I should not have opened up shop the day before payday,” Dry Quill mused to himself as he slumped on the counter.

Some time later, the door frame bell jingled, and a minty-green mare stepped in tentatively. “Hello?” she said, and looked around. It was a comfortably-sized shop with warm lighting and plenty of mirrors; not much bigger than the usual ones that lined the shop district. One side of the shop had shelves and glass cases that held jewelry and old trinkets; dusty wooden desk clocks and doohickeys, all gently wiped clean. The only other patron was there: and elderly stallion scrutinizing some antique compasses as if they would speak to him if he stared long enough. Apparently, he had been asking repeatedly if Dry Quill would custom engrave the compasses, completely missing the meaning of “antique” despite the fact that he was one himself.

The other side of the shop piqued her interest more, for there lied a multitude of gadgets and flashing lights, strange sounds, and steam. She gravitated over to a particular device that seemed to be made of several rods, all rotating around each other on several axes. The effect was quite mesmerizing, Indeed, so mesmerizing, so mesmerizing, somesmerizing, somuserizung, sofumusserizango…

“Miss!”

Lyra snapped out of her trance and turned to the source of the noise. She had to blink a few times to focus, but she made out whom she assumed to be the shop owner, if the fact that he was stationed behind the counter was any indication. “Oh, hello,” she said, trotting over, “I remember talking to you the other day.”

Dry Quill straightened both himself and the tie he was wearing. “Yes,” he said with a nod, “Lyra Heartstrings, was it?”
She nodded enthusiastically to the point that her face was momentarily a blur. “Yup, that’s me!” Her face scrunched up. Did she tell him her full name last time? She figured she must have. “You said you had something for me?”

Dry Quill raised his head in a thoughtful gesture. “Yes, well, not me, per say, but an associate of mine. He’s in the back; I’ll fetch him for you.” He turned around and went through the back door.

A minute went by. Two minutes. Lyra shifted her jaw back and forth. She shuffled in place. Her eyes wandered back to the device that had so enraptured her attention earlier.

“–told you to remove that thing; it’s hypnotized three customers today. Look, she’s barely registering my prodding or speech, and has been there for ten minutes.”

“Wha?” Lyra went as she finally noticed something poking her. She turned away from the device and faced Dry Quill and a newcomer, a stallion with a green coat and blue, unkempt hair.

The newcomer looked at her with interest, and seemed to be sizing her up. Dry Quill gave an indicative cough towards him. “Introduce yourself, you’re making her uncomfortable.”

The newcomer snorted quietly, then stood up and shot his hoof up stiffly. “I am Brain Storm,” he sad as he and Lyra shook, “I understand you are interested in my Dexteron Gauntlets?”

“Dexteron gauntlets?” Lyra inquired.

“Dry Quill came up with the name. Allegedly, dexterity-augmenting forehoof enclosures is too– verbose.” He looked her over one more time. “Tell me Lyra, what is it that you do?”

“I, uh, play the lyre, and some similar instruments like the harp, but I also work part time at my friend’s candy store.” She scratched the back of her head sheepishly. “There aren’t too many gigs for a lyre player around here.”

“Have you tried Canterlot, or Manehattan?” Dry Quill asked.

“Oh, I went to school in Canterlot,” she replied, “but I could never handle the city life,” she finished with a shake of her head. “So while my skills aren’t that requested except at events, Bon Bon’s shop does well, and we share rent at this modest house of ours.

“Oh?” Dry Quill said, “where?”

“We’re in the Southwest district, the house with purple trim below the roof. It didn’t fold out of a large box unfortunately,” she said with a cheeky grin.

Dry Quill smiled knowingly. “Right, and I remember you mentioning the candy shop last time we talked. I’ll be sure to come by with that coupon you gave me.”

“Sounds good!” Lyra said with a nod. She looked confused for a moment. “So anyways, what were we talking about?”

“The hoof enclosures,” Brain Storm said, who was relieved at the chance to bring the topic back to him. His horn lit up, and two strange, roughly cylindrical objects, both covered in a multitude of wires and embedded glass floated up from behind the counter, followed by what resembled a circlet with strange bits attached to it. “Put this on,” he said, placing the circlet on Lyra’s head rather roughly. He then lifted her right forehoof, placing one of the cylindrical objects beneath it, then slid her hoof into an opening at the top. He repeated the process for her left forehoof. “This next part will hurt,” he said, before quickly pressing something on the back of the circlet. Three blue gems on the front lit up, followed by Lyra giving off a yelp. “Now, raise your right hoof.”

Lyra did as asked, and couldn’t believe her eyes. Five digits protruded from the enclosure, each one almost as long as a hoof is wide. She stood up, and brought her left hoof likewise to her face. She stared without a word, twisting her hoof to observe the device from different angles. “Fiiiinnnngertiiiiiiipsss,” she whispered, “fiiiiinnnngertiiiiiiiiiiipsss.”

“The device will require some calibration,” Brain Storm said, dismissing her strange behavior, “so you’ll need practice to attain full motor cont–”

He stopped as he watched her flex each mechanical finger experimentally, then fluttered them in a wave. She looked up at Dry Quill and Brain Storm proudly.

“You are quite adept to this,” Brain Storm said, his tone betraying a hint of surprise.

Dry Quill levitated some papers over. “So she is,” he mumbled, then spoke to Lyra, “I will need you to sign this waiver-slash-contract, which holds Storm Labs to a maximum compensation in the case of an injurious accident, with no further charges to be pressed after the initial compensation. This is a test product, so you will not have to pay for it yet. If you and other testers are satisfied with the Dexteron, we will enter limited production, after which you may buy the finished version…”

He filled Lyra in with the rest of the details, such as the weekly visits she would have to make for maintenance and any possible mental effects of the circlet. After having her sign the contract, which she managed to do with the gauntlets, she was free to go.

“I wonder what exactly we have unleashed upon the denizens of this fair town,” Dry Quill pondered as they watched Lyra stroll out of the store on her two back legs. They watched her through the window wave to a filly and her mother, the mother covering the filly’s eyes and leading her away.

“It’s interesting, the Dexteron gauntlets were intended for Earth Ponies or Pegasi as they have no fine manipulators, like telekinesis or thaum-matter,” Brain Storm said. “It is good though that she has taken it up so well, despite not being the target demographic.” He looked at Dry Quill. “How did you find such an ideal test subject?”

Dry Quill scratched the back of his head. “I had a hunch.”

Brain Storm huffed. “Vague as always. Fortunately for you, I find the results to preclude any sort of explanation. I’m going to go work on a new idea.” He left for his lab, leaving Dry Quill to man the store again. The elderly stallion from before walked up to the counter and held up a compass that he had selected.

Dry Quill perked up at the sight. “Ah, have you selected something to purchase?” he asked.

The elderly stallion rubbed his chin. “Actually,” he said, pointing to the old, one-of-a-kind compass, “I was wondering if you had this in red.”

Dry Quill’s eye twitched, but he managed to keep smiling.

Author's Note

Hey guys, I know it’s been a while since the last update, and it’ll be a while longer. First, a little story. When I started this fic four years ago, it was initially going to be just a simple shipfic with a bit of mystery added in and a character that bordered on Gary Stu levels of personality. Between Heavy Reading and A Distressing Lack of Logic though, I realized that this fic and its characters could be so much more than the arc that I was writing. So, there came a hiatus of over a year as I slowly wrote the previous chapter. The same problem was present here. Where do I go with this? How do I develop the characters better, both canon and original? How do I motivate myself to just sit down and type it out instead of playing video games all the time? These answers took a while to answer, or not at all.

Furthermore, I have a problem of knowing where the fic will go, as in all the major events and climaxes, but it’s the in-between stuff that gets me. I have nearly 14000 words worth of future chapters written, but I am not able to submit them because the stuff before has not happened yet. So here we are, a 2480 word chapter after over a year.

Next, as a member of the LDS church, I am leaving tomorrow morning to serve a mission. I won’t be here to answer any questions, and I won’t be back for two years. Sorry to any of you that still follow this.