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              A Friendship is a Kind of Magic              
                         -by MHD-                          
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 1: Purple is the rich shade between chrimson and violet.  
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1: Purple is the rich shade between chrimson and violet.
The next ten paragraphs is stuff you already know. Or should know. If you are unfamiliar with the reference material, what are you even doing here?
Twilight Sparkle is at this point in time and space, a young mare. She is what one might call a prodigy, always has had talent in magic and all things academic. She could read before kindergarten and cast her first compound spell before middle school.
At the tender age of five, she was accepted into the Canterlot Academy for Gifted Unicorns. She was taken into consideration for this prestigious learning facility because of a misadventure involving an ill-gotten dragon egg, stark overconfidence and atmospheric magical interference of unknown origin.
This misadventure incidentally brought her under the attention of Her Royal Highness Princess Celestia, and brought into this world a dragon whelp whom to this day is her friend and companion.
When Twilight was ten years old, her Royal Highness Celestia took her as a student — mostly out of the regular instructors at Academy being unable to manage the filly.
Her older brother — Shining Armor — was similarly prodigious, and similarly attended the Academy for Gifted Unicorns. To this day they are the image of loving and caring siblings.
Incidentally, he is today a strapping stallion, rising quickly in the ranks of the Royal Spellguard. Shining is also in love with and loved reciprocally by the Princess Mi Amore Cadenza.
Princess Mi Amore Cadenza — alicorn extraordinaire — is another personal student of Celestia’s, and long time friend of the family. She is older than both of Twilight and Shining’s parents — Night Light and Twilight Velvet — but is of a childish disposition and personality.
In short, Twilight Sparkle has it easy: Genius intellect, loving and protective big brother, good looks and many regal connections.
Or does she? It is the lament of the intelligent that one often alienates one’s peers. A very intelligent pony will thus often be alienated in turn, turning reclusive in their youth, having underdeveloped social skills as a result.
There are exceptions to this pattern, and most grow out of this trap once they reach the college age — Twilight is no exception, but more about that later —  but at this point in time and space, she hasn’t gotten there.
Twilight is sixteen years old — mature for her age, yes — but young and inexperienced. Today is an ordinary Tuesday in the summer, a few short weeks after the Summer Sun Celebration — held this year in Cloudsdale — and she is holding a quite terrifying letter.
It reads:
My faithful student Twilight Sparkle.
It is my opinion as your mentor and friend, that you need to develop your social skills and gain some experience with the world outside of the Academy.
To this end I have arranged for you to take an internship as Assistant Librarian in the town of Ponyville, lodging included. Do not despair, we shall still keep contact by means of dragon-fire.
You shall be leaving at your convenience sometime next week, your parent’s have already given their consent. Ask Raven if you need anything specific or require further information.
Sincerely, your friend and mentor, Princess Celestia.
Not to be taken aback by new developments, Twilight neither hyperventilates nor panics.
Okay, let’s turn it on it’s head.
I am living in small town equestria, I have correspondence courses with the Princess, a steady job in a Library — and presumably access to it’s contents at my leisure — and let’s imagine I have lots of friends.
Would I abandon that for top-notch teachers, the royal library — which I do not have access to at my leisure — having the Princess as my mentor whom I have to meet in person — and dress accordingly — all while being at the mercy of my parents?
I’ve never really had any friends, if we discount Spike.
I could work with this.
Grabbing quill and ink, Twilight composes a brief response:
Dear Princess Celestia
Thank you for getting me this internship, I am looking very much forward to it.
Your faithful student, Twilight Sparkle.
Twilight stands on the zeppelin dock. Even though Ponyville is neither far away nor that she is in anyway inhibited from contact, just about everyone near and dear to Twilight is there too.
Twilight Velvet, Night Light, Cadence, Shining Armor, Raven...
Raven is one of the many, many, many personal aides to HRH Celestia. She is the one charged with Twilight Sparkle in the princess’ absence — which is most of the time. Any administrative, planning or monetary errands for which the Twilight–Celestia relation is in need, the white unicorn takes care of.
Incidentally, Raven has also been a teacher to Twilight Sparkle. In what little Law and Accounting lessons Twilight has taken interest in, Raven has been there to teach her.
It is also her professional opinion that without her guidance, Twilight Sparkle might have been even more of a neurotic wreck than she is today. Oftentimes she has been a barrier between the Princess’ oddball challenges and tests, and her young and impressionable charge. Add to that many lessons in planning and prioritizing.
Twilight still uses anti-anxiety medical spells despite of it, but she is improving and has been for most of her teenage years.
The scene on the dock is sentimental as one might expect:
“Oh my little filly, do take care of yourself,” Mr. Light coos, holding his daughter close.
“I will, dad. Besides, I’m sixteen already — It’s not like I can’t take care of myself.
“You said the same thing when I went away to stay at the academy. I did all right there, and that was when I was ten —” she stops herself before she invariably says something unbecoming to her own father “— what I am trying to say is I’ll be all right, dad, don’t worry.”
“Oh I know you will, Spark, I know you will.”
Twilight Velvet is next to take her daughter for an embrace. “My big girl, going out to hold a job of her own. I am so proud —” she wipes a tear with a levitated kerchief “— do find yourself some friends and all that, and remember to eat well, and take your medication, and —” twilight stops her gently with a nuzzle.
“I will, mom.”
Shining Armor is not one to embarrass his sister. “Have fun, my Super Snarky Sweet Little Sister.” Okay, maybe he does a bit, but she knows how to reciprocate: “You too, Big Brother Best Friend Forever.”
In the time when Twilight was a little filly, Cadence had a nursery rhyme to entertain Twilight and a dance that went with it. Twilight grew out of it, but — Cadence holds out a hoof and says “Ladybugs?” Twilight hoofbumps her, “ladybugs!”
Raven is professional as ever. “Have a good trip, Ms. Sparkle. Do write if you need anything.”
“I will, Raven.
“Goodbye everypony,” Twilight says and glances up the gangplank at an impatient dragon whelp. She boards unceremoniously with the rest of her luggage, and a steward pulls in the gangplank. Behind her the crowd disbands to each their errands.
Ponyville is a small town. It has about three to five thousand inhabitants, and is mostly a farming community. It is the closest population center to the sprawling reaches of the Everfree Forest, and thus the ponies there are no strangers to strange occurrences.
Some century and three quarters past, a small settlement was founded there by what later became the semi-famous Apple Family. With time it grew on crop export and being a short-stop on the trade route between Canterlot and Hoofston.
This much Twilight is familiar with from her preparatory reading. What she is not familiar with is the true nature of small-town Equestria. Twilight is at heart a big-city filly, used to big-city things like bustling traffic, demographic variety and general availability of pretty much any commodity.
Ponyville has light traffic — certainly devoid of heavy vehicles, pretty much is a monoculture of ponies, with a large overweight of equis — as they are properly called, ‘Earth Pony’ is technically a discriminating term — and a clear unicorn minority.
While the trading post status gives it a larger variety than other similarly sized towns, Twilight doubts that she will be able to get her usual blend of coffee here.
Twilight aimlessly walks down the street from the Zeppelin port. In other circumstances she would have brought a map, but today she has allowed herself time to dawdle, and fortuitously, Spike has fallen asleep on her back.
Most of the buildings are only two stories tall, compared to Canterlot’s five or even seven. It really is a different world altogether.
Let’s make an effort out of this.
Twilight cautiously approaches a pink, friendly-seeming equus mare walking by.
“Good day ms., I am trying to find the library, could you point me in the right direction?”
To her mild horror, the mare responds not with politesse, but with enthusiam. Speaking blazingly fast with a very light soprano, entirely comparable to twilight’s own rambles.
“Oh hi, yeah, you know what, I can totally walk you there. I guess since you are asking about you are neither a tourist — because tourists always carry maps — nor a resident – because honestly, this town is too small to get lost in — so you must be new here. I seem to recall hearing somewhere in the local rumour mill that the head librarian has accepted an intern from Canterlot, who is either some heiress to a noble family, or some ridiculous prodigy or some other equivalent; who has supposedly done something terrible, but because of her status she can’t just be disciplined. So instead she is sent to serve some sort of ‘community service.’ I’m Pinkamena, but call me Pinkie. Who might you be?”
“Oh, um I’m Twilight.”
“Walk with me, Twilight?”
“Okay, I guess.”
“Where are you from, Twilight? Mind if I call you Twily?”
“No, not at all, and I’m from Canterlot.”
“Oooooh reeeeally. Do you have an internship at the library by any chance?”
“Yes, I do in fact have an internship at the library, and before you ask, no I am not heiress of a noble family. I have been called a prodigy and it is not a punishment, but a learning experience.”
“Oooooh. Reeeeally.”
“Yes, really.”
“This is kinda exciting, are you excited? ’Cause I am excited. This is literally the first time I have ever met someone about whom the rumours were actually true! Are you really a prodigy? And if so in what?”
“Magic.”
“Cool. How did you get an internship in the library if you belong in a thaumic research institution?”
“My mentor though it would be a good idea.”
“Who’s your mentor?”
This is the moment Twilight has been waiting for. She puts on the most nonchalant grin, and in the most persuasively not-a-big-deal tone she says: “Oh, just Her Royal Highness Princess Celestia of Equestria.”
“Cool. So where are you staying?”
Twilight is not a condemning mare. She takes care to be open minded, and accepting of ponies with disabilities. At this point in time and space, her thoughts might be accurately summarized as:
Is she crazy or just plain stupid?
“Oh, Twilight you silly one, stupid is what stupid does!”
Twilight, already emotionally bumped by not being recognized for having — in her own words — the coolest mentor evar, is staring at her companion in full on abject terror, with a side of world-shattering confusion.
“I am so, so sorry, did I just say that out loud?”
“Say what out loud?”
The pink mare is walking along beside Twilight with the same spring in her step that she has had for the last few minutes.
“Nothing, never mind,” Twilight says meekly.
“Aaaaaaanyway, here’s the library. Have a good day, Twily.”
Pinkamena trots off merrily, leaving Twilight to make of the conversation what she wills.

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             2: Yellow is the color of butter.             
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2: Yellow is the color of butter.
The Ponyville library is unusual. Unlike other libraries it is a living golden oak tree. To Twilight this oddity is a welcome reprieve from conversing with... Whatever it is that Pinkamena is.
Twilight recovers her courage and knocks on the dutch door.
From inside is heard a muffled reply along the lines of “Maker dammit!” and shortly thereafter a rumble of what can only be a large number of books falling to the floor. Then, the sound of hooves on floor and the upper section of the door opens.
Twilight is met by a grey stallion in a collar and tie, with the hospitable greeting of “What do you want?”
“If this is the Ponyville library, then I am your new intern.”
“Oh... Interns? That’s new. ”
Twilight eyes him suspiciously. “Are you a librarian?”
“Of course I am. Steel Wright. Don’t just stand out there gawking, come in,” he says and opens the lower portion of the door.
“So... An intern you say?”
“My name is Twilight Sparkle, I have been sent here with recommendation by my mentor. I have a letter detailing it, in case the paperwork is not in order?”
“Oh the paperwork is more or less in order, can I see that letter?”
Twilight almost rolls her eyes and pulls the scroll from her saddlebag.
Steel takes it and skims it, muttering to himself as he reads: “Princess blah blah intern blah lodging blah proficient blah blah, yeah it looks about right.”
“About right?”
“Yeah, welcome to the Ponyville Library, Intern Sparkle,” Steel says and gestures towards the interior of...
This is a joke, right?
By all reasonable measures of library-ness known to Twilight Sparkle, this is not a library. It is a pile of books, loosely organized in shelves.
“Okay, no.”
“Excuse me?” Steel says slightly confounded.
“This isn’t a library, I must have the wrong building. Sorry for the intrusion, have a good day,” Twilight says and turns to leave.
“Wait a minute, I can assure you this is a library!”
Twilight sighs a deep, frustrated, well grounded sigh. With torturously slow movements she turns back.
I am going to regret this so much.
Forcing a bit of pep, she chippers: “Okay Mr. Wright, give me the tour?”
“You haven’t had a loaner in six months! Why?”
“They are a hassle. Always with the loaning and requesting and delivering. It’s a vicious cycle.”
“Wha-. Why-. Whu-,” is all Twilight can muster in response. “And- and the shelves are all disorganized!”
“Yeah, it discourages browsing.”
Twilight lets out an exasperated howl of rage.
The tour has revealed that everything is a mess. The paperwork is overdue from before the previous mayor, literally no book is where it is supposed to be, a good sixth of the books in the inventory are missing and a good eight of the books on the shelves are not listed in the inventory.
The only upside is that the living quarters joined to the library are vacant, even if they have been used for storage. Twilight shudders at the thought of what this oaf might have done to them had he lived there.
Spike inexplicably is eating a tub of popcorn, merrily watching Twilights tantrum.
“How do you even manage to buck up this bad? Are you the Mayor’s cousin or something?” — on reflection Twilight realises this is a remarkably good hypothesis — “It is like you are doing the opposite of what you are supposed to, and you are doing it on the government payroll! I swear to Maker everypony in this town are Cuh-razy!”
“Now, now, Ms. Sparkle. If you are intent on having that attitude, I might as well fire you.”
“No. No. No-no. Nope. Listen Mr. Wright; In case you missed it, that letter I handed to you detailed my status as pupil and protegé of Her Royal Highness Princess Celestia of Equestria. If you don’t stop treating me like your inferior I will have you fired.”
“You can’t. Mayor Mare is the only one with the ability to fire me.”
“Oh. In that case I’ll be right back. Spike, we’re leaving.”
“Excuse me?”
Twilight turns so fast her tail almost whips Steel in the face, and proceeds to walk out the door in a brisk trot.
Outside the library Spike dares a question: “So, what are you going to do now?”
“I am going to get Ponyville a proper librarian. Hop up, I need you to take a letter while I walk.”
Mayor Mare has seen several strange things in her life, if not years of office. She has been vaguely aware of how bad the local library has been, and how long it has been so.
When Mayor Mare assigned her second cousin Steel Wright, to run it, she was effectively giving it up as a lost cause, as it had been considered so for almost twenty years.
Admittedly Wright didn’t make it better.
But today she is witnessing the most compelling policy change request... Or is it a job interview? Maybe a hostile government takeover? Whatever it is, the young mare presenting it is compelling and loquacious like none other.
“...And not to make threats, Mayor Mare, but I will remind you that I am pupil and protegé of Her Royal Highness Princess Celestia. If you do not take into consideration my requests, I will have to take my plea to instances above your township. It might even come to nepotism lawsuits,” Twilight finishes, gesturing to the four relevant documents of law she had Raven send her.
“Well, my good Twilight Sparkle. You’re hired.”
Twilight is left somewhat at a loss of words by this conversational development. “I’m what?”
“It is obvious to see that you wish to have Wright fired as Head Librarian and have yourself instated in his stead. I didn’t get this far in county politics without being able to read ponies.”
“No-no, no. No. I’m just an intern. A concerned citizen. I just want a working library and...”
Mayor Mare cuts her off: “It’s either you or him. I insist.”
Twilight considers this hole she has dug herself into, and wonders how not to dig herself any deeper.
Oh horseapples.
Dear Princess Celestia
I am afraid I might have compromised your plan to have me intern in the ponyville library. As of my first day of employment I have been promoted* to head librarian.
Please advice.
Your faithful student Twilight Sparkle.
* or rather, marooned.
Twilight sets the quill in the inkwell and rolls up the scroll.
“Spike?” She calls out. No answer. “Spiiiike?”
It is a fact of Twilight’s existence that she favours very solitary experiences: reading, writing, thinking, researching. It is a fact of Spike’s existence that he does not favor idly waiting about for Twilight to finish doing whatever she was doing in the privacy of her own head.
In other words, Spike has wandered off somewhere and Twilight vaguely recalls hearing the door go.
Situations like this are not alarming, if anything Spike is a legal minor and can therefore not be held accountable for his actions — his legal guardian being Twilight can, but any damages he causes can be covered by her emergency budget provided by the Princess – a rather sizable sum.
As for Spike getting into danger — he is covered in scales hard as steel, has sharp and retractable claws, a maw full of pointy teeth with jaw strength to crush crystals, and can breathe fire.
The trouble is that Twilight needs him for express mail. After two solid hours of trying to measure the size of the work cut out for her in organizing the library — yes, she organized her plan to organize the library — she is rather tired.
She takes to the door and prays to the Maker and Celestia that she not run into Pinkamena again.
Spike is enjoying a breather and some sun on the doorstep of the library. He likes looking at the passersby.
His little bubble of small-town zen is broken by a female falsetto “Oh my, a Baby Dragon!”
Spike looks up to see a butter-yellow pegasus mare fawning over him. “Can I help you?”
“Oh you talk! I didn’t know dragons could talk!”
“I can. I’m not really a baby, just an adolescent.”
“Oh I am terribly sorry Mr. dragon. I didn’t mean to offend.”
To Spike’s surprise she immediately folds in on herself, hiding behind her mane.
“Oh, no, i’ts— it’s fine. It’s a common mistake, I still have some puppy fat, and really, adult dragons are kinda huge compared to me.”
“I must admit I don’t know much about dragons,” she says meekly.
There is a brief awkward silence. Spike breaks it.
“We haven’t even been introduced, that was rude of me, I’m Spike!” He reaches out a claw in greeting.
The mare offers him a wingtip. “I’m Fluttershy, it’s nice to meet you Spike.”
“Nice to meet you too.”
Spike has never said that meaning it so genuinely. Fluttershy is nice. It is like she has a radiance of well-being and safety — when she is not curling up into a ball at least.
His train of thought is broken by his stomach rumbling. Haven’t had lunch — he looks at the position of the sun — and it is mid afternoon already.
“Are you hungry?” Fluttershy ventures.
“Well, yeah. I think we forgot to eat lunch. My charge is sort of an airhead when it comes to remembering such things.”
“This simply will not do, please — can I invite you for some afternoon tea?”
“That would be nice, thank you?”
“If it is okay, can you tell me more about being a dragon while we eat?”
“Yeah, sure. What do you want to know?”
“Absolutely everything!”
Spike stands up — which does not add to his height compared to sitting on the doorstep — and makes to follow Fluttershy.
Three hours or so later, a voice can be heard from inside the library, calling out “Spiiiike?”
It is both very easy and very hard to find a strange pedestrian in Ponyville. It is very easy in that strange pedestrians are few and far between — Spike is in all probability the only dragon whelp in a hundred kilometers — but it is also very hard because ponies in the street tend to ignore just that.
Okay, asking those last three ponies got me nowhere. I could try a tracking spell, but frankly I am exhausted already... I’m hungry. We forgot lunch! Spike has probably wandered off to find a bite to eat.
Twilight would rather not have to talk down another victim of Spike’s tendency to dine and dash, and sets off for... Wait a second, this is something she can ask a bystander for.
Twilight approaches a grey stallion with three lucky clovers for a cutiemark. “Hello? I’m new in town, I was wondering where is a good place to get a spot of afternoon tea?”
“I’d recommend either Sugarcube Corner for their pastries, but Horte Cuisine’s for actual lunch. They are both up by the town hall plaza, you can’t miss them. Good luck!”
“Thank you sir,” Twilight replies and sets in a brisk trot for the other side of town.
Oh I am so not fit to raise a kid.
She reaches the upper part of town in a few minutes. What that stallion said is entirely true: you really can’t miss either of the dining establishments.
Spike has a terrible sweet tooth. He’d go for pastries.
As Twilight approaches sugarcube corner she spots a certain pink pony — horror, shock, gasp, scream, faint — behind the counter inside the shop.
Maybe go check the restaurent first.
The restaurant, from the outside seems a rather nice place. It is clearly run by a pony with style and sensibility. Twilight enters into a comparably furnished interior, pleasant colours, quality furniture, and a well stocked bar which seems to be closed for the time being.
In a corner by one of the garden-facing windows, she finds Spike, engrossed in conversation — strike that, monologue — with a demure pegasus mare.
“Spike!”
“Hello Twi. Fluttershy, this is Twilight Sparkle, Twilight, Fluttershy.”
“My pleasure,” Fluttershy says meekly.
“Thank you for looking after Spike, I maybe forgot lunchtime,” Twilight says, “mind if I join you?”
“No, not at all, Ms. Sparkle, and he is an very nice adolescent dragon.”
“I have been of my very best behaviour Twilight.”
“That’s good to hear —” a waiter comes by and hands twilight a menu “— do I owe you for the meal or anything?”
“Oh, no, it’s fine.”
Twilight turns to the waiter and orders the salad of the day with a side of hayfries.
“So, as I was saying, we arrived this morning,” Spike continues, “well, I was asleep for some of it, Twilight, did anything interesting happen on the way to the library?”
“Yeah, um I think —” Twilight lovers her voice “— I think I met the local loon.”
“Oh you met Pinkie Pie?” Fluttershy gives her a look of compassion, but quickly reverts to a smile. “Pinkie Pie is pretty special, but she is a good friend once you get to know her.”
“I think I might belay making that acquaintance for at least a few weeks,” Twilight says, rubbing her temple.
“Anyway, when we got to the library, it was a total mess.” — Fluttershy nods in agreement — “Twilight is a bit of a book nut, and really likes libraries, so within five minutes she is basically screaming at the head librarian.”
Fluttershy titters. Twilight notes that Fluttershy is a wonderful presence, after a hard day like today, she is suddenly at ease.
“And then this guy is like “Only the Mayor can fire me, hurr!” and then Twilight just marches out of there and directly over to the mayors office, where she rants for like, seven minutes at the mayor herself. And you know what the first thing the mayor says is?”
“Oh do tell.”
“She looks directly at Twilight and says “You’re hired!” —” Spike and Fluttershy laugh heartily.
“I guess it is kinda funny,” Twilight says with a light chuckle.
“What a career gentlemare you are, Ms. Sparkle, from intern to head librarian in a day,” Fluttershy says with both jest and genuine admiration.
Come nightfall, Twilight, Spike and Fluttershy leave Horte’s. Conversation has been pleasant, food has been good — if a little on the dear side — and Spike has enjoyed himself.
Fluttershy is walking them to the library, a turn of events which was negotiated under much polite declining and polite reassurance and general misplaced humility.
As they turn the corner headed for the street with the library, Twilight mentally kicks herself for once again failing to remember base necessities: The living quarters adjacent to the library are still as mess.
Oh buck me.
Twilight turns to Fluttershy with the resignation of social surrender.
“Um... I just remembered that I had forgotten something in all this taking-over-the-library rush... I forgot to clean out the library apartment.”
“Oh, um. Do you think we can do it tonight?” Spike asks with some false hope.
“No. It is a solid days work at least,” Twilight says in quiet guilt. I am such a terrible pony.
“Um, oh... You can sleep over at my place. If you want to, I mean,” Fluttershy ventures meekly.
“But, we only just met and you already paid for a meal for spike and...” Twilight begins to protest.
“I, um, I am afraid I must insist Twilight. Please. If it is not too much trouble for you.”
“Too much trouble for us?” Twilight wonders briefly how the pegasus ever got such a backwards view of debts and favours, “Fluttershy, you have looked after Spike, fed him a meal, entertained us both and now you are offering to house us for the night, if anything, we are in your debt. Yes, I would really like for Spike and I to stay at your place, thank you so much.”
Fluttershy blushes slightly, “it’s this way,” she says and makes for Twilight and Spike to follow.

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          3: Blue is the color of the clear sky.           
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3: Blue is the color of the clear sky.
It turns out that Fluttershy’s waking schedule starts at five thirty in the morning. Twilight silently laments this fact, praising the good coffee her hostess served for the breakfeast.
Rise with the rooster. I didn’t think she meant it literally.
It does help on the mood that being around Fluttershy makes little worries go away, an effect which seems to be active even when the mare is asleep. Twilight slept exceptionally well, even if she was awoken three hours before her regular waking time.
Spike is walking — as opposed to riding on Twilight’s back — with a spring in his step and humming a tune, albeit off-key.
But really, the good feels are dying out as the approach the golden oak library. It is going to be a rough day.
Once inside, Twilight finds an old alarm clock and rigs it to go off half past noon. No point in forgetting lunch two days in a row.
“Spike, take a letter, and afterwards a list.”
“Yes, Twi.”
She dictates — while surveying the mess of the library once again — and he writes:
Dear Mom and Dad.
I am writing to you to tell you that I have come to Ponyville unharmed, and by my own stubborn love of libraries, I have been promoted to — or rather, I have dethroned — the head librarian.
The whole place is a mess and I have really gotten work cut out for me.
On another note, I think I have made a friend. The local vetenarian ran into Spike while I was forgetting all about him and took him for lunch. Then because the living space in the library is a similar mess, she let us stay at her cottage.
She is probably the nicest pony I have ever met.
All is well, your loving daughter Twilight.
“Send it.”
Spike seals the envelope and huffs a flame at it, then takes out the cheaper paper. “The list then?”
Twilight clears her throat, “first item: move all the junk in the apartment outside.
“Second item: clean, tidy, etc. make the place habitable.
“Third item: take inventory of everything...”
“And that is about it.”
Spike puts the quill back in the inkwell and hands the list over for Twilight to peruse. She walks up to the big bulletin and pins it in the middle of it.
As a magical flourish, Twilight then forces an evocative enchantment on the bulletin — hasty work, only lasts for a few hours — of big glowing letters saying ‘TO DO.’
“Okay, Spike, run an errand for me: Go to that store Detergents and Pottery and buy citric acid, detergent and soft soap. Also some washcloths would be nice,” Twilight says as she begins searching for the janitors closet.
Spike dutifully fetches the money purse from Twilight’s saddlebag and starts counting out some bits.
“Oh, and see if you can find a mop —” Twilight calls out, having found the janitors closet; the mop has all but been eaten by moths “— and a bucket,” she says, looking through the hole in bottom of the old and rusty tin bucket.
“Do you want me to put the closed sign up?” Spike calls back.
“Yeah, do that,” Twilight replies and binds a kerchief over her muzzle, to filter out the dust. Thank Celestia i am not afraid of spiders, she thinks and opens the door to the apartment.
There are several different kinds of messes. There is the kind you find in a teenager’s bedroom — clothes, papers and personal effects scattered about on every flat surface, — the kind you find in a storage room of a busy workshop — broken tools, boxes of junk, half finished hobby projects, binders of manuals, — and the kind you find in a miskept archive room — boxes and boxes of files and papers, — to name a few.
This is one of the worse kinds of messes. There are files and books in boxes, stains on the floors and panelling, piles of unrelated junk — was that water pipe over there in the corner? — empty bottles, dried up perishables, a stale smell in the air and cobwebs and dust absolutely everywhere.
“Oh horseapples, that idiot held parties in here.”
It is quite a sight from the street. Dust flies from open windows in the east wing of the golden oak, and occasionally Twilight exits carrying various boxes and bags, wearing a kerchief over her muzzle and hair.
It all abruptly stops at noon, when Spike can be seen returning with takeout, and picks up about an hour later.
The rumour mill of ponyville works surprisingly fast — with no small credit to Pinkie Pie — and the talk of the town is the new librarian from Canterlot who threatened Major Mare into firing her oaf of a second cousin.
Twilight hears the door bell jingle. I thought I left the door open — and that sign should clearly indicate that we’re not open for business.
She goes back into the main room of the library, and is greeted by a sky-blue pegasus mare — clearly in excellent physical shape, about Twilights age — with something as novel as rainbow mane and tail.
“We’re not open for business today, can I help you with anything?”
The blue pegasus hefts off her saddlebags. “Yeah, I had some library books lying about which were way overdue, and I just wanted to get them out of the way or something. I don’t know when I might remember otherwise.”
Twilight is slightly bothered by this mare’s blatant disregard for proper opening hours and her own convenience and glances at the top book in the open saddlebag: Daring Do and the Trek to the Terrifying Tower.
“Are you a fan of Daring Do?”
The pegasus scrapes the floor with a hoof. “She’s kinda cool — not as cool as myself — but it is not like I spend all of my time reading them or something.”
Twilight picks the books out of the saddlebags. There’s seven of them in all, exclusively from the Daring Do series. They are all pretty well worn from reading. Yeah, right.
“It’s nice to see someone liking my mother’s work,” Twilight says, well aware of the off-hoof namedropping.
“No way. You’re the daughter of Twilight Velvet?”
“Yes way. Guilty as charged.”
The blue pegasus all but hyperventilates, “ohmaker ohmaker ohmakerohmaker!” — she does a loop in the air in excitement — “I am talking to Twilight Velvet’s daughter!”
Twilight knows that it is cheap to be scoring points with local ponies in this manner. But then again it is rather nice to have somepony react appropriately to namedropping famous ponies in ones inner circles.
“Where’s my manners. I’m Rainbow Dash,” Rainbow Dash says and holds out a hoof.
This time it is Twilight’s turn to go wide eyed. She distinctly remembers that article in the Equestrian Records Encyclopedia.
“The Rainbow Dash, born in cloudsdale, only living pony to break the sound barrier?”
“Yeah that’s me,” Dash says beaming with pride.
“Wow, how old were you when you did it?”
“Five years old. It’s how I got my cutiemark!” She triumphantly juts her behind in the air, showing off the chromatic lighting bolt.
“That’s odd. Did you know I got my cutiemark that day too? I investigated it some years later, that rainbow effect you got was quite the talk for a few years in the academic fields — especially evocation and the atmospheric sciences...” Twilight stops herself, “I’m sorry, now I am forgetting my manners, I’m Twilight Sparkle.”
“Awesome to meet you Twilight —” Dash glances over at the stack of Daring Do books “— so, umm...”
“What is it?”
“It’s just... It’s kinda embarrasing for me to like reading. Lot of ponies expect you to be a buff athlete and then not a bookworm,” Dash says looking apprehensive.
“Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me,” Twilight replies with a wink.
“Thanks, Twilight. You’re pretty cool for a librarian.”
“Oh, I am just a public servant,” Twilight says with mock modesty, “I am just doing my job.”
Dash casually looks at the disheveled books strewn about and the dust in Twilight’s coat, “so, you’re... Renovating?”
“It is not like the previous librarian did any work. I am in over my head here to be honest,” Twilight gives a sigh.
“Know what? All that junk out in the front? I can totally get you some help with that.”
“Oh?” This piques Twilights interest.
“Yeah, first of all, set up an ‘up for grabs’ sign. The more stuff ponies take, the less you have to drag away. Second, I’ll help you out. The faster you get this library spiffy, the faster you can order the rest of the Daring Do series, right?” Dash says with pleading enthusiasm.
“Dash, I’ll get you the autographed box set. That way other ponies can borrow them too,” Twilight gives a wry smile.
Dash all but falls over, “you would?”
“I don’t go back on my word, my mother will be happy to know I met an avid fan.”
“Oh maker! I better get started helping then!” Dash says and rushes out the door.
“Spike!?” Twilight calls out, “go make sure she doesn’t misfile the garbage, would you?”
When Twilight at last deems her work done, she is tired and hungry. Rainbow Dash whipped up some commotion about the ‘get free junkstuff’ and with Spike’s direction hauled away the majority of the refuge. Cleaning the living quarters required a full scrub-down of just about every surface.
Scrubbing everything tends to make oneself dirtier for the effort, and after a quick shower — Rainbow Dash being able to make it home, shower and back to the library in that time — the trio head out for dinner.
“You just let Spike ride around on your back?”
“Yeah, he’s heavy enough for it to be a little exercise, but light enough to not be tiring, besides he has the equivalent stamina of a small foal.”
“Don’t rub it in Twi,” Spike comments.
“It’s the stubby legs!” Twilight stage whispers to Rainbow Dash, who chuckles.
“Hey, if I follow the growth prognosis, you can ride around on my back in a few years,” Spike retorts. They all laugh.
“So spike, do you ever think you’ll grow wings?” Rainbow Dash asks.
“No, actually I don’t think I will, Twi?”
“His subspecies is amphibian —” noticing Dash’s incomprehension she adds “— Land and water.”
“Like a crocodile?”
Spike nods proudly.
“Crocodiles are cool,” Dash nods in agreement, and waves at a passing Pinkie Pie.
“You know Pinkie Pie?” Twilight asks.
“Yeah, we’re good friends, she knows how to pull a good prank.”
“Hey, Rainbow Dash, why are we leaving the town to find dinner?” Spike asks.
“We’re going over to Sweet Apple Acres, the owner Applejack is a good friend of mine, she invited us for dinner.”
I hope the food is good, Twilight thinks as the farmhouse comes into view.