Stargazing

A young stallion slept amongst the gentle glow of sunlight. His golden-yellow mane rested lazily atop his alabaster head, parted by his horn. He turned over, facing away from the light in a fruitless attempt to sleep a few minutes longer. His room sat on the second floor of his small house. There were pieces of parchment that lay scattered all across the floor which danced in a waltz from the breeze of his open window. Birds chirped merrily in the trees outside. All was peaceful...

Asterian roused himself and opened his eyes. He sat upright in his bed, stretching and yawning. "What a day this'll be," he said to himself. As the drowsiness of his slumber began to wear off, he found the pieces of loose leaves laying scattered across the floor. He threw his hooves against the bed, groaning at the sight. "How'd I let this place get so cluttered?" he thought out loud. Frustrated, he tossed his bed-sheets off of him and began to sort through the pages. As he picked up the scribes of his work, he made no effort to avoid making a great deal of noise, accidentally disturbing his owl, who was sleeping on her perch. The snowy-feathered bird shook her head and hooted at him, alerting him to her presence. He stopped what he was doing and turned around to face her, asking, "Oh Merri, did I wake you up?" She nodded lazily in response, clearly upset that he was so inconsiderate. "Oh, I'm sorry, I just need to get these picked up..." he explained. Merriweather, despite her slight anger with her master, swooped down and began to help him organize the pages into piles.

        Together they worked, making quick progress of the ordeal in both sorting and stacking the pages. One by one, the pages vanished from the floor until they cleared the last page from the wooden boards. "Thanks, Merri." The stallion's companion nodded, with a gaze as if to say, You're welcome.

        "Well, I think that is the last time I sleep with the windows open." He let out a snicker at his own ignorance. What was he thinking? Opening the window with nearly three hundred sheets of loose paper lying around was begging for trouble. He looked back at Merriweather, holding out his hoof for her to climb onto. She happily joined him, spreading her wings and gilding over to Starfall's shoulder. Not quite where he wanted her to be, but it was close enough. Her talons held onto her master just tight enough to stay on him, but not enough to injure him. With that, Asterian lead out of his room and down the staircase.

        Downstairs, there was all the comforts of home a pony could ever need. To the right of the staircase was a living room with a velvet sofa and chair, complete with a mahogany-stained oak coffee table and cobblestone fireplace. To the left was a small kitchen, which consisted of a cooking range, a refrigerator, and cabinets that held virtually every spice, tea, or culinary-relevant item known to pony-kind. A small dining table sat in the corner, adorned with china plates, silver-ware, and a crystalline center-piece. Located off-set from the two was a small bathroom, with just enough fixtures for accommodation. the entire house, by day, was light by the sun, courtesy of many windows and a skylight in each room. By night, the house seemed even more lively as concealed crystals -- souvenirs from Asterian's many adventures -- irradiated the interior of the house with every color of light imaginable.

        Asterian walked into the miniature kitchen and began to help him and his feathered friend to freshly made pancakes. As was usual, he made them from scratch, following in his own hoof-steps and recipes. He ignited his horn and opened several cabinets, extracting some of the ingredients he knew he would need. "Two cups of flour... an egg... a half a cup of milk... and... Ah!" Crushed vanilla bean, just for a little extra sweetness. He levitated the ingredients into a mixing bowl one after the other. He floated a spoon over to the bowl and began to whip the components together, forming a thick, homogeneous batter in no time at all. His horn flashed briefly as he lit a small piece of wood in the range magically. The wood caught, and a blaze began to roar. He hastily emptied out the contents of the bowl into a cast-iron skillet, placing it over one of the hot plates. "This should be tasty," he mused, thinking about how good they might be if he did not burn this batch.

        Within just ten minutes, the batter had solidified into three golden-brown pancakes, two for Asterian and one for his snowy friend. He magically removed the skillet from the hot plate and floated the pancakes over to two awaiting plates. His horn sparked again, only this time, the flame was extinguished without water. He hovered the plates behind him, drizzling maple syrup over both of them as he sat down. He passed Merriweather's plate to her -- she looked at him as if to say, Thank you! -- and began to eat from his own dish. Setting aside the fact that Merriweather was an owl, she ate in an almost lady-like manner, only taking small nibbles from her cake and every so often wiping her beak off on the table-cloth. Her master laughed a little at her mannerisms, not out of mocking but out of how cute it was to him.

Without warning, the Ponyville clock tower chimed. One... Two... Three... Starfall sat there and counted off the dings that seemed to reverberate throughout the house. Seven... Eight... NINE?! His face grew from one of composed relaxation to one of intense worry. "Oh, banish it, I'm late!"