//-------------------------------------------------------//
                Marks of Harmony: Ancillary                
               -by Lapis-Lazuli and Stitch-                
//-------------------------------------------------------//
//-------------------------------------------------------//
                      Drafting Pages                       
//-------------------------------------------------------//
Drafting Pages
Marks of Harmony
Ancillary
Part 1
Drafting Pages
His quill snapped in his hoof and where in the previous weeks he would have sworn and lost much of his inspiration for whatever he had been so penning, he now merely let out a mild sigh. Still, the breaking quill did not fail to break his flow of thoughts and thus render a continuation at the moment rather pointless. He rummaged around in the drawer of the desk afforded him, extracted a new of his writing utensils, and set it across the parchment his old quill had been defacing with ink. Deciding silent observation and thought would be best to reignite the direction of what most ponies would consider a rant, he gripped the crank on his chair with a hoof and spun the wheels around until he could roll the wheeled contraption to the criminally small window.
He imagined that should anypony in the street have looked up, they would have only been able to pick out his green eyes, so small was the pane of glass. But it served its purpose well enough, and Inky Jay’s thoughts slowly began to drift to the all the small changes in Ponyville he now found himself noticing. Logic dictated that time would breed familiarity with a place, but of all locations in the world, Inky had never thought he would grow so accustomed to a small cross-roads town that he knew at glance when a shop had finally finished reconstructing its chimney. And while these minute observations were mere preludes to the grander thoughts they would inevitably spawn, he often became infuriated with himself for seeming to require such a stimulus. But such was his life now, and he realized with mixed emotions that before all of the events almost a year prior, he had still needed a stimulus for engaging thought. It just so happened said stimulus had been a creature of advanced mentality, and now drawing inspiration from the mundane was all the more pronounced and difference.
Without his normal internal consent, Inky’s eyes wandered to the rather bland afternoon horizon of the Everfree. Aurora was still out in the wilderness, he was sure. Just because Equestria had no sign nor trace of her meant nothing in his mind. Of course, whether her continued life was a good thing was still debatable to him now; but so were many instances in life. And with that and a glance back over the words he had managed to scratch into the parchment, he felt his thoughts beginning to reform and collect into coherent commentary. He twisted both cranks of his wheelchair again, moving himself back to the desk.
And I thus conclude that the two opposing views of the past are completely irrelevant. Dwelling on the past can be destructive, validating actions under laws that bear no significance in the modern era and stagnating society as whole. Equally, the past is a wellspring of knowledge of both the world and oneself from which we draw our experience with which we grow. However, I see neither of these views as inherently valuable, for they ignore the present. If one cannot deduce the unstated thoughts of the present world, all of the philosophy, validation, and experience of the past gains one nothing. It is in the now we must be conscious and observant.
______________________________________________________________________________
Twilight Sparkle was stressed. And while anypony who knew her well enough would have probably laughed so simple a statement away as normal, Twilight was more stressed than usual. She had known (outside of Princess Celestia warning her quite profusely) that Ponyville’s recovery after the Aurora Incident would bring with it a whole slew of new ponies coming to help rebuild the town. And she also knew that new ponies meant new mouths to feed, new families to house, and new jobs to be made available once reconstruction was finished. That the town was still expanding even a year later (she had been keeping careful track of the official population count, and Ponyville was nearing a size more comparable to a small city than town) was not so much a shock to her as the number of ponies who wanted to read. Of course she had been excited at first when little foals and their mothers came into the library on a regular basis, but even the gruff work ponies seemed interested in renting out a book or two. In the end, it meant she and Spike were always running around the library like madponies as they tried to please the newcomers.
But today was Friday, and by her experience, Friday’s were the worst. This Friday was proving no different, and Twilight was sure that if her mane became any more frazzled, Rarity would faint just seeing it. “And here’s the copy of Great Towers and Domes of Griffondom. Silly thing was still in returns. Enjoy!” she said with a cheery wave. The colt taking the book nodded in thanks and hurriedly scurried out, only to be replaced by a mare from the ever growing line. Except Twilight only knew her to be a mare from a previous time. If Rainbow Dash had been something of a showy strut before, now she completely flaunted herself in public. A great deal of the Changelings took on pony forms when they came into town from the Colony in the Everfree unless pony friends insisted they not, but Rainbow Dash flashed her shiny black chitin and corrugated wings like they were trophies. She even smiled to purposefully make more prominent her fangs. But rather than irritate her, Twilight could only ever giggle and smile at the sheer absurdity of it all.
“C’mon, Twi,” Rainbow said, her wings buzzing excitedly for a moment. “You said you pre-ordered it, and you would be getting it today!”
“It’s still in the morning mail stack in my room,” Twilight sighed, amused. “I’ll get it as soon as I get finished with everypony.”
“Awww…” Rainbow moaned. “But it’s gonna take you forever to deal with all these schmucks.”
“You could go get it yourself if you wanted, but Inky is upstairs, so that’s your choice,” Twilight said, already motioning for the next pony in line. “Or you can wait.”
“Fine, I’ll be back ‘after hours’,” Rainbow said with an attempt at suggestiveness but ruining the effect entirely with a snort directly after. Twilight only rolled her eyes, glad that even if Rainbow cut her visit short, she had still brought some much needed levity to Twilight’s day. The pony next in line might have been just as obtrusive as Rainbow had he not carried with him a stiff and formal air. Resplendent in the gold plated steel of the Royal Guard, the deep grey unicorn was clearly an envoy directly from Princess Celestia.
“Yes?” Twilight asked curiously, as the guard was not looking at her. “Does the princess have something for me?”
“Oh, for the Sun’s sake,” came an exasperated voice from behind the stoic guard. “My apologies, Miss Sparkle.” And from around his escort’s girth came the aged and spindly form of the sole pegasus professor from Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns: Crafted Page. “You, shoo, you’ve done your duty and are only being a nuisance to the majority of the ponies in this library,” he rebuked, tapping at the chest plate of the guard. As per the infinite patience Twilight was not quite sure how the Royal Guard obtained, he bowed respectfully to both of them and exited with a sharp salute. “And the rest of you, please raise hooves for those hear for research materials?” Crafted went on, now addressing the crowded library like it was no different than his classroom. Twilight struggled to hold back a smirk.
With the library being so filled mostly by foals and their mothers checking out books requested by Cheerilee and her growing staff of new teachers as weekend reading, most hooves raised into the air tentatively. “Oh bother,” Crafted grumbled, but returned to his old, authoritative self with his next words. “Please leave. I’ll have a word with the local school about the whole matter, but for now, little ones, rejoice for a homework free weekend.” The explosion of joyous squeals and shouts was more than enough to send Twilight wincing, and judging by the fascinated looks of the foals, Crafted Page had just become a hero. “Well, go along now. Play in the mud or whatever it is foals do these days.” The library became a bustle of activity and excited foals’ voices as they either tugged their parents away or were led away by those who had recognized Crafted Page. And by the time the last filly had left, begging her father for some treat at SugarCube Corner, only a few ponies were left; ponies who appeared just as relieved as Twilight at the still air libraries were supposed to have.
“Well, now that I’ve added to my list of to-dos, how are you, Little Light?” Crafted asked her, using the same name he had given her upon the first day in his class. “Running a library suits you I think.”
“I love it really, even on Fridays,” Twilight admitted. “And the town’s doing much better too. Applejack told me business is starting to pick back up again now that most of the construction is finished. She’s a friend of mine from the Apple Clan,” Twilight chose to explain.
“Good ponies them,” Crafted replied. “At least that’s the general consensus from Economics up in Canterlot. Buggers to most of their opinions. You don’t happen to have a chair for an old pegasus to sit in do you?”
“Oh! I’m so sorry, Professor!” Twilight nearly choked on the words as she scrambled to light her horn and levitate over one of the reading chairs. “Do want something to eat or drink? I can always hop upstairs to make something.”
“Eh, tea is fine since that hatchling assistant of yours always seems to have it on hoof,” Crafted grunted. “But don’t rush yourself. You wrote a letter to School asking for me specifically. What is it that you need me for that you can’t find in a book?”
As was always with Crafted’s questions, Twilight found herself in something of an awkward position for fear of sounding rude, insincere, blatantly incompetent, or a combination of the three. “Um…” Twilight began, settling upon a course of action rather than words. “Do you think you could climb to the top level with me professor? I can help you if it’s a bit difficult.”
“Hmmmm,” Crafted Page murmured, a careful, thin hoof coming up to scratch at his chin and his eyes regaining the mischief and vitality of yonder year. “Something not for just anypony’s ears then. I think I’ll climb the stairs on my own then if that’s the case, Little Light.”
“You can take care of the ponies down here, right Spike?” Twilight asked him.
“He’s not gonna like him,” Spike chose to answer instead,  not even turning his head from the stack of books he was carefully ordering into section by section stacks.
“Thank you, Spike,” Twilight muttered, wishing he would turn to look at her so she could give him an appropriate glare. But he was far too absorbed in the task before him, so Twilight strode off after her old professor, who despite his age and desire to sit over standing, was ascending the library’s many staircases like any normal pony. Spike was right of course. Inky would dislike Crafted’s perpetually sensible practicality, and Professor Page would likewise find offense in Inky’s leanings toward anarchy. Twilight had no doubt they were a volatile mix, but she had come to expect as much from the more outgoing pegasi. Besides, Inky was making little headway with the harness left for him by Aurora. Even Twilight struggled whenever he would show her whatever diagrams he had managed to solidify as accurate after months and months of work. Everypony was certain pegasus magic existed, and Aurora had proved it could manipulated by Device technology like any other arcane form.
The trouble was, Twilight and Inky were fairly certain it’s structure was neither as rigid as unicorn’s magic nor as categorical. The end result was a topic far too advanced for any theorist to bother their time with. At least, most any theorist. Crafted Page had been studying his kind’s magic for decades, and while he had a propensity for hoarding his work, the professor could undoubtedly help in Inky’s plight. And the worst result was a few choice words, Twilight was willing to settle the arguments if it meant Inky no longer had to live day after day in constant reminder of his collapsed world.
She wouldn’t call his mental state miserable, but she could sense something dredged about his demeanor. He was not forcing himself to be anything other than what the Incident had changed in him, but Twilight most often thought he struggled to maintain his usual vigor and vitality.
And upon opening the door at the peak of the tree building, her thoughts of Inky’s weary persona were all but confirmed. With his desk facing the entrance to the room, Inky’s head rested ever so to the side against the wall asleep. A quill lay on the floor off the right where he had undoubtedly dropped it as he dozed away, and a singularly large book rested open before him with multiple underlines still drying. Twilight made her way into the room, Professor Page following close behind and scrutinizing Inky like a new race of creature waiting to be studied.
Twilight chose to ignore his initial reaction for the moment. Most everypony, new Ponyville citizen and old, gave off some level of apprehension upon first seeing Inky, asleep or no. To Equestria at large, he was a foreigner, old associate of Aurora Streak, and according to the more vocally suspicious, still in her employ and plotting to weaken Equestria from the inside. She supposed Professor Page was somewhere in the middle, willing to trust Celestia on the matter, but not implicitly trusting of Inky himself.
“Hey, Inky, could you wake up?” she asked him, poking gently at his shoulder. He did not, and showed no signs of even being disturbed.
Before Twilight could poke him again a little more forcefully, Professor Page inserted sternly, “So he’s the Desert Child all the nobles keep frussing up their manes over? I’m old Twilight, but not so senile as to believe everything I hear in Canterlot. But even so, I would be careful around him.”
“I dealt with Inky before Aurora turned on us,” Twilight reassured the elderly pegasus, “so I know where to watch out.” Turning her attention back to the sleeping Inky, she jabbed her hoof into his shoulder and said in a bit of a louder tone, “Inky, there’s somepony you should meet.” At this, his eyes peeled open as though he were waking from a dream, not having been forcibly awoken. He glanced to Twilight, lids blinking several times as if to clear his eyes and bring on a more stout alertness; but when this failed to bring about the desired result, he rubbed his hooves into his eyes with a mild groan.
“How long have I been asleep?” he asked, a note of regret in his grit-scratched voice.
“No clue,” Twilight replied. “School just let out though if that’s any help. But, could you pay attention to why I woke you for just a second?”
“Oh, pray tell?” Inky asked, looking up and noticing Crafted Page for the first time. “Ah,” he answered himself. “Judging by your age alone, I can be relatively certain you did not use whatever relation to Sparkle you have and endure the climb up those stairs merely to gawk at an invalid.”
Twilight felt the urge to wince and facehoof, but restrained herself. She had seen this coming, and while she would do her best to diffuse the situation, she would definitely be having a talk with Inky about first impressions and leaving her to repair them. But to her utter shock, Professor Page did not glare reproachfully at Inky and quote a famous pegasus tactician. Instead, an appreciative grin split his wrinkled face, and he said to Twilight, “I like him.” Altering his stance to sit closer to the two of them, he addressed Inky, “To still have your spirit left in you after injuries like those is refreshing to an old geezer like me.”
“Only enough to start building anew, old colt,” Inky replied.
“Keep at it then, and speaking of which, I think I now know why Little Light had me come to see you.”
“If you would, Sparkle,” Inky said to her in an undertone, motioning for her to move, and grasping the cranks on his chair to wheel out to face Crafted directly.
“I was hoping he could help us with the harness,” Twilight elaborated to Inky. “I don’t like having to see you like this all the time, especially when I know it’s part of a debt I owe you. I mean, I know you’ve hit a wall with the little bit of research you’ve done yourself and what you can remember from Aurora.”
“How can he help?” Inky asked with no small amount of skepticism, and not even bothering with trying to refute her claim. “Expertise in one area of arcane study does not directly translate to its counterpart in Device construction, especially not with a subset as enigmatic as pegasus magic and mixed Devices.”
“Professor Page has been studying pegasus magic longer than I’ve been alive,” Twilight replied pointedly. “You can’t discount that many years of research. And besides, he’ll be of more help to you than I would.”
“At least I can rely on you knowing the intricacies of Device correlation,” Inky muttered, his scratch becoming more pronounced.
“I am a magical theorist, Mr. Jay,” Crafted berated Inky in the tone only teachers seemed to possess. “And theory is the most difficult of the magical studies. A subset with a physical manifestation? Posh, I could learn its governing principles over breakfast.” Inky did not recoil in the way Twilight might have had Professor Page spoken to her in that way, but his intense intrigue of of the older pony was definitely obvious. But then, Inky had met very few mortal ponies with age enough to be thusly confident in their talent. “So, Mr. Jay,” he finished, “since my most attentive student feels she owes you a debt, and has kindly asked for my assistance to see it paid, I will believe I will help you walk and fly again.”
Twilight was positively beaming. Her professor had taken a liking to Inky, was offering his skills and knowledge without ever having been asked, and clearly believed they could be successful. Already she could imagine what the return of his limbs would do for Inky’s mindset, as he spent a great deal of time both pouring over Device schematics and pondering the deeper meanings of his injuries and how he thought of them. Perhaps he would devote more time to his talent in fiction, and maybe, just maybe, he would become more open to learning the ways of Harmony that had always led Twilight. The only obstacle to these foreseeable fortunate events was Inky himself: whether or not he would accept Professor Page’s help.
Inky did not answer at first, and his look was one of a pony lost in debating thoughts. At one moment, he took in a breath but never like he was about to speak; and the next, his eyes moved to their corners in contemplation. “Your name, professor?” he asked at last. “If we are to work together on this, I doubt either you or myself will be able to withstand my calling you ‘colt’ or ‘professor’ at all intervals.”
“Oh, referring to me as professor is just fine, colt,” Crafted answered with a cheeky wink. “But if you insist, my name is Crafted Page. Now, let’s see what you have so far while Little Light is unoccupied by her librarian duties.”
“Another time, Page,” Inky replied with a swiftness that could only have been prepared. “I am quite certain you will need to stay here in Ponyville for some time, as this project could take several months. Take some time to send for you essentials and locate a semi-permanent residence. And, as it happens, I… there are other things that demand my attention.”
And with those last words, Twilight felt her enthusiasm for new progress morph in her gut into concerned curiosity. Not that she thought Inky’s response was unwarranted. In fact, she thought she might have requested the same thing of her old professor, if for nothing more than to collect and organize all the notes and diagrams she did have. Except, Inky had ground for nights on end with the research and speculation. To have him reject an opportunity to leap into the papers with a fresh perspective in the mix made no logical sense. Of course, he could just be tired. You know, I’ll bet that’s it, she mused. He’s not exactly in the best shape mentally or physically, and I did just wake him up from a nap. And come to think of it, it looked like it was a much needed nap.
If Professor Page found anything odd about Inky’s proposal, he did not show it. He merely nodded his head in understanding, turning to Twilight with a rather simple question. “I dare say you know some good hotels here in Ponyville, Little Light. And one’s close to your library would be even better,” he said.
“My friend Rarity’s showed me some pretty nice places,” Twilight nodded. “How about I help you check in, Professor?”
“It would be much appreciated,” Crafted replied with a bob of affirmation. “With you being the princess’s personal student now, I doubt the little hoots will try to swindle me out my bits if you come along.” As if his statement was the decisive word on their course of action, Crafted Page proceeded out of Inky’s room in quite the dramatic stride for an elder pony.
“Get some rest, Inky,” Twilight said to him as she exited. “You sound like you could use it.”
“Eh, bear my apparent lack of fortitude no mind, Sparkle,” Inky waved her off. “As it happens, my mind and body are presently incongruent when asleep. My body rests as well as it ever has, but my mind… I have less control over its wanderings than when awake. With any luck, your old professor will give me enough to think about and do that I will be tired on both fronts again.”
______________________________________________________________________________
Celestia sat in her study, surrounded by carefully ordered stacks of paper, immaculately dusted shelves full with the accumulated knowledge of her little ponies, and multiple telescopes and star charts which were the consistent envy of the Astronomy Department. And she was brooding. It was an attitude for which she had frequently berated the young Twilight Sparkle and for which she had outright scolded Luna. It befit nopony save foals, and yet she could not bring herself to call her irritable, inactive self anything else. But then, perhaps it was not truly brooding, as the word implied triviality, and Celestia’s predicament was as far from trivial as a trained pegasus could fly on a single meal.
And even worse, she was likely due to hear even more of the same in only a few minutes time. At least Sanctia would be somewhat understanding. As if cued to her thoughts, a set of five golden ornaments separated themselves from their otherwise mundane brethren encircling the trimming of the study. They crawled up the wall of their own accord, tracing ancient patterns Celestia had long ago imbued in the stone; and as they did so, she could feel the magics within tug at her power. She allowed it, and in response, the lines traced by the ornaments lit with her golden power before morphing into the completed gateway between Canterlot and Sanctia’s Origin.
“Good afternoon, sister,” Sanctia said through the rift before stepping onto Celestia’s rugs. Her voice was like the pealing of bells through chilled winter air and her physical beauty was one of the many reasons Celestia and Luna had never allowed the many compliments of normal ponies to go to their heads. If all of their Order were to stand together in silence, most eyes would be drawn first to Sanctia. She was an inky black, almost freakishly so: her mane, tail, and eyes the only features marring the opaque hue when she did not speak. And even then, her golden eyes and silvery translucent mane and tail seemed only present for the purpose of complimenting her coat.
“Afternoon, Sanctia,” Celestia replied, and bit the inside of her cheek for failing to rid her tone of the disapproval of her glowering mood. “Sorry,” she breathed out. “The last of our pegasus scouts just returned from Red Dunes. No luck. She has disappeared completely it seems.”
“Fret not, Celestia,” Sanctia answered rather too brightly for the occasion. “She is one of ours even if she doesn’t know it yet, and I personally will not allow one of us to commit such war crimes without retribution. And honestly, how many of our number do you think would disagree with you, hmm?”
“Verdance possibly,” Celestia quipped with no small amount of frustration. “I think he still believes she is reasonable.”
“Don’t rag on his optimism too much, Celestia,” Sanctia cautioned. “It got us all through the rougher years.”
“I know, I know,” Celestia sighed again. “It’s just… I don’t believe I will ever forgive her after all she has done.”
“Ha! And you think you’re alone in that?” Sanctia peeled off in amusement. “Once she ignites the bindings again, I’ll be your first ally for throwing her in a cell while we search for a replacement.”
Celestia allowed a smile to break through her grim face. “You have no idea how relieving it is to hear that so straightforward from somepony in the Order. Verdance is only furious she escaped us, not over her atrocities, and Luna…”
“I can see why Luna would be tight-lipped over it all,” Sanctia seemed to muse to herself, then more directly addressing Celestia, said, “Surely you understand the mixed feelings that must be flowing through her?”
“I saw it in her face every time a scouting party from Red Dunes would return with a report,” Celestia replied softly. “And that’s why I didn’t press the issue.”
“Hm, well, all that seething anger you’re holding in can finally go somewhere,” Sanctia said with no small amount of mischief. “I think I found her.” Celestia’s eyes widened to their fullest, and she did not realize until Sanctia arched a reproachfully sardonic eyebrow that she had stood to her full height.
“Where?” Celestia spoke, unable to ask anything more detailed. Repressing her strong desire to see Aurora Streak brought under the power of the law, Celestia reclaimed her floor cushion in composed fashion.
“I can’t say for sure that she is there,” Sanctia began, rubbing her chin with her hoof, “but noplace else seems so logically obvious to be honest. She’s been busy and underhoofed about it too, I’ll give her that much. She’s managed to transform some nameless oasis village into a monster of a city.”
“Canterlot is a big city too, Sanctia,” Celestia said. “How large are we talking?”
“Oh, ha ha,” her sister chuckled at the concern in Celestia’s question, “it’s nothing as large as a Palace, that’s for sure. But, it wouldn’t be a stretch to say it’s larger than anything in Equestria.”
“How, by Epiphany, has she managed to do something like that without drawing our attention!?” Celestia very nearly bellowed in magically enhanced tones.
“Dragon and griffon trade, I’m guessing,” Sanctia shrugged, “but don’t take that as final. I haven’t checked with our brothers just yet.”
“And defenses, offense? What will we have to do to reach her? What is she prepared to withstand?” Celestia questioned, the righteous fury Sanctia had so mentioned roiling to the surface.
“I didn’t fly close enough to find out,” Sanctia answered defensively, her mane shifting. from transparent to opaque silver. “And that, Celestia, is our problem. The Origin is just one ship, and even if I were to bypass any defensive inventions, Aurora would be long gone by the time we were inside the city. And if the Origin’s sensors were behaving any more erratically, I’d have been flying right over the top of the Depression. We move to catch her and we fail, and if we do nothing, we still fail. Rather fantastically I might add.”
“So, it sounds as though you have a plan of sorts outround all of this,” Celestia said, repressing her personal emotions in favor of practicality.
“Not really,” Sanctia sighed, running a hoof through her once again clear mane. “The best way we can sort this is out is the way we used to: as a group.”
“Then go a-calling,” Celestia said. “We can all meet here since there are places in the castle more private than the others’ homes.”
“And what about Twilight?” Sanctia posed the question innocently enough, but Celestia felt a deep frown forming on her face. “I mean, I hate repeating Verdance as much as you do, but it’s getting to the point… I mean, I know I waited to tell Cadance but…”
“No, both you and he are right, as much as I would have it otherwise,” Celestia said, closing her eyes. “I doubt she will have forgotten the Origin, despite how patient she has been in waiting for my explanation. I will summon her here once we have all arrived. We can all tell her then.”
“Don’t invest too much in this filly, Celestia,” Sanctia replied, brushing Celestia’s cheek with a soft, understanding hoof. “We are not mothers, no matter how much we wish to be.” And with that, she was gone back through the closing gate, leaving Celestia to freely let her silent tears darken her parchment.
______________________________________________________________________________
It was just an hour or so before dinner would be ready when Twilight finally left the inn Professor Crafted had decided was in his words ‘decently sized and somewhat livable’. And true to his independent, pegasus blood, the professor had gone back on his own desire to stay somewhere close to the library. Twilight was quite literally now on the complete other side of Ponyville, passing through the market square just beginning to close up its stalls and the salesponies not so obnoxiously shouting for passing customers to come see what was negotiable. Personally, Twilight thought Professor Page had chosen a hotel so out of his way merely to see things like an open market. For despite many of its small town trappings slowly fading in favor of such institutions more common in places like Fillydelphia and Manehattan, still present were the ‘oddities’ many Canterlot ponies had never seen.
And Twilight had to admit to herself, she had held the same fascination for several weeks after permanently moving into the then small town. But now, the market was just another daily occurance; a mark of good daily business. Another such mark was Applejack or Big Mac, as they rotated farm and soliciting duties. Twilight took a slight diversion through the closing street only to find Applejack already hooked into her cart and wheeling the contraption away. That was most certainly odd, as the Apple family was notorious for staying until everypony else had gone home. “Evenin’ sugarcube,” Applejack said, halting to greet Twilight. “Watcha doin’ out so late? Aren’ ya us’ly holed up a’ night tryin’ ta help ‘im with tha’ magic stuff.”
“You know you can actually call Inky by name,” Twilight sighed. Perhaps it was a small amount of the revenge her friends felt they were owed, but Rarity had started the rather annoying rule of refusing to speak Inky’s name. Twilight felt he had suffered and aided them enough to pay for his crimes, but he had also saved her life, and she could admit her perception was likely a touch tainted by that fact.
“Jus’ ‘cause I can don’ mean I gotta,” Applejack replied resolutely. “But c’mon Twi, what’re ya doin’out here?”
“We can walk and talk. I don’t want to hold you up,” Twilight said, standing aside and motioning for AJ to go along. She did so, and as the rattling cart dragged along behind them, Twilight continued, “It’s funny you mentioned the work with the harness. Inky hit a wall, even if he won’t admit it, and I just don’t have the time to really devote to studying the system. So… I lettered an old professor from school who’s famous for working with pegasi magic. I just got back from getting him settled into his hotel.”
“ ‘e a city type?” Applejack asked.
“Not what you’re thinking of,” Twilight chuckled. “He’s a lot like Granny Smith, Princess Celestia, and Lyra all rolled into one pony.”
“I…” Applejack began, but her face twisted and one of her brows rose above the other in quite the amusing fashion. “Tha’ don’ make a hay load of sense Twi,” she decided.
“He’s a little crazy,” Twilight settled for saying. “And he loves fillies and colts. Applebloom and her friends would probably be the ones being driven crazy rather than the other way around.”
“Ho, I doubt that,” Applejack laughed. “Ain’t nopony who’s able to not ‘ave tha nuts driven into ‘em after watchin’ them three.”
“Maybe, but he managed to deal with me, as a filly,” Twilight said. “But, um, AJ, not to really get into the family business, but why are you packing up so early? Is there something wrong? Do I need to let the girls know? Anything you need help with up on the farm?”
“No, no, sugarcube,” Applejack shook her head, her voice a genuine comforting tone as she tried to dispel Twilight’s worry. “Didn’ Rainbow Dash tell ya? Idda thought she would ‘ave. Said she was goin’ over to yer place anyhow.”
“Oh, was she supposed to tell me something?” Twilight asked, curiosity piqued and replacing any worries she had possessed for AJ. “She came by, but all she wanted was the next Daring Do I’d gotten in the mail. She also said she would come by later, but… shoot, I’ve been out all day with the professor. I bet I missed her.”
“Don’ worry none. I’m sure Spike got tha book for ‘er,” Applejack replied. “But I’m surprised she didn’ tell ya. Guess them books really are good readin’ afterall. She was practically actin’ like a filly, she was so excited when she told me.”
“Okay AJ, what is it? What’s going on? Is Chrysalis coming back to check on the colony or did they finally finish that gate?” Twilight pressed.
“Nah, ‘parently there’s a Changelin’ holiday comin’ up,” Applejack said. “It’s a good to-do for ‘em. A whole week long thang from what Rainbow said. Not sure what its celebratin’, since Rainbow was askin’ if I’d bring some of tha family cider. But when I told Granny, she’s wantin’ ta make it a business opportunity with tha Changelins. Get our hoof in an’ all.”
“Oooh!” Twilight exclaimed at Applejack’s sure smile. “It sounds so interesting. I bet there’s a ton we could learn about the culture. It would really break down the barriers between Ponyville and the colony if more ponies came. I’ll definitely go, and maybe I can even drag the professor with me. He would definitely be curious.”
“It’s a big party, Twi,” Applejack stated flatly. “You usually hole yerself up durin’ the Summer Sun Celebration, ‘cept for the official ceremonies. What ‘bout this ya thank’s gonna be difrent?”
“But there would be so much to see!” Twilight almost squealed like a filly. “I haven’t gone yet because I figured they would want to have finished building, and honestly, Rainbow comes into town a lot so… I’m going okay, AJ.”
“Suit yerself,” Applejack said. “Ya can always come over to tha cart if yer tuckered out. An’ ain’t this yer turn?” She stopped in her tracks, the growing night around them seeming even more quiet for lack of the cart’s ever present rattling. Twilight nodded, took her hooves onto the road and turned back to wave to Applejack.
“See you sometime, AJ!” she called out.
“See ya lata,” the Apple replied before her cart wheels began rolling again and preventing further farewells. Twilight almost began skipping as she continued back the library. A Changeling festival! She couldn’t really think of anything more exciting for everypony. The town really needed a collective boost of enjoyment, and this would be sure to lift everypony’s spirits. Not to mention, it would help the ponies and Changelings mingle without so many prejudices getting in the way. Hard cider had a way of doing that…

//-------------------------------------------------------//
                       Turning Pages                       
//-------------------------------------------------------//
Turning Pages
Marks of Harmony
Ancillary
Part 2 Turning Pages
A soft scratch of metal flying against metal combined with the warm beams of the autumn sun forced Twilight Sparkle to peak open her eyes. She blinked several times, clearing out the usual morning stiffness and seeing Spike trundling away from where he had thrown open the curtains in her loft. And as her mind gradually began to follow her body in wakefulness, she threw the blankets back over her head, mumbling at her assistant, “It’s six in the morning, Spike. On a Saturday. Go back to bed.”
“Huh, yeah right,” he called back from the bottom of the stairs. “I don’t think I could convince my stomach to skip lunch.” Twilight’s head was up like Princess Celestia herself had come calling, and the blankets were a long forgotten heap of fabric on the floor. Her eyes darted first to the sun outside, then to the clock on the wall opposite her bed. It was indeed, six o’clock in the morning. But, as it so happened, she was now more than fully awake.
“That wasn’t funny, Spike,” she grumbled as the young dragon bowled over in snorting laughter.
“That’s what… huh huh hahaha!... That’s what you think! I should have brought a mirror so you could see yourself right now! Hahaha!” He was rolling on the floor, and Twilight was forced to admit his bright morning cheerfulness was at least a tad bit infectious. As she straightened the blankets back on her bed and propped up her pillows just so, she found herself unable to be completely angry with her assistant.
After all, even though it was a Saturday, she had quite a bit to look forward to. A brief letter had come not two days after Professor Page had first come to Ponyville detailing all of the things he had finally received from his interns back in Canterlot. While a great deal of it was equipment the professor had hoof-built and which Twilight could no more understand than if she had been attempting to decipher the dead language of the Old Dragon Kingdoms, some others were definitively papers, the titles of which Twilight was certain were on record in no library. That she might be one of the first ponies to see Professor Page’s secret work had set her to much nervous anticipation.
Except, just as he had when she had been in his classes, Crafted Page masterfully diffused such emotions in Twilight simply by delaying his arrival to the library. According to Pinkie Pie, he had taken it upon himself to see the sights in and around Ponyville with nothing but the advice of locals who happened to catch his attention. And to Pinkie’s delight, he had taken quite the fancy to SugarCube Corner.
But, now Twilight had real reason to be excited. The professor had sent a letter just yesterday that he would be arriving early the next morning, and the prospect of making true headway with the discarded harness was not a little enticing for Twilight. Add to that the fact that Professor Page’s presence would drag Inky out of his self-imposed solitary life, and Twilight had even higher hopes for the day ahead.
“Okay, Spike, play time’s over. Ready to get to work?” Twilight asked her assistant as she joined him at the base of the stairs.
“What do you mean, Twi?” Spike asked, genuinely curious and worried. “I’m smart enough to not stick around with all your crazy science stuff goin’ on in the basement. Remember, I said I’d be heading over to see Pinkie and Holland.”
“Oh, sorry, Spike,” Twilight apologized with a suppressed chuckle from the mild frown on his face. “This is just such a major event! Professor Page never lets anypony else see his research.”
“Uh-huh,” Spike mumbled, unimpressed. “You need anything before I go?” he asked with a slight glint in his eye as though he had read Twilight’s mind.
“You remember what the professor likes in the morning, right?” she replied.
“Good, strong, black coffee for Celestia, and nice, soothing tea for Luna,” Spike answered, puffing out his chest and doing a rather impressive, if comedic, imitation of Page’s voice.
“Mmhm,” Twilight nodded brightly. “And since you remember so well, would you mind making some up before he comes?”
“Hey, that’s only a small little thing compared to what I usually do. You sure you don’t want me to make you something too? You’ll probably need it,” he assured her, already making his way around the small, but familiar kitchen.
“I can make myself some breakfast,” Twilight replied. “Besides, I know you’d rather be off with Pinkie and Holland than stuck in here with me, Inky, and the professor.”
“It’s not you I mind,” Spike said, putting the kettle on to boil. “And the prof is just a little weird in the head I think. He’s the one I don’t want to deal with.”
“Look, I don’t think he’s mentally stable just yet either,” Twilight quipped back to him, “but I’ll not let Aurora’s ideas rule him if it’s the last thing I do.”
“Then talk to the princesses about it!” Spike implored her, and Twilight braced for some variation she had heard from each of her friends, multiple times in some cases. “He lived a life of indoctrination. That’s not something just one pony can tackle alone. Get some help! I’m sure Princess Celestia or Princess Luna would be more than happy get him around.”
“Yes, I’m sure they would,” Twilight breathed, “but not only do they have a lot to deal with just with Aurora, but this is something I want to do myself. If a normal pony can’t help Inky, what does that mean for all the ones that left with her?”
“Whatever, Twilight,” Spike said, though not vindictively. “Just… don’t get so absorbed in saving him that we lose you.”
“Oh, don’t worry about things that won’t happen, Spike,” Twilight said, giving him a light hug. “All of you are too important for me to let that happen. Pinkie Promise.”
“I’ve got your back,” Spike replied, just as the kettle began to scream it’s readiness. “And I’m pretty sure our friends do too, but… ah, nevermind. You made a Pinkie Promise, so I think we’ll all be good.”
“Good,” Twilight affirmed, trotting out of the kitchen and into the lobby. She lit her horn, prepared several levitation spells, and moved to the edges of the library the excess reading chairs and couches. In their place, she left a small table and two couches for the three of them to lay out all the papers and research they currently had on hoof. The process was quick and simple enough, but Twilight always marvelled at how different the room appeared with so minor an alteration. She was sure Rarity would know the details of it, but Twilight only barely understood her; as she used normal terms in the most jargonic way. Still, the more comfortable atmosphere rendered by moving away much of the public seating was good for only one decent morning activity, at least in Twilight’s mind: reading.
From her personal collection behind the library’s checkout counter, she levitated over her new Daring Do novel (which Rainbow Dash had finished in record time, and which was now, unsurprisingly, the book in highest demand from the Changeling colony), rested it against one of the cushions, and lost herself in the book’s enthralling narrative. She was only vaguely aware of Spike entering the room and setting out a neat tray of coffee and tea and promptly exiting for Pinkie’s new place. Roughly thirty minutes silently and gracefully passed her by before the baritone scraping of wood against wood jolted her away from Daring’s escapade.
Twilight’s head came up from rest for the second time that day, and she felt her heart skip from the sight. Inky Jay was speeding - no, careening - down the ramp for his wheelchair. He had one wheel locked in place and was vigorously rotating the second in a panicked attempt to regain some control. If anything, he looked quite like Rainbow Dash just before a crash, and… Twilight winced as the chair reached the end of the ramp, toppling over and sending Inky rolling out and over the floor before piling up in a heap.
It was only when he struggled to right himself that Twilight let out a strangled, self-berating gasp and rushed over to help return him to his chair. “Are you okay?” she asked as she moved the chair closer to him. “You didn’t break anything did you?”
“Not to my knowledge,” Inky grunted, glaring at his useless hind-legs. “Though, I am not sure I would notice. My chest is sore, but I would expect nothing less.” She held out a hoof, and he grasped it; using his other working limb and Twilight’s own support to drag himself back into the chair. And as he did so, Twilight could not help but notice small things about him: things which were not exactly encouraging to her. His snout was covered with scraggly scruff that was at least a month in the making, his coat was nothing short of messy, and Rarity might well have fainted at the sight of his unkempt mane and tail (which only vaguely ever remembered having been dyed black). If Twilight was being honest with herself, he looked not unlike the homeless ponies in Canterlot: the look of a pony who had almost given up. And it took every inch of her willpower to say nothing.
“I do not believe I will ever master this contraption,” he said, snapping Twilight away from examining the details of his detritus. “It is an excellent construct, but pegasi balance with wings, not pedals.”
“Well, that’s what Professor Page’ll help with hopefully,” Twilight replied, and before she could hold herself back, added, “Oh, and are you going to be growing that scruff out?” She almost threw her hoof over her mouth, but Inky was already bringing up a hoof to scratch at his prickled chin.
“I… well, no… I…” he stuttered, ending only with growling under his breath. “No, I had not. It… just went unnoticed I suppose,” he reiterated with a touch more cohesiveness.
“Well, it’s not really becoming of a professional,” Twilight said, channeling Rarity for the moment. “Let’s be sure you look presentable before the professor gets here.”
“But, he arrives in less than an hour, yes?” Inky queried with concern as Twilight took a light trot ahead of him, pulling the wheelchair with her magic.
“Thirty minutes exactly,” Twilight replied with a quick glance to her clock. “It’s plenty of time. Besides, just because I’m a mare doesn’t mean I can’t help you out. Now come on.”
“As though I could choose one way or the other,” Inky glowered. Twilight patently ignored him, pushing open the bathroom door and rolling Inky in front of the mirror. She levitated the razor in front of his face and gave him the same stern look she always used on Spike until he took it with a swipe of his hoof.
“While you deal with that, I’ll wash your mane and see if a comb can do it any good,” Twilight said smartly.
“It will not do any good,” Inky said with a slight strain as he ran the razor over his chin. “It would not be the first time I have tried to tame it.”
“I’ll give a shot,” Twilight answered, already concentrating on the shampoo she had grasped with her magic in addition to the sphere of water now firmly under her control. Ever so gently so as not to break the sphere, she dipped in Inky’s mane, it falling heavy and dripping when she returned the water to the sink. A small application of shampoo and more water later, and Twilight was working at the kinks of Inky’s surprisingly wiry mane. He now had his tail in his lap, and was following suit in ridding it of general disorder as best he could.
“Sorry,” Twilight said just as she pulled another of his hairs out, and he winced in response. “But I think that’ll have to do. I’m not Rarity, but at least the professor won’t discredit you at first sight.”
Inky eyed himself in the mirror, and Twilight found herself cocking her head to the deep frown he gave himself. “Shameful. What I let happen to me, that is,” he said, flicking his tail off his legs. “And should I allow it to happen again, you have my permission to yell about my pathetic appearance.”
“I almost did,” Twilight chuckled, following him out. “Do you want some help with the ramp this time?”
“Bearing in mind that I wish to keep what is left of me from further injury, yes,” Inky replied.
“You know, you shouldn’t let your condition or the work get to your head like that,” Twilight mused aloud, wheeling his chair between the two couches before settling on one herself. “I did once, and the results weren’t pretty. I basically had the whole town chasing after an enchanted doll. Princess Celestia had to come in to fix it, believe it or not.”
“You, of all ponies, would incorrectly cast a spell? I find that hard to believe. You are far too skilled amongst the unicorns,” Inky said.
“Oh, that’s not the first time, just the worst,” Twilight said with a touch of amusement. “But, seriously, you should keep it in perspective. It’s not as though your or anypony else’s life is depending on the speed of the project.”
“I will admit, the harness has taken up far too much of my attention, to the detriment of myself in some ways, but… it is not the only thing,” Inky said, massaging his throat as the scratch in his voice briefly intensified. “And before you ask,” he added just as Twilight was about to open her mouth, “it is something I and I alone can overcome. And rest assured, so I do attempt.”
“Don’t think you can’t ask if you need anything from any of us,” Twilight answered.
“Like I said, this is something inside myself; and therefore, I will defeat its wiles within,” Inky repeated, with just enough force for Twilight to let him be, at least for the moment. Whatever was bothering him, she would not allow it to fester; and she was confident that should Inky begin to fall under the strain again, she would see the signs.
Her inner dialogues on the issue were, however, interrupted by a persistent knock on the library door and the sound of a hefty, old cough permeating through the entrance. “Come in, Professor Page!” she called, flicking open the door with her magic.
“Bloody. Fall. Leaves,” the aged pegasus grunted as he stepped into the building, kicking his hooves and rustling his wings to rid them of persistent red and yellow greenery. Once satisfied, he re-adjusted his wings a final time and lifted a set of bulging saddlebags onto the table. “Oh, Little Light you cheeky…” he said, grinning as he lifted the mug of coffee to his lips with an expertly balanced wing. He smacked rather ungraciously after his first draught, saying, “Nothing like good, strong coffee to get an old brain working, eh?”
“I would not dare to know, Page,” Inky broke in. “But, I am guessing those bags are filled with testing equipment of some kind.”
“Well, I would hope your brain isn’t old, colt,” Crafted shot back. “If it were, I’d have to have a talk with Streak about the real danger of her rambling. But, ah, to business.” He seated himself on the couch opposite Twilight, flipped open one of the bags, withdrew a spectacularly curved pipe and lit it by a means Twilight had never quite been able to understand. Both she and Inky were silent for a moment as he took several deep puffs of the smoke, with Inky acquiring a lightly amused grin when Crafted removed the pipe for a decent draught of coffee. “Yes, good show. Now let’s get started shall we?” he said at last, carefully removing several stacks of paper from his bags. “Cue me in on these Devices the little raving madfilly brought with her,” the professor added. “The buggers taking a gander at the things are keeping awfully tight lipped over the whole affair.”
“Devices operate on the completely mechanical aspect of magic,” Inky expunged. “They cut to the heart of magic, ignoring all of the personal notions associated with the casting of a spell.”
“You know about the channels in a unicorn’s horn, right Professor?” Twilight asked. Page nodded, and Twilight carried on, saying, “Well, Aurora studied them and realized that spells are innate magical energy shaped into a spell by those channels, and that they can be simple or complex. A Device is basically a contained set of channels and power source taken from a pony’s natural magic.”
“Different from objects imbued with power -” Inky began to elaborate, only to have the older pony interject.
“... in that they do not take power from the caster each time they are used… Yes, I know,” he said briskly. “The blokes studying what was left behind were just being purposefully vague. Thank you, Little Light. It certainly clears up the muddle. Onto the problem with the harness… It’s a combination of the two systems as I understand from Little Light’s letter.”
“Yes, the harness operates with Device structure but latches into a pony, therefore no longer requiring a separate energy source as the operator is on hoof to provide the necessary power,” Inky said. “It just so happens, I am struggling to render a design that is light, mechanically sound, but that also is able to isolate pegasus magic and a pony’s natural electrical current and transmit them separately but to the same -”
“Stop waggling your tongue there,” Crafted Page interrupted Inky for a second time. “It’s not doing you, me, or Little Light any good.”
“And how are you supposed to understand the full extent of the problem unless you are able to comprehend the level of complexity involved?” Inky shot back, perturbed.
“By solving one problem as it comes,” Page answered. “Now, let’s have a look at the apparatus, eh?”
“I’ll go get it, Professor,” Twilight nearly laughed as she stood from the couch. “And while I’m gone, try not to kill each other.”
“I am not exactly in a position to do so,” Inky replied with an abstract wave of his hoof, his expression rather skulking in Twilight’s opinion.
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Page said cheerily, sipping his coffee again and immediately replacing his pipe afterward.
______________________________________________________________________________
Inky could, above most of his memories, remember exactly the things he had experienced in his first days within Aurora Streak’s subterranean laboratory. Confusion had been a near constant for several weeks, and it had only increased when Aurora had begun teaching him the mechanics behind magic, Devices, Latency, and Ascension. Of course, he had eventually come to grasp the concepts, but it had been a supremely difficult path: not even taking into account he was a pegasus and therefore had no means by which to see his understanding put into practice.
In those times, he had believed Aurora to be a genius, and while he still considered her to be far more intelligent than the average pony, the old stallion now before him possessed a store of intellect that baffled him even more than had Aurora. They had relocated to the basement when Crafted Page had wished to see the harness mounted as it would be upon a pony, and from then, both Inky and Twilight had done little except sit and stand by.
Page acted just as Aurora did when she became intensely involved in a project, save that Page routinely muttered and growled to himself through his pipe. Currently, the disassembled Device canons formerly attached to the harness lay strewn about his hooves, a mess of diagrams were over every inch of table space, and Inky could decipher none of it. “Is he always this… eccentric I suppose is the word?” Inky posed the question to Twilight as she levitated a small folder of her and Inky’s own studies to the impatiently beckoning wings of Page.
“I don’t… I’m not... sure,”  Twilight answered slowly, hesitantly. “I only ever took his lectures. I never did get picked for a study team. So… maybe?”
“Even if that is the case, he could at least include us in his observations. This is no pet project, nor is it an experiment where failure and success are both valuable,” Inky hissed.
“Mr. Jay,” the professor chose that moment to speak out, “your statement here makes it sound as though Aurora classified internal equine magic as a singular source differentiated only by its use between the different races. Is this true?” His head came up from the papers to stare at the pair of them critically, eyes ablaze with that passion only veteran researches possessed.
“It is. And she proved it no less,” Inky replied. “The Devices operating aboard the House of a Thousand Fangs were powered with reseviors containing both my pegasus energy and her alicorn power. They performed no less or more efficiently from the difference.”
“Mm, curious. Curious indeed,” Page went back to grunting to himself, peering ever more closely at the notes stretched out before him.
“Don’t be too quick to discount him,” Twilight warned. “He was the surgeon and general practitioner for the Wonderbolts before the school hired him.”
“And that will mean something to me how exactly?” Inky’s voice scratched, a single brow arching as the aged pegasus began making marks on his wings with charcoal and never ceasing to move between the remains of the harness and the papers. “I do not doubt his ability to comprehend Device technology, only, I doubt his ability to translate it back to us in a way that does not sound like the ramblings of one of the mentally insane.”
“He might just need some time to come up with something,” Twilight reassured him. “Yeah, just give him some time, Inky.” She reached a tentative hoof out toward Page and asked, “Um, Professor Page?”
“Yes, Little Light?” Crafted snapped, though not angrily.
“How long do you intend to be down in this basement, alone, before you are willing to include the ones who began this endeavor?” Inky asked, not a little peeved.
“Oh, two or three days at most,” Page replied frankly. “It will be quite the exciting task to convert all of my theories to a mechanized model. And what was your question Little Light?”
“I take it you’d like us to just leave you alone for now?” Twilight answered knowingly and already turning to the small stairway.
“No, you may stay as long as you like, I just dare say I will be a rather, ah, lacking conversationalist,” Crafted said, never once removing his eyes from his work.
“It’s okay, Professor,” Twilight chuckled, grasping Inky’s chair in her fore-hooves and pushing it out of the basement. “I’ll send Spike down with food for you.”
“Of course, of course,” the pegasus replied absently.
The return up into the library proper ended in Inky, to his own surprise, leaning back in his wheelchair and letting out a long, slow sigh of relief. “Part of me wants never to see that harness again,” Inky said as Twilight stopped him next to the bookshelf containing all of his favorite type of books. “And another desires only to begin work immediately… to break new ground as it were.”
“You still want Professor Page’s help right?” Twilight asked, curious, as she motioned to Spike, and they both began preparing tea.
“Of course,” Inky answered without hesitation. “He burns with that same fire of intellect you and Aurora have. I just have, mixed feelings, on seemingly hoofing over the project to somepony else. I want to trust him, and fully embracing the relief that would entail would ease my mind more than anything, but I have invested myself so heavily into studying the harness, I do not believe I will ever be able to completely trust somepony else with its modification.” He breathed out again, this time more frustratedly, and grasped a random book from the shelf next to him. He scanned its cover, and when it failed to excite his facilities, he replaced it with another.
“What are you reading now?” Twilight asked, coming up behind him.
“Nothing at the moment,” Inky grumbled. “My head cannot separate itself from the basement enough to even invest myself in good philosophy.” Twilight chuckled and ruffed his mane a bit before taking the tea tray from Spike in her magic.
“Warm tea always helps me when I’m distracted,” she said, pouring out three cups. “Let’s all take a break, drink some tea, and enjoy some quiet reading.” A cup was passed to Spike, who eagerly whipped out his latest comic from within a sofa cushion and plopped onto one of the seats. Twilight held a second next to her and hovered a third just under Inky’s chin. “Go on, take it,” she insisted sweetly, and when he awkwardly grasped it, asked, “Now, what’re you interested in reading?”
“Ponyfeathers…” Inky muttered as the scent of the tea wafted calmly to his nose. “Just find me something by Pontaire. I never tire of him.” Within seconds, Twilight had the book in his lap and open to the preface before taking a volume of some subject for her own and nestling in her favorite plush bag. A tranquil silence descended around them, and Inky found a small, content smile growing on his face. As he was currently confined to a wheelchair, they were not perfect circumstances in which he found himself, but around him were a pony and dragon who cared for him at least enough to help him live as a cripple, and good books were in his hooves accompanied by comforting silence. It was a rare moment, so he embraced it. Well, as much as the other pony in the library would allow…
“DAMN PIPE!” the incredulous voice of Crafted Page blared up from the basement, to which Twilight only shook her head with a light giggle before returning to her book. Inky blinked several times and sighed before following suite.
______________________________________________________________________________
The Badlands were not known for being conducive to society, culture, or life in general. They were  a barren wasteland that served only as a barrier between the griffon city states, Changeling hive, and Equestria. Occasionally, of course, bandits or mercenaries from any of the three nations would take refuge in the heart of the Badlands, seeking out the elusive oases. But inevitably, they would return to a more habitable wilderness, denouncing the rumor of such livable places as mere myth.
But for some, the Badlands were a haven, if a bitter one. Here they could meet with one another in privacy, discuss imminent threats to the domains of one another, merely chat, or as was the case now, meet up for a journey they had not taken place in millennia. “You’ve lost weight, Animus,” Suus commented as the vibrant orange coat of his brother came into view.
“Better than getting uglier,” Animus cracked, teleporting to close the distance between them. “And, by your smelly backside, is that a gray hair I see?”
“Shove off, you,” Suus laughed. “Probably is though. Celestia could have at least told us she was opening negotiations with our Changelings.”
“Pfft,” Animus raspberried at him. “You shouldn’t complain about being on your hooves again, especially if it makes that Fundamental-awful mane of yours look as distinguished as mine.”
“Should we wait for Ius and Axiomos, you think? Or just go straight to the spot?” Suus queried, not really expecting any sort of serious answer from his brother.
“Those stuck ups? The ones with rocks up their asses? Nah, they’ve probably been there for at least thirty minutes tapping their hooves impatiently,” Animus replied.
“Can’t blame them really,” Suus commented as the pair began walking. “Changelings may like the dark and be sneaky bastards, but at least we don’t have to watch over griffons. I don’t envy them.”
“Eh… doesn’t mean they have to let it rub off on them,” Animus said. “We haven’t let it happen to us.”
“I don’t think any creature could rub off on you,” Suus chuckled. “Too light-headed.”
“Booze is good, and I’m not drunk right now, so ha!”
“Just don’t embarrass yourself in Canterlot. I really don’t want to have to run around the city erasing memories of a new drunk alicorn,” Suus couldn’t help but sigh.
“Fine, but if Luna joins me, I promise nothing,” Animus agreed. Their talk did not end, jumping from topic to topic as they traversed the dense, rocky ground. Had any creature seen them, they would have been privy only to two ponies, armor clad, amiably chatting to one another, the words oddly never quite audible. But even if an outsider could not have understood the words, they would know the tone. That of two siblings, separated by necessity for a long while, finally coming back together again and eagerly bantering about what they had done, discovered, and otherwise found enjoyable. Nopony would ever have guessed they were on their way to ensure the world was not destroyed.