Five Dances in Dreamland

by Daruqe

Chapters

Prélude I
Prélude II
I. Pastorale
Intermezzo I
II. Presto fugato

Prélude I

...

...dm, dm, dm...

...

...dnt, dnt, dnt...

...

..."— —?"...

...dk, dk, dk...

..."T— —t!"...

Name.

"Twilight!"

Knock-knock-knock!

Spike. Fell asleep.

"Twilight! You awake?"

Don't remember leaving the covers on...

"Dash dropped by! I went ahead and let her in!"

How late did I let it get?

She slid her lids open. Early evening. Groan.

Not late enough.

She tossed her head back towards the door.

"I'll be out in a minute!"

She let her head fall back down. Still lying under the covers, she shut her eyes and gave her body a big stretch. Her hands felt around: just a bra under a T-shirt and some panties. Sigh. She heaved her head out of the little dribble next to her open book. She opened her eyes again. "...white dwarf...D = 10^[(m-M+5)/5]...binary star system...Chandrasekhar limit..." She shut the book. She rolled over and sat up on the edge of the bed. A camping backpack in the corner—open and empty. A brown paper bag by the door—sunscreen and summer clothes inside. She leaned forward and pushed herself off the bed, climbing down from her top bunk.

Over by the window, her pet owl, Owloysius, sat perched sleeping, waiting for night to come. She walked over and brushed a hand over his head. Then she snapped her fingers. A violet glow appeared around the book on her pillow and it began to levitate. She walked the book over to the bookshelf and nudged it inside an empty space, between Dragonblood Pyrogenics and The Horse in Equestrian Folklore.

She pushed herself past a half-open closet door and looked up. Her blue gala dress hung in front of her—the one Rarity made for her. She pushed it aside and stared into the full-body mirror that stood against the back wall. Dark complexion. Slim. No tone. Bed hair. A small purple T-shirt. Plain white panties. She pulled a brush from a nearby drawer and fixed up her hair. She threw the brush back in and shut the drawer. She looked at herself for a bit. She put her hands on her hips and swung one hip forward, giving a smile to the mirror. She brought her hands up. She cupped her little breasts and kneaded them a bit. She pressed them together. They hid well in that mess of T-shirt. Her smile faded. She turned her body around and showed her butt to the mirror. She gave the mirror another grin. The fabric of her panties sagged just the slightest bit over her flabby cheeks. There was a dumb pink heart on the butt.

Twilight Sparkle sighed.

She let her arms fall. Squatting down, she shut an open drawer of jeans and reached for the deep-blue skirt she had thrown earlier in the day. She pulled it on, along with some fresh knee-highs, and stepped out of the closet.

Her bare socks slipped on the wood floor. She went to her bedroom door to take the brown bookbag that hung there. She looked inside. A rather thick volume sat by itself at the bottom. She pulled it out. An old notecard had been stuck in as a bookmark somewhere in the preface. She opened to it. "...if we consider this alternative...a proposition yet to be contested...theories have been proposed in the past..." She shut the book. "Commentaries on Accounts of...Volume II...First Edition...With Introduction by..." She snapped her fingers and the book hovered over and fell beside her shelf atop a stack of books—mostly small paperback romance novels. She hung her bag on her shoulder and approached her nightstand.

A journal lied beside her lamp. Black—as night. A bright violet bookmark stuck out from about halfway through. She reached down and lifted the book. She opened to the bookmark. Today's date was written, with nothing below it. She turned back a page.

I've finally started reading that book for the report. I have to send it to the princess by Monday though, so I'm afraid I won't be getting much sleep this weekend.

I saw her again today. I pretended not to notice her. I can keep my distance by staying inside working on my report, but there's still Saturday I have to worry about....

She turned back a few more pages. All the handwriting was messy. Then, an entry from a week ago:

Today, I had the closest thing to what I could call a step forward. The troubling thing is that it was merely a conversation, and it was with a girl. My friend Fluttershy, to be precise.

Fluttershy is sweet, caring, though soft-spoken. She is a joy to spend time with; she can open herself up a little bit when it's just the two of us, and I can be more relaxed and less worried about making conversation around her.

She heard a laugh from Rainbow Dash downstairs.

She turned a page forward.

Then I caught her in town on a break; she invited me over for coffee, and we went to her cottage. I just asked for some warm milk, though; I didn't feel like I needed the caffeine. I always feel bad about asking favors of Fluttershy, just because of how outwardly accommodating she is. We sat at the table outside and had some small talk. She asked me about my studies. I said I was finishing the supernova report. (I guess that was a lie; I haven't even opened that book as of today.) The conversation went somewhere else. She talked about...something; I don't remember.

At one point, we had both stopped talking. We just listened to the birds singing. There was a small flower garden beside the table at which we sat, and we both took notice of two Vanessa cardui butterflies on one of the flowers—they were mating. Fluttershy gave a little "aw..." surely knowing we were both looking at them. Then she said something like "She's so lucky!" Fluttershy intrigues me; she thinks of animals in ways I never do. But I must have made some sort of face after that or something, because after a quick silence she went on: "I mean, he's lucky too. I guess they're both lucky! I mean...." Then she stumbled a bit and trailed off. I definitely knew something was the matter by this point. However, I didn't know what to say; I didn't know what was going on. She just finished with "Never mind..." and tried to avert her glance from me. I spent a moment trying to think of something to say. I eventually just asked her what was up, trying to sound helpful. She gave a nervous laugh and said it was nothing. Then she started talking about how, while she is happy when she sees animals with their mates, it's started to make her feel envious recently.

She stopped there. I was tempted to pry. She was opening up just the way I've always wanted someone to open up to me. But I still hesitated. Nothing but the bird songs sounded; they sung as if begging for an accompaniment. Finally, I asked her if there was anyone in particular she was thinking of, qualified with an "If you don't mind me asking." She said it was fine, and that there wasn't anyone she was thinking of, as she only really talked with me and the rest of the gang. She said she didn't really know any boys, and she wouldn't know how to talk to one anyway. I asked her what the hurry was, then. She gave an "um..." and I apologized, saying she didn't have to talk about it if she didn't want to. She said it was fine, and she wanted someone to talk to about this anyway, but that she was still scared to. I told her we could talk about it anytime if she wanted. We sat there for a while—she still afraid to speak up, but insistent on trying. She started to ramble a bit; she talked around the issue, talking about how even though we'd been friends for over a year then, we had never been up front about this topic. Eventually, though, she came out in the open. "I..." she began, "I just feel sort of left behind now. We're all over 20, and I know I'm the only virgin in the group." It shocked me a bit to hear her use that word, and her voice was shaking, so I could tell it made her uncomfortable to say it. But I had no idea where she got that idea from. Had she talked with the others? I didn't even know if it was true. Except for the obvious—and I told her that, too; I said I knew why she felt that way, then said, "But first off, it's not true. You're not the only one in the group." She was confused; she stammered a bit, but then understood. "You mean," she said, "You? Really?" I nodded. She sat there for a moment. "Wow. I'm glad to hear that. I mean, I'm sorry—I mean—oh shoot, never mind." I think we were both blushing really hard by this point. But I (and she too, I suspect) had this great feeling of openness and release—that "got something off your shoulders" feeling. Then she nervously reached for my hand on the table and nudged it a bit. We fiddled around trying to grab each other, not really knowing what we were doing, but then had each other's hands tight in our own. She said, "Thank you so much for sharing this with me. It means oh so much, Twilight." I thanked her too, and I gave her a smile. I was terrified by how much I was surely sweating by that point.

Nothing much happened after that. We sat together in the silence for a while longer, just enjoying the relief I guess; listening to the bird songs. Then, we finished up our drinks, and I went home.

I have no one else to ask, and the day may soon come that I may make love with someone. If that day comes, how will I know what to do? I know it won't be like my novels; we won't be caught in some awkward situation together and decide to make love right there on the spot; it won't be some Florence-Nightingale-inspired passion after some contrived accident. But the moment we held hands there was one of the most intimate of moments I've had with another person, and I didn't even know what to do then.

And tell me, Journal, if no one else will, what did this day with her mean? Should I care that it was the first time I've had my hand held like that before? Could there be more she still hides from me? Is it even possible she could feel anything for me? Can I make her feel something for me? Am I the only girl who can love a woman?

It's funny, I didn't think I could ever write so much, but I just don't have anyone to talk to. I can't talk to the friends who make me feel this way in the first place.

—

I forgot to write about this earlier: I ran into her again on the way back from Fluttershy's. She just saw me from across the street and yelled "hi," and I said "hi" back, but nothing else. She just took off after that while I kept to myself. I'm tempted to start avoiding her; I never know what to do around her anymore. I don't feel like I can open up or express myself around her anymore. Why do I have to be so cloistered, while she's so forward?

"Yo, Twilight!" Dash. "Get your butt down here already!" Twilight shut her journal.

"On—!" she was hoarse—she cleared her throat—"On my way down!" She shoved the journal in her bag and rushed to the door, slipping and stumbling in her socks. She grabbed the knob. She stared at it with a quick sigh. Twilight put on her best face and stepped out.

White gym shorts. Blue tank top. A sports bra underneath. Rainbow Dash stood at the foot of the staircase with an open book. Without looking up, she held up her right stopwatch arm.

"So I left to come get you exactly..." she looked up at her watch and smiled, "...eleven minutes and twelve seconds ago, and I got here...ten minutes and twenty-three seconds ago. You get lost up there, bud?" Dash's arm fell and she flipped a page.

Twilight started down the staircase. "'Came to get me?' Where...?" She started yawning. "...from where?"

"Oh, well she's almost finished up over there and she wanted to show it to you. I said it was pretty neat, I guess."

"You mean the thing for tomorrow?"

"Yup." Dash flipped back some pages.

"So wait, is everyone over there right now?" Twilight stopped halfway down. Living room empty.

"Yeah, we've been kinda popping in and out all day. I figured I'd come get you since she's been getting kinda annoying, what with the squealing and bouncing around the place. Yeah, I think it was just me and her down there when I left."

"Wait, Rainbow Dash, what are you re—" It was a coffee-table-sized book—the title: An Archive of Modern Adult Enter—"Rainbow Dash—!" Twilight's socks slipped on the wood stairs—her heart caught—weightless—falling—her tush hit the steps and she slid—thumt-thumt-thumt! thumt, thumt, thumt!—her feet hit the floor, but something caught her back. She'd stopped.

Twilight opened her eyes. There was Rainbow Dash—with a gallant arm folded under Twilight's back, and a firm hand grasped in Twilight's. Dash gave a chortle, "You okay, tiger?"

Twilight grunted, "Ugh, yeah." She looked up at Rainbow Dash. Gazing at her—magenta galaxies veiled behind shining glass—a caring and cocky smirk—the messy tousle of iridescent gold. A leg of muscle rested on one of the steps—panties peeking out from under tiny gym shorts. A sweaty musk enveloped them.

The giant book caught Twilight's eye. It sat open to a picture of a woman in yellow-striped blue spandex grabbing her ass cheeks, standing in front of a toned man wearing nothing but pilot's goggles on his head. The adrenaline started to wear off. The pain in her butt started to sting. Twilight groaned.

"Just, let me get over to the couch..." She started to push herself up. Dash squeezed Twilight's hand and lifted her to her feet. Twilight said thanks. She stumbled over to the couch, dropped her bag, and collapsed. "Now put that book away, will you?"

"C'mon, you said I could come and check it out!" She kicked the book shut behind her. "You're the one who showed it to me!" A pout.

"I didn't say you could just waltz in and flaunt it around. Besides, Spike's here. Speaking of which, where is he?"

"In the bathroom. Went about...wow, six and a half minutes ago. So you know what that means, of course."

"Huh?"

"And I don't blame him either, y'know?"

"Wait, what?"

"You know—Spike." Rainbow Dash dropped her voice. "He's getting to be around that age, right? He's like, thirteen now, isn't he?"

"What are you—? Oh no, come on, Dashie, that's not what he's doing!"

"I'm just saying, is all!" Dash looked away, holding her hands up. "We both know all that's gotta go somewhere."

"Ranbow Dash!" Twilight sat up, cheeks afire. A sting—her leg sore—"Ow-ow-ow-ow-ow...!" Dash was there in a flash—

"Woah, careful there, Twilight!" She held up Twilight's outstretched leg, still in its sock. "Those stairs really kicked your ass, didn't they?"

"Yeah, literally."

"I saw." Dash chuckled. "But here, we're gonna take care of this right now—it's just the right one right?"

"Yeah, I think so, but you don't have to—"

"Here, lay your head back—no, all the way—there we go, yeah, get it off the armrest thing—scoot your butt forward a bit—there, that's it—and we're gonna get your leg elevated here—" Dash lifted the leg and rested it on the other armrest. "Just a sec—" She went over and heaved the nearby loveseat back over to the couch, and sat beside Twilight.

"C'mon Dash, I'm fine..."

"Nah, it's cool; don't worry."

"Aren't they waiting for us—"

"Now check it—we're gonna try and make sure this doesn't bruise." Rainbow Dash reached out and grabbed the edge of Twilight's knee-high sock. Her fingers pinched and curled. She pulled the fabric back—over her knee—down her leg—over one ankle—the other—her heel—then pulled the sock free over her foot. Air.

Rainbow laid the sock on the back of the couch. "Where does it hurt?" Twilight touched the tendon below her knee. "Here?" Twilight nodded, then tried to reach for her lower leg. Dash laid a hand on Twilight's shin. "And here?" Twilight nodded. Dash's hands stretched forward. Fingers brushed against her knee. Skin like air, moist feathers. Velvet and silk. Blue wind swirling around fingertips—air breaths and whispers fluttering in the air. Hands wrapped around her leg. Olive upon chestnut. Bony slender thumbs pressed upon her knee. Pressing in. Power. Muscle—strength. Squeeze. Knead. Tendons flex and part. Breathing. Thumbs—knobs—thick, and full—dig and bore. Heaving, weight, like lungs.

Dash looked up. "How's that feel?" Twilight simply nodded. Dash's colored head fell back down. "So it looks like we're fuckin' taking Scootaloo and the kids with us tomorrow."

"Mmpf—I thought you liked Scootaloo."

"She likes me."

"I thought that you liked that she likes you."

"Meh. Sometimes it can be cool. A lot of the times it's just annoying, the way she tries to pal around with me all the time. I keep freaking out that I'm gonna get arrested 'cause of how much she's always touching me—I'm like, 'hey, we're in public, kid!" Twilight made a face. Dash chuckled. Her hands crawled down to Twilight's shin. Twilight's eyes rose. Long, bones of arms working. Veins throbbing. Blood hydraulics. Then, fabric stretched over slender figure. Breasts like a man's—at once, smooth plains; at once, rolling hills. Red heart fistbeating blood within. Hermaphroditus. Then, small bobbing head—tender handcheeks—glowing golden brown, veiled by strands of color—infinite color. She, the tiny furnace of muscle—the relentless gale.

Dash laughed. "So you want me to do your ass next?" Breath caught.

A sink turns off. Door opens. Green spikes of hair—hoodie—shorts—walking barefoot into the living room.

"Oh," he coughed, "Hey there Twilight—glad to see you finally up!" He stopped. "Did something happen?"

Twilight tried to pull her leg away, but Rainbow's grip—"Oh, this is nothing; don't worry." Pause. "I just hurt myself a bit; Rainbow Dash is just overre—"

"Fell down the stairs. Totally whipped her butt."

"Oh, man!" Spike rushed over. "You okay, Twilight?"

"No really Spike, I'm fine; it's nothing. Dash, really I think I'm fine now." Dash worked a bit more then let go. She handed Twilight her socks. "...No thanks, I'm good." Dash chuckled.

"Well, I made coffee for Rainbow Dash while we were waiting; you want some, Twilight?" Indeed, there sat an empty mug without a coaster on the coffee table.

"No, I'm fine. I'll just get some milk for myself later, I think. They're still waiting for us, I think, so we have to get going right about now."

"Right," the two others in unison. Rainbow Dash stood up and stretched her arms. Twilight had sat up and grabbed her socks from the arm of the couch and was pulling them on. Spike had picked up a mug from the lamp stool and was sipping from it.

"I didn't know you drank coffee, Spike."

Dash dropped her arms. "Sure does!" She gave him a nudge while he was mid-sip. He swallowed.

"Um, yeah, I started a couple of weeks ago. I just got used to it, I guess."

"Takes it black like his chicks—am I right?"

Spike coughed a green spark; Twilight snapped, "Ranbow Dash!" She scoffed. "Come on, Spike, go get your shoes."

"Oh, am I coming?" He put down his empty mug.

"Um, I guess I'd just assumed..."

"And we're going over to, uh—"

"Right, like I mentioned earlier."

Dash butted in—"Well he doesn't gotta if he doesn't wanna, right?"

Twilight stammered—"Um—"

"No, it's fine; I kinda do wanna go, actually." He went to take his mug over to the kitchen. Rainbow Dash gave Twilight a wink. Twilight mouthed an annoyed "What?" but Dash just gave a "forget it" gesture.

Twilight started to get up. Dash held a hand to her. Prince. Bare shoulders like epaulettes. Twilight grabbed the hand. Dash pulled her up. Twilight glared. She jerked her head toward the stairs. Dash stared. A loud whisper—"The book, Dash."

"Oh, fine." Dash went over and picked up the giant book, climbed the ladder, then found the empty spot on the bookshelf.

Spike ran back in from the kitchen. "I just gotta get something from upstairs!" He trotted on up and shut the bedroom door. Twilight grabbed her journal from her bag and leaned against a wall. She opened it and found an entry from a few weeks ago:

...I didn't dare tell Dash that those were the novels I had been reading. I haven't told anyone. She asked—trying to seem casual about it—if I had anything "jucier." I showed her to that enormous archive of adult entertainment I'd yet to find a use for. I'd barely cracked it open myself; it always seemed somewhat carnal to me. I prefer my novels. Anyway, since it was late and Spike was asleep, I just told her not to go blabbing about it to everyone nor to let Spike see it. She left it with me anyway; I suspected she was too tired to lug that big thing home with her so late.

Rainbow Dash...of the people I've been finding myself infatuated with, she's the closest one to a guy. She's frank and rough; she's flirtatious; and—from what I saw today—she's a visual person when it comes to sexuality (I read that that's a masculine trait). I've heard the gang speculate that she might even be a lesbian. I always tell them that I myself don't like to speculate. But if she is, it might make things simpler for me, and being with the most masculine girl I know might make the prospect of being with a girl less awkward for me.

Twilight looked up. It looked like Dash had been doing some air-guitar thing while Twilight was reading. Twilight chuckled a bit. "Is that real?"

Dash quickly stopped and looked up—"Huh?"

"Is that a song?"

"Uh, yeah. Not mine. I couldn't remember the chords, though, so I just changed it up a bit...." Twilight couldn't help laughing to herself. Dash chuckled—"What!?"

"Nothing, Rainbow Dash." Twilight said smiling while she replaced her journal in her bag.

Spike came back down from upstairs with his drawstring backpack, and over to the front door to pull on his socks and sneakers. Twilight followed him there to slip into her loafers. Dash had started some leg stretches behind them. Twilight looked down at Spike, who had just pulled on his drawstring backpack, looking as if he was ready. She bent down and straightened his socks while he grumbled.

"Well," Rainbow Dash grunted, "I think I'm gonna go ahead and get a head start and let them all know you're on your way." She sprung over to the door and let herself out. She turned to them and gave a curtsy—"I shall await your arrival, milady."

Heart—

Spike stopped tying his shoe and waved—"See ya, Rainbow Dash!"

Dash waved back and jogged off—"See ya, slowpokes!" She shrunk into the distance and disappeared around a corner in a flurry of color.

Twilight hoisted up her bookbag. She sighed. "Ready?"

"Yup!" Spike started out ahead of her. Twilight stood for a second, then dragged herself out.

Pebbles cast long shadows like knives on the gravel road to the square. His sneakers, then her loafers kicked them aside as they went down. Twilight reached into her bookbag and pulled out her journal, opening it again to the red bookmark. The one sentence in violet ink. She turned back some pages.

Today, I had the closest thing to what I could call...

She turned back some more. Spike had noticed. "What's that for, Twilight?"

"Oh," she swallowed, "it's just for that report I have to do for Monday."

"Oh, okay. You started that a few weeks ago though, didn't you?"

"Well, it is rather lengthy piece of research."

"I'll bet." He was looking down at his feet as he walked. Anything else to say? Guess not. Twilight went back to her journal. One of the first entries, from a couple of months ago:

I'm just about to sent a letter to my mentor. I've written it down verbatim here:

Dear Princess Celestia,

I hope you've been well this past month. I remember you telling me the last time we met that if I had any questions about anything or if I needed some advice, I could ask you. Well, some things have come up lately, and I've been thinking about them. Anyway, I don't feel as if I should get too specific, but I was wondering what you could tell me about romance. I feel odd asking about this, but again, I've been thinking about it these past few months, and it's not something my books will help me with, so I decided I should ask advice of someone who knows me somewhat well. Furthermore—and I hope I'm not being too presumptuous—I would assume that you've had lifetimes of experience with romance compared to myself. I know you're quite busy right now, but I'd be delighted if you could get back to me soon and tell me what you know.

Your faithful student,

Twilight Sparkle

I've just sent it now. I hope that she isn't bothered with the forwardness of the question, that I'm interrupting her work, or that she doesn't think I'm being too nosy. Perhaps I'm worrying too much, though. She's been there for me for most of my life, and has always been happy to share her wisdom.

They walked out into the bustling town square.

The red lightfire—that burning planet cast rays of daggers over the town roofs. The white-hot aura—magnetic repulsion to the eyes—acid to the skin—ice to the knees. People scurried to and fro about the streets, going to do their things. Dinner plans with friends; plans alone; shopping; romance. These were the people of the day, the chosen of the sun. They only felt loved by the one star that our world, by chance, hung the closest to. They in turn feared the cool darkness of the stars—to stare into the Multitude. They feared the sun might leave them, that it might rest from its terrible rule to close its flaming eye and sleep for yet another night. Indeed, the sun had had its day, but it can't just leave quietly. The sun rises; it calls out these marionettes to dance in the day—and cruelly, it is the brightest and the hottest just before it at last sleeps.

Blind—eyes covered—a southern accent—"Guess who~!"

Squishy pillows pressed against her back—sugary scents swirled—Twilight laughed—"C'mon Pinkie, you can't fool me!"

The white hands peeled away. Her regular girly voice—"Aw, dang it!" Pinkie bounded around to meet them. Thick pink curls upon floury skin. Yellow dress; pink skirt; bounce. "But you totally didn't see me coming, though!"

"Ha, I guess not!"

Spike waved a hand. "Hey, Pinkie Pie!"

Pinkie dropped her pitch, "Yo, Spike mah man!" They gave each other tough-guy nods.

Twilight finished laughing, bookmarking the black journal and shutting it. "So what's up?"

"Oh, nothin'. Just saw you guys out here; decided to sneak up on you, but it looks like I suck." She giggled. "Y'all on your way to—"

"Yep. Just now."

"Neato! I was down there earlier today."

"Yeah, Rainbow Dash just came to get us."

Spike smiled, looking away—"Yeah, she was asleep all day."

"Not all day!"

Pinkie butted in—"Yeah, I just saw Dashie come running through here earlier; she told me all 'bout it."

"...All about it...?"

"Anyway, yeah, I was down there today, and she's all running around the place trying to get her work all finished for tomorrow and stuff—and she's all like—like...aw, never mind; I won't try to do the accent. Ha, I think you made me feel all bad about my impersonations now."

Twilight cocked her head with a chuckle. "Aw, don't feel bad...."

"Oh, I don't!" She jumped over to Twilight and hugged an arm around her. "It's not your fault you could sense me coming. I've suspected it for so long. There's something here, Twilight. We have some sort of connection. It's psychic. I think the universe wants us to be together. It must be," she whispered, "destiny...."

Fat breasts squeezing.

"Or maybe it's the smell of the cookies I've been baking all day."

Twilight blinked. "Uh—"

Spike poked his head from out behind her. "Cookies?"

Pinkie let go of Twilight. "Yup! For tomorrow. What could be a better occasion for sweets than a day of hiking and exercise?"

Twilight chucked. "Ha, I guess."

"Don't y'all worry though; I'm making some sammiches too! Also, yeah, I saw her today, and I think she said she was gonna try to bring cider."

"Not the hard cider, I assume. 'Cause Spike is coming with us."

"Nah, not this time, I don't think. But c'mon! It's not like Spike can't have little fun with us, is it?"

Twilight and Spike looked at each other, stammering.

"Aw, crap! I've kept y'all here too long! You two gotta get going! Here," she started her way through the town square, "I'll walk you guys half the way, but then I gotta get back to baking!" She hummed with a skip in her step and a bounce on her chest. Twilight put her journal back in her back, and she and Spike followed her.

The bloody sundisk had sunk below a mountain of cloud in the west. The clouds glowed. Sparkling pillows—a floating ocean—mammatus—rose adorned with crown of gold. The sky blushed.

Pinkie's hummed an expectant dominant harmony, but trailed off as she had forgotten the rest of the tune. In rhythm breasts bass-drum-bounced beneath stretching and tousling fabric.

"So, um, Pinkie, do you think you might, um, be free later tonight? 'Cause—"

"Oh, I'd love to hang out, Twilight! But I dunno. Gotta finish the cookies, make sure I packed everything, help close up shop, then I wanna get to bed early so I can be all pumped tomorrow morning! Also I'll need time for a shower tomorrow."

Soaked, matted pink curls—shampoo trickling through folds of skin—wet clay of Willendorf.

"So Twilight, did you finally do your shopping?"

"Um, yeah, I did that early this morning."

"Well it took you long enough! You've had weeks now!"

"C'mon Pinkie—"

"Spike, did she drag you along with her?"

"Um, yeah," Spike reached for his backpack, "but she let me pick some stuff out too." He opened it for Pinkie.

Twilight tried to butt in—"Pinkie—"

"Whatever, Twilight—Oooo, Spike, you gonna impress some lucky gal?"

Spike pulled his backpack shut. "Uh..."

Twilight found an opening—"Pinkie, Pinkie, Pinkie, come on, you know I've been busy!"

"Oh yeah, with the report. How's that goin'?"

"Pretty well, I think. Should be done this weekend with time to spare."

"Awesome! Then maybe you can get that ol' knucklehead outta those books and stop blowing us off!"

"I haven't been blowing you off!"

"Twilight. Come on. You know you have." Her deadpan face broke into a giggle.

Twilight couldn't help but laugh either. "But does everyone else say that?"

"Well," she put a finger to her lip, "from the careful data I've been collecting over the past day and the meticulous analysis I've been performing over the past few minutes, I've concluded that I feel like you've been blowing me off."

Twilight laughed harder. "Pinkie!"

"Oh, but c'mon! You see Rainbow Dash, like, all the time! And, and—"

"Wait—"

"Yeah, like every day! And you—"

"Wait, Pinkie, she comes to see me! I always tell her I'm busy—"

"Then you saw Fluttershy that one day—"

"Wait, how do you—"

"and like—"

"Pinkie, that was, like, one time for, like, ten minutes—!"

"And I guess you hardly ever see—"

"And we were both on a break!"

"Twilight, why don't I ever see you anymore!?" She made her lower lip quiver.

"Oh, come on—Pinkie..."

Quiver.

Twilight laughed. "Pinkie, come on—"

Quiver.

"Pinkie Pie—"

Quiver.

"Okay, okay, look: we'll do something this Monday—whatever you want! Promise! I'll even come over to your place!"

Pinkie beamed—"Ya~y!" She gave Twilight a big side-hug while still trying to walk, letting go after a couple of giggling stumbles.

"But it might be a bit later in the day; I might end up working late on Sunday and need a bit more sleep."

Spike poked out a concerned head—"You said you'd be finish—"

"Spike, you should join us too!" Twilight had turned to him, "You haven't really seen much of people this week!"

Twilight had been tapping her leg in a steady rhythm.

Pap, pap, pap, pap—

Spike stammered—"I mean...but—"

Pinkie turned to him in turn—"Yeah, Spike, what's up with that? Twilight bringin' ya down?"

"I mean, I'll come too! Y'know, I guess."

"Yippee! Then it's a date!"

Bounce. Blush.

Twilight was still tapping her leg.

Pap, pap, pap, pap—

Without a word, Pinkie joined in, patting her chubby belly in upbeat syncopations:

ta-pa Tap—pa-tap—

...ta-pa Tap—pa-tap, ta-pa Ta-pap, pap, ta-pap tipiTap—

Twilight looked at Pinkie Pie who nodded and grinned at her. Twilight smiled and kept the beat going.

Pap, pap, pap, pap—

Spike raised an eyebrow. "Did I miss something?"

Pinkie spiced it up:

...pa-tap, ta-pa Tap—pa-Ta-Ta-Ta—

...tap—pa-ta-pa Tap—pa-tap, ta-pa Ta-pap, pap, ta-pap tikitiki Tap—

Spike chuckled—"Um, guys?"

Pap, pap, pap—p-pap—p-

Twilight lost her beat—the rhythm fell apart in a clattering mess. Pinkie Pie doubled over laughing, cupping the folds of her jiggling belly.

Twilight smiled at Pinkie then sighed. Damn it, Spike...

"C'mon, guys, what'd I miss?"

Pinkie finished laughing, then she and Twilight looked at each other.

Twilight thought. "Um...it's kinda hard to explain...."

"So Twilight was over at my place reading, and she started tapping her book—she was all, duh-duh-duh-duh-duh-duh-duh-duh—

"No, but it was because the timer—"

"Oh yeah! We were baking something, and I had an egg timer on, and Twilight started tapping to it—"

"Right, right—no, but there were—you had two on—"

"Yeah, yeah—we had the two egg timers on—"

"—and they were in phase for some reason—"

"—like how they were going back in forth—"

"Yeah they were alternating—"

"They were like, duh-DUH-duh-DUH-duh-DUH-duh-DUH—"

"—and I dunno, I was just tapping along with it—then it sorta turned into a thing—"

"Yeah, where I would, like, tap the other beat, and she would tap the first one—"

"—and we'd just alternate—"

"—then, yeah! It sorta turned into a thing—"

"—we just kept finding opportunities to build on it—" They looked at each other again and started laughing. "I dunno, Spike, it's just one of those 'you had to be there" things, I guess."

Spike had just been staring at them. "Um, okay..."

"Aw, c'mon Twilight, don't say it like that! We could get him in on this too!"

Twilight's face went blank. "Uh..."

Pinkie snapped a finger in Twilight's face and took a serious tone—"Twilight. Seriously. Ya gotta share. Come on."

Twilight stumbled, then smiled. "Um...sure! Why not?"

Pinkie's tough-guy voice—"Yuss!" She giggled.

"Oh, wait, Pinkie, didn't you have cookies on?"

Pinkie blinked. "Craap~!" She started back to Sugar Cube Corner then yelled back—"Hey, tell ya what—I'll meet up with y'all in a bit! I'll pick up some shakes for you guys!"

"Oh, you don't have t—! Whatever—thanks, Pinkie Pie!"

Spike waved—"Thanks, Pinkie!"

Pinkie ran through town waving—"See you guys later!"

She's still waiting for us.

Spike pulled Twilight's arm. "C'mon, Twilight. She's still waiting for us."

Twilight turned back to the road and followed Spike.

The sun had settled behind the landscape beyond town. The sky was illuminated with a golden blue, and the cool of evening was ready to settle upon the world. The noise of the bustling townspeople had become a wash of pale white noise, hanging in a still cloud above them.

She retrieved her journal from her bag and opened up back to her bookmark. She flipped back to a page close to the beginning, from about a month ago. The handwriting was considerably neater.

I thought I'd write about one of the incidents I mentioned in my first entry—one that helped prompt me to start writing this in the first place.

My friend Applejack's family owns an apple farm, and when I have a bit of free time, I occasionally visit her when she works on it, to help with inventory, to give her moral support, or just to chat or give her an excuse to take a break from work.

A few months back was the harvest season at the farm—what the Apple family calls Applebuck season. I had been stopping by that week to offer my help in the harvest, but she always politely denied it. I've seen her deny help in a less graceful manner, but this time, she was herself. When she is herself, Applejack treats me like royalty. Mistakes are never my fault; I never have obligations; I am never there for her sake; she is there for mine. The way she treats me feels undeserved. At first, it makes me feel uncomfortable, but at times I get this heady, liberating feeling.

On one particular day of the harvest, I sat with her on a hill at her farm, while she finished loading a barrel of apples. I had brought some reading material in preparation for a report on comets and meteors. It was late afternoon. At one point, she had finished up her work on the one barrel. She had worked up a fair sweat by that point. I looked up at her and smiled, asking if she was done. She said just for a bit. I said "good for you," and went back to my reading for a second. Then she made a little fuss over letting me know that she'd only be taking a little break, and would get back to work shortly. I think I laughed to myself. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her walk over to the edge of the hill and look out over the orchard. She said something about how hot she had gotten working. She started whistling what sounded like some folk song. I can't remember it, but it was a nice tune. A moment later I looked up from my reading, and to my complete astonishment, saw that she had taken off her plaid button-up shirt. She hadn't been wearing a bra underneath. She simply stood there stretching, her tanned, freckled shoulders wrapped in white tanlines. She just wore some denim shorts, and I noticed her huge, powerful legs. My breath caught. I couldn't say anything. Then I just started stammering. She stopped singing and turned around, curious. She casually bore her naked white breasts.

It was the first time I had ever seen any of my friends naked. Well, I suppose she wasn't entirely naked. I've seen Applejack's brother, Big Macintosh, shirtless before, and while it is an enticing sight, I've never thought of it as nudity. I understand that it's an obvious double-standard to which I and all other women are unfortunately victim. It's acceptable for Big Macintosh to be shirtless, but not his sister. Furthermore, I've been sheltered. I've never been exposed to live nudity apart from my own in my life growing up in Canterlot, and while Ponyville is significantly more laid-back than Canterlot, I'm still not exposed to live nudity here. I used to bathe and occasionally take baths with Spike, but he's a child, and I was a child back then too.

Twilight looked up. Spike had his hands in his pockets and looked at the ground as they walked. They had left the town square, but they weren't nearly there yet.

I was also surprised that it was Applejack whom I had this first encounter with. I'd think that someone like Pinkie Pie would be the one to get too comfortable at some point, and let loose of her clothing. I've seen her go without a bra before, especially at times like slumber parties at my house.

At any rate, Applejack looked at me, confused, as I kept stammering, expecting it to be obvious to her. After some gesturing, she finally got it. She went over to get her shirt, bending over to show off her enormous thighs, and apologizing—as always, sincerely. "I didn't realize it would bother y'all," she told me. I replied, "It's not that it bothers me, it's just..." It didn't bother me. The sight of her, anyway. She was rather...lovely. I don't have the poetic craft to describe it. She had turned around and started putting her shirt back on. "You don't have to say nothing, Twilight," she said, "I don't mind at all." I couldn't think of anything to say by that point. "It's just that the ol' Apple family isn't too afraid of lettin' loose and showin' some skin. But if it makes y'all uncomfortable or if y'all don' wanna talk about it, it's fine by me." I thought about her little sister Apple Bloom, picturing her in her little overalls and a big bow in her red hair, then her hanging out naked with the rest of the Apple family. I said something about her, and exposing that sort of thing to her. Applejack responded, saying, "We never saw nothin' wrong with her seein' the way her brother and sister was born! And I think it might even make her feel better about herself. Less insecure an' all." I couldn't think of a comeback at the time. What she said made some sense. I still felt strange about it, though.

Twilight and Spike turned a corner.

But, had this happened a year before, I don't think I would have felt nearly as uncomfortable. Back when the one I was looking for was some sort of Prince Charming—back when I thought I knew what I was looking for. Then I started to notice girls. Now, I look at Applejack's body not just as my friend's, but that of someone with whom I could live intimately, and love.

As she finished buttoning up her shirt, I was saddened by the fact that I might never see her nude body ever again. There wouldn't ever be a situation in which I would. Or perhaps there would.... Perhaps all I need to do is ask her. It would need context, of course; I couldn't simply ask to see her undressed out of the blue. I could reveal my feelings to her. Maybe, if she or the both of us were a bit tipsy on cider. Or perhaps I could casually undress myself when we're outside together again, and see if she follows. She is rarely ever the type to outright object to something or someone—especially me. She makes me feel like I could make her do whatever I wanted. I could tell her to undress again, and she would. I could tell her to do the most perverted things I could imagine, and she would. I could whisper my deepest feelings into her ear, and she would reciprocate, truthfully. But...to what end? Then what?

Then again, perhaps she wouldn't obey me. Perhaps I don't know her well enough, and I'm projecting my own feelings. Perhaps she would reject me. Perhaps we'd never speak again, and I'd regret ever loving a woman for the rest of my life.

And so here I stand in the middle of these two possibilities. She could say "yes," and I would be faced with the myriad of possibilities in the freedom of choosing what I want from her. Or she could say "no," and I would be faced with one of the myriad of possible ways in which she could reject me. And I have no way of knowing whether she would say "yes" or "no."

They turned again and began on the path to her place.

By this point, I was feeling terrified. Could I stand to ever be near Applejack again? With me stuck in between these two possibilities. Or she me? Did I make her more uncomfortable than she made me with my fussing? Did she guess why I was uncomfortable?

Then she came by and sat next to me. Not too close. Her thighs squished together. She told me not to worry, as she wouldn't ask me what was wrong. I told her it was nothing; I was just caught off guard. She said it was her fault for not making sure it was okay with me, and that she wouldn't do it again. She paused for a bit, then laughed and said, "Well I bet y'all ain't never been skinny dippin' before." I chuckled and said "no." She told me it was no pressure, but recommended it to me. She said there was a lake near the orchard in which I could try it, and she'd make sure I had privacy if I'd like. I told her it sounded interesting. It did indeed sound interesting. I've never had the courage to take her up on the offer though.

Then we stood up and she gave me a big Applejack hug and apologized again. She remarked that it was a good thing this happened with me rather than with Fluttershy, for example, as there would be no telling how she might react. We laughed and joked about it for a bit. Then she asked me if I wanted to head home. I thought about it for a second. Then I told her I felt fine, and that I'd stay with her until she finished working for the day. She asked me if I was sure, and I assured her I was fine. I stayed with her reading for the rest of the afternoon, then I had dinner with her family, and I went home.

Now, thinking about it, I long for that Applebuck season to come again. Spending time with Applejack would be another way for me to avoid seeing her.

Twilight and Spike walked on a path lined with flower gardens, up to the door of Carousel Boutique—the home and workplace of her friend Rarity. A palace adorned with violet and gold. Twilight stared into the diamond-shaped window in the blue-painted door before her. It was too dark and distorted to see inside. She rose a hand to knock. Tremors. She looked over at Spike. He had fetched a clip-on bow tie from his backpack, and was busy fastening it on to the collar of his hoodie. Twilight wouldn't be bothered to help him.

Prélude II

Knock-knock-knock!

Twilight took a step back from the blue door of Carousel Boutique. Spike had finished clipping his bow tie on. Twilight yawned. She looked back at the sky, whose golden glow still lingered. The sun still hung somewhere behind the horizon, and it sunk slowly.

The doorknob turned. Heart—

Twilight turned around to see the door swing open. A white button-up shirt, wrinkled, sleeves rolled, upon them, sparkling locks of amethyst hung from a face of white marble. "Hello, Twilight!" She beamed.

"Hey, Rarity—"

"Hello there, Spike!"

"Good evening, Rarity!"

"Come on in, both of you!" They followed her inside. Fluttershy and Applejack sat together on the couch, with Rainbow Dash lying relaxed on top of both of them. Fluttershy wore a lime long-sleeved shirt and a brown skirt; Applejack wore a plaid button-up shirt with rolled-up sleeves and jeans. Rainbow Dash raised an arm. "'Sup, guys!" Fluttershy and Applejack both said hello, straining under Dash's weight.

The place was a mess; desks covered in rolls of fabric, sewing tools, and sketches. Rarity lugged a roll of fabric from one of the desks to put away. "I do apologize for the mess. Today's been quite a day!"

Twilight was looking around. "Don't worry, we don't mind; it's totally understandable. We're just sorry for being so late."

"Oh, you're not late; we never exactly arranged a time for you both to be here. And, honestly, it's given me some extra time to finish some things up before you got here."

Spike walked up ahead of Twilight, standing straight with hands behind his back. "Good evening, Rarity!" Already said that.

Rarity looked down at him. "Why, good evening, Spike!"

"I hope you've had a productive day working."

"Indeed I have! Thank you for asking! Oh, and I just love your little bow tie!"

"Thank you, Rarity."

Twilight had had her eyebrows raised and was looking away. She went over to the pile of girls on the couch. "So, how did this happen?"

Rainbow Dash pointed below her. "Hey, these guys make for good padding!"

Applejack grunted—"This is just what I get for tellin' Dash she's underweight."

Fluttershy peeped up—"I mean, she's not too heavy over here."

"Yeah, well y'all got the legs."

I could've been the one on that couch if I got here earlier.... Twilight laughed. "I'd be happy to take your place, Applejack."

"Naw, I won't make ya'll do that. I brought this on myself."

Rarity yelled over to the girls—"Does anyone know if Pinkie Pie is on her way?"

"Um, yeah," Twilight started her way back to Spike and Rarity, "she said she was gonna stop somewhere then meet us here."

"Good, good, so we'll just wait for her to get here before I unveil it, so to speak."

Spike elbowed Twilight—"She said she was gonna pick up milkshakes, right?"

Rainbow Dash threw a fist in the air—"All right!" She rolled over and tumbled off Applejack and Fluttershy, crashing on the floor. The girls broke out laughing.

Rarity picked up a cup of tea from her desk and turned back to Twilight and Spike. "Would you two like some tea? Coffee? Spike, I hear you drink coffee now."

Twilight patted Spike's shoulder. "No thanks, we're good. Spike had some earlier, and we both wanna get our rest for tomorrow.

Applejack had finished laughing and looked back at them. "What time are we all leavin' tomorrow? I thought the solar eclipse thing was at night."

"It's a—" Twilight and Rarity both started. Twilight chuckled and finished—"It's a lunar eclipse. And we have to be there early enough since the train ride to the site will be a couple of hours. The train leaves at eleven tomorrow, I think."

Fluttershy had stood up and was stretching. "Oh, so we can just do lunch on the train, right?"

"Uh-huh."

Rainbow Dash had decided to stick with her new spot on the floor, and Applejack had stretched out on the unoccupied couch.

Rarity finished a sip of tea. "That reminds me, Applejack, did you tell Sweetie Belle she needs to be home tonight?"

"Yeah, they're all havin' supper over at my place."

"Good, good, because she needs to be back in an hour so we can get her to bed."

Spike nudged Twilight's arm. "We'll be gone by then, right?"

Twilight smiled and rolled her eyes. "Don't worry, we won't be staying long." Spike sighed.

KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.

Rarity put down her tea and started for the door—"Oh, that will be Pinkie!"

KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.

"I'm coming, dear!" Rarity opened the front door and stood aside for Pinkie Pie's entrance. Pinkie stumbled in with her right knocking hand in a fist and her left hand clutching three cherry-topped milkshakes to her breasts. She blew a curl of hair out of her face.

"Jeez, there's gotta be a better way to carry all this stuff across..." She looked around the room, silently counting the people. "FUCK!"

"Pinkie—!" Twilight stopped herself.

Rarity shut the door. "What's wrong Pinkie?"

"Everyone's—I didn't—I only got—FUCK!"

Rainbow Dash jumped up—"Seriously, Pinkie?"

Pinkie started fake-crying—"I'm so so-orry, Rainbow Dash!" She gave Twilight and Spike their shakes while she blubbered.

"Don't worry about it, Pinkie," Fluttershy assured.

"Yeah, don' worry," Applejack picked up her hat from the floor and put her hat on her face. "We'll just all go together later!"

"Oh, okay!" Pinkie instantly better.

Spike handed Twilight the cherry from his milkshake. Twilight took it, rolled her lips around the shiny red bob and sucked it into her mouth.

Rarity had seen. "You didn't want yours, Spike?"

Twilight whispered, "He doesn't really like them." Spike kicked the back of Twilight's foot. Twilight glared at him.

Rarity hadn't seen. "Pinkie, dear—everyone, let's come gather around and see it now!" She strolled across the room and stepped behind a fold-out divider. Rainbow Dash, who had been playing red hands with Fluttershy, put her hand on Fluttershy's back and led her across the room. Applejack and Pinkie Pie stopped their conversation and started after them; Applejack looked puzzled at Pinkie, then Pinkie poked Applejack's freckled nose with a finger, grinned, and the two went.

"Now, since I did work so hard on this," Rarity started pulling a huge quilt from behind the divider—"If anyone drops so much as a crumb of food on it when we have our picnic, I will destroy you."

"Yeah," Rainbow Dash chuckled, "we'll have to leave you out in the mountains!"

"That goes for you too, Rainbow Dash," Rarity snapped. She brought the quilt before Spike and the girls. It was much wider than her arm's breadth.

Fluttershy whispered something to Rainbow Dash. Rarity struggled holding the quilt out for everyone to see. Fluttershy elbowed Rainbow Dash. Dash shrugged and stepped forward. "Here, I'll hold the other end, since I've already seen it."

"Why thank you, Rainbow Dash!" Dash grabbed the other end and she and Rarity stretched out the quilt to its full width. The quilt was the deepest blue, framed with silver embroidery. In the center, a huge, abstracted depiction of the red moon—a blood-red circle outlined with pale orange. Around the moon, in a circle, were stitched seven silver Art-Deco-styled stars, like eyes, amidst a web of flowery silver embellishments.

"Ooh, pretty!" Pinkie stood bent over looking at it.

"It's beautiful, Rarity!" Fluttershy had stepped forward next to Pinkie.

Rarity looked over the quilt. "What do you think, Twilight?"

Twilight stared into the blue space, the stars, the red moondisk. "It's—" she yawned, then laughed, "—sorry! It's-it's really nice, Rarity. Really. I love it."

Applejack pointed—"Is that really what the moon's gonna look like?"

Rarity nodded. "Mhm. Twilight showed me some pictures."

"How come it's red when it's gonna be night?"

Twilight explained, "Well, the sun, Earth, and moon will all be aligned. From the moon's point of view, the Earth will be completely blocking the sun, but some of the light passes through the edges of the Earth's atmosphere, so it lights the moon up red. It's the same reason why sunrises and sunsets are red."

"Huh. Not sure I get it, but it's alright. You sure put a lot of work into this, Rarity!"

"Let's just say it's my thanks to Twilight for coming up with the idea for this trip!"

"Yeah," Pinkie Pie turned around from the quilt—"and it was also her idea to do the schedule for the trip, but she still hasn't done it!"

Everyone looked at Twilight. She swallowed. "I mean, most of the day will probably just consist of hiking, right?"

"Yeah," Pinkie Pie grinned, "but you said we needed to figure out what trails we were gonna take and whatever before we get there!"

Twilight chuckled—"Pinkie, how do you even remember that...?"

Rainbow Dash poked her head out from behind the quilt—"Yeah, and I kinda wanna know who's bunking with who before we get to the cabin." She and Rarity began moving the quilt back to behind the divider.

Twilight swallowed—"Okay, don't worry; I plan on coming up with a schedule tonight. I promise."

Rainbow Dash and Rarity came back out. Dash fake-punched Pinkie Pie in the boob. "So hey, you gonna go grab us milkshakes or what?"

"Yup! But you guys are coming with me!"

"Oh," Fluttershy had gathered with them—"we could also do a late dinner if you all haven't already."

Twilight looked around the room. She spotted Rarity's cat, Opalescence, sleeping in a white ball of fur on the arm of the couch. Twilight took her milkshake and walked over to the couch, sat next to her, and started petting her white head. She purred and continued resting.

Rarity twirled across the room, giggling. "Oh, I am in such a good mood right now!" She dropped herself back and sat on the other end of the couch. Spike had followed her, then sat down with his milkshake on the couch in between Twilight and Rarity. Syzygy.

Twilight stared past the talking girls, into space, sipping her milkshake. I hope I don't have to write an entry complaining about today. Haven't been here in so long. This is where this all started—my second entry.

I have some free time today, so I decided to take this opportunity to write about the first incident I mentioned in my first entry. The events regard my friend Rarity, a talented fashion designer and the oldest of our group by a year. Writing about these events will be difficult, as I can't exactly transcribe the conversations verbatim, and my memory might be faulty in places. (I wish I had a spell that would help me remember. I have a spell that can stop things from fading from memory, but I know of no way to retrieve lost memories.) Nevertheless, I'll try.

Rarity had asked me to help model a dress for her. I've done it before, but for whatever reason I'm not usually the one she asks. She showed me the dress itself, and it was a lovely red—I don't have the fashion vocabulary to describe it beyond that. Anyway, we couldn't use the dressing room as usual for some reason—

"Oh, now Twilight, we won't be able to use the dressing room today; I'm using it to store some boxes for the time being—"

—so we just used one of those fold-up dividers so I could change.

"—would you mind changing behind the divider over by that desk?"

Twilight set her bag down by the door. "Uh, sure, that's fine!"

"Wonderful! I'll just hang it over there and I'll be waiting here whenever you're finished up!"

Twilight stepped out of her loafers and socks and slid them next to the doormat, then walked barefoot to the desk across the room. Rarity stood at another desk cutting some ribbon. "So, Twilight, what have you been keeping yourself busy with lately?"

"Oh, nothing much. Just some research. You probably wouldn't be interested."

"Oh come now, try me!"

Twilight laughed. "Well, I've started some research on comets and meteors for a report I'm going to do." She stepped behind the divider. The desk behind it was a mess of fabric and various instruments.

"That's right, we all went to see that meteor shower, didn't we. That was quite lovely."

"It was, wasn't it?"

"Mm. Oh, and there should be a clothes rack back there for you to hang up!"

"I see it, thanks!"

Rarity snipped her scissors loudly, humming. "I always enjoy designing things for you, Twilight; I really do enjoy working with that celestial aesthetic. It suits you so well!"

"Oh, well," not sure what to say, "thanks, Rarity!" Twilight looked at the red dress hanging on the divider behind her. "So what's this for?"

"The dress?" Rarity sighed, "Oh, just a little date I'm going on this weekend. It's nothing that special, really. I just haven't been out in so long."

"It's been so long, Rarity," Twilight started, "I've been meaning to ask, how did that date go?"

"Hm?

"The, the one, from way back—"

"Yes, that date! Well," Rarity sighed. "oh, he just wasn't my type."

"Really? Well that's too bad."

"Oh it's fine, dear. You know, I haven't even gone out since that night...."

"Sorry to hear that."

"It's certainly nothing for you to worry about, Twilight." Twilight the contrarian. Twilight smiled to herself and held her head up.

"HEY, RARITY!" Pinkie Pie screamed across the room, "WE'RE ABOUT TO GO GET MILKSHAKES; WHAT DO YOU WANT!?"

"Oh, nothing really." Rarity answered from across the divider. "Dinner...oh, and then there's going to be dancing!"

"Oh really?" Twilight had pulled off her argyle vest. "Sounds like a fun date! I always wished I knew how to dance. Don't think I've ever really danced before, now that I think about it."

"Really? I've always thought dancing was very befitting of you, Twilight."

Twilight laughed. "I'm not sure what that really means."

"Hm. I think I mean I just see you as someone who would look well on the dance floor. Maybe it's something you should try for yourself!"

Twilight started unbuttoning her shirt. "Dancing? Like dancing dancing?"

Rarity laughed. "That dancing, yes." Snip, snip, snip.

"I don't know the first thing about dancing! I couldn't tell you the difference between a waltz and a...um, something else; I can't even think of another dancing term I know."

"A waltz is just a type of triple-meter dance; so it's in three."

"'Three?' So like—"

"So like, 'one-two-three, one-two-three...'"

"Well, I mean I'd just have no idea what to do once I got out there on the floor." She slipped out of her shirt and hung it on a hanger with her vest.

"Oh come now, Twilight, you don't have to have taken lessons for what I'm doing. It's not like this is some professional ballroom dancing competition I'm going to."

"Have you ever been to one?"

"Well, an amateur one, yes, but that's not the point. I'm sure you'll find that if you just make yourself get out there, your body will do the rest, and it feels simply orgasmic. Maybe I could show some steps to you some time."

Twilight unzipped and dropped her jeans.

Rarity hummed a sigh. "I do hope I've kept up with my figure well enough, though."

"I am still trying to keep up with my figure, but I do appreciate the offer, Pinkie. And, oh—" Rarity stood up and strolled to the doorway where the girls were readying to leave. While the girls proposed that they could do dinner after all, Rarity reached for her purse sitting by the door and pulled out a little coin purse. "I was the one who dragged you girls over here, after all." She collected some coins and handed them to Pinkie Pie.

"No, Rarity, come on, you don't—"

"No, no, no, I insist!"

"You know, Rarity," Twilight called from the couch, "I could pay half or something if you want; the trip was my idea and all, and that's kinda why we're all here, you know—"

"You know, Rarity," Spike called from the couch, "I don't think you need to watch you weight; you look beautiful just the way you are!" Twilight and Rarity stared at him. The other girls were talking about something. Twilight grabbed Spike's milkshake, then the back of his green head, and shoved the straw into his mouth, burying his face in whipped cream, letting him suck up the milky white. She looked away with furrowed brow.

Rarity gasped, then giggled. "Why, thank you, Spike." She put her coin bag back in her purse. "And thank you, Twilight, but it really is quite alright." She strolled back over to the couch.

Rainbow Dash grabbed the doorhandle—"Hey AJ, I'll race ya!"

Applejack grinned—"Oh yeah?"

Fluttershy gestured to her skirt and chuckled—"I don't think I could really keep up in this—"

Dash smirked at Applejack—"You just walk with Pinkie then; this'll just be the two of us!"

Pinkie Pie pushed Rainbow Dash—"Aw, girl, you just know I'd whoop both your asses!"

Fluttershy laughed—"Oh, Pinkie!"

"Oh, Twilight? Do you see a little blue measuring tape back there?"

Twilight had just hung her jeans on the rack. "Um," She looked back at the huge clutter on the desk. She reached a hand to try to move aside some of it, then changed her mind. "You said it's blue?"

"Yes—it's just this little thing—"

"Uuh, I don't think I see it...."

"Here—" Rarity's footsteps came over. "Oh,"

Knock, knock, knock!

"Can I come behind? Are you still dressing?"

"Um, yeah, you can come behind."

"You sure? I can wait."

"No, no, it's fine."

Rarity slid back the divider a tad and stepped behind. "Sorry about that." Twilight stood there, with nothing but lavender bra and panties on her little chestnut brown body. Rarity went over to the desk and moved aside some of the clutter. Then she opened up a drawer and found the little blue measuring tape. "Here we are!" She pulled it out and shut the drawer. She glanced back at Twilight before walking out from behind the divider again. "You know, Twilight, if you don't mind me saying, you have a very nice body."

"Thanks Rarity!" Pinkie pocketed the money Rarity had given them.

A hand slapped Spike's shoulder from behind—he jumped and spewed from his mouth a quick tongue of green fire. He looked back at Applejack behind him.

"Woah, careful there, dragon boy! Alright y'all we're gonna head out now."

Spike put a hand to his chest. "Sorry, Applejack, my stomach's not feeling good today."

"It's alright hon'."

Rarity turned back and patted Applejack's shoulder. "Alright, well, thanks for dropping by, Applejack!"

"Sure thing!"

Twilight waved—"Bye, Applejack!"

"Later, Twi!" Applejack started for the door.

Rainbow Dash opened the door—"See you guys tomorrow!"

Applejack waved—"Bright 'n' early!"

Fluttershy too—"Bye, guys!"

Twilight, Spike, and Rarity all waved goodbye as the girls walked into the blue evening and shut the door. Rarity looked back at the other two. Twilight had gone back to petting Opal. Spike was wiping the ash and whipped cream from his face.

"Here Spike," Rarity stood up—"I'll go get you a napkin."

"Oh...um...well..." Twilight swallowed—"thank you, Rarity."

"I really do mean it, you know. I'd never lie to a girl about something like that." Snip, snip, snip.

"No, yeah, I really do appreciate it, though." Twilight fiddled with the fabric of the red dress hanging behind her. "No one's really ever seen my body before...let alone, you know, complimented it." Twilight's arm fell. She stared at the ground.

Snip, snip—. "Might I assume there's something on your mind?"

Twilight sighed. "Yeah, sort of."

Snip—. "Would you like to talk about it?"

Twilight took a deep breath. "So...I had to go to Canterlot to visit Princess Celestia a few months back, right?" No response. "So, while I was there...or, when I was about to come back...you know, waiting at the train station...and there was this little outdoor café over by the station. And yeah, I was waiting for my train there...I had a cup of coffee since I had to stay up that night and I have trouble sleeping on trains anyway..." She swallowed. "Then this guy comes by the café...and I see him coming—I'm sitting there reading—and then I think he saw me looking at him, and I just look away, you know...I think he smiled at me, but I don't remember...but he's this tall, pretty fit guy; I was pretty sure he was one of the Royal Guard...he didn't have a helmet on him though...anyway, when he was in line, I looked at him behind me, and I guess he saw me look at him again, and he smiled at me again; he definitely did that time...he had a great smile, by the way...then later, when he was done, I guess, he comes over...oh, and yeah, the café does the thing where they label your drinks, and I guess he saw mine, 'cause he came over and says that he saw what I'd gotten, so he figured he'd try it too...I didn't know what to say, but I sorta said something like "oh, really?" or whatever, right when he went over to grab napkins at the counter...then he comes back to my table and drops one of the napkins next to me...then he left...I look at the napkin, and he had written his mail address on it....

"So then, when I get home, I start freaking out, because I had to write to him now, since he didn't have my address so I couldn't just wait for him to do it, and I had no idea what to write...I started some drafts, but I couldn't come up with anything that sounded good...so eventually, after a day or two...I dunno, maybe more, I came up with something introducing myself and saying I'd like to meet him or whatever...." She sniffed—"And it's been, like, three months now...and I still...you know, I still..." Footsteps. "I dunno if I got the address wrong, somehow...or it didn't make it somehow—if the letter didn't make it...or if, like, he couldn't think of anything either...or if he didn't...if he just wasn't..."

Knock, knock, knock.

Rarity folded the divider back again and came in. Twilight looked up at her, standing in her underwear, leaning on the desk. Her mouth hung open. Rarity walked over. "Oh, Twilight..." She wrapped her white arms around Twilight, and hugged her bare skin tight. Twilight buried her face in Rarity's shoulder and cried.

"I...I..."

"Shhh..." Rarity patted Twilight's back. "Here, come with me." Rarity clasped Twilight's hand and led her to and up the stairs. Twilight kept her face buried in Rarity as they climbed. When they reached the top, she heard Rarity open a door—her bedroom. She walked Twilight across the room and sat her down on her bed next to her. Twilight was sobbing now, big globby messy lip quiver tears. "Oh, Twilight..." Rarity hugged Twilight, whose head slipped out of her grasp, falling down over Rarity's perfect breasts and into the soft of her lap. She buried her face between her legs and muffled her sobbing. Rarity started petting Twilight's purple head. She rocked her there, sitting on the bed. She started humming something. A song. Then she began singing the words. It was French. Perfect, fluent French. Mesmerizing French.

Twilight's tears soaked into the fabric of Rarity's pants in her lap. Her lap was wet now. Twilight made it wet. Somewhere there, under her head, hiding, mounds, and folds, and flesh, and wet—like her own. A tongue lapping? Could she? There in that lap, a head crying, cradled, a gentle rocking, a lullaby, and just above, swinging molds, heavy with loving milk. Then lips—a woman's.

And then: the hand she held in hers her whole life—a man's hand, tendons and bones—now a soft hand, a mother's hand. And then: the lips she kissed her whole life—a man's lips, those of a hero's face—now wore red, and whispered lullabies. Her body was moist all over.

Twilight's voice grew weak. She lay heaving shaky breaths. Rarity finished her song. She kept rocking her. A buzzing silence. Twilight heaved one big sigh. She could just sleep here. Everything felt tired now. Let her sleep for what she has endured.

Twilight turned her head and lifted it up a little. She sniffed. "What was that?"

Rarity was quiet. "Hm?"

"That song."

"Oh," she heaved a sigh, "just something my mother used to sing to me...."

Rarity came back to the room. She was humming that song. That song. She walked back to the couch with a handful of napkins and handed them to Spike.

"Thanks, Rarity."

"You're very welcome, Spike."

I've relived this encounter every day since it happened. The moment she knocked to come behind and see me, the moment she hugged me, the moment she cradled me and sang to me, she did all these things for me, for my sake.

I have this vision: I've found out the name of the song; I've learned how to sing it; I find some moment when we're alone together again, and I sing it casually around her. She'll surely recognize it. She'll be taken by my desire to share something of hers with her, and by the effort I took to do so—and then it will happen. I don't know what it will be, and I don't know what I even want it to be. Maybe I just want whatever I'm feeling to be vindicated. Maybe I Maybe I do love her. Maybe And I Maybe I do want us to embrace each other, rip off our clothes, and make violent love right then and there.

Spike finished wiping his face. He looked up at Rarity. "Hey, Rarity, what song is that?"

"Oh, it's just this little song I've known since I was a girl. It's called..." Twilight looked over and watched Rarity's lips squeeze and curl in saying the foreign name of the song. With all her might, she tried to commit to memory what Rarity said. Twilight reached for her bag at her feet and pulled out the black journal and a pencil. She turned to the first empty page and wrote down all she could remember of what she heard:

Sula pono...

Twilight shut her journal and started packing up. "Well, we should probably get back home about now. I still got some work to do, and Spike and I gotta pack for tomorrow."

"Okay then!" Rarity stood up from the couch. "I certainly won't keep you waiting here any longer." She put a hand to her head—"Oh, dear..." She chuckled.

Spike stood up—"What's wrong, Rarity?"

"Oh, nothing, I'm just having a bit of déjà vu right now."

Twilight stood up, throwing her bag over her shoulder. "Déjà vu is certainly a perplexing phenomenon. I think it can sometimes happen when one is tired or fatigued."

"Well, I've certainly been keeping myself busy. Oh, now it's reminding me of this dream I had last night..."

"What was the dream about?" Spike asked.

"Hm. I can't say I remember, Spike. One always has trouble remembering these things."

Twilight gave Opal a last pet to say goodbye. "You know, I have a spell for that, Rarity."

"Oh, really?"

"Well, it can't make you remember things you've forgotten, but it can keep something in your memory before you forget it."

"Interesting."

"I've never used it myself, though. You have to be careful with it, since if you're not careful you can make it so that you can't forget anything, and I think it can kinda overload your head if you do that. Nevertheless, I could still teach it to you sometime!"

"I would very much like that, Twilight!" Rarity headed for the door. "Well, you two should probably be on your way about now."

"Yeah, I guess." Twilight followed her to the door, then Spike.

"I'll see you two tomorrow! I hope you get all the work you need to do done by then!"

"I will. I'll get that schedule for tomorrow done, too."

"Well, don't overwork yourself!"

"I won't!"

"Bye, little Spikey!"

Spike waved. "Goodbye, Rarity!"

"Sleep well, Twilight!"

The sky was a color prison. Layer upon layer, fathoms high, of blue, bleak blue, monotonous, obsessive blue, thick and invisible. Massive tons of world, endless beyond horizons, imperceptibly sinking nowhere. Clouds hung frozen in towering columns of humid heat. The atmosphere compressed the air into suffocating gas. The sun had retreated, but she was still watching, somewhere.

Twilight Sparkle yawned. It made her eyes water. She blinked her moist eyes and walked with foggy sight through the still streets. She was in her bed already.

Spike looked up at her. "Hey, Twilight?"

Twilight smiled. She looked down at him. "Yeah, Spike?"

"You ever have that moment, when you're dreaming, where you're in a real place, but it doesn't look anything like it does in real life?"

"I'm not sure I understand."

"I mean...so like, say I'm at home in the dream, and I know that it's our house, but it doesn't really look like our house does in real life."

"Hm.... I can't say I have. I haven't even really had any dreams in a while."

"Well, I've had it a couple of times." He looked down at his feet as they walked. Twilight looked back to the road. "Hey, Twilight, do you know what dreams are for?"

He dreams about her. "Hm. I don't really know much about them. People have some ideas, but from what I've read, no one really knows."

"Has Princess Luna ever visited you in a dream before?"

"Nope."

"Yeah, me neither. I think it'd be kinda weird, you know?"

"Well, she only does it to people who need her help. And I'm sure she doesn't want to invade people's privacy either."

"I mean, I didn't mean I had something private going on!"

"Okay, okay, Spike, whatever."

Twilight looked back to the road. Up ahead sat a bench next to a lit lamppost. On it sat a girl, about Twilight's age. The girl was small, thin, with chocolate skin and short, black hair. She wore a lavender tank top and jeans. She sat there, smiling, with a book in her hand. She was writing in it. Drawing perhaps?

She again. Always on her own, scribbling in that book. To walk up to her. To ask for her name. To know her. At any other time of the day, she was forgettable enough to never pay mind to; but when seeing her, she was intriguing enough to ponder endlessly about. What was she writing?

Well, I've never kept a personal journal before. I know it's the stereotypical girly thing to do, especially when growing up, but I never did; I pretty much just stuck to reading. The only writing I do is for research; I can't say I do much personal writing beyond the occasional letter, and I certainly don't do any creative writing. (This isn't entirely true; I've accidentally broken into a more poetic register in my writing before, and I have a special violet ink that I use to write little bits of prose on scratch paper.) But since I've never kept a journal before, I'm not exactly sure how to start. I don't know whether I should write an introduction for myself, or just assume that "you" know all of my background. I suppose I'll chose the former, just for completeness's sake.

Anyway, my name is Twilight Sparkle. I'm twenty-one years old. I'm a magician and student under Princess Celestia. I live with my dragon-blooded assistant, Spike, who is twelve years old now and with whom I've lived my whole life (or his whole life, I suppose). For over a year now, I've lived in the small town of Ponyville under a commission to study friendship as a sociological phenomenon. In doing so, I've become close friends with five other girls around my age here in town: their names are Fluttershy, Rainbow Dash, Applejack, Rarity, and Pinkie Pie.

Now for the personal stuff, I guess: I've started this journal because of some recent events that have come up, regarding my "love life." I put quotes there because, as I already wrote, I spent most of my growing up years on my own reading, and thus I've never had a boyfriend in my life. I've certainly never had sex. I've never even kissed anyone. It's only these recent events that have brought into focus the starkness of these facts.

But I've felt inadequate about my life before. What complicates my situation even more is the fact that I've started to take what I can only assume is an interest in girls—and these girls just happen to be my five closest friends. I know I'm not a lesbian; I grew up liking boys like any normal girl would. But I can't think of a word for how I feel when I'm around them. I don't think there's a word in the English language for how I feel. It's not really physical attraction, and it can't be a crush. I've never liked a girl before, so why would I randomly start liking girls now? And it's not like my friends are what I could call my "type": Fluttershy is a pushover and impossible to open up; Rainbow Dash and Pinkie Pie are loud and obnoxious; Applejack is too—for lack of a better word—uncultured; and Rarity is, perhaps, too cultured.

But I definitely feel something, and it's clearly gotten distracting enough that I've taken a break from my studies to start writing a personal journal about it. No book I've read will tell what these feelings are. No book I've read will tell me what I should do. This is my story, and my story has yet to be told.

Twilight and Spike walked along the path in the dying evening light back to the library. Twilight opened the door and let Spike in before her. She took a look back at the sky. Venus had appeared, and shone perfectly through the blue, cloudy cloak. Twilight sighed and went inside.

Twilight shut the door behind them. She slipped herself out of her loafers and socks, and Spike kicked off his sneakers.

"Make sure those are by the door, Spike." Spike shoved them back to the mat next to Twilight's shoes. Twilight looked at her watch. "So, Spike..." she yawned, "it's almost 9:30 now...um, did you get something to eat while I was napping this afternoon?"

"I had a snack, yeah."

"Well...it's a bit too late to be cooking anything now, and I have to get to work, so could you just make yourself a sandwich or something?"

"Sure, I can do that."

"And you still have to finish packing, right?"

"Yeah, just a couple of things."

"Okay." Twilight started for the bookshelf. "Just make sure you don't forget your toiletries for the cabin."

"Okay, okay."

"Oh, and don't forget to brush your teeth before bed!"

"Yeah, I know!"

Twilight dropped her bag, turned to the bookshelf, and started skimming through. She felt her legs ache. The fall? All the walking? She grabbed the wooden ladder and rolled it with her over to the literature section. She climbed up and found "E" and "F." Her eyes darted around her collection; she rolled her fingers across the spines. She found a book: An English-French French-English Dictionary. She pulled it out and threw it into her bag. Another: French Language Music, The Folk Song, then Folk Songs of the Past Two Centuries. Nothing else up here. She started down the ladder, picking up a few more books as she went.

A drawer shut in the kitchen. Spike came walking out barefoot. Twilight turned around. He carried a plate with a sandwich on it. Doesn't usually eat lettuce. He took it across into the bathroom. He shut the door behind him. "He's getting to be around that age, right? We both know all that's gotta go somewhere." Twilight shook her head of the thought..

Twilight threw her bag back over her shoulder. She heaved her pile of books in her arms and started trudging to the stairs. She stopped. She lowered the pile to the ground, then snapped her fingers and the pile of books slowly rose to her shoulder height. With the pile floating next to her, she climbed the steps up to the bedroom and opened the door. Spike's clip-on bow tie and his half-eaten sandwich sat on the nightstand. Twilight walked in and set her bag and the pile down on the floor next to Spike's lower bunk bed. She pulled her black journal from her bag and flipped through to the page where she penciled in her note:

Sula pono...

Twilight took her journal and climbed up to her upper bunk, sat herself down, and summoned over her English-French French-English Dictionary. She opened it. The first half was the French-English section. She flipped to "S," running her finger down the list of words. She found the word "sujétion"—meaning "subjection," or "constraint"—but the next word was "sulcus"—same as the English "sulcus." There was no "sula" nor any word beginning with "sula." Not even a "sul."

Twilight furrowed her brow. Not surprised, though. I didn't even know where the separations of the words were when she said it. She looked at her watch. 9:47.

She turned a page back. There was no "su" entry. She found "suc," meaning "juice." Can't be. Twilight looked along, finding all the short words she could. "Sud"—she moved her finger down—"suer"—she wiped her forehead—"suie"—she grabbed her pencil and started writing these down. When she thought she had found enough, she summoned up her song books. She leafed through the glossaries and indexes, looking for matches. French Language Music had nothing. She lowered it down back to Spike's bed. Twilight rubbed the inside of her aching thigh. The Folk Song had nothing. She slammed its cover shut and sent it down. Folk Songs had nothing. She looked at her watch. 10:11.

Twilight slammed the last book shut. She threw it aside for it to plop down on Spike's bed with the others. She cupped her face in her hands and sat. Sitting in a train with them. Hiking, sweaty in the summer heat. Sitting under the stars with them. Sleeping in a bed with them. In the dark she couldn't tell them. There were no words, and no time to say them. In the dark she couldn't see them—if they ached for her—if they despised her. They danced like dolls around in her head. On strings—faceless dolls—they caressed her then looked away—they molested her then went on their way—they spoke of love then ignored her confession—the apophenia of obsession.

Twilight pried her face from her hands. She blinked her blurry eyes. She pushed herself off her bed and climbed down from her bunk. Her legs still sore. She looked across the room. Owloysius sat awake, perched by the balcony window, looking outside. Twilight walked over and petted him. She lifted his brown-feathered body onto her arm and opened the balcony door. Twilight raised her arm. He opened up his huge wings and took off from Twilight's arm, flapping over the scattered lit-windowed Ponyville houses.

She came back inside the bedroom. She walked over her podium and looked through a pile of scattered notes. She found a letter signed by Princess Celestia from two months ago. It ended with:

I hope this has been helpful, Twilight. If you have anything more specific you would be willing to discuss, you will always be welcome to the next time you visit. Simply remember to do what your heart tells you, and always be yourself, and love will surely find you.

Twilight crumpled up the letter in one hand, then tossed it aside onto the floor. She grimaced, rubbing her thigh again. Maybe she would be too hurt to hike. Maybe she could be sick tomorrow. Or she could have forgotten some work she has to do. An emergency trip to Canterlot. Something came up, she'd have to see Princess Celestia. She might even go to Canterlot, just to make it more plausible. See Princess Celestia. Tell her everything. Ask for a reassignment.

Twilight walked to her nightstand and picked up her quill and ink. She sat on Spike's bed, taking her journal and turning to the first blank page.

"Sometimes I feel that when she sent me to study friendship, Princess Celestia intentionally set me up to end up in this situation. After all, what force exists that prevents friendship from turning to love? If there isn't one, then shouldn't we all expect friendship to inevitably become love? What kind of friendship is it that allows us to be there for one another, care for one another, and confide in one another; while preventing us from touching one another, pleasuring one another, and loving one another? And what kind of friend will care for me, but only to an extent?

Twilight sighed. She started yawning as she replaced her quill and ink back on the nightstand. She reached over for "French Language Music" again and looked through the "S" section of the index. Still couldn't find anything. She dropped it there, left open ,and laid herself out on Spike's bed. Just then, the door opened, and Spike walked in.

"Hey, what are you doing on my bed?"

Twilight put her hands on her face. "My legs are still a little sore, and I didn't wanna climb up to mine."

"You gonna make me sleep on the couch?" Twilight just groaned. "You alright?"

"No, yeah, really, it's just my legs, and I'm tired."

Spike looked down at the books Twilight had thrown on his bed. "This isn't what you're working on, is it?"

"Right now, I'm laying down, so no."

Spike found the opened index page. "Is this about Rarity's song?"

Twilight just laid there. "I was curious."

Spike sat down and looked down through the page. "This one? 'Sir la pont...ow pies...des...reeves?'"

"No." Twilight sighed. "I couldn't find it."

"I think this is it, Twilight. You sure?"

"Yes. Wait, what was the first word in that one?"

"'Sir.' Or 'soor' or something."

"Spell it?"

"It's 'S,' 'U,' 'R.' But Rarity told me how you don't really say a lot of the letters in French words, so I dunno."

Why'd she tell him that. "Yeah, that's not right. It can't be. Wait, hold on," Twilight started to lean up, "could you hand that to me?" Spike lifted the open book to her and pointed out the entry:

"Sur le Pont au Pays des Rêves"

Twilight sounded it out. "Sir la pont...sur la pont...sua la pont...sula pon—" Twilight pushed herself off the bed and walked over to her podium with the book, turning to the page given in the index. She found the words. All of them. "Sur le Pont au Pays des Rêves": a children's song. She ran over and leaped onto the bed, snatching her journal, quill, and ink, and running them back over to the book. She ripped open her journal to a random page—I've relived this encounter every day since it happened....—then scribbled in the foreign words as legibly as she could in the margins.

Twilight slapped her quill down on the podium. She took a deep breath. She beamed. Her heart bubbled. She spun around on a naked foot and strolled over to where Spike sat confused on his bed. She leaned over and kissed his green spiky head. "Thanks, Spike!"

Twilight turned again and threw open her closet door. She grabbed a tiny red suitcase that sat under her gala dress and dragged it out of the closet. "Are you finished packing, Spike?"

"Um, yeah, almost."

Twilight dragged her suitcase over to the door, picked up the paper bag of sunscreen and summer clothes, and carried them all downstairs, setting them by the couch. She started back for the stairs, but not before a stop by the bathroom. She dropped her skirt and panties and sat on the toilet.

I'll find some moment when we're alone together again, and I sing it casually around her. She'll be taken by my desire to share something of hers with her, and by the effort I took to do so—and then it will happen. I don't know what it will be, and I don't know what I even want it to be. Maybe I do want us to embrace each other, rip off our clothes, and make violent love right then and there.

"I always wished I knew how to dance." "Maybe I could show some steps to you some time. It feels simply orgasmic. Can I come behind? If you don't mind me saying, you have a very nice—"

Twilight squeezed her hands between her legs and clenched her thighs together, her body squirting her fluids into her hands, convulsing, seizing—her head fell back, she smiled, eyes closed, to the air—she rubbed her body, riding it, on her hands, fingers, all the way through.

Twilight only bothered to wipe her hands clean before leaving the bathroom. She sighed and climbed the back up the steps. She opened her bedroom door.

No.

Spike sat on the bed, the black journal in opened in front of him.

"SPIKE!"

Spike jumped—a green flame flew from his mouth and enveloped the pages.

"SPIKE!" Twilight rushed over—she grabbed the journal from him—hot—she dropped it to the wooden floor—how—put it out—she dropped down and looked at the green-burning open page—her scribbles: "Sur le Pont de..."—she threw her hands up to her head—a violet glow—the flame was consuming the page—brighter—the ink almost faded—SNAP.

All of the words were there—they remained—etched before her eyes. Twilight sighed. Her vision blurred as she moved her eyes. She held her hands toward the book on the ground and shot out a burst of white chemical spray. The fire vanished.

She turned around. Her head ached. The words were still vivid in her vision. Spike had fallen to the ground. His mouth hung open; his eyes watered.

"I...I..."

Twilight looked down at him. "Spike. I want you—" Searing—knives—her head—the whole world blurred—she clutched her forehead—turned and fell back on her bed.

Spike jumped up—"Twilight, what's wrong?"

"The—" Twilight grimaced—"the memory—the memory spell—my head—" She dragged herself into the bed and curled up as the world started to fade. "I just—just need—" Her heartbeat echoed throughout her body and around in her head.

...dk-dk, dk-dk...

"—water—"

Spike ran out of the room and down the stairs. Twilight slid her lids open. The world pulsed in color. It rocked and spun. It melted. Her eyes watered. Ahead of her, her closet door hung open. Her blue gala dress hung inside. It was turning grey. Everything grey.

...dnt-dnt, dnt-dnt...

Spike rushed back in with a dripping glass of water and shoved it into Twilight's face. Twilight's arms flailed around until she grabbed it, and drank full the glass, spilling it all over her face. She finished it and gasped. Her arm fell over the edge of the bed and the glass dropped and shattered.

"Twilight!"

Spike faded.

Her room disappeared.

Clouds consumed everything.

Blue.

Grey.

Black.

At last, sleep.

...

..."T— —t!"...

...

...dm-dm, dm-dm...

...

...dm, dm, dm...

...

I. Pastorale

...

Black waters. Before birth, beyond death. The wombdark.

...

Life. A stir. Breaths. Deep breaths. Air. Cogito. A hand.

...

You still live, no?

...

You laid yourself back onto the ground and looked up at her.

...

Know I her? Yes, that one. Childlike and motherly she. She staring off somewhere. The distance was fog, and mountains there, haze, and the sun glowing afar far off across.

...

Hair of rose, like skin, and water, it fell upon her shoulders and shined. She wore something. She sat plump spilling forms all around, voluminous, pink flesh. A sweater. She sitting in the grass. A skirt.

...

They upon the grassy hill, mighty god mountains like ocean waves watching all around.

...

She said something.

...

Still they there ever sat. Still. Among the mountains there. And in the still abyss. Breathing the mindwaters.

...

She laid herself back next to you. You and she looked up and stared. Blue. Grey. Sky and ocean forever. On and on the unity of that blue morning night.

Not a sound. Nor word. In that tender silence you and she.

You turn your head to hers. Her pink head to yours. Eyes curious. Staring. Wondering.

You yearn to put your head to hers, to drink up the desires of her mind and know them.

And your heart begins.

Her arm rested on the ground, beneath her full breasts. Her palm face down. That hand right before you. Her soul overflowed, and spilled from those fingertips.

What shall I do?

Yes,

Who then shall move first?

Your hands ache to move. Your lips, arms, legs, your flesh drowning in the foamy waiting. Bubbles popping in the stillness. The silence waits.

Your hand breaks free. Hers is so far. A finger brushes hers. Her body jumps. Your soul boils. Hands resting against each other. You and she frozen in the burning. Her fingers stir and. They curl around yours and.

Then:

the sweet,

righteous,

glorious...!

Twilight Sparkle blinked. She clenched the hand that held hers. I know who this is. She stared into the eyes in front of hers—Fluttershy's—big green emeralds. That's right, the trip. The picnic—the eclipse. We must be here now. Like trees, they beneath towering flower green stalks, towering flowers, beneath the backlit rosy shadows of the nectar petals. A dream? Morning dew beads on bobbing grass blades wet her clothes. I can feel? The warmth of the rising summer sun pressed against her back. So bright.... How am I still asleep...?

Fluttershy clenched Twilight's hand back. The cool beating life skins pressed together. Love hands. Lover hands. Twilight lifted her heavy head forward, face forward to Fluttershy's white. Her smooth white under pink, staring from green—her head inched for Twilight's. Twilight felt her own lips there, quiet morning air, ocean waves, brushing against her fatty red petals—she gazed into Fluttershy's, dolce, pink, pursed. Their eyes fluttering, quivering, trembling shut. Twilight's head still inched forward, there suspended, still touching nothing.

Then, the brush, the moist, the numb of another's lips. Lips not hers. An other's lips. Moist, gummy, pressing, weak and unsure. Twilight brought her shaking, tingling arm up over around Fluttershy's shoulder, wrapped it around her head, pressed it towards her against hers. She gum-pressed smatched her lips on Fluttershy's upper. Fluttershy tried the same. They both tried to switch back. Twilight wrapped her lips around Fluttershy's upper again, Fluttershy found her place, and the girls learned all the steps together, how to smack together. Like eating each other. Hungry mouths smothering one another together. Hungry, wet, saliva love—physical, worldly love.

Fluttershy opened her hungry mouth further, she slip squeezed her tongue out from her lips and poked between Twilight's pursed. You greedy... Twilight widened her shaky lips and let her slide in. Fluttershy's little snakey nub poked around, looking—Twilight's tongue, her whole mouth seized up, frozen, tingling, unsure—she tried moving her tongue around somewhere—Fluttershy's found it, sliding around over it, then latch-wrapped around it—Twilight understood; she tried wrapping back; she tried licking it, lick-mixing their spit together, tasting each other, tongues dancing. Fluttershy pulled her tongue back a bit into her own mouth; she went back to omming Twilight's mouth in writhing, agape lip contortions. Twilight gave it back to her, eating up Fluttershy's open mouth of stretchy-squishy lips. She shoved Fluttershy's tongue back, back into her mouth; she wrestled it down and around; she coiled herself around it, strangled it. Then it broke the sticky, smacky silence—a moan—a muffled moan—"mhhng!"—Fluttershy's darling hungry moan—her quiet cooing moan—

Twilight pushed with her other arm off the ground, trying to shove Fluttershy's big body over—she resisted, still trying to munch on Twilight's mouth—Twilight started to roll over on top of her—she understood and rolled over on her back under her. Twilight buried her face in Fluttershy's mouth and they both together ate each other up. She lifted her hand up from the ground and brought it to Fluttershy's breast—she stuffed it into the squishy mound of sweater—Fluttershy took another solo—muffled—"mmmpf!"—Twilight rubbed, squeezed, kneaded, trying to find what Fluttershy would enjoy—she brought up her other hand to the other breast and tried to do the same.

Fluttershy tried to grab at her sweater—she pulled—then started to try to nudge Twilight away—Twilight muffled—"Mph...?"—she got it, then pulled herself away from her face—a string of sparkling saliva hung between. Fluttershy grabbed the end of her green sweater and pulled it up—rolled it up over her breasts—pulled her head out of it—She just had a white bra underneath. Fluttershy pulled her arms behind her back to undo it, as Twilight reached back to do the same—Fluttershy stopped to let Twilight do it—Twilight's fingers fumbled around blind behind, rolling over her sticky sweaty pink skin. Twilight's little heart pounded—big paining tympanum drum beats—she heaved out her quick quiet breaths, laying there squishing atop the full, rolling hills of her body. Twilight still searched around with her hands. Fluttershy reached her arms back behind her back, tried to nudge at Twilight—Twilight persisted; Fluttershy stopped to let Twilight continue.

Twilight stopped fidgeting, she let out a gasp and fell back into Fluttershy's body—Fluttershy reached her arms back again; she undid the hooks herself; she pulled the straps over out from under her back—then Twilight pulled Fluttershy free from her shoulder straps. Just the cups hung there on her breasts. They just sat there, rippling puddles. Twilight stared at them; Fluttershy stared at Twilight. They both reached for them, then stopped. They reached again, stopped, then Twilight went ahead and grabbed the cups, and peeled them away from Fluttershy's watery white skin, leaving pale marks under them. Her big pink nipples popped out and stared up at Twilight, who finished pulling the white cups all the way off those breasts—they jiggled—then tossed the bra to the grass.

Twilight stared at them, holding herself up with her arms on the grass. Her mouth hung the slightest bit open. She looked back to Fluttershy's burning red face. Then she buried herself in again, munching on her mouth, throwing in quick tongue licks—they both with quiet moans. She pulled her arms up from the grass and on to Fluttershy's white sweaty breasts—she massaged, kneaded; she pressed her nipples in, flicked, tickled them—Fluttershy squeaked—she pulled her face away and dropped her head to the side, eyes shut, biting her lower lip. Twilight pulled herself down to Fluttershy's breasts as she touched them. She inched forward—just a bit—stopped—again—then gave a nipple a quick lick—Fluttershy squeaked again, louder. Twilight opened her mouth and wiggled her tongue back and forth over the nipple—Fluttershy let out a long, strained, quivering moan.

Twilight clenched her legs together, rubbed them together, with Fluttershy was already writhing beneath her. She noticed she herself wore jeans—Fluttershy in her brown skirt—she wrapped one clothed leg around Fluttershy's bare—she rubbed herself on it as she tried to keep licking her nipple; her legs and feet writhed, contorted around; Twilight got Fluttershy's naked leg all the way between her jeans; she rubbed on it, dug herself into it, feeling of herself already soaked in her own dew. She pulled one arm away from Fluttershy's breasts, brought them down to her leg, touched her naked thigh—Fluttershy jumped—she threw her head up and looked over at Twilight. Twilight brought her whole palm onto and around Fluttershy's thigh—she rubbed it a little—brought her hand up and down it, rubbing circles over it—she brought it higher up.

Fluttershy tried to sit up from under Twilight—she tried to reach a hand out to stop her. Twilight didn't budge—she looked into her eyes—she rubbed herself harder on Fluttershy's leg—she stared back into her, mouth barely open. She gave up, fell back to the ground. Twilight dug her crotch into Fluttershy's knee—in slow rhythm she rubbed herself—she shut her eyes, let out louder and louder moans.

Twilight felt a wave in herself. She dug in harder. Then, there, the storm hit Twilight—she laid there above the nothing in the midst of the crashing waves—body twitching and contorting in the dark—jeans flooded. She opened her eyes—the grass began to fade into a black fog—Fluttershy too—they disappeared. Her heart froze. Her eyes darted around. Even she began to fade, she tried to feel around with her hand amidst the storm, looking for Fluttershy, but she couldn't give her back what she had stolen from her.

Then Twilight realized—she looked back up—in her hand there, clenched, was Fluttershy's hand, shrouded in the fog, wet with an ocean of dew and sweat. Twilight's first hand. Their first hands. Twilight leaned forward, and as her mind pulled away, she found in the darkness Fluttershy's invisible lips, and they kissed themselves away.

Intermezzo I

Swirling, tumbling mist. Then clear. The hill had become night. The stars were points of sparkling ice in the black infinity, hung in galactic circles. In the center, beholden to but one alone, the perfect gaping light of the white moon. That knee-bending silent planet.

Twilight found herself alone on the hill. She pushed herself off of the grass and stood up. She stared in—out—through forever. She looked down. She wore over her underwear night robes—glowing with their own stars. She clasped her hand: skin. Through her robes: wind. She felt. Still a dream?

The ground softened, then almost gave in beneath her feet. A dream. Then how...

A gust of ice. Up. A piercing silhouette descended from the moon's light. Hooded, caped, but pure black against the moon. Descending further, then landed upon the hill ahead of her. Twilight started towards it, then appeared just before it. A woman. Navy blue adorned full military dress, black cape thrown over one shoulder, saber by her side. She brought up her gloved hands to remove her hood. A towering crown of true black. Long, flowing, mystical blue hair of stars. Face like the warmth of the pale-white moon. Eyes like crystal-blue event horizons of the soul. Princess of the Night.

"Princess Luna... She couldn't tell if the words actually came out.

The princess smiled. "Well met, my child." Her soft commanding voice. "How hast thou done these days?"

Twilight stumbled towards her. "Princess! Princess Luna! I-it's been so long!"

"Indeed, it has. What cruel fate hath brought us to wake while the other sleepeth?"

Twilight chuckled. "Sometimes I wonder that myself."

Princess Luna gazed around the misty night hills. "This is a beautiful scene thou hast created."

Twilight looked around too. "I made this?"

"Some deep part of thy mind findeth this to be beautiful, and thus painted it for thee. Whether or not that part of thy mind is part of thyself is a fickle question."

Twilight looked back to Luna. "But what are you doing here?"

"I come here for the same reason I visit all of my subjects: to help those in need."

"Y-you think I'm in need somehow?"

"I know thou art, Twilight Sparkle. I have sensed thine anguish as thou sleepst."

"So...does that mean you've been in my dreams before...?"

"I cannot say that I have. Thou hast lately dreamed very little."

"Yeah, well, I haven't slept much lately." Twilight chuckled.

"But I do indeed know that thou art in need. And if my sister in fact knoweth as well, then she hath certainly not shown that she does."

"But wait, I'm asleep now, right? How can I know that I'm asleep but not wake up?"

"I take care not to disturb the rest of my subjects when I visit them. More importantly, thou art unable to wake for thou hast unsettled thy mind with thy magic. It hath been fatigued too much for it to awaken."

"So...that means that I'm the one who did this...."

"Indeed."

"But that means...that means that you saw everything that I was dreaming about just now...."

"Indeed."

"Oh...." Twilight took a breath. She chuckled. "Sorry. It's just a little embarrassing, is all...."

"Twilight Sparkle, here, there is nothing to be ashamed of. This is the land of dreams: a world without the terror of the boundaries of other people. There are no secrets. There are no fears. This is the place where our minds melt together. Therefore fear nothing, hold back nothing, let it all out."

Twilight stared into Luna's infinite eyes. She laughed again. "Thank you so much, Princess Luna."

Luna raised her gloved hands to her head and lifted her crown from her head. It faded into a black mist. "Thou mayst address me here as simply 'Luna,' Twilight Sparkle."

"Okay. Sure thing."

Luna sat herself on the grassy night hill, and beckoned for Twilight to sit by her. Twilight climbed up the hill and sat herself a few feet away from the princess.

Twilight turned to Luna. "So, do you know everything that I'm thinking while you're here?"

"I know whereon thou thinkest just as much as thou dost I. I can know only what thy mind chooseth to show me."

Twilight looked down at her knees and smiled a little. "I guess that makes me feel a bit better."

"I respect thy privacy, Twilight. However, I am here for thee. It is in your interest not to keep secrets."

"I won't. I mean, I guess I'll try not to."

Luna stared out across the black night landscape. "So it would seem that thou hast fallen for your friend, Fluttershy."

"...Yeah, I suppose."

"Hast thou not, then?"

"...I dunno. Maybe she's just too perfect. I mean, maybe the two of us is too perfect.... She's never had a boyfriend or girlfriend before, just like me.... I think that's just the kind of person I want to be with."

"How would it be to be with someone else?"

"I don't want to be with someone who's done it all before.... I don't want to be some inexperienced burden on someone else.... I liked what me and Fluttershy had back there. It was...just really nice...."

"...'But?'"

Twilight looked up again at her. "'But?'"

"It seemed as if something had happened—like thou were uncomfortable."

"Back then? Right, you saw all that...."

"You two were very beautiful."

Twilight looked back down and laughed. "Um, thanks, I guess!" She couldn't control her smile. "I mean, it's not like it was me and a real person out there. She was just a projection of Fluttershy in my head...." Twilight looked up to the stars. "...Why would I dream about the two of us...doing that...and not dream about it being perfect...? Like how...like how...you know how it was kinda weird at first, kinda awkward...then all that stuff at...at the end, or whatever...."

Luna looked up with her. "At times we dream of things whereon we worry. And at times our dreams serve to ready us for these things where they to happen in reality."

"Well," Twilight smiled and looked back to her knees, "I don't know how good practice that was. I don't exactly know what Fluttershy...or anyone really, would do in that situation...." She put her head on her knees, staring out past the hills. "Why wouldn't I know something like that about her? Or everyone else?"

Luna looked to Twilight. Twilight buried her face in her knees. Then she looked up and turned to Luna's eyes, then turned her eyes down. "I mean, it kinda sounds like a stupid question, but now that I'm thinking about it, it's really weird. I have this really close circle of friends, and I've learned so much about them...but there are things about them I'll never learn if I just stay friends with them.... I'll never...I'll never know what Fluttershy kisses like.... I'll never know how she likes to be touched.... And I'd very much like to know those things, especially," she smiled, "especially so I don't screw up in real life like I did with dream-Fluttershy."

"So what happened, then?"

Twilight turned and put her face back in her knees. "I-I think I made Fluttershy feel uncomfortable. Like I went to far, or too fast or something. It's not like I know what I'm doing anyway, and it wasn't even with a real person. I mean, I said that the two of us might be too perfect—because we've both never dated and everything—but I don't know if it's possible for me to get the real Fluttershy to open up...."

"'Open up?'"

"She might be to reserved for it to work between us."

"Twilight, thou art a smart child. Thou knowest that no matter how much one might wish, no perfect person will ever exist. Thou knowest that no matter what person one might meet, one wilt always in that person faults find."

"'I'll always find faults in them...?' But," Twilight looked at Luna, "there...I know there's a perfect person out there...."

"Who, then?"

Twilight looked away again. "I-I shouldn't have brought that up. It's not relevant anyway."

"Come, tell now."

"...I-I was just thinking about...about my friend...my friend, Rarity...."

"The fashion girl?" Twilight nodded. "Yes, I remember her. Thou sayest she is 'perfect?'"

"I...I dunno. She just is. I don't really get it myself."

"Well then, why is it that thou dreamest not of her? Shouldst thou not be instead with her?"

"Maybe...I mean, I don't exactly control my dreams. There's no point in me dreaming about her anyway; it can't ever happen for real."

"Why not?"

"I-It just can't. There's—someone..."

"Someone?"

"It's just impossible. There's no way I could ever be with Rarity." Her heart dropped down her throat like iron. "But, I'd really like to...."

"Doth she know that thou lovest her?"

"'Love...?' I-I...no. She doesn't know that—that I—she doesn't know that."

"Dost thou plan to confess her?"

"'Confess...?' Confess to her...?" Sur la Pont... Twilight stood up. "...I have get out of here. I have to wake up."

"'Tis impossible, Twilight."

"How can I get out of here?"

"Thou canst not; thy mind must rest!"

"But, there's something I have to do!"

"What, then?"

"I-I uh..." Sur la Pont...

Luna had stood up and put a gloved hand on Twilight's shoulder. "No secrets."

"...I-I have to get hurry and get back, so I can write something down, before I forget it. I have to. If I don't, s-she and I will never..."

"Didst thou not say 'twas impossible?"

"...Yeah, I did. But..." Sur la Pont...

Luna sat back down on the black grass. "I am certain thou wilst not forget it. It is the reason thou art unable to wake in the first place, is it not? Thou hadst strengthened thy memory, hadst thou not?"

Sur la Pont... "I guess.... There's no way it'll happen anyway."

"Then there is no need to hurry." Twilight and Luna stared off into the black. Twilight sat herself back down next to Luna in the dreamgrass.

"I mean, she's beautiful...and kind...."

"Yes, indeed."

Twilight's body jumped—her head darted around—"Wait, what just happened?"

"Most likely thou hadst slipped into a lower state of sleep while we talked. We talked for probably a minute without you being aware of it."

"I-is that normal?"

Luna chuckled. "Little of this night's sleep will be normal. But 'tis nothing to worry over."

"Okay...what were—"

"I had asked thee about Fluttershy."

"Right. I mean, okay."

"Dost thou still love her?"

"I mean...So, yeah, the reason I said the two of us is too perfect is because I found out that neither of us has ever been in a relationship or anything with anyone before.... Yeah, and for all I know, we're the only two people our age in town who haven't before.... But..." Twilight sighed. "I dunno. I...I-I think I've...I think my problem now is that I like all of my friends now. I can't stop thinking about them. And I have to see them everyday...and..."

"Thou canst no longer stand to be with them?"

Twilight nodded.

"I see."

"I don't even know how that should be possible. I thought the whole point of this whole stupid love thing was that there's supposed to be one person that you want to be with, or whatever.... And I can't just pick one. Why can't all of us just be together anyway? Like, "together" together I mean. I don't see why not."

Luna stared off into black space. She sighed. "Long ago, before any one of you was ever born, when I still lived on this Earth, I met my first lover: a young dragon-blooded man. He was a man of great power, and the people of Canterlot did fear him. And so he was forced to live in a cave high in a mountain, and walk the night, living off the scraps of those who walked the day. I was the only person he mighteth find awake at night, and so we met in the light of the moon.

"One night, as we walked through the woods, we came upon a water sprite swimming in a lake. She was a beautiful young thing, blue, webbed, her sleek naked body. The three of us made love there on the lakeshore. From that night on, we would meet together on that lakeshore, all three of us together, sometimes simply I and the dragon-blood, sometimes simply I and the water sprite. He and she could do things mere men and women never could." Luna smiled, shifting her legs as she wrapped her hands around her

knees.

Her smile faded. "One night, I had met with the water sprite on the lakeshore, just the two of us, and in came the dragon-blood. He burned with jealousy, and from his mouth spewed forth a white-hot river of flame, which boiled the lake. The sprite was consumed by flames in an instant, right before mine eyes. I stood there before the black crater, and when I was forced to inhaled the steam and smoke, the little water that remained in the lake was drawn ever weakly towards my body—it mocked me and my murdered love.

"Naturally, my sister did see to it that the dragon-blood was immediately captured and put to death."

Luna's fists clenched as she tugged on her knees, still staring into the distant nothing. Twilight stared at her. "That's an amazing story, Princess.... It's almost like a fairy-tale or something...."

Luna smiled. "Well, it did happen a very long time ago. One can never remember the details of these things. But not one soul wrote this down when it happened. I am the only witness to its events. And thus, I am forced write the story for myself. Perhaps the dragon-blood was put to death, perhaps he was exiled. It matters not. I can only write this story with the memories that sit behind the fog of over a thousand years that hath passed, and the mist of the tears I shed that day.

But since then, I have taken so many more lovers, and I have learned so many more things."

"Wow." Twilight looked back down at her own knees.

"Does it make thee jealous?"

"A little."

"It is only natural. Thou hast never a lover before taken, yet thou hast such beautiful women for friends to enjoy, and they are only friends to thee."

"I can't stand to be with them anymore."

"Then confess them."

"I can't just—! I-I..." Twilight groaned and fell back onto the grass. "...And I guess you mean...just one of them, right...?"

"I do."

Twilight covered her eyes. She sighed. "I don't even know which one I would confess to...."

"Not to Rarity?"

"Not to her."

"Twilight, thy body—"

Twilight lifted her hands—"AH!"—a black fog enveloped her right arm.

Luna jumped to her feet—"Do not worry! Thou slipst merely into a deeper sleep!"

Twilight's arms grew heavy—she dropped them to the grass. She felt the ground melting beneath her, the air melting around her. "I-I'll see you again, right...?"

"I am certain."

Twilight's vision grew dark, everything about to fall. "I...I...what..."

"Search thine heart, Twilight Sparkle," Luna's voice echoed, "no matter how much it may hurt!"

II. Presto fugato

"Come on, let's ditch her."

Whispers. Twilight turned to Rainbow Dash. "Huh?"

Rainbow Dash leaned forward from the rock they hid behind. "C'mon, she's been bugging me all day."

"And just leave her here?"

"It's cool; not like she's alone—everyone else is still nearby. And she's still got the other kids to hang out with."

Twilight gazed over the green mountain landscape. "Where would we go—?"

"Look, just down the hill here. Come on!" Dash stuck her blue popsicle in her mouth and grabbed Twilight's hand to pull her up. Then they fled, breaking out in a stumbling run, heads down, down the grassy hillside afternoon.

A girl called searching somewhere far behind them—"Rainbow Dash!?"

A whirling blue hurricane ravaged about Twilight—her pink dress flopped about—before her flew Rainbow Dash down the hill, pulling her arm tight, flying in her bouncing fabric through the wind, sporting a white, sleeveless jersey and long blue gym shorts. The bulges of her bare shoulders and her firm ass bounced in her run.

Twilight and Rainbow Dash stumbled as they fell upon level ground at the bottom of the hill—Dash let go of her—Twilight's arms flew out to keep her balance as she stopped herself. Her hands fell to her knees and she bent over to catch her breath.

"You all good back there?"

Twilight looked up—Dash stood some feet ahead of her, one hand on her hip, the other holding her popsicle in her mouth—"Uh, yeah," she panted, "I'm good." She dropped her head back down.

"You don't do much running, do ya?"

Twilight looked back up and smiled—"Can you tell?"

Dash chuckled and motioned over behind her—"Well, come on! We can chill in here!" She walked on ahead to some sort of building behind her.

Wooden. A cabin? Yes, the cabin they rented. But blurry; Twilight couldn't make it out. She looked behind her. The green wall of grassy hill down which they escaped, it towered like an ocean wave there, battered by the summer wind. Up upon its crest, hidden beyond sight: the people she knew. Her people. People. Too many people. They the sheath-bearing women of her kind, yins, other halves of the wholes that would not fit her—only fit to be washed away. She looked up at the sky: full of blinding white mountains of cloud; and in the far distance, drew near the grey anvils of thunder.

And somewhere, beyond the clouds, the sky, beyond a thousand realities, in a drawer, sat a letter for her from the man who would fit her.

Twilight dusted her dress off, pulled herself up, and followed Rainbow Dash inside. They were inside. Inside was enormous. Twilight still couldn't make anything out. No, books. Bookshelves, circling the walls—stories tall—a universe of books—all dull, coated with an ancient greyscale. Her library, surely. And their cabin. You're in a real place, but it doesn't look anything like it does in real life. An odd feeling.

A giant couch, the size of a bed, sat in the middle of the room. Rainbow Dash started past Twilight, jogged over and hopped onto the couch, plopped on her back, and kicked her tennis shoes off, then pulled off her socks and tossed them aside. So this is where it would happen—where Dash would show her the things she wanted to do to her—where Dash would terrify her with the things boys do to girls—and Twilight'd but to wait.

The report! Twilight turned and made a way for the bookshelf ladder. Yes, forgotten about it all this time. Stars, supernovae, space, galaxies. And Princess Celestia—needed to get it to her soon. She climbed her way up the ladder to search the shelves. Recalling her notes: "Type I supernovae: white dwarf stars in binary systems accrete matter from their companion stars, resulting in core collapse and an enormous explosion." Yes, that was it.

A dim star dying—

With a companion it burns

Brighter than the sun.

A silly thought. I've been reading about this stuff for too long. She found the book she needed.

Slap! A flat hand on her ass—"Hey!"—she jerked her head over her right—her left—Rainbow Dash stood on a ladder next to her.

"Whatcha got there, Twilight?" She looked over, sucking on her popsicle— "Oh, that stuff again. Well," Dash reached up to grab a book of her own, "I'm just gonna grab this one, then." She strained to wave it before Twilight. "You interested?" A coffee-table-sized book.

Twilight furrowed her brow—"Dash, no." She reached over to yank the book away, but Dash's grip—"Okay, fine, whatever." Twilight let go. Their ladders both rocked back and forth on their wheels.

Rainbow Dash put her hand on the bookshelf and pushed against it, moving her ladder back and forth. She chuckled. She leaned her big book against the books on the shelf, then grabbed and gave herself a push on the shelf and went rolling away on her ladder away from Twilight—along the wall around the round room.

Twilight watched her roll along to the opposite end of the room, then turned back to the shelf—she cracked open the cover of Dash's book, flipped to a random page and peeked inside: a dark-skinned woman squeezing her naked breasts together, a man's dick slapped on her cheek, her mouth wide open, face covered all in sticky white cum. She shut the book.

The rolling sound coming closer and PUSH—Twilight squealed—almost falling—Dash had made it around the circle and sent Twilight rolling around the bookcase room—no slowing down—

"My bad, Twilight!" Dash pushed herself off the shelf again—chased after her.

Twilight could but cling on to the wood rails and squat down on the wood step of the ladder, to hang on in the bending wind flying about her—the shelves whizzed by past her head—a band of colored stripes of book spines—a flashing, incandescent neon multicolored flipbook.

The wheels hit something—the ladder jumped—she yelped—her grip lost—body free fell—gravityless—

into Rainbow Dash's arms. She there stood on the floor, somehow, right where she needed to be, arm under Twilight. The spotlight lit them.

Applause!

Twilight's body hung back in her arms. She looked up into Dash's rosey eyes.

Rainbow Dash smiled. She took the clean popsicle from her mouth and tossed it aside like the socks. Chuckled. "You were pretty cool out there, huh Twi?"

Twilight laughed. "What? C-c'mon, Rainbow Dash...." She tried to turn her head away. "Thanks, though. You were really cool, too...." She looked back up at her. She gazed down back at her, smile faded. Her head bent down over Twilight. Twilight's lids fell shut and began to purse her lips. Then—over her pink dress cloth—a hand—crept up her—up her stomach—cupped over her breast. Twilight gasped. Eyes still shut, she turned her head to one side. The hand squeezed and pulled at her little mound. Dash stepped over to face Twilight; her hand slid off the breast and around under her back; she moved in and mashed her face into Twilight's and munched on her mouth.

Rainbow Dash pulled away—"Mm, yeah, I've been wanting to have some fun with this cute little bod of yours...." She pressed her face back in. Her other arm slid down her back, past her waist; squeezed a heap of ass. Twilight let out a muffled yelp into Dash's face. Her eyes shot open. Her arms still dangled by her side. She struggled to reach for the groping hand, but Dash grabbed hold of Twilight's arm, pulled her body upright, raised it over her shoulder. Twilight let her eyes close again, raised her other arm over Dash's shoulder, locked her hands together behind her neck. Her dress was gone now; she stood in her barebrown skin, in only a pink bra and panties. Both of Rainbow Dash's arms fell back again over Twilight's ass. Fingertouch—cold. The bare skin prickled. Dash grabbed up the flabby bowls of flesh, clenched her cheeks; she tucked in her fingers in under the deep folds; she squeeeezed; the flesh poured out from between her fingers. She pulled a hand away, spread her palm out, slapped Twilight's ass—WHAP!—Twilight squealed; her butt jiggled, Dash's hand still flat on her round cheek, olive upon chestnut.

Twilight pulled her head away, eyes shut—"Rainbow Dash—" The arms pulled out from behind Twilight, up to her shoulders, and nudged her backwards, to fall sitting onto the bed. She'd opened her eyes; she looked up at Rainbow Dash—standing on her knees over her.

"Oh, fuck yeah, Twilight...!" Rainbow Dash in one voice, her normal voice, her dashing Dashy raspy voice. "Just seeing you sitting there...." She started pulling off her white jersey—she wore nothing underneath, she bore her brown mounded nippled flat chest out broad. She spun the jersey around and tossed it aside like the socks. Beckoned for Twilight. Twilight stared for a second; then she pushed herself up from the bed and crawled across the covers to Rainbow Dash. She pushed herself up onto her knees, looked up into the magenta eyes. Then wrapped her arms around her—around her body, behind her head—kissed her face. She pressed her body into hers; a lump pressed back into her—pay no mind, Twilight. She pulled her arm back around, drag-rubbed it down over the tanned rolling skin—her rocky hill chest. She buried her face in it. Wet beads of sweat stuck and stunk on it. Air and blood breathed underneath. Air breathed out through Dash's nose, in an excited wind storm metronome—blood breathed in through Dash's heart, in lusty thund'ring minuet beats. Twilight kissed her heart, drank her sweat. She pulled her face and hands down over her chest, over, and flicked her nipples, over her tight belly; her hands wrapped around over the waist of her blue shorts to squeeze her ass cheeks, dragged her face down and pressed it, into the hard bulge in her shorts. Twilight pulled back, looked at it, then up at her. Dash's face was red. She gave a smile. Chuckled. "Yeah, this is where things might get a bit weird, Twilight...."

Twilight let go of Dash's ass and pulled away; she watched. Dash grabbed the waist of her shorts; she pulled it down over her hips; caught it on her bulge, revealed more of her hips, her ass behind her, then pulled harder—until POP—the dick slipped out of her shorts, bobbed up and down, hitting her belly and legs—whap, whap, whap. It hung halfway to her knees before it swung back up to meet Twilight's eyes, just a few inches from her nose. Thick, redish and bluey veins throbbed through it, blood beating it alive—blood hydraulics. Dash dragged her shorts further down. Underneath, big balls bounced about her thighs, heavy in their sweaty skin bag. She dragged her shorts past her knees and stepped out of them, tossing them aside like her socks. Twilight looked back to the meaty dick before her. She stared. The little hole gaped and closed as Rainbow Dash breathed, and made her little pink head swell and shrink for her. Swole; shrunk. Twilight stared. She looked back up to her face. Dash smirked. "So, whadda ya think?"

Twilight looked back down at the thing. "...Bu—wh—wh—how...?"

"You're not exactly surprised, are you?"

Twilight shook her head.

"You like it, don't you?"

Twilight looked up at her and nodded.

"Then c'mon and show me, girl." She rustled Twilight's purple hair head as they both looked back down. Twilight reached a hand up to touch it. It really was huge. She brought down her fingers and placed them atop it—hot—it burned with warmth. Her hand wrapped its fingers around the girth, over the throbbing veins. She clasped the whole thing. Her hand barely wrapped all the way around. She squeeeezed, with her one hand the hard spongy meat. Rainbow Dash hummed "mmmm" from up above. Twilight relaxed her grip and let it breathe again. She pulled away the leather skin towards her face, over the big squishy pink head; it darkened as it clumped up; the head turned bright red; she pulled it back, let it stretch back to where it was; the head relaxed back to pink. Gave it another squeeze. She brought her face towards it. Breathed. That steamy, jocky locker room smell. She pulled away, then brought up her other hand, clasped it with her other around Dash's dick. They both easily fit on that length. She pulled both her hands forward; the skin pulled over her head, Dash's body rocked forward, her balls swung forward, nudged Twilight's hand. Twilight let go with that hand, brought it down and cupped her balls; they weighed in her hand; she played with them, joggled them and squeezed them. Her fingers nudged down behind them—they found the folds of two womanly lips hidden away. Then prodded at them.

Dash jumped. "Ooh yeah, turn around." Twilight loosened her grip, let go; she pulled herself away to look up at Rainbow Dash, who was motioning for her to turn around. "That's enough about me for now." Twilight stood on her knees and turned around for her. Dash leaned a hand on her back, and Twilight understood to bend over. "I wanna find out all about you, now." She sat down on her knees and grabbed hold of Twilight's big hips. She slapped her ass—Twilight gasped—held in the breath air. Dash dropped her head on Twilight's butt—"mmmm"—she rubbed the other big, round cheek in circles with her hand flat. Twilight let out the air in a moan—"Ooaannh...." Dash pulled her head away; she grabbed the pink frills of Twilight's panties, tugged them away from her hips, then yanked them over her thighs and down to her knees. The cool air rushed in to meet Twilight's naked skin. She shivered. She felt her moist pussy exposed to the open air. The wet cooled. Rainbow Dash took the panties from her legs and threw them aside like the socks. Twilight felt from the bed Dash sitting back to stare.

"Oh, fuck yeah, Twilight...." Rainbow Dash in a second voice, her quiet voice, her hissy wispy icy voice. Twilight stretched her head around back to see Dash sitting naked, stroking herself with a loose hand, staring the ass in front of her. Then she brought her head back around again and fell down onto the bed with her butt still in the air. She let the big thing sway side to side, feeling the blue air on her round. She heard Dash's hand slapping as it fapped faster—she made her.

"Shit," the bed shifted again, "I don't think I can take it anymore," as Dash walked over to Twilight on her knees. Twilight's head fell into the blankets and shivered. Her form shook. She gasped—a burning hot brushed against her pink raw. It pressed—a round prodding thing. She gasped—cold breathing hands pressed down on her cheeky rounds. Dash leaned her arms onto Twilight's butt and pressed in. Skin strrretched, and squeeezed, slid in slimy synthesis; she shoved slow, through sparkling saliva, and she supped it soft, until

POP—the head slipped its spongy ridge all the way inside. She fell leaned over Twilight's naked back. Dash groaned and pushed her dick in further, it squeezed its way, and Twilight swallowed it all and let out a blue moan. It touched, and kissed the end of that pink throat. Her head, buried in pillows of blankets and sheets, turned to one side, her face half-covered stared into blurry nothing, mouth hung open round; and in her head she felt behind her, behind her gale of hair, her storm-bowed back, there, between her legs, those fatty shapes, in a sticky liquid tissue embrace, pink flesh interwoven, breathing in phase, raw and electric: that polymerization.

Rainbow Dash sat up, grabbed in her hands the fatty flesh of those hips. She began to pull out. The geometry of the flesh changed, naked animal organs sliding out over each other. She pulled her pink head to the rim, just corking her hole. She slammed back in. SLAP! Her hips rammed against Twilight's ass, and Twilight yelped. Dash pulled out and thrusted again, and Twilight gasped. Dash did it again. And she did it again. Again, then, until she began to beat out a squishy wet rhythm with the two of them, pitter-patter, and beats sent, amidst wind shivers, lightning jolts through nerve skeletons in her body, shocked her nipple tips, her lips, her fingertips, toes.

Twilight lay buried in the bed, bouncing, letting herself be battered, and her body be broken by the grunting, howling wind behind her. Letting herself become a thing. No more a person; a thing. What boys do to girls. Her face bore into the blankets. Her pussy squeezed itself tight, in slow rhythm, choking on its meat. Almost there. She groaned.

"Oh, fuck yeah, Twilight!" Rainbow Dash in a third voice, her loud voice, her thrashing rampant shouting voice. "Shit—I'm gonna cum—!" She fucked her faster—"Oh, fuck—!" She slammed herself the whole way into Twilight's pussy, she bore her fingers into Twilight's ass cheeks, her cock throbbed there, swallowed inside that tight, her head flared, exploded, and gushing out inside, a torrent, hot burning juice that filled Twilight's insides, they stretched, and Twilight felt the thick liquid leak out, drool down her pussy lips.

The stallion collapsed on her back with a bounce, leaving her mare to sit wet and alone.

Twilight Sparkle turned her head around. Rainbow Dash lied spread out on the bed, eyes closed, smiling. Her dick hung drooling, flopped over to one side, her balls hung loose in their sack. Pink pussy lips peeked from behind. And Twilight's loins ached as she sat there, hungry. Tossed aside like the socks.

And Twilight Sparkle remembered herself. Stranded naked, amidst heaving waves of blankets and pillows, in her boat, floating alone in that dreamland deluge.

Twilight rolled over onto her butt and sat up. Dash still lay there with her loose leaking dick and an arm over her eyes, spent. Then the mattress bounced, and Twilight rolled herself forward onto all fours, crawled forward on her hands and knees to Rainbow Dash, between those sprawled-out legs. She reached a shaking hand out, looked at Dash again. Eyes still covered. Twilight looked down again, to that near-flaccid penis, thereto looking, reached her shaking hand out closer. It stopped. Again she reached that shaking hand closer. Brush-touched.

Rainbow Dash grunted; her whole body jumped, her arm flying away from her closed eyes. Twilight jumped after her. Then tightened her grip. She brought her face closer; then, all at once, the heat, the sweaty musk, the salty taste, all came to her, caressed her in a white vapor. A soft smack, and Twilight opened her lips. Brought them upon the flesh. Dash jumped again. Twilight slid her lips further down the slimy head. She closed her eyes and hummed. The vapor was inside her now; she was breathing it. Dash moaned, her pitch climbing higher and higher, to a soft whimper. Twilight made her whimper. She brought her fingers upon Dash's belly, tickled them out over her hips, and back into her thighs, the keys of an instrument, and listening to the sweet sounds that she brought forth.

She ready, couldn't take anymore, and lifted herself up unto her feet, straddled herself over Rainbow Dash's body. She lowered her hips lower. She positioned herself. Her pussy lips brushed against Rainbow Dash. She fit herself again over the head of that sticky gooey cock, then she pussshed down, SLAMMED herself down, and felt again that hot fusion magic flood through her. Dash threw her colored head back and cried out. Twilight smiled. That hot load of cum still filled her inside, gluing them together for sure this time. She brought her body up again, and SLAP—dropped herself back down on Dash's rock hard cock, feeling her ass jiggle behind her. She bounced herself on her again—she grunted—then again—and she brought forth the rhythm.

"Oh...! Fuck yeah, Twilight...!" Rainbow Dash in a fourth voice, her little voice, her fragile trembl'ing boyish voice. Four voices of raw horny pleasure. Twilight opened her eyes and turned them down upon the little formling she so ravaged, face buried in a heap of colorful hair. She heard the girl's four voices in her head—raspy, icy, thrashing, trembl'ing. None alone satisfied her to hear. They were only colors.

The thing inside Twilight was gone. She found herself now bouncing on Rainbow Dash's bare pussy. She opened her eyes and looked down. Dash's eyes were open, and she smirked up at her. Behind her, Twilight felt that leg of muscle start to rise; she turned to see Dash had lifted it for her, and she grabbed it by the ankle, lifting it up higher as she wove her own leg under it and fit their sweaty thighs together, pressed pursed pussies together. Twilight turned back to Rainbow Dash—she still smirking. "Ready when you are, Twilight."

Twilight smiled down at her; she squeezed the ankle in her hand and shoved her hips forward into Rainbow Dash; pushed her back; their pussies rubbed wet over each other. Dash gasped. She chuckled. Shoved back; pushed Twilight back. Their raw lips rubbed again. Twilight let out a whine. Pushed back again. Back—and forth again. They pushed pussies into each other, and they both gasped, then moaned together, smiling. The storm: wet pitter-patter rain, wind shivers, lightning jolts. They bounced, they squeezed their muscles in tight counterpoint, strumming each other, beating out thunder and rain in slaps and sweat and grunts and drooling liquids.

Dash moaned with each fuck, in four voices entering and leaving, in every color of her person—the truest voices Twilight had heard from her. Then, voice escaped from Twilight Sparkle's lips: "Oh yeah, Rainbow Dash...!" She started grinding her hips faster over Dash's pussy—Dash pushed her hips harder forward into Twilight's—then Twilight threw her head back and shut her eyes—her legs clamped shut around Rainbow Dash—her whole body went taut—she held it and felt it—let go—then jerked again—Rainbow Dash shook all over in Twilight's vice—thrust her hips—grunting—Twilight screamed—Rainbow shouted—and they both felt between them, like bare palms held up to the sky, the sparkling rain.

They heaved sigh and sigh again, the two in unison, like a tired wind. Twilight's body collapsed into Rainbow's flat chest. The lovers rolled over on the bed onto their sides and their faces stared into each other. Twilight sighed. She smiled. Dash smiled back. Chuckled. "That was pretty awesome, huh?" Twilight nodded. "I guess you didn't like how I was jammin' with ya back there."

Twilight too chuckled. "That's not it." She looked down and touched a chestnut finger to Rainbow's olive chest. "I thought I'd just change the chords up a bit." Dash chuckled again. The two kissed. That letter in that drawer from that boy—now was washed away. The other girls were still outside somewhere. Perhaps indeed—yes—maybe—a good fit. Men, women: either certainly a good fit for her. Not the black and white of her beloved night—but the washing colors of a wonderful bow in the sky: the promise that Twilight said in her heart, the promise that she never again would wish ill upon her friends.

Twilight looked into Rainbow Dash's eyes and smiled. "We should probably be heading back now."

...

And dressed again, the two walked out out to the open outside to meet the sunny air. A world of cloudless, ethereal blue sat upon a solid, living mountain of green. The air but brushed everything that breathed it in a slow rocking wind: the storm was passed.

A bright blue disk flew high through the air. It hung against in the everblue of the sky, black against the sun, then whirled to the earth and crashed into the grassy hillside before them—a frisbee. A dark-skinned girl was sliding and stumbling her way down the hill after it. She had a messy tousle of magenta hair and wore an over-sized orange T-shirt and shorts.

Rainbow Dash groaned. "Oh man, she found us...."

Scootaloo found flat ground and waved. "Hey, Rainbow Dash!" She started running over to Twilight and Rainbow Dash.

Twilight glanced over at Rainbow, who had her hands on her hips, looking away at the sky. Twilight turned back to the girl running towards them, and waved with a smile. "How's it going, Scootaloo?"

"Hey, Twilight!"

Twilight reached down to pick up the frisbee. Scootaloo made it over to them and crashed into Rainbow Dash with a big hug, stuffing and nuzzling her face between her tiny boobs. "I've been looking all over for you, Rainbow Dash!"

Twilight giggled. Rainbow Dash looked over to her with a grimace on her face. Twilight nodded at her. Dash looked down at Scootaloo and rustled her little head of hair. "Hey, kid...what's up?"

"Nothing much! I've been asking everybody if they wanna play frisbee with me, but no one does!"

Twilight put her hands on her knees at looked down at her. "Aw, well that's too bad!"

Scoots pulled her face out of Dash's shorts. "It's okay. 'Cause now I found you, Rainbow Dash!"

Dash tried to push Scootaloo away. "Yeah, uh..."

Scootaloo jumped back—"Oh! Check out how fast I can do laps around this rock!" She darted off and started running around the giant boulder sitting near them.

Twilight looked at Rainbow Dash with a smile. She walked over and handed her the blue frisbee. "Come on, Dashie." She leaned over and gave her a quick peck on the cheek.

Rainbow Dash rolled her eyes and took the frisbee in hand. She turned and called out—"C'mon, Scoots! We can go play back up there where you can show off!" Twilight watched as Scootaloo cheered and the two hiked their way back up the hill, into the sunny afternoon moonlight.