“Hey!”
“Ugh, what?”
“Wake up.”
“We are awake, Mr Armstrong.”
“Then get up, I need your help with something.”
Luna groaned in frustration, before she reluctantly rolled off her back and sat up onto her haunches. Her eyes were still bleary with sleep dust, which she soon cleared out with some vigorous rubs from her hoof.
“Well, you have succeeded in waking us. So what is it we can help you with, Mr Armstrong?”
“I wanted to redecorate. Care to give your opinion?”
Luna looked out at her surroundings. Bleak, gray rocks and dust stretched to the horizon in every direction, occasionally interrupted by one boulder that was slightly larger than its counterparts, or a deep crater where the surface had been battered by space debris that had passed too close. Beyond the horizon, and totally out of reach, was Equus: Luna’s homeworld. Or at least it was, until she’d had a bit of a mental breakdown, attempted to overthrow her sister, and ended up banished to the very object that was signified by her cutie mark.
Talk about a sibling dispute of the ages…
“Mr Armstrong, We do believe you have finally taken leave of your senses.”
“Says the magical pony princess talking to a sock puppet.”
Had anypony at that moment in time been capable of constructing a sufficiently powerful telescope, they would have been able to glance upon the surface of the moon and seen that ‘Mr Armstrong’ had spoken the truth. That Luna was speaking to a sock puppet draped over the end of her right hoof, a sock with crude facial features that had been carefully drawn on with a crayon she had materialised during her artistic period. That was around eighty years ago, and after Luna realised that her art was never progressing beyond crude stick-figures and alternative plans for overthrowing her sister, she decided to quit while she was ahead. Mr Armstrong had been a faithful companion ever since.
“Mr Armstrong, we must commend thee on your wittiness, but we daresay that your lacking of an actual brain must therefore award us with the honour of being the most mentally stable.”
“Technicalities, technicalities,” Mr Armstrong said dismissively. “Now, the redecoration?”
“Ah yes,” Luna replied, giving her surroundings a secondary examination. “We’re ‘all ears’ if you have any particular suggestions for improving the aesthetic of our home.”
"Well I was thinking new carpets, some nice curtains, maybe some potpourri, you know, just make the place seem a bit nicer."
Luna facehooved. "The ideas, whilst tasteful, are not without their flaws."
"Flaws? Such as?"
"Well, the primary issue I can see is that without windows, curtains seem somewhat without purpose."
"Right, that's a good note."
"I have no objections to carpets, though given the abundance of dust and rock, cleaning may become a regular practise."
"Small price to pay."
"But my biggest concern is potpurri. What in my sisters name are you thinking? We aren't a middle-class family decorating our home for delusions of financial success."
“Do you have to talk like that?”
Luna scoffed. “It is traditional for us to refer to ourselves as such. Be thankful that we find the Royal Canterlot voice to be a redundant practise on such casual company as yourself, Mr Armstrong.”
“How long have you been here now?”
“One hundred and ninety nine thousand, four hundred and twelve days. And we must say that although your company is appreciated, we do find this process to be monotonous.”
“What process?”
“We have had the same conversation every morning for the past seventeen years. We mean that literally of course, word for word, with the only differentiation being the day count.”
“I had no idea I was doing it.”
“Worry not, Mr Armstrong, We only reached the conclusion ourselves a number of days ago. If we were not aware of it, there is no possibility that you could have been aware of it.”
“You think I’m stupid?”
Luna’s eyes widened. Though that wasn't the point she was making, subtextually, it had sounded that way. How could she have said something so inconsiderate?
“Not at all Mr Armstrong, We were simply saying... that you might not have realised such a thing as you have spent less time stranded here than us.”
“A likely excuse,” Mr Armstrong replied with a huff.
“We meant no insult towards you, sincerely,” she said as gently as she was capable of. “You are our best friend, Mr Armstrong, we would never cause you harm.”
Mr Armstrong remained silent.
“Mr Armstrong…” Luna said pleadingly, sounding almost like a wounded filly in the process. She sighed heavily. “We’re sorry. Truly. After over four hundred years of nopony else to talk to, we fear that we may still be socially awkward in a number of ways.”
A few tense moments passed before Mr Armstrong finally replied. "Gotcha."
Luna groaned as the sock puppet let loose a fit of giggles. "Mr Armstrong, how many times must we inform you that the pretence of having your feelings hurt does not amount to a successful joke?"
"It is kinda funny," Mr Armstrong insisted. "Anyway, back on topic: redecoration."
"Always so quick to change the subject when said subject holds you in low regard," Luna said, with a tone of joke accusation.
"You know me so well. Anyway, why haven't you ever even given a second thought about redecorating? Desolate terrain like this, it must get a bit dull from time to time."
"We... kind of like it like this, Mr Armstrong."
"With a personality as charming as yours, I can hardly say I'm surprised," he retorted teasingly.
Luna smiled. How she survived the first four hundred odd years without playful banter was truly a mystery.
"Anyway," he continued. "I do have an idea for a change of scenery, one that I think you might like."
"Oh do you now?" Luna asked, raising an inquisitive eyebrow. "And what might that be?"
Mr Armstrong looked left, then right, before leaning up to Luna's ear and whispering. The act of checking around was of course fairly pointless, but given the idea he had, secrecy seemed to take the utmost priority.
"Mr Armstrong!" Luna exclaimed. "Thou art truly a genius of Starswirlian proportions!"
"I know, I know," he replied dismissively. "But if we want to get it done by sunset, we'd better get started. Like, now."
"Not a problem," Luna said, as she ignited her horn, and one by one, hundreds upon thousands of cans of paint began to materialise around them.
"She's gonna be majorly ticked off, though."
"We have yet to experience the full duration of our exile. In fact, we are barely even past the halfway point. In time, we're sure she'll forgive us."
"Well, as long as you're certain..."
Celestia stood atop the highest balcony of Canterlot Castle, eyes tightly closed in focus. Around her were the bustling sounds of the city, ponies going about their lives in happiness and harmony. Celestia envied this, as her daily duty of raising the sun and lowering the moon, and vice versa in the evenings, was one that always tugged at her heartstrings. As well as being a monumental effort, requiring the most advanced and refined magic, it was emotionally painful too. Having had to banish her own flesh and blood to the astronomical body that she was about to raise was a dull pain that she had to deal with daily, unceasing and relentless.
She took a deep breath, spread her hooves wide to steady herself, and began.
As she descended into the depths of her magic, she began to feel everything around her. Every rustle of every leaf, the breathing and heartbeats of every pony in the city, every conscious thought and every flap of a pegasi's wing, every thing within seeing distance, and a great many things beyond it.
And then she felt them.
The sun and the moon, spinning around their world in a perfect circle, completely opposite to each other. She felt her aura wrap around each one, slowly at first, but gradually speeding up as if each colossal object was being wrapped up like a gift.
She felt two distinct pulses, and she knew that both the sun and the moon were in her grasp. She cleared her mind of everything except two conscious thoughts: 'lower' she told the sun, and 'rise' she told the moon.
She had never fully accustomed herself to the sensation of moving the two objects simultaneously. It was as if she had attuned herself to the very roots of her world, and tapped into the minds of every living thing, equine or not, sentient or not. It was difficult, and extremely tiring, but at the same time, it felt wonderful. Like an almighty adrenaline surge that had no equal.
Through her clenched eyes, she could see the bright yellow light slowly turn orange, then disappear altogether as day finally transitioned into night. She opened her eyes to look over her completed work, smiling slightly to herself. It felt like a small victory, hearing crickets beginning to chirp as her little ponies settled in their homes for dinner and sleep. But looking up at the moon was always a difficult task, knowing what she had had to do to protect her citizens from her sister.
But as she turned away, she gave the moon a second glance. Was she imagining it, or...
No, it was definitely there. She had to squint to see it, but there it was in all its glory. Printed on the surface of the moon, large as life, was a sun. Not just any sun, but a definite attempt to replicate Celestia's cutie mark. There was something written on it too, but it was far too distant to see. All that was visible was a pair of pink squiggles in the centre of the mark.
Celestia immediately took off, flying as fast as she could, heading towards the observatory. Her large telescope would be able to clarify what the writing said. Her mind raced as she flew. Could the Nightmare have been defeated, leaving only Luna behind? Maybe her sister was trying to communicate with her? What if she could be reunited with her?
Arriving at the base of the telescope, she furiously twiddled the various dials and knobs that controlled where the telescope pointed, frantically but gradually pointing it towards the moon. When it was lined up, she put her eye to the glass, and adjusted the focus until the cutie mark was clear enough to read the writing. She gasped. It was definitely a message from Luna, one that read:
"Bite my posterior, Sunbutt."
Celestia leaned back in her chair, facehooving. "Well played, sister. Well played."
Author's Note
Everyone needs company, be they an immortal goddess, or Tom Hanks.
