Necessary Love

Chapters

Chapter 2: Helpless
Chapter 3: Help
Chapter 4: Love
Chapter 5: Caring
Chapter 6: Sharing
Chapter 7: Effort
Chapter 9: Learning
Chapter 10: Asymmetry
Chapter 11: Departure
Chapter 12: Fractures
Chapter 13: Drift
Chapter 14: Dream
Chapter 15: Phantasmagoria
Chapter 16: Winding
Chapter 17: Wonderland
Chapter 18: Within
Chapter 19: Doors
Chapter 20: Shut
Chapter 21: Charm
Chapter 22: Glow
Chapter 24: Attachment
Chapter 25: Sprout
Chapter 26: Buried
Chapter 27: Encourage
Chapter 28: Connected
Chapter 29: Bells
Chapter 30: Whistles
Chapter 31: Measure
Chapter 32: Music
Chapter 33: Absence
Chapter 34: Polarity
Chapter 35: Sour
Tra-La-La Dee-Dah Dee-Dah!
Chapter 37: Anew
Chapter 38: Wild
Chapter 1: Divide
Chapter 8: Imbalance
Chapter 23: Anticipation

Chapter 2: Helpless

Fluttershy staggered back and forth. Each beginning of forward movement was immediately erased by unsure hesitation. Clearly she had an innate desire to attend to the emotional wounds that the stallion before them had so publicly suffered, but just as obvious was her uncertainty in how exactly she should have even approached such a broken pony whom she had never met before. But the sight of him bawling away was a powerful enough call to action to eventually trigger her motherly confidence. She set down her bags of animal food, put one hoof steadily before the other, and started towards the fountain.

"Woah, hey, wait. Maybe we shouldn't," James called to her skeptically.

"Oh, but look at the poor fellow," she responded, gravely sympathetic.

Look he did.

The miserable pony's body was roiling with fierce sadness. His legs shivered and shuddered, so little strength in them that it was only by some miracle they still held him up. His frayed tail was awkwardly spun down one of his legs like an upset child clutching their parent. Around his submerged head the water was a boiling mess, a big sign of just how badly he was polluting the fountain with his snot, tears, and sorrow.

Dunking his head had been a bizarre reaction to having been publicly dumped, but his shame and sadness was at least understandable by any pony with an ounce of sympathy in their heart. However, swooping in to 'rescue' this unknown pony was something too soon and far too sudden.

"Yeah, I see," James told Fluttershy. He stretched his words out uncomfortably and continued, "but... I mean... it's not really our business, you know? We shouldn't interfere."

"But he's so sad!" she said back, her soft side already intimately absorbed in the other pony's troubles. "He needs somepony right now." Ignoring the man's take on the situation she went up to the wailing pony's side.

"Oh, geez...," James murmured. He looked to Rainbow Dash for her opinion.

"Don't look at me," the colorful pegasus instantly felt his gaze and commented with a shrug. Yet regardless of her apathy she tossed aside the bags she was carrying and trotted over towards Fluttershy.

James shook his head.

These ponies...

Fluttershy's concerns weren't out of character or anything; that overflowing kindness was who she was. But it was almost like she was helpless against NOT helping. Like she was absolutely unable to resist a cry for assistance after seeing a hurt pony so in need, even if there were socially awkward or dangerous ramifications. Furthermore, they had no idea who this guy even was or what had defined his relationship to the mare who had just let him go, nor any knowledge of why they had just broken up in the middle of the street. But despite all that ignorance Fluttershy for some reason had felt she had to act anyway. Whether by personality, or nature, or magic, she HAD to act!

He just couldn't figure it out.

The seeds in his bags rustled as they shifted while he safely set them down. He scuttled his and the others' abandoned bags to the side of the road so that they might be out of the way of any passing pony, and then he made his way to the fountain. At this point, what choice did he have but to join his friends?

Fluttershy very gently poked the whimpering stallion on his side in order to get his attention.

"Um... excuse me?"

P.V. pulled his head out of the fountain to look at her. Water flowed down his face in such volume that it rapidly dribbled onto the street like a broken showerhead, and it was impossible to distinguish between the fountain's excess liquid and his own salty sorrow. There was a wobbly blur to his enlarged eyes, like they were made of frosted glass and were encasing an endless supply of tears waiting to be shed. He was so far out of his comfort zone already that he didn't care about having had his ungovernable sulking disturbed, nor did he even seem to care who the pegasus standing before him was. He merely stood there and stared at her, sniffling in ultimate sadness.

"Are you alright?" Fluttershy asked, an absurd question which came out preposterously straight. It drew very awed, nearly ashamed reactions from Rainbow Dash and the freshly caught up James.

"Alright?" P.V. questioned. His very core shook worse than his voice. "Is the pony whose heart is left on the tracks 'alright' after the train comes rolling through?"

Back towards the fountain he turned his head, dangling it for a brief pause before he suddenly dropped himself into the water again. The splash cleared and then the submerged blubbering began anew.

"Oh gosh," Fluttershy gasped, daintily soft yet intensely concerned. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

The bubbles pulsed and popped at a more rapid rate as if he were trying to say something through his soaked sobbing but naturally he couldn't produce a discernible response.

Once more the worried pegasus lightly prodded the distraught pony.

"Sir? Excuse me?"

This time, however, he didn't surface.

Rainbow Dash heaved an annoyed sigh and bit down on P.V.'s tail. Flapping an inch off the ground she gave one good, powerful yank backwards to lift him out of the fountain, and then she hauled him a step away from the water.

The stallion rocked in place for a moment before his hind legs gave out from under him and he plopped into a sitting position. His head stayed hung in sorrowful shame and he still wept, his grieving no longer masked by the fountain's cover.

Now able to get directly in front of him, Fluttershy gave him the warmest look should could produce while encouraging him to pick his head up a little.

"I would very much like to help," she invited.

Something she had said or done seemed to at last break through to the shattered pony and he tried to rein in his tears, though only a small amount of control came back to him.

He managed to look right back at her and respond, "Miss... you're very kind... but I don't think there's anything you can do for this broken heart."

Between the airy softness of his accent and the still present strain of despair in his voice it sounded like he was spitting out words through tissues stuffed down his throat.

"Oh no!" Fluttershy exclaimed, a hoof clasping against her mouth in fright as she pulled back a step. It was like she could see every torn fiber of his heart; he was about to die on the operating table. Immediately she promised, also turning to her two friends, "We'll do whatever we can to help! Isn't that right?"

Rainbow Dash gave another sigh, this one in surrender to her friend's wishes. After all, she had originally come here to have been helpful anyway, right? Besides, if things got really bad then she imagined that she could have always pulled out her 'cloud duty' card and zipped away.

James, however, began to protest, "I really don't think we-"

Fluttershy's eyes widened, and their tender light was the most powerful plea all of their own.

The man rubbed his face to block out the sight of her undefeatable eyes. He groaned, letting out a strained sound that was mired in disbelief.

Fine. They'll try to help... or at least, try just a little bit.

The man immediately took to P.V.'s side and knelt down, and with all the genuine sympathy that he could pull together he said, "Listen, sir... far be it from me to tell you anything about how to react to... losing somepony close to you... but... it LITERALLY just happened. Like... a minute ago. We all saw it. So, maybe instead of... like... crying it out here in public, you should go home for now? Give yourself a little time and space? Let it sit? Think about it for awhile?"

"Home...," the limp stallion mumbled in response. "A simple, small, three room, low rent place on Stirrup Street. All I can afford really. There's a single dusty old table with one leg slightly shorter than the rest... the curtains that hang on the only window are faded, passed down from my grandmother... and the view they block is of a thin alley that the trash crews often forget about... The plumbing works great, though. I saw to that."

He sniffled once as he stayed staring at the ground, and he continued to mutter, breaking up.

"Home... Where my heart is... 'Is?' ... 'WAS.' The only thing of true value that had ever stayed there... was-... was... HER!"

The cracking dam shattered and he quickly fell to pieces, his tears coming on again in full force. He rushed forward, pushing past Fluttershy, and for another time he dunked his head into the fountain and wailed away.

"Yeesh!" Rainbow Dash moaned while she gave a disinterested look to the side.

Straight away Fluttershy went about trying to comfort the broken stallion, sitting down next to him and pouring her tenderest pats and coos over him.

James, as he was somewhat ashamed to have admitted, was in agreement with the rainbow pegasus. P.V.'s behavior was embarrassing and ridiculous. But even be that as it was, it wasn't their business to stop him from coping in his own incomprehensible way.

The man tried to reason with the caring pegasus, "Fluttershy, this guy really only needs some time to just cry it out. We should go. Let's leave him to his... fountain sulking thing..."

"Oh, but we just have to help him! How could we leave him like this?" Fluttershy still insisted desperately. She gently patted the back of the sad snorkeler.

"Look," James said, and his weariness started to carry into his voice, "it's not that I don't sympathize with what he's going through, it's just that... this is way too sudden! He should have some space first. And besides, we don't know him! We know nothing about him, or the relationship he was in, or about his girlfriend-, erm... I mean, his ex-girlfriend."

Even underwater the sorrow-laden pony had heard the particular correction and there was a sudden surge of blubbering bubbles.

The man sighed while rubbing his cheek and shaking his head.

However regardless of his protests the motherly pegasus would not budge. She declared, "Well then we'll just have to learn about him so that we can help him!"

Her efforts redoubled. More light and caring pats to his side; more reassuring strokes over his back; a basketful of warm whispers letting him know everything was going to be alright. Unfailingly she soothed him until finally there was a steady change. The fountain water stopped churning, going from bereaved boiling to sorry simmer and then to waters quiet and still. Inch by soppy inch he picked his heavily drenched head up.

"Good, good... shh," she encouraged, before she very carefully asked, "but now, um, if you could please... won't you tell us about your troubles? We really want to help!"

Urgently he tried to begin, "It's-, it's... Star Glitter... My Glitzy girl..."

But his use of that affectionate nickname brought back the echo of her stern warning that it was no longer his to use. She wasn't his Glitzy girl anymore.

In a sudden rush of heartbroken despair his composure fractured yet again and he wailed out loud. Or at least, he wailed for the brief amount of time it took him to plunge his head back into the water, reducing the noise to a bubbly churn.

The shock of his repeated stunt was really starting to numb for Rainbow Dash, and she shook her head dismally. She would have rather chosen to have simply believed that the distraught pony breathed water naturally and just left him to it.

But Fluttershy of course wasn't going to allow that, so in a tired drone the rainbow pegasus recommended, "We have to get him away from here if we want to get anything out of him. Or, you know, before he drowns himself."

Really, the worst thing was that she had interrupted her afternoon nap for THIS.

Again she grabbed P.V.'s tail, lifted herself into the air, and started flapping backwards. She hauled him away like pulling a bawling anchor out of the sea.

"Well, thank you very much, Twilight!"

"Oh, it's no problem, Cheerilee!" the unicorn replied as she straightened out the last pyramid of insect jars. She wiped away the beads of sweat caught to her horn and forehead while exhaling a final, satisfied breath.

It had taken quite a bit of effort to drag everything down to the schoolhouse from the hobby shop but she was undoubtedly sure that it had been worth it. Quickly she re-inspected the many collections of items that had just been arranged: plenty of jars fit to catch and hold bugs, several nets to help in that regard as well, and piles of pages that were filled with entomological details; many abridged guides to some of Ponyville's most minute residents. There were enough supplies for a whole class of students to spend an entire day searching for, catching, and studying all manner of creeper, crawler, flyer, or jumper.

"I can't thank you enough for preparing all this!" Cheerilee said while she looked over the supplies herself. "I was happy with my lesson plan on insects to begin with, but to be able to take my little ponies out on such an activity where they can study everything firsthoof is really exciting!"

Twilight again accepted the thanks graciously and elaborated, "When you told me what your lesson plan was, I knew I had to help! I remember when I was a filly still in school at Canterlot and we did a similar activity in the castle gardens. It was really so much fun! And Ponyville has an even more diverse set of insect life than Canterlot does! I hope your students enjoy it!"

"I know they will! Thank you again, Twilight!" the merry schoolteacher repeated her gratitude for a third time.

The two spent just a little longer verifying that everything needed for Monday's lesson was available in ample supply. Once they were both sure, it was time for Twilight to depart.

She grabbed her stack of letters from a stray desk where she had earlier set them aside. There hadn't been any time to have popped by the library and dropped them all off. The distinct personal letter she had received was still at the top of the pile, easily visible as the only envelope that had been torn opened from excited impatience.

The special letter caught her eye as her magic picked the pile up, and she smiled broadly again just thinking about the message's contents. The future felt so far away but she couldn't wait for it to arrive!

Her uncontainable pep pricked the other pony's notice; the unicorn so resembled an elated young schoolfilly that it was easy for the experienced teacher to spot it.

"Well, you certainly seem very thrilled about something!" Cheerilee stated buoyantly.

"Oh, just something that I received in the mail!" Twilight bounced. "An exceptional bit of luck that came my way!"

Twice she slapped the edges of the upright letters against the desk so as to straighten them out, and then she floated them into the air behind her and wished the teacher both a goodbye and a bundle of luck. Cheerilee happily returned the farewell and before Twilight exited the schoolhouse.

It hadn't been that long after Friday's school session had ended, and several fillies and colts still lingered on the school grounds participating in extended activities or playing with their friends. Twilight's earlier arrival with a mountain of odd supplies hadn't gone unnoticed by a few of them. When the unicorn at last emerged outside, a select group of them curiously stepped forward and intercepted her as she went.

"Hey Twilight!" Apple Bloom greeted. Her two friends, Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo, chimed in shortly after her with similar salutations.

"Hello, my little ponies!" Twilight readily responded, stopping to attend to them. "What can I do for you?"

"What was all that stuff you were dragging into the schoolhouse?" Scootaloo asked, backed by equally wondering glances from her fellow crusaders.

"I was helping Miss Cheerilee by bringing her the things she'll need for your lesson next Monday," the unicorn explained. Almost full of a vibrant envy for the fillies, she added on with a smile, "You're going to be catching and studying some of the different insects that can be found around Ponyville!"

The three crusaders gave each other awkward glances, not quite having the same ardor for the activity that Twilight seemed to carry. Though they made sure to always maintain manufactured smiles for her sake.

"That-... uh... that... sounds great, Twilight," Sweetie Belle said cautiously.

The others nodded in phony agreement, and Scootaloo inquired, "Yeah... uh... why exactly?"

"I'm glad you asked!" the unicorn glowed. If ever there was a question that reliably triggered her traps of knowledge it was 'why?', and she verbosely lectured, "The biosphere of this area is incredibly diverse and dynamic! Although we ponies certainly seem like the most present and influential organisms in Ponyville, there's actually a wide array of lifeforms that we share this living space with! It was always a fascinating subject to study, like so many others, but even I didn't have a good appreciation for just how amazing insect ecology is until Fluttershy showed me. Insects may be some of our smallest neighbors but they play a very big part in our ecosystem!"

If the Crusaders had hoped for a reprieve they were disappointed to find that her fast breath was only a break in her rambling.

"Whether it's in production of things that we use – like honey or silk – or in environmental management – like breaking down organic waste – there's a tremendously diverse amount of things that insect societies do for us! In a way, we're very co-dependent with them. We need each other to survive whether we think about it or not; we're sort of like a big family of critters in that way."

The three fillies had only polite faces for Twilight while they secretly gave dulled stares to each other, and they tried to save themselves by wedging their way into her next short break for breath.

"Wow... that's so... interesting, I guess?" Apple Bloom almost asserted.

"Uh, yeah! T-Totally awesome," Scootaloo faintly added.

Twilight's enthusiastic imagination blocked all sight of their disaffection. Borrowing her excitement for her own future fortune, she told them, "I bet now you can't wait for Monday to come!"

Scootaloo offered in deliberate measure, "Yeah... I can't-... I can't wait..."

"Lookin' forward to it..." Apple Bloom contributed.

Sensing the cracks appearing in their facade Sweetie Belle tried to rally her comrades to complete their escape. She took on a lightness far more falsely sincere than anything the others had mustered and declared, "Wow, Twilight! We're going to have a really hard time staying focused on crusading this weekend with THAT waiting for us!"

"Oh? So you plan to have a busy weekend then?" the unicorn asked, falling into the filly's well-laid trap.

Now it was the crusaders' turn for genuine excitement, and they dropped all of their smiling disguises for confident brightness.

Apple Bloom spilled out, "You bet! We got all kinds of activities planned! We'll get our cutie marks yet!"

"Yeah!" Scootaloo burst, "We've got so much lined up! We're going to do EVERYTHING there is to do in Ponyville!"

And Sweetie Belle finished, "And that means that SOMETHING that we do this weekend HAS to be our special talent!"

"We can't lose!" Apple Bloom cheered.

Twilight chuckled, "So it certainly sounds like you'll be very busy. Best of luck to you there! Maybe I'll see you out and about at some point."

Her small crumb was just enough to lure Apple Bloom into asking, "What are you going to be doing this weekend?"

"Well, tomorrow is Saturday, which is my day with James," Twilight reminded them. "I'm not really sure what exactly we'll be doing, though. He can be... a little spontaneously driven sometimes." Intentionally she was avoiding the use of the word 'lazy,' even despite her freshly acquired knowledge of his slacking off with Rainbow Dash. "I have a bunch of possible suggestions I'll present him with and we'll see what he gravitates towards."

Actually, her assigned days with him had often been a case of presenting him with a list of options before they would then go whichever way the wind took them. She had in fact gotten used to scheduling certain responsibilities specifically for Saturday so that she could offer it up to him as a possible activity; responsibilities that if declined were usually easy enough to clean up herself Monday or Tuesday. Rarely had the man ever suggested activities of his own. While that behavior still triggered her worrisome side because of how it rang with seclusion, she had never questioned him directly on it, owing to her policy of trust: trusting him, trusting his trust of her, and trusting that her friends would have said something if such a behavior had become a problem in their eyes.

Regardless, she knew that she had enough options prepared for the coming Saturday that she would be more than ready. However, for once she was almost more eager to breeze past Saturday than to actually experience it. There was no offense intended to James, of course. Her opened letter (still hovering behind her with the sealed ones) just had such an exhilarating grip on her mind.

All three little fillies could feel the potent anticipation radiating off of her, and the fact that it seemed to reach beyond just her Saturday plans became obvious to them too.

"You seem like you're really looking forward to everything," Scootaloo said.

"I'm sure tomorrow will be great," Twilight asserted confidently, "and, I mean, I have some stuff of my own that I'll need to take care of on Sunday. Particularly something I need to put together to send in the mail..."

Her enthusiasm, which had slowly been tipping more and more with every passing thought on the subject, finally went over the edge. Her air of thoughtful calm whisked away, her smile glowed, and she buzzed while she suddenly announced, "Oh, you're right! I AM very excited for what's ahead! The future can't come soon enough!"

The crusaders got a brief glimpse of the precious envelope as she whipped it around in front of her face to look at it for another time. Most noticeable of all on it was one of its many stamps: a pleasantly red sunset staining a peaceful sea.

It took a long time before P.V. was calm enough to carry on a coherent conversation.

They had dragged him to the side of the street, into the shadow of somepony's thatched-roofed home. Waiting and waiting and waiting; it had almost seemed like the miserable pony's despair would have never dissipated. Fluttershy had never lost an ounce of her compassion over the endless minutes, and again and again she had tried to encourage P.V. to speak up. Respectively laying atop the bags of feed and leaning against building, Rainbow Dash and James only shared uncomfortable silence, trading their doubts between each other wordlessly.

But at long last the broken pony had recovered enough for all involved to have exchanged proper introductions. After his name, the three had received a quick rundown of his simple existence as a lowly plumber who lived in what some would call squalor but he considered 'austerity.' He hadn't ever really had an ounce of anything glamorous in his life; he had merely been content to have lived a life of handling some of the dirtiest work in Ponyville each day. But, and it had been fairly obvious by that point anyway, he had explicitly pointed out that there had only ever been one thing is his entire life that he had considered a valuable treasure.

"Her name's Star Glitter," he finally arrived at the present, but her spoken name still caused mourning sorrow to drip from his lips. "We met in Canterlot a little over a year ago. I had saved up enough money to take a short trip there for a workshop I wanted to attend. During one of the breaks I took some time to see the sights, and I accidentally stumbled into some kind of garden party. Her family was hosting it...; they're high society bigwigs, you see. I don't remember much of what happened. I just remember seeing her for the first time..."

Briefly the air about him changed, a positive turn created through his mind playing back that particular vision of the past. Every last pitiful pain in the entire world was taken away; soothed by the warmth of that perfect memory, preserved eternally in his heart.

Lost in a helpless, hopeless, but oh-so-fulfilling happiness, he said, "I don't know how long I stared, but somehow we got to talk for a little while before I was noticed and thrown out of the party. I hardly remember what I said to her but... whatever it was... she-... she PROMISED to come see me in Ponyville. I didn't even attend the rest of the workshop! I just got on the train and went straight back home to wait for her! Of course after a few days back home I felt like an idiot. I thought I had only had some really nice dream and then did something stupid that made me lose out on the trip that I had saved up for."

But in recounting the tale he didn't bend to sadness. No, rather he shone with a simple a quiet light of a miracle.

"Until... one day... she actually showed up at my door, just like she had promised... How have I ever been so lucky?"

He sighed peacefully.

The serenity slowly passed and present reality started to seep back into him. More somberly he continued, "Anyway... I'm not a pony of means by any stretch of the imagination. I just... tried to show her around town some and then... somehow one thing lead to another and we started dating!"

Another sigh came out of him, this one far darker and full of torture. Some part of him surrendered; it accepted how things between them had ultimately turned out between them in the end. It was the lowly, piteous fate that better matched with who he was.

He asked the air vainly, "I'm so far beneath her... what did she ever see in me?"

"Oh, don't say things like that!" Fluttershy tried to support him. Again she was next to him and patting his back. "If she came to see you all the way from Canterlot after only one short meeting, and you two were together for a year, then there must be something special she saw in you, no matter what it is!"

"She's just so amazing," P.V. whispered. "A perfect beauty in every way. Her elegant grace... her refined tastes... her poise... she's such a lady! She rises hoof and mane above the rest!" Every infinitesimal part of her, every tiny thought of her, was enough to lift him up to new heights. "My jewel!"

But unfair reality lent him no breaks, beating its way back into him. Again he whipped from a dreamy state to a dreary one

"She-... she WAS my jewel..."

"Oh geez, she sounds like Rarity times one thousand," Rainbow Dash lightly teased.

The pegasus looked to James with a bit of a wise grin on her face, expecting her comment to have gotten a rise out of him or perhaps imagining that he would crack a joke of his own.

But strangely the man didn't take her comparison with any frivolity. He was almost sour. Rarity WAS a lady and there was nothing wrong with that.

Meanwhile Fluttershy was touched by how dedicated the stallion's affection was. He was so clearly taken with her in a way that was beyond reproach or measure.

"What happened?" she asked him quietly.

"I'm just a dirty, no-good plumber who can't provide for her, is what happened. Messy work, ugly looks, just clueless around others... I'm the opposite of her. I'm far from anything she deserves..."

He sunk low, his body drooping as his legs spaced out and his face nearly fell into the ground.

"Where she deserves romantic dinner dates at the classiest restaurants, I can only get her cheap takeout. Where she has earned trips around Equestria to see the grandest sights, I can only go with her on walks in the park. Where she should have royal parties in her honor, with fancy spreads and full orchestras; celebrations of her and all that she is... I can only tell her, 'I love you.'"

Sighing and moaning, he went on, "This past year I've only ever worked my simple job and done the smallest things for her. There's just nothing more to me. And today is-... WAS our one year anniversary, and what did I do? Used the only few extra bits I had this month to get her a little bouquet of flowers from a street cart. FLOWERS!"

He knocked himself in the head once, but it wasn't the hard strike that had him almost in tears. He was so ashamed by the insulting scale of his measly gesture.

"Oh, but that sounds very nice to me," Fluttershy again tried to mitigate his self-pity. "I think getting her flowers was a very sweet thing to do. And it sounds like you've been giving her all that you can."

Suddenly the pegasus dipped into a slightly reserved posture. There was something more she wanted to say, but there were hurdles of doubt to overcome. It was one thing to build P.V. up, but she had no honest intention to be insulting towards somepony she had never met before.

Still, she eventually decided to take the chance and said, "I think Star Glitter should appreciate you more."

In great surprise to the others, James suddenly entered the conversation, "Yeah. Don't take this the wrong way or anything, but don't you think... maybe you're putting Star Glitter on too high a pedestal?"

Frankly he agreed with Fluttershy's assessment of the mythical lady. Sure, it was hard to take the stallion's words at face value because he had just been crushed romantically a short while ago and his heart was bleeding pretty badly. But the story he had spun for them hadn't really credited his former girlfriend with doing all that much more than simply existing. The man perfectly understood the sappy-eyed kind of love that produces such circumstances; he had been there before in past years. But that was a phase in romances. Maybe it was time for this pony to learn a lesson and move on?

"No, not at all! I can't praise her enough," insisted P.V. desperately. "She's-... she's... astounding! I don't even have the words!"

"I'm sure she's great," James conceded a little, just to ease the agitated pony. But honestly she didn't sound like a nice girl if all of P.V.'s obvious devotion hadn't been cutting it for her. Likewise her supposed 'beauty' escaped James; she had looked like all the other fluffed up ponies to him. Probably just his biology; no such thing as a sexy pony.

"What I mean is," the man tried to press again, "aren't you giving her too much credit? How much of the relationship was you and how much was her?"

Rainbow Dash tacked on, "Yeah. Like... flowers were the straw that broke the pony's back? She sounds a little—"

She looked again at James and then decided to restrain herself.

"—sounds like she didn't do all that much."

"What?!"

The stallion was insulted, in a wounded sort of way. He resisted their insinuations, claiming direly and earnestly, "No, no, you're wrong! She did everything for me! Was everything! Gave up everything for me!"

"That's... not the impression I've been getting," Rainbow Dash responded, again with an extra amount of politeness.

Obviously they had hit a sore spot.

Fluttershy worked to try to keep P.V. calm, but he retreated behind a supremely guilty look which laid like a loose mask over his deep shame. He couldn't stop trembling, and his already-fragile emotions were strained.

"She had everything in Canterlot," he tried to explain to them. "Her family's wealth, the grand events of all the social circles she was a part of, and all the opportunities to be and have anything her heart desired. She left it all behind to come live in a cramped apartment with me."

She had traded down for him, and it seemed like he had never forgiven himself for having not been able to carry her back up again.

"Oh, I see," Fluttershy said. The news brought her a relieved smile and she happily told him, "But that just shows how much she really loves you! And if she misses those things so much, why can't you just make more trips out to Canterlot to see her family?"

But her suggestion didn't deliver the cheer she had expected it to. He slunk further instead, drenched with regret.

"We can't. When her family found out that her relationship with me was serious... they cut her off. They saw me for what I am: a mostly bitless, witless plumber from a poor family. I could never be a part of their high society... they knew that. They gave her the choice: me or them. That's why she had to move into Ponyville with me."

He suddenly got up, shaking off Fluttershy gently, and he took a few dismal steps away from the three. Down the street he gazed, at the square they had all come from where the fountain he had been pouring his sorrow into was. The stone pony fixture at its center smiled away eternally; a happiness locked frozen in time.

"When it happened, I tried to convince Star Glitter to give me up and go back to her family... but she wouldn't. She stayed... She stayed for me..."

A few little tears rolled down his cheeks again, and behind him the others were all afraid that he was going to take off galloping towards the fountain for another round of bitter blubbering. But instead he caught grasp of a strange solace.

To the ground he muttered, "Well... at least now that it's over she can go back to Canterlot and have all the wonderful things that she deserves again..."

Fluttershy held her hooves over her mouth, near a bout of tears herself. Rainbow Dash and James, though not completely unaffected by P.V.'s drama, were far less touched than their kind friend.

Leaning towards the man, Rainbow Dash whispered to him, "Can you believe this guy?"

"I don't know," James silently murmured back. "The way he talks about her, she's TOO perfect... but that's what being lovestruck is, you know? I think he's sincere about that."

First she was an untouchable beauty; a socialite of the highest standing; a queen amongst ponies, whose innate majesty merited endless blessings and total devotion. A devotion which she had been apparently lapping up selfishly, if only getting an anniversary bouquet that was purchased with the slim savings of a working class pony had been what had pushed her too far.

But then later she was suddenly the heiress who selflessly threw her enchanted life away to be with her true love: an underpaid plumber? The man realized he was hardly working with an unbiased source here but it was staggering how much the missing details painted wildly divergent pictures.

"In any case," he continued to respond to Rainbow Dash, "we're not getting out of this. Look at Fluttershy. She's NOT going to give this up."

Every ounce of P.V.'s pain had been taken into the compassionate pegasus' heart. It was hardly possible to imagine that she could feel for him more deeply. In that moment the heartbroken stallion might as well have been her eternal best friend.

"Technically," Rainbow Dash corrected James, "I could get out of here. Winter swap's coming up, you know. Somepony has to handle those clouds." Her wings unfolded and spread, ready for takeoff.

The man countered with a dry look.

Her grin cocky and her eyebrows wiggling, the flippant pegasus lifted off the ground...

... but she didn't actually blast off anywhere.

While she couldn't have cared less about the romantic conundrums of random strangers, every essential part of her was on board with helping out a caring friend. If this crazy task was what Fluttershy truly wanted to do... well then they were going to do it.

"This is going to get ridiculous, I know it," she asserted with a bit of a laugh and a budding smile.

Nodding in agreement, James sighed.

Naturally Fluttershy was incapable of acting any way but sympathetically to this stallion who had been torn to pieces, but now it seemed like it was wholly impossible for Rainbow Dash to betray her own loyalty also. She couldn't NOT stand besides her friend, even if her friend was standing for something so insanely awkward. He pondered it all again with a shake of his head.

These ponies...

It was noble and all but it was also a little ridiculous at the same time. What possessed them to do these kinds of things?

Light in steps Fluttershy approached the softly weeping P.V. again, and she came around in front of him so that she could look at him directly. Her bright, wet eyes concealed none of her compassion.

"Mr. P.V., you care about Star Glitter so much that you want to give her everything and more, and she cares about you so much that she left everything behind to be with you. It makes me sad to think that things could turn out like this..."

She looked over him, solemnly at her two friends, and in a perfect mixture of unshakable determination and heartfelt begging she declared, "We have to try to get them back together!"

Chapter 3: Help

Something has gone wrong. We don't seem to have an archived copy of that chapter.

Chapter 4: Love

The last gasps of twilight were disappearing in the dark evening sky, a faded smatterings of shifting colors which retreated below the horizon to make way for the gradually appearing stars. Under their serene light James finally returned to the library, his feet dragging on the way back.

It had been an unusual Friday. This sort of exhaustion was usually reserved for Tuesdays, when he assisted at Sweet Apple Acres under the direction of Applejack. The side effects of strenuous farm work were at least predictable. It felt more than a little strange that this day had left him so wearied. He looked forwards to nothing more than a night of sweet rest.

Upon entering the library's main chamber he wasn't surprised to find its lamps so well-lit that day remained inside. He was welcomed back immediately by Twilight who quite predictably was still awake and keeping as busy as ever. She sat at one of the study tables and was accompanied by the usual piles of books all scattered about her; tomes laying on the table and more on the floor nearby, stacked with covers closed or strewn with pages open. What was different than normal was that her precious books seemed mostly ignored and had been pushed aside in order to have given her a wider workspace.

An inked quill burned a trail across several papers that were laid before her, and the words flowed out sometimes as smoothly as a gentle river and sometimes as jaggedly as a broken mountain. Stored on the side of her busy workspace was a small pile of blank, ready papers which awaited their own turn under the pen, all in danger of being blown away by the breeze the whirring quill cast. Nearby, the opened letter she had received from elsewhere rested upon its torn envelope. A different envelope – fresh, thick, and unsealed – devoured every page which she completed.

So it went: irregular scribbling, a fold here and there, and in a page slid. Repeat.

"You're back much later than usual!" she commented cheerfully while writing away, hardly looking up.

The man took a moment to stretch everything; arms, legs, chest, and all.

"That thing with Fluttershy got sidetracked by this... other thing," he half-explained, "and then we stayed at her cottage for awhile because she invited these other ponies over and stuff... You know."

Twilight smirked, "Sounds exciting."

"Yeah," he yawned.

"Well, I'd love to hear about it," she invited, at last taking some of her attention from her diligent quill.

James waved her away though, but not in any dismissive fashion.

"I'll tell you all about it tomorrow," he promised. "Right now I just want a shower. And then some sleep."

"Not hungry?" she asked curiously.

"Ate at Fluttershy's. I mean, we made a meal for the whole thing because-" He broke himself off with a laugh and rubbed his eyes, then reiterated in affirmation, "Tomorrow."

"Hehe, right. Looking forward to it."

Her quill's lively scribbling resumed.

The man began to carry on his way, still quite eager to bring his night to a sleepy close. However, the differences in the unicorn's habits were just jarring enough to have kept him from escaping to freedom.

He stopped at the edge of the room to ask inquisitively, "Are we going to the post office tomorrow or something?"

"Oh, this?" she snapped back up, caught somewhat off guard. "This is a reply to-... I mean, I was going to save assembling this for Sunday so that I could send it out on Monday, but then-"

She blushed at her own overwhelming zeal, but it was just so thrilling! It had been too hard to wait for Sunday! But no amount of enthusiasm would have sped up time. She concentrated on maintaining a reasonable calm.

"I guess I just got so excited that I put some other things off to handle it tonight instead."

"What is it?" he wondered. It must have been something quite special to give Twilight of all ponies a reason to break her own schedules.

"Well, it's a reply to THIS," she said, lifting and shaking the original letter, "and THIS is a letter from-..."

Her quill froze, and a sudden consideration hit her which caused her mouth to twist into an almost smug, if still chipper, grin.

"Well... it's kind of a surprise," was all she gave up.

"Oh?" He was intrigued, which was exactly the reaction she had hoped for.

Almost high off of having such an exciting secret, she elaborated, "I didn't go into THIS with that intention but... I never imagined that it would get as far as it has. It's just such an incredible bit of good fortune that I think I should treat it as a surprise NOW. I hope everypony will like it."

James laughed. What clever or amusing little thing had she gotten a hold of?

"And this mysterious good fortune needs pages upon pages of a reply?"

"Well, they asked to know all about our-," but again she caught herself before revealing too much. "Maybe I'll tell you about it tomorrow."

"Hahaha, okay, fair enough," he responded easily.

He shook his tickled head and started on his way again, passing into the doorway.

"Oh!" Twilight suddenly let out to catch him, jerking her quill away from the current page just as she was about to resume writing. "Speaking of mail, you had a letter come in from Princess Celestia today. I left it on top of your pile of old mail." One of her eyes squinted and she quizzically mentioned, "You know, you have some stuff there that came in at least two weeks ago and you haven't opened any of them yet."

Gripping the door frame to lean back into the room and look at her, he chuckled, "Sure. Cause who's going to send ME mail? That's all just spam, like everything else that's come in for me. I'll throw it out eventually."

"Not the Princess's letter with it, I hope."

"Of course not. Hers is the only stuff that isn't spam. I'll read it another time though. No rush."

His simple, nonchalant regard for the royal mail struck Twilight with blinding surprise, even though it wasn't the first time he had shown such disrespect for a royal correspondence.

"'Another time?' It's a letter from the Princess!"

"Yeah but it's not important," the man answered casually.

"'It's not-!'" The most strained incredulity seized her voice and she practically roared, "HOW CAN IT NOT BE IMPORTANT?"

Patently confused as much as she was sternly annoyed, James merely shrugged, "It's just another letter from her."

"'Just another-!'"

Finally she surrendered with a harsh, exasperated groan and brought her quill back down to the page intently. Perhaps she could shut everything out and let her enthusiasm guide her away from his abhorrent insanity.

Honestly, she wasn't actually angry or otherwise upset with him. It was more like a repeat of her earlier discovery of his slacking off with Rainbow Dash. It was something that deviated so radically from what she had envisioned of him, and she simply had a hard time letting go of her need to be in control.

Any communication from Princess Celestia was critically important! One side of the unicorn clamored to know every last word he had ever exchanged with the Princess in their back and forth letters. What if one of his royal messages had been somehow relevant to her? Or what if he needed instructions on how to receive and interpret such critical missives, and maybe he had been too full of pride to have asked for help? Or what if the tasks contained within the letters were simply something she could have helped him with? Or maybe – Celestia forgive her selfishness – maybe he had received some sort of directive that might have been better handled by her?

However, she forcefully quieted her mind. The lesson had already been firmly established: she needed to grant a leeway of trust to the man, and that wasn't even to mention the trust she should have had in the Princess. She reasserted that new wisdom every time she thought about seizing control.

He needed space, at least sometimes, and she needed to let go, at least sometimes.

Breath, and let go.

For his part, James quickly realized that she was only being hampered by her neurosis and he didn't take any offense to her curtly behavior. It was obvious to him that she was exerting effort to leave him be and not dismantle him through conversation. He left so as to cease being a bother to her.

But first he tapped the door frame and wished her warmly, "You have a good night."

Genuinely given, the words were enough to dislodge much of the insidious tension that prickled her. Taking a fast, calming breath, she stopped her writing briefly just to smile and earnestly reply, "You too."

"And then, right there in the street, they kissed. And everypony started, you know, cheering and stamping," James finished the tale. He polished off his last drops of water and set his cup down next to his long since pushed aside and empty breakfast plate.

"Aw," Twilight happily cooed, "that's so wonderful! I'm glad they made up. And that they didn't need any gimmicks to do it." Her magic pulled away the man's finished dishes, joined them with her own, and set everything down to soak in the sink.

The man leaned back in his chair, enjoying his post-meal fullness.

"Yeah. I mean, those two lovers reconciled really fast and very suddenly, and they still have a long way to go... but despite how mismatched they are, they really seem genuinely into each other."

"Don't be so quick to judge what one pony finds lovable in another," the unicorn remarked with an odd giggle. The morning interlude was so peaceful that she felt relaxed as well, caring not about her schedules (for at least a few minutes). "Two ponies can love each other for any reason at all."

"Well, sure," the man agreed, "but I don't think I'm judging so much as I'm—" his tongue juggled some choice words before selecting "—observing. Star Glitter comes from a very different place from P.V. and she has given up a lot more for the relationship than he has, especially if her family never comes around to accepting him. So, as charming as their relationship is, it's just interesting to see that whatever little things P.V. does is actually enough for her to bear all those losses."

"She said it right there in the street, though," Twilight reminded him. "She loves him because he loves her at her core. His simple nature gives her a love that cuts through all those accessory things in her life. It's a love that she has a hard time finding elsewhere, with all that complexity her Canterlot life had. It all makes perfect sense to me: she's willing to give up those fancy things for a love which is so much more important to her."

Caressing waves of tender emotions hit her shores and romantic dreams floated through her skies. Her attitude on the subject didn't seem all that different from Fluttershy's.

"'Love is a many-splendored thing,' it's been written. The things it can do for a pony's heart are perhaps infinite, and it can tie two ponies together in altogether powerful ways. Stronger than a mountain, deeper than an ocean trench, more radiant than the sun. It fills impossible needs that we never knew we had."

But then her dreams poofed away and her analytical mind took over, recalling not the many romance stories she knew but the endless sociological minutia related to romantic fellowship. Wobbling a hoof near her eyes as if she were adjusting a pair of glasses, she said, "Of course, it can be a very complicated thing too. There's a delicate balance of trust and emotions; giving and receiving; letting go and holding on. It's perhaps something that no pony truly understands in a complete way, and everypony has to stumble through the ups and downs of it as best as they can. As demonstrated by the two ponies you met yesterday."

"I guess...," mulled James before he, with some mild thought for all the romantic details of his old universe, more resolutely concluded, "... Yeah. Yeah, that sounds right actually. True that not every relationship works out, but also true that not every one that does plays out like some fairy tale."

"Oh, it still feels like there's a lot of magic to their relationship," she insisted of Star Glitter and P.V. "They complete each others' lives in a very special way. She is the star of his meager life, and he is the full, unreserved, indiscriminate love of her busy life. I think it's particularly fitting since love is a very magical thing after all."

The man cast a quaint, dubious look at her but otherwise smiled inside. Of course she'd say something like that, binding love to her much-vaunted magic.

"In any case," she added on, "I hope they manage to make their relationship last."

"Oh, right, anyway: that's why I was back so late last night," her words triggered him to explain. "After all that craziness at the market, Fluttershy immediately invited them to her cottage to celebrate their anniversary. Rainbow and I had to drag all the food she had picked up to her place anyway, so we stuck around for a good while as long as we were there."

"Aw, how sweet!" chirped Twilight.

"Yeah, you know old mother Fluttershy," the man said brightly. "We helped her put together a meal for them, and she led her birds in a performance for them while they ate by candlelight, and..." The sentence didn't need to carry on; he just flopped his hands about in the air as a 'so on, and so forth.'

"That sure sounds like Fluttershy," she grinned. But suddenly a mild worry seized her, flipping her grin into a grimace heavy with discomfort. She asked warily, "Rainbow Dash eventually took care of clearing the clouds from the sky, right?"

"Of course." James was surprised; it wasn't like her to doubt Rainbow Dash's integrity. "She left earlier than I did to take care of it."

A whole different worry emerged from the unicorn, even thicker than the first, and she carefully verified, "Rainbow Dash left... and... you stayed with Fluttershy?"

"... Yeah?"

Through a dissatisfied moan she let out, "Fridays are supposed to be your day with Rainbow Dash."

"What...?"

That one syllable dropped like a stone from his mouth, gaping in disbelief. Her implication was almost as absurd as the ridiculous carnage that had taken place in the market yesterday.

"This again? I spent most of the day with Rainbow Dash, and regardless, what's the big deal?"

For a short while he could literally watch the war between her innate response and her thoughtful rationality play out battle by battle through the small twitches of her eyes and the contortions of her lips. Something bigger than balancing the weights of friendship was being swung about inside her. There was a search for some way to meld her impulses of strict organization and methodology with her malleable and fluctuating comprehension of his worldview.

"You're right...," she sorely muttered as her head took a small and shameful fall. "I'm sorry. It just... really surprised me earlier when I found out that you and Rainbow Dash have been spending a lot of your time goofing off instead of being serious. I-... I don't know why it got to me..."

James was relieved. He had no interest in a fight with her, and he showed her honesty his sincere appreciation.

"Well, you're a very orderly pony, so I guess a few defied expectations can really throw you for a loop, is all." Then he tried to encourage her, "Usually that orderly trait is a pretty good thing. I mean, how much have I come to rely on it? I KNOW I don't have to offer any suggestions for what we're going to do today; you've got a hundred things lined up already, right?"

"Yeah... I do," she released a tiny smile. Then she laughed, "Is that why you never have any suggestions of your own?"

He barely lifted a lazy shrug, prompting another small laugh from her.

Silence followed, but in the unicorn's thoughtful reflection her head fell once more.

"It's alright if you don't stick to serious responsibilities with Rainbow Dash," she finally said, accepting it herself. "You were right before: that's just part of your experience here, if that's what you want it to be. And maybe even more: that's part of your friendship with Rainbow Dash. And building and maintaining a friendship is more important for you than any tasks or schedules I could try to force upon you."

"You don't have to sound so remorseful," he again tried to cheer her. "I think I understand where you were trying to come from. But didn't we both admit that we don't know exactly what to do to fix all my emotional, um, difficulties? And that this whole 'spending time with everypony' thing was just to try and carry me along one day at a time?"

"Yes, we did," Twilight eased out, sorting through the details of that day some months ago. "Though, the idea of it wasn't so much to keep you occupied so that you wouldn't otherwise passively waste away in the library anymore. It was to give you as many opportunities as possible for all the different sides of yourself – the best parts of yourself – to emerge. In that way, between your own strength and ours, you could build yourself back up."

Gradually a hopeful energy returned to her. The more she felt it out – the more she thought about where they had been and where they now were – the more she warmed.

"And that's really all this is, isn't it?" she realized. "How you spend time with Rainbow Dash and how you spend time with me: it's just different sides of your personality coming out for each of us; the sides that work best with us or that we somehow encourage. With Rainbow Dash you share those playful, competitive—" her eyebrows dropped in a feigning of disdainful accusation, "—lackadaisical, lazy—" she returned to a pleasant normal, "—and otherwise loose parts of yourself. With me you share some of the more thoughtful and philosophical parts of yourself... and some of the more quiet and personal parts too. You're not giving more of yourself to Rainbow Dash... or giving less of yourself to me. Just... giving different parts to each of us."

That's all it was.

Unbelievable that she had needed so much time to have figured that out. All at once she had bouts of trust-filled happiness, felt stings of fearsome worries, saw dreams of brighter hopes, and winced from bites of self-raised doubts. Friendship was such a wonderful thing, but sometimes it could be a real fight to build a strong and perfect one, free from the small but gnawing parasites that liked to hitch on. Parasites including, she was ashamed to admit, jealousy.

In her head she reassured herself, His whimsical 'adventures' with Rainbow Dash aren't any disrespect for me or my feelings. They're just another facet of him, and his friendship.

"I want you to really know," she slowly tore herself free of her final melancholic tethers, "just how much... I've been trying to... understand you. And how much I've been trying to be your friend."

Her solemn tone served as an undisguised reminder for James of just how much effort she had always put into taking a step back and giving him room; into trusting him. Languishing in a state of missing knowledge, holding back from taking control of all that worried her, and letting simple doubts breath free only to struggle to keep them from ballooning into overwhelming fears: those things were not at all natural or comfortable for this pony. But she had done them. She had worked – she had sacrificed – to have lived in a way which she hoped was best for their friendship.

"You are my friend," he confirmed for her. And not even as some sort of consoling allowance; it came out only as a real truth. Then, shy of flushed-faced embarrassment, he admitted, "I'm... actually kind of proud of it."

That was the truth. Maybe it hadn't been spoken everyday, but it was the truth.

The morning sun shimmered through the kitchen window, and Twilight returned a happy nod.

Getting up from her seat she loaned half of her attention to scrubbing away all signs of breakfast from the kitchen. The man rose to assist her immediately. A wet rag swished across the table, water ran from the faucet, and dishes dove into soapy water.

Her confidence reinvigorated, the unicorn said, "It's alright if you're not always sticking with whomever you're 'supposed to' everyday. I still like our overall strategy as the general plan of action because of how much exposure you get to everypony regularly, but if you feel like doing things a bit differently now and again then that's okay. Especially if you have a good reason for it, like yesterday with Fluttershy."

James grabbed a washed plate and dried it with a dishrag, swirling away in circular strokes. It was almost like polishing a mirror, and in the sunlit glimmer which bounced off of the dish he could see that he was cleaning the vaguest outline of his everyday reflection.

"Maybe that's even a sign that I'm recovering. You know, wanting to do things differently... breaking out of old patterns..."

But his optimistic hypothesis only made Twilight hum deeply, and the sound of it was rather unnerved.

Her magic twisted the faucet's knob with a slow, squeaking turn, and the murmuring stream of water ran dry with one or two final plops. There was an almost deliberate delay before she began floating another wet dish to the man, and she took up a drying rag herself. However, her motions weren't smooth, her control wobbled with subtle worry, and the dish she cleaned and put away was still scarred with many obvious streaks of water.

She radiated tension, and then sounded so helpless when she asked, "... Are you alright, James?"

"That's twice you've asked in twenty-four hours, Twilight," he gave her a funny look but nonetheless snickered. Half-serious, he followed up, "Are YOU alright?"

She sighed. It was a quiet, dry sigh. A sigh which signaled a period of thorough thinking.

They finished tidying the kitchen in easy silence, leaving the room just as they had found it. Back into the main chamber of the library they shuffled, and the man sat back in restful patience, giving his friend all the time she needed. Twilight wandered, running her eyes and hoof along some of the shelves of books to speed her thoughts along. The walls almost leaned in, eagerly listening for her words.

"... Am I alright?" she at last echoed, her honesty unhindered. And then she answered, "... I don't know. I'm just worried, I guess. It doesn't seem like it was all that long ago that you were at your lowest point, and now... you're goofing around with Rainbow Dash, and telling jokes, and-... You're relaxed, and comfortable, and GOOD... and... that should be great! But... I'm not sure what's really changed? I'm not sure anything has changed AT ALL to produce such a result. Maybe it's only that you're spending time with everypony else and because of that I haven't been around as much to have seen it, but-..."

Her mouth bent halfway between a thoughtful turn and a dissatisfied frown.

"... I don't know. It's been almost TOO easy... I'm worried."

"Ah. I see," he replied softly. Propping himself up in his seat, he calmly ruminated for a moment before he shared plainly, "Don't feel bad about it, because... I'm a little worried too, honestly."

The relief his words carried to her was quite strange, all things considered. Maybe they were only a salve for the loneliness of anxiety, but even that was still welcome.

"Really? What do you think about it all?"

"Well...," he exhaled, scratching the back of his head, "... I feel good most of the time. Normal, even. I mean, there are up days and down days, but on the whole I'm pretty good. Though, that's the thing, isn't it? Sometimes I DO think that... I should be worried about how good I feel."

That synchronized feeling – that mutual concern about what was either some careless disregard for his pain or an emotional numbness to it – spoke to her instantly.

"When you first really opened up to me about it," she thought with him, "you believed that such feelings might indicate that you were losing your hold on all the wonderful attachments to your old life. But... you haven't forgotten everypony from your old life that you care about. In all these months you've told me so much about them, and I have seen for myself how special they still are to you."

"No, you're right, I haven't forgotten," the man acknowledged in a whisper and dainty nod of his head. He paused, allowing some fragmented thoughts to collect in the basin of his mind, and then he reviewed, "And, I mean, I've been sleeping well. No nightmares. I don't feel as... dark or in despair as before. But... is that only because I'm not as alone as much anymore? I don't know..."

Again, a pause.

Then suddenly his mood shifted upwards.

"Those down days of mine? They're so down because they're the days that I miss everyone the MOST."

Twilight nodded supportively. And to help bolster his mood (and maybe to also indulge some of her infinite curiosity), she popped an upbeat question, "And the good days, then?"

James chuckled, "On the good days what I miss the most is taking a big bite out of a good, juicy hamburger with-... Hey! Don't make that face! If you had taste buds like mine you'd love it too!"

It was all a playful aside, and in laughs they enjoyed it together until a stillness came into the library again.

Twilight picked up in fair seriousness, "So I think, in a way, it's a very good sign that you miss them like that. That's your reminder of how much you really love them. I know it doesn't sound so great when said like that: that it's a positive sign of healing that you're still sad. But maybe that's because you never stop missing them, and the recovery is all in learning to live with it?"

"Maybe...," he allowed, with some hesitation.

Is that how it had been in the past, with a lost friend or a lost grandparent? Hurt, then healing, then acceptance; forever with a certain sadness. But this wasn't like before. This was at so much more of a gut-wrenching level. When the losses had been one at a time, every step of the way had been accompanied by close family and friends. The invisible, intangible, immortal connections of love had always been there.

What happens when ALL those other individuals, with ALL their love, aren't there because ALL of them were the loss?

"Is that what... I've been doing here then? Learning to live with it? Have I learned?"

He was lost. Mired deep in a turbid marsh, riddled as it was with strangling thorns and leeching pests.

Twilight opened her mind for him. She laid down a path for him to follow. Not one of certainty, but of her own comfortable speculation.

"We've both been worried about how you seem to be doing so well. Wondering if you have actually been recovering. BUT... we ALSO both feel like you've been doing alright; that you're at least doing better than you were before. Before you were miserable, and afraid that you wouldn't survive without those essential things that you've always held onto from everypony whom you've loved and who loved you. So maybe now... you're better able to recognize which parts of your loved ones are eternal inside of you? You understand better how much of that incredible love you get to keep forever, no matter how far you go? And maybe... if there is anything important that you HAVE lost... anything that your soul is now missing... maybe you're starting to get that back? From us? In little bits, at least."

The hope she spread on her face invited him to consider those encouraging thoughts for himself, but shortly she felt a few inklings of doubt. Maybe her last statement had been a bit too bold and self-serving.

"I mean," she restlessly tried to clarify, "we're not a replacement for your family or friends or anything, but-"

"I get what you mean," he assured her softly. "I don't treat any of you like replacements. But you've all become fast friends. I hold you all closer than I ever thought I would, especially at the beginning. Maybe some of that is the crazy situation I've been put in. Maybe I wouldn't even have let you get so close if we had met under better circumstances. (That's irony, right?)"

"(Mmm. It's a stretch.)"

"(Pft! Whatever.)"

Regardless, if he had bonded with them more only because he had been suffering... did that therefore mean he had been selfishly using them? Had they been his friends only so that he could protect himself? If he had 'needed' friends in order to survive then had that justified getting them without reserve?

Or did it simply mean that he was human? Or sentient, rather. Did it mean that, like all living and loving things, his soul needed company from time to time?

"I'm not sure it even matters," James sighed. "Maybe the friendship is more important than how or why it happened. And maybe you're right. Right that... every wonderful thing I had in my life before Equestria has left something behind to help me survive my wound, and that these friendships I've been building with you all have been blessing me with something more which fills in the cracks that appeared when I got hurt. Some strength, I guess. It's certainly easier to think of it like that."

Ultimately he wasn't sure what knowledge he had or didn't have. No person had ever fully understood love. And, as evidenced before him, it was doubtful that even with magic any pony had ever fully understood it either.

"Even so, I hope that it's something a little bit more than having needed to not be alone," he wished. "I don't know why. I guess that's a bit of a depressing thought."

"Well, anything's harder without others. In large or small ways," Twilight interpreted his frayed thoughts, to his immediate nodding agreement. "I see it like that too. And I don't think that I could try to imagine how terrible it would be to lose all of my friends, but that helps me understand just how much I've gained by having made those friendships in the first place.

"So," she sought to tie everything together, "maybe we can agree that, despite our fears, you ARE getting better. And it's not just because you're not alone now, but because of these friendships that you've been BUILDING. Actually putting them together has given something important to you, whatever it is exactly. Whether they're enhancing love you already had or supplying you with something new, these friendships altogether are healing what you lost. In their own special ways."

The man recalled similar words having been told to him by Princess Celestia. Wisdom she had shared about how her long-lived soul had survived through generations of ponies, each as dear to her as the last, even while every one of them had eventually gone the way of all flesh. Specifically, she had said something about the joys and gains amounting to more than any pain.

Undeniably, his unicorn friend was the Princess's student.

His unicorn friend...

"Okay. I'll try to accept that," he agreed with her.

But then he scrutinized her closely, enough to the point where she shuffled back an inch in wonder of what he was thinking.

"So, your friendship has given me something... but...," he said with his thoughts sounding distant. Concern descended upon him. "... from the way you've been talking and acting recently... it sounds like maybe... the reverse isn't true?"

"What?" she croaked, greatly surprised.

"Well, it feels like maybe you're not getting enough from me? Like... you're not completely happy with our friendship?"

The pony nearly jumped up, she was so flustered.

"W-What would give you that idea?"

"I mean," James tried to elaborate, "you've been holding yourself back from asking me about things, in order to give me some space. So something simple, like yesterday how you found me with Rainbow Dash, really knocked the wind out of you in kind of a bad way. And just here now, you've been worrying yourself pretty hard over me. And... I mean, clearly your efforts to hold back haven't been comfortable for you. I guess I'm not trying to say you're doing anything wrong but... you're sacrificing a lot for my sake, it feels like."

He straightened himself up and reached out towards her.

"Isn't there something I should be doing? For you? Don't I have a responsibility to you, as a friend?"

Though absolutely he had hit the nail on the head as far as her sometimes-struggling feelings were concerned, Twilight didn't seem to let it penetrate her.

"What do you mean? We're the ones trying to help YOU."

"Right, but, if-... if this is going to be a real friendship between you and me... then when I see you suffering don't I have to be concerned about you?"

"Oh," she at last let the realization in. But she shook off the notion very quickly, though not as a total rejection. "That's very considerate of you since there is always some give-and-take that goes into a friendship. But do you really think now is the time for that? When we're still specifically trying to help you through something hard?"

Immediately the man quipped, "I don't know. You're the friendship scientist. You tell me."

Amusement splashed across her face. Particularly tickling was his devious description of her studies.

"We're not your first set of friends," she chuckled, "so you can't claim you're new to this."

"Yeah," he smiled.

But rapidly he retreated into himself, burdened by thoughts and reflections. Twilight feared, briefly, that she was seeing a resurgence of his melancholy.

But then he said simply, "I've never really thought much about what a friend IS before, though. Not like YOU have."

And though it was a remark so quiet and simple it stirred in Twilight a feeling of shining respect.

She had PROVEN herself to him. Somewhere; somehow.

"All of my old friends...," he gently went on, "... all of my closest friends... They were all people I grew up with. It was our shared childhoods which brought us together and forged us into friends. TRUE friends, I mean. I never once stopped to question how it worked. I took it for what it was."

He looked up at the unicorn.

"You and the others... You all are my first TRUE friends outside of that experience."

'True friend.'

Such a reassuring truth to have heard from him!

There was a certain honor Twilight felt in having been named that. Not to mention relief. For all of the anxiety that sometimes attacked her because of her responsibilities, there was something very nice about such an unambiguous sign of success.

"Okay then!"

The unicorn powered up fresh, and right away she accepted his praise and his deferral to her experience and wisdom. She preached, improvising some of the way, but holding back none of her accumulated friendship lessons.

"Friendship IS many things, and friends have to be many things for each other, at different times. It can be very easy to overlook that; as you were saying, many friends come together on their own without ever thinking about the why's and how's, and so friendship can often work with only natural effort. But yes, not always. Sometimes we have to rebalance our friendships, or in some moments rise up and be something more for our friends."

She pushed a hoof into herself.

"Between us, I don't believe this is a time for you to worry about me. We're all trying to help YOU right now, and I admit that does require some effort on our-... on MY part. But I, and everypony, believe that this situation won't last forever. You'll get better. For whatever effort I'm putting in, I'm NOT suffering for it. I don't think our friendship is bad. It's just new."

One of his remarks returned to her and she echoed it strongly, "I'm proud to have you as a friend also."

"Alright," James eventually responded, accompanied by a soft release of wound-up tension.

But yet he couldn't find absolute comfort in her outlook. Something didn't feel right. With her.

No, she wasn't trying to downplay her sacrifices for his sake. Her relative nonchalance wasn't some trick she was playing, on him or herself. But regardless, the strain she had been enduring for him had left its mark on her. To make their friendship work had required her to resist some of her most natural impulses, and he knew how suffocating such a thing could feel. That she, his friend, had faced such stress wasn't an ignorable thing.

Though that was where he had to trust her, wasn't it? Had to trust her when she said it was all temporary; trust her when she believed that things would change one day; trust that her burdens were hers to willfully bear, and to accept and believe all that trust was his own counter-burden. All he could have done was ask if she was okay, and she had already told him 'yes.'

Twilight didn't think the lesson in friendship was over.

"I want to go back to something you said a moment ago," she continued, really unleashing her eagerness. "When you talked about your life before Equestria, you specifically distinguished between 'friends' and 'true friends,' and that was very interesting! I'd like to try and clarify that. I mean, I'm pretty sure I know what you meant by the distinction but let's clear it up anyway."

What her enthusiasm hid well was her slightly selfish angle: a part of her had only brought up the topic because it would allow her to absolutely verify that, when he had called her a 'true friend,' it had some real meaning in his eyes. But the rest of her was unabashedly innocent, and even somewhat altruistic. He was a fun partner to engage with in debate and out loud thinking sessions, and anything that deepened BOTH his and her understanding of friendship was a worthwhile pursuit.

"The idea," she hypothesized, "in differentiating the two is that – not to imply any rudeness of course – there is a certain level of merely polite friendliness we engage in by default, particularly with ponies whom we interact with on a regular basis, but there is also a desire to more strongly define what we share with those ponies absolutely closest to us. I guess when we use the word 'friend' what we often mean by it is 'true friend.' Or maybe 'close friend' sounds less pejorative. Everypony else we get along with is actually just 'a friendly pony' or 'a nice pony,' but in certain moments we might call them 'friend' as a matter of courtesy. Would you agree? We're friendly with lots of ponies but there are actually only a few ponies who get to be truly close to us; 'true' friends."

"Yes," James nodded, "that's what I was going for. I mean, I've never lied when I've called someone a friend, but not everyone I've addressed that way was one of my nearest and dearest."

It really did feel almost evil to try and press the distinction. 'Of course you're my friend, pal! Just not my TRUE friend!' But maybe that was one of the reasons he had never thought about it deeply and had always just 'understood' it.

"I mean," he mused, "the 'regular' friends were friends because... I was friendly with them. (Obviously.) And I liked them. But in the end, sort of as you said, they were just friendly acquaintances. Like, when they weren't around, I hardly thought about them. I'll never see any of them again either now that I'm in Equestria, and thinking about THAT... only kind of makes me sad?"

The phrase dropped out of him without any significant weight to it. He shook his head.

"It IS a depressing thought, anyway. But it doesn't even come close to what I feel when thinking about-... Well, you know what I mean."

"Because those friendly acquaintances never became a part of you like your closer friends did," the unicorn laid it all out like she had read it in a book. "When those others were taken away, you weren't losing a part of YOURSELF. And that's what we really mean by 'true friend,' right? Somepony that falls into the same category as family, basically. Somepony that you love. A pony that you can't imagine being without."

She looked down for a moment, and her eyes jumped back and forth as a smile slowly climbed up her face. She knew she had something clever to say.

"The difference is," she nearly giggled, and then very clearly discriminated her words, "one likes theirs friends but loves their FRIENDS."

"Yeah," a small laugh burst out of him. He shook his head in all different ways. "I suppose that's the heart of it."

"So what have we come to?" she asked in summary. "You're feeling better; we're worried, but we think you're doing okay; we're at peace with myself and our friends making small sacrifices for your sake; and we feel like you have real friends here."

To himself the man went over her list before he nodded without commitment.

"Something more?" she tugged gently.

James took a breath in, then let it back out. And then again.

He mumbled, "No matter what we agree on... no matter what we feel... in the end the real question – the simple and difficult one – is whether I'm surviving or not, right?"

"I suppose so...?" she whispered back. "But I'm hoping that you'll LIVE more than you'll SURVIVE. Just like 'friends' and 'true friends', there's a difference between 'surviving' and 'living.'"

"One step at a time," he murmured before falling into a cautious silence.

"... James..."

"To survive... A human being needs a few things for raw survival. We can live for about three days without any water. We can go maybe a month or two without food."

He looked straight at his friend.

"But they say a lot of different, less definitive things about how long someone can go without love."

"Without being cared for; without feeling your needs addressed by somepony else when they become to great to bear on your own? Without caring for another; without holding somepony close to your heart to make each day that much more worth living through?"

Twilight could have spun through miles more of rhetoric. Instead she drove straight to the point.

"We know – or at least, we both are trying to truly believe – that you're carrying with you the love you've kept from your old life. But what about me, and Rainbow Dash, and Fluttershy, and Spike, and the rest? Are we providing you with the remaining sustenance that you need to survive? ... To live?"

He thought on it, though ignorance pleaded with him not to. He weighed her question, though his heart worried that it was too heavy.

At last he shook his head and surrendered, "Oh... don't ask me questions about necessary love. As if I know intimately about such things."

"Maybe you don't know," she calmly stated. "Maybe there's nopony who really does for sure. But somewhere inside you already understand it because you've been there before." She raised her head with hope. "We just want to figure out if we're doing the right thing to get you there again."

"I'll be good if I get there again without ever understanding how or why," he groaned, giving an intentionally impertinent wave of his hand.

"But if you never understand it, won't you always be worried about it? Like you are now?"

He hummed, light but not dismissive. Yet then he quickly resolved, "I think I'll be less worried if I know that we're BOTH a little worried. Friends share, right?"

A great smile, and a promise, came out of the unicorn.

"They do. It's a deal."

Another quiet moment came and went in the library, but for once that morning it wasn't burdened by any big thoughts or small stresses passing invisibly between the friends. Everything was peaceful.

Feeling his humor coming back with full force and ready to move on, James bounced his eyebrows and threw his arm out with a flourish, saying, "There's all that philosophy that you were promised. I think that fills our quota for the day. Now: what's on the agenda, madam scheduler?"

"Well, there are plenty of possibilities!" laughed Twilight. "What sounds interesting to you? We can pick out another book for our personal book club since we've finished discussing the last one."

"Maybe. But it gets hard to find the time to read in between helping everypony out."

"And slacking off with Rainbow Dash?"

"Yes, and that."

"Okay," she snorted, "well, I was also thinking we could go see Zecora. She's been replenishing her stocks of ingredients for her brews and she'd certainly welcome some help with picking some of the special flowers that only bloom during the changing seasons."

"Hmm... that's a real possibility. Sounds like a nice way to spend the day. The strolling outside part, that is. I STILL don't get this alchemy stuff."

"You're better than you think. Anyway, I'll make a mental note to come back to that one. I was also thinking we could look at scheduling you an appointment with the dentist for-"

"Oh no! No, no, no! No can do! What's a pony dentist going to know about MY teeth?"

"Dental hygiene is very important!"

"Sure, but no! ESPECIALLY not after we tried that 'routine physical' at the doctor's office. I don't think that poor pony physician had a clue what he was looking at!"

"Better safe than sorry! Besides, Spike has a unique physiology too and he gets by fine between the doctor, dentist, and—" she coughed trepidatiously, lowering her voice, "—uh, vet."

"Oh, so are we looking at getting me my shots too?"

"James, it's your health."

He sighed, forgiving and good-humored. His resistance was indeed built upon true distasteful feelings but this issue wasn't quite a serious battle worth fighting; not in his mind. After all, she had a point, and all he had was a dull disinterest in being bothered.

He rubbed his face and relented in overplayed agony, "Dentist next week maybe. Please."

"Alright," she smiled. "What else? Hm..."

"What about your mail?" the man suddenly cut in. "You need to go to the post office for that thing you were doing last night, don't you?"

"Oh, it's not ready yet," Twilight shook her head. "I mean, I could send it, but I want to let it sit for a bit before I go over everything another time. Then I'll send it."

Yet she was glad that he had brought the subject of mail up. She had been meaning to remind him, since it was doubtful to her that he had acted yet.

"On that note, why don't you read your letter from the Princess while we figure out what we're going to do? You know, so it doesn't permanently join the pile of your abandoned, unread mail."

"I guess," he accepted, unhindered and unrushed. "It's nothing important, though. Just another pen pal letter."

Like a satellite trapped in an infinite fall his words merely orbited her, unable to land and be processed. Only after a dozen cycles did they finally pass into her vacant ears.

In a great burst of puzzlement, she exclaimed, "Wait... pen pal? Really?"

"Yeah. Just regular 'how do you do's and 'what's been going on's," the bewildered man clarified. "Sometimes she likes to draw pictures and put little word games in her letters. Just... pen pal stuff. Why, what did you think we were writing to each other about?"

It was like finding him napping with Rainbow Dash all over again.

No, no. That didn't quite describe the unthinkable enormity of it well enough.

It was like she had found him CUDDLING with Rainbow Dash, his hand running through her tail slowly, while into his ear the pegasus was whispering verses from the ancient epic Bayowulf, recited flawlessly in the ORIGINAL Old Equestrian.

So off balance was she that she struggled to grasp even obvious concepts out of the air while she tried to guess answers.

"Uh, friendship reports, or... official status updates, or—" an ashamed meekness appeared in her, "—reporting something about me to her..." She finally threw in the towel, "I don't know! I assumed it was something important at least! She's PRINCESS CELESTIA."

"That-... that is a thing she is, yes."

James wondered for a moment if maybe they were seeing two different sides of the same coin. There had never been a question about how much the unicorn looked up to her mentor in worship. The Princess was so very important to her. But for her that importance perhaps only existed in a very narrow, childlike way.

"She is more...," he spoke quietly.

The twist in Twilight's neck grew like a tree, inching along as her head cocked to the side over the years. She pushed herself to discern the mysterious meaning behind his remark, unsuccessfully. Though, she did recall a few dreamy things on the borders of her vision, like speaking to the Princess at Hamestown; memories of the Princess mentioning her own personal struggles; dim silhouettes of a pony who wasn't JUST her mentor. Still, no sensible conclusion came despite her efforts.

Seeing this, the man sighed and mumbled, "Maybe it's alright for now that, to you, she's just 'the Princess.' Maybe wherever you are in your life right now, that's what you need. But... to me... she's something else. I didn't grow up under her wing, or even under the sun she raises. So when she sent me her very first letter and I read it, I wasn't getting a letter from THE PRINCESS."

Ah, that very first letter. It came back to him crisply.

Only a week after having returned from the trip to Hamestown (already two months in the past now!) it had come in. He would have thrown it out with the rest of the spam but Twilight had caught sight of it first and had remarked upon the unusual nature of such a royal letter arriving through ordinary mail. And as if receiving such a letter through something other than magical dragonfire hadn't been strange enough, he had found the contents to be incredibly unexpected.

It hadn't been an official correspondence from somepony incredibly important. No, it had been written as a casual letter from somepony close. She had comfortably described her affairs at the castle and local Canterlot news, and had wondered warmly about what he had been getting up to. It had been something he might have thought to have seen from a friend, or a sister, or some other family.

His first, gut reaction had been much like Twilight's current one: what a bizarre message to have received from a princess! But even only minutes after having read it he had remembered the intimate words he had exchanged with her in person during his two visits to Canterlot. The letter had transported him right back to being in her soothing, warm, reassuring company.

He had written back to her that same day, putting his words in the same exact tone as hers, kicking off their regular correspondence.

"I replied to that first letter right away because," he told Twilight, "I-... well, because I felt-"

Yet he held himself back from being any more specific, particularly given how she already hadn't been able to completely interpret his behaviors.

Starting fresh, he said, "You assume my letters from the Princess have to be something important somehow, and you aren't wrong; they are important. But not for Equestria. Just for me. Replying to her has sort of been like-..."

Very nearly he trailed off.

"... like writing home."

Many more moments of thinking ticked by, but the unicorn still shook her head.

"I... don't get what you mean?"

"Well, like I said," the man lightened his mood and offered her reprieve, "maybe there's a lesson in here that's just not for you right now."

Her stare lingered on him for a few more studious moments while her spongy mind ever loathed the existence of something it couldn't wrap itself around. But, her lessons of patience fresh in her mind, she rapidly let go and simply asked him, "So... do you want to read your letter?"

He nodded effortlessly.

From the library's front down, a light and rapid knocking rattled away, interrupting them. The tapping was low and uncertain at first, though a restrained energy swiftly settled into regular pattering blows. Each hit was fear and excitement bashing into the door together. Likely it was a library visitor since welcome friends of Twilight's usually waltzed right in.

"Could you get that?" the unicorn asked James while she herself stepped away to retrieve the man's mail for him.

"Sure."

He wasted no time. Up on his feet, a few steps over, and one wide swing later the door was open.

"Hi, James!"

The grandest smile was on the other side. The pony bounced about elatedly as she shouted her irrepressible greeting. Up and down, up and down, with a little left and right thrown in for good measure; she was hardly able to keep in one place. Glowing in eyes and body, the youthful energy inside of her was ready to explode as she kept springing in joyful leaps.

The man held in a single disbelieving breath.

The doorway divide had on one side a bright laughing. On the other side was an awed tranquility broken only by a single mumble.

"... Poppy?"

Chapter 5: Caring

The deep brown filly was overjoyed to see that James still remembered her. Although it wasn't entirely logical, there had been the tiniest piece of her which had feared that the short time they had spent together two months ago had already been forgotten. She dropped from her neck a travel satchel made of vines and leaves and she rushed forwards, boiling over with thankful excitement and embracing one of his legs happily. Her two little wings buzzed.

The man was left without a compass, lost at sea between reality and waking dreams, and at first he only stood frozen in a timeless moment as he stared down at the young pony blissfully gripping his leg.

Of course he recognized her! How could he ever have forgotten her?

Forgotten THIS adorable little pegasus, with a mane bunched into two tails that sprouted out of the top of her head like fountains of pale purple water? With radiant eyes like amber crystals, the right one still encircled by a black mark honoring Prideheart? With underdeveloped wings which now looked healthier than they had before when they had been initially freed from lifelong bondage, and which now beat so frantically with joy as she hugged him? His little pony, with an inspiring, warm, easy-to-love spirit?

This one could never have been forgotten. Never would he have let it happen.

Only two months ago had been the trip to Hamestown and even in memory the whole even still felt a little overwhelming. So much had been packed into so few days. He had often found that he had a hard time remembering the full details of the experience whenever he had tried to whimsically think back upon it. Without serious concentration, or somepony to talk to and offer reminders, everything about the trip often felt murky and hard to recall.

Everything EXCEPT for any single detail tied to this wonderful filly, down to the tiniest specific. Like few other ponies he had met so far, so short a time had been enough for her to have made so big an impression.

But why was she here?

Those months prior, Twilight and all her friends had been sent out on behalf of Princess Celestia to a far corner of Equestria to investigate some suspicious business at a remote settlement. By the unpredictable, wonderful twistings of fate, the option to accompany them had come to him and, after much hesitation and uncertainty (and luck), he had chosen to go.

At their destination, Hamestown, a great schism in ponykind had been sitting long unresolved. Hidden behind the thriving greenery of Dryearth Forest had lived the Dryponies; a pony tribe founded centuries ago by expatriates who had never made peace with what had separated them from the world. Dangerous had been their conflict with Hamestown, nearly to the point of tipping into disaster. But thanks to the magical power of friendship, Twilight and the others had been able to convince the Dryponies to explore overtures of peace. As far as anypony now knew, things had been going well in that distant nook of Equestria.

And surely the fresh peace must have been going well if Poppy was now here in such shining spirits. Of course, her default mode was to be bright and mirthful. Even at her young age she was a pony with such incredible soul; an unyielding faith in her connections to others, and an open willingness to freely give and receive love. She had been one of the Drypony guards who had captured and imprisoned James and everypony in the beginning, but through speaking with the man she had come to faithfully believe that there might have been real ponies hidden underneath the so-called enemies that she had helped imprison. And the man in turn had found special inspiration inside of her.

But again, what was she doing here in Ponyville?

A thousand thoughts, and memories, and ideas, and theories all crashed together in his head. Explanations cracked like lightning, flashing for unreadable instances. And then, very suddenly, it all ceased.

He didn't care why.

She was here. With him.

'Why?' was a question for his head, not his heart.

SHE WAS HERE. WITH HIM.

That was all that mattered.

He bent down and got his hands under her, bounced her into the air, and caught her in strong hug at chest level. The laughing filly used her new height to embrace him again, wrapping her hooves around his neck while she rubbed her cheek against his.

"I'm really happy to see you, Poppy," the man greeted, giving her a tender squeeze.

She squeezed him right back before she let go, braced her hooves against his chest, and leaned back in his arms to get a good look at him. Beaming, her emaciated wings were STILL happily fluttering.

"Me too!"

"It's a real surprise to see you!" James said.

The filly stretched her brow, startled by his words.

"I... sent you a letter to tell you I was coming."

"Is that right?" he bite his lip and gave a slight glance away. No doubt her unopened letter still waited to be read in his pile of old mail. Best that he not tell Twilight about this one because then he would have never heard the end of it.

Giggling at his funny behavior, the filly quickly moved past the matter. Some niggle of remembrance popped upon her face and she took on a grand and satisfied smile. Out in front of his eyes she held up her right foreleg and wrapped around it like a bracelet was the borrowed green scrunchie he had given to her before he had departed from Hamestown. Just as had been promised, man and filly had met again so that she could return it.

It looked like the band had lost a small amount of its blue glitter from wear and use, but otherwise it appeared washed and immaculately taken care of. She jiggled her leg about in a mirrored offering of when he had first handed it to her.

Sliding one arm down so that he could continue to hold the filly, James rolled the scrunchie off of her and chuckled, "Thank you."

"Poppy!" Twilight called in delighted surprise as she reentered the room. She idly set aside the Princess's letter that she had just retrieved for James.

"Miss Twilight!"

Effortlessly energetic, the filly sprung out of the man's arm with a backwards flip from which she landed with perfect ease. She bounded over and flung herself around the unicorn's legs in yet another welcome embrace. Any learned inhibitions she had once harbored for Sunponies, unicorns, or magic had long ago vanished in a puff of smoke.

Giving a hug of her own in return, Twilight pleasantly remarked, "Well hello, my little pony! What are you doing all the way out here?"

"I came to see James!" The words bounced out, full of unbounded happiness. She let go of the unicorn and hastily added on with extra sprinkles of politeness, "And, uh, you and everypony else too... of course."

Twilight smiled in great amusement, "So this is a courtesy visit then?"

"Oh! I-, uh, I mean, I have official-" Poppy struggled to explain herself. She twisted and turned in place like an uncoordinated dog chasing their own tail, trying desperately to recall her special instructions. At last she remembered what she was missing and she sped back towards the front door in skips and leaps. Retrieving her dropped satchel, she slung it back around her neck with one flick. Instantly her stride became proud and soldierly as she trotted back over to Twilight, and there she rooted through her pack. Eventually she withdrew a rolled parchment that was sealed with a leaf insignia, and she held it out for the unicorn to take while she struck a dignified and self-confident pose.

Ever endeared by his adorable trooper, James laughed to himself as he pocketed the scrunchie and joined Twilight's side. Together they unfurled the scroll and looked it over. There was some very proper and official-looking imagery all over the top of it; drawn designs that evoked leaves and trees, stirring all their memories of Heartwood. A thin oval portrait in the center even held a depiction of a noble pony soldier gazing off proudly; a legendary hero with whom they were now quite familiar. Below the fancy designs were straight words written in the deliberate and steady script of an old mare:

The bearer of this parchment is an OFFICIAL AMBASSADOR of Heartwood, chosen specially to represent us Dryponies before Equestria.

With encouragement from our pony partners at Hamestown, we are engaging in a program of cultural exchange with the rest of Equestria. Our ambassadors' tasks are to visit and be exposed to the ponies and cultures of the destinations that they have been sent to; to be demonstrative of the great courtesy, dignity, and honor of the Dryponies to the rest of the world; and to share the immortal story of our ancestor hero, Prideheart. They are here to learn about you, and to teach you about us.

This project has also been approved by the Sun Princess herself, and therefore it is requested by the honor of Canterlot that our ambassadors be treated with all the rights, privileges, and respect demanded by their station. Your compliance is greatly appreciated.

Representative, Heartwood

Willow Wise
Representative, Canterlot

Princess Celestia
Ambassador

Hoppin Poplar but please call me Poppy

Twilight rolled the paper back up, grinning, "Well, this looks very official, MISS AMBASSADOR."

Poppy thrived in the attention regardless of how obviously silly the unicorn was being. She held her snout up with a puffy sort of vanity, and she eagerly shared, "I was the number one choice for this mission!"

"I'll bet," James snickered.

"It's true!" the little filly insisted, bouncing in place. "When Lady Willow announced the-, the-, excultural inchange thingy, I was the first to volunteer! I said I wanted to go to Ponyville!" Wide-eyed and bright, her unflappable confidence shined. "And you know she said to me? She said she couldn't think of a more perfect Drypony for the job! Uh huh, that's right! That's what she said!" Again her face was lifted up with pride as she thumped herself.

"I don't doubt it for a second," the man replied.

Using her magic, Twilight returned the identification scroll to the filly's satchel and then said, "I suppose, since you are the OFFICIAL ambassador from Heartwood, I should give you a very official welcome to Ponyville." She bowed, proper if still somewhat playful, and greeted, "Welcome, Miss Poppy."

"Thank you!" the filly bounced in uncontainable joy, throwing out all the seriousness she had been trying to show for her job.

Twilight suddenly grew more sober than the situation really called for.

"I think we should arrange a meeting for you with the mayor so you can properly begin your duties."

The filly squinted, "You're-... you're not the chief of Ponyville?"

"Oh, no," the unicorn laughed, "I'm just a student of the Princess and a librarian." She delivered Poppy's first, quick cultural lesson, "Ponyville is like Hamestown. We have a mayor here who is in charge of civil duties, and she's elected by us with a vote instead of being decided by strength like at Heartwood. She's the one you want to meet with for your official duties."

Duty wasn't on James' mind.

He didn't question Poppy's attachment to her official mission, but it was already clear to him that she had been passionately driven to come to Ponyville for another reason. No doubt she had arrived just this morning and had immediately searched for the library, and not because she had erroneously believed that the magically powerful unicorn Twilight was in charge. He had mentioned to the filly in the past where he had been staying, and she had come straight there when the opportunity had arisen.

And somehow he was just so glad that she had.

"There'll be plenty of time for business later," he lightly chided his unicorn friend. "How about we give her some rest from her trip and spend some time catching up instead?"

Twilight squirmed, just barely, at the suggestion and all the ignorance of duty which it implied. Yet everything she had talked about with the man was fresh on her mind she swiftly understood that perhaps the Drypony's visit should be about more than meeting the formal requirements. Like James experiencing Equestria through direct contact with her friends, the filly could get more from casual exposure to the town than from merely meeting with the mayor.

Plus, it was also obvious to her exactly whom Poppy had really come to see. And oh, how incredibly delighted he was in turn to see the little filly!

"Alright," she nodded.

In a few minutes all three of them were gathered in one corner of the room, a drink and a snack provided to Poppy, and the hosts listened to the effervescent filly ramble on in electric delirium. The long trip might have been Poppy's, but only James and Twilight rested; the little pony was so chock full of excitement that she couldn't even sit down. She was on and off the table, leaping from here to there, and running her small hooves everywhere as she babbled cheerfully without end. Like the filly herself, her retelling also jumped from place to place arbitrarily. Ends started halfway through the middle and ran into new beginnings before they ever had a chance to conclude.

"Oh! The train ride! Have you ever ridden a train before?" Poppy asked in awe. "It was SOOO AMAZING! It went so high up into the mountains and you could look out the windows and see the whole forest, and Hamestown was so tiny, and there were these HUGE rocks up there and everything!" She swirled about like she had to run somewhere but nowhere to go. "And the train kept going and going! The world is so big!"

"Haha, I remember the train ride, yes," James answered. "But go back to what you were saying about your home. How have the joint projects been going?"

"Yes!" Twilight insisted gleefully. "Has everything been going well between Heartwood and Hamestown?"

"Yeah, it's been great!" the filly was impossibly overjoyed that they had asked. "There's been a lot of new ponies to meet and make friends with! And we get to help them build their village and work their farms! And they help us gather food and . . . "

On and on she went. Somehow she compressed weeks of activity into a fast, breathless rambling. Twilight and James had to content themselves with only getting in the occasional reactionary word or compliment. In an order that only made sense to the whirlwind filly they heard about: frontiersponies learning Drypony songs and dances, Dryponies discovering trades long lost to them, new traditions which were forming in the budding cooperation, and so much more.

"I mostly do a lot of running messages," the peppy Poppy proudly pronounced, "because I'm so fast in the trees. Fastest Branch Dancer in all the Heartwood Guard!"

"It's stupendous to hear what a success the reunification has been," Twilight said. She was quite curious to learn, "And how has Willow Wise been?"

In one go Poppy slurped down her entire drink so as to not interrupt the dialogue.

"Oh, Lady Willow's being an ambassador too! She's at Canterlot spending time with the Princess right now!" At last a minor slowness snagged the filly and blinked with uncertainty. "She said that she really wanted to do Canterlot because she wanted to see it before it was too late..."

"Ah, she's just getting old," James said comfortably. His meaning didn't take though; the filly's eyes stayed lost.

The man recalled the time years ago when the first of his grandparents passed. Squaring age, time, and death had been a hard thing for him as a young boy. Willow Wise, to Poppy, had so far always been 'Old Lady Willow.'

Gently he glazed over the topic, "One day it'll just be too hard for her to make the trip."

That logic seemed to have been enough for the filly to have understood. Or otherwise she had simply trusted the man's word. She nodded and smiled.

"And how about Broken Oak?" James wanted to know. "Has he been stirring up any trouble?"

The little pony giggled, "Nah. He was grouchy about everything at first but he's been doing good. The first time that the Hamestown ponies asked him to do some farmwork for them (because he's such a big stallion and all) he got really snorty and angry about it. He did it anyway cause he's a real Prideheart hero who does the right thing of course, and once he started he seemed to really get into it after awhile. Just hauling this big plow around, and carrying heavy baskets, and digging up tree trunks and stuff. He'll spend whole days just working out in their fields. Sometimes without lunch!"

Again her excited pace suddenly wound down as she stared at the ground, gnawing on her confused lip.

"It's weird though... After he began doing all the farmwork, a lot of the Hamestown mares just started... lining up on the fences and watching him work; they get really funny looks on their faces. Broken Oak got REALLY mellow about everything after that started happening."

The filly shrugged.

The revelation was way more amusing than it should have been for James.

"Well, haha, good for him!" the man barely restrained his laugh. "Sounds like he finally found a better outlet for all those powerful and aggressive... feelings of his."

Twilight was tickled by what had become of the hostile stallion as well, holding in her own laughter. But there was a certain look in her eyes – a sparkle of purity – which told James that she was imagining a more... innocence... interpretation to what the local mares saw in a sturdy, well-built, muscular stud working up a sweat under the hot sun.

"What about you guys?" Poppy suddenly asked, hungry with curiosity if at least attempting to be polite. However her energy very quickly ran away with her again, "Has everything been as great as it has been for me? What kind of stuff do you guys do here? Where is all your friends?"

"Haha, they don't all live here at the library like we do!" James exclaimed. He didn't even mean to be so loud and vibrant with his response. Her austere joy just infected him. Of course a filly like her would have imagined inseparable friends as living together; why wouldn't they? A home filled with only the best of friends? Sign her up!

"That's right," Twilight endorsed the man's statement. "Each of our friends; all those ponies you met before; everypony is just another citizen of this town, out doing their own things when they aren't spending time us." She winked at Poppy, "I'm sure you'll get to meet them all again as you have a look around Ponyville."

The thought hammered itself into the little filly and she gasped, large and slow. For a brief moment she was on the train again, her face smushed up against the window and her massive eyes stapled open at the astounding sight of her destination rolling into view.

"Oh, Ponyville! Ponyville looks so amazing! It's so much bigger than Hamestown and there's so much stuff and so many ponies! I want to see EVERYTHING! I want to do EVERYTHING in Ponyville!"

She was already set to go, repeatedly stamping her four happy hooves in unison against the floor.

"Everything? Geez," James chuckled. "You know, I've been here for like three months and I haven't gotten to it all."

"You haven't been in the best position to get to it all!" Twilight snipped at him, with her tongue firmly in her cheek.

Nonetheless, the idea of their new guest being toured around Ponyville took hold the unicorn's mind. Willow Wise had been absolutely correct to have allowed Poppy to be one of the Drypony ambassadors to Equestria. The filly's fervor for discovery alone could have carried her through without an explicit mission statement. Ponyville was going to be a feast for this little girl, and it was only proper to have helped her towards the table.

However, she looked at James. In an instant her whole morning with him collapsed into a single speck: their long and deep conversation, his shine in response to the filly's arrival, his ever-greater glow the longer he stayed in her presence...

"Why don't you spend today showing Poppy around town?" she suggested out of the blue.

The man was somewhat surprised to hear the idea come from a pony like her, and especially how quickly she had offered it too.

"Is... that what you want to do?" he cautiously verified.

"Me? Not with me," she shook her head gladly. "You take her by yourself. I'll handle some of my own things instead today. You know I'm not going to have any trouble keeping busy." The smile she gave exuded a healthy humor, a full faith, and a promise of permission.

"Are you... sure?" he questioned. He was almost sincerely worried about her. For all the trouble she often had when circumstances flew off the rails it was mighty odd for her to push for a derailing intentionally. "It is Saturday, and on Saturdays usually you and I-"

The unicorn burst with perfect laughter.

"What about everything we just talked about this morning, James?" she reminded him with a big grin. "'It's alright to break away from the schedule.' Go on; spend your day with Poppy instead. And since tomorrow is your free day that gives you TWO days to spend entirely with her and show her around Ponyville." Unreserved, she urged them both, "Enjoy yourselves."

For the little Drypony listening to their back and forth, every sentence uttered was another shake of the soda can. Her head swiveled between them as they spoke, lightning spilling into her hooves and her smile conquering her face one nation at a time. There was only inches left on her sizzling fuse before detonation.

But for James...

Was it okay to allow this new sacrifice of Twilight's? She had already surrendered things and endured discomforts for his perceived sake. Even if each individual ding she took for him was small, over time such things can add up to serious weights. Now he was going to allow another one, even if she had used his own words and ideas to justify her noble deed?

Shouldn't he at least try to do something to mitigate things? Like insist that she come along and share their day anyway? She knew Ponyville better.

However, an entire other side of him worked to convince him of Twilight's inherent rightness. Look at Poppy! Just look at her! Imagine the perfect hours that could be spent with that little filly! He had no idea what he would have even done with her out in Ponyville.

But he knew he would love to share a day with her.

Knew he would love to just be around her.

Knew he wanted to spend as much time with her as he could.

Knew he wanted to hear her ramble about anything they did or came across.

Knew he wanted to discover firsthand how much she had grown since they had last met.

Knew he wanted to hear her laugh.

See her smile.

Skip.

Hop.

Twirl.

Why?

Why not?

This was a wonderful pony between which he found no barriers whatsoever. If the moment had been just a bit different, he might have cried.

"Well... how about it? Want to do some exploring, Poppy?"

"YEAH!" came the filly's explosive reply. Buttressing her answer she took a soaring leap off the floor, flipped in midair, and touched down with unconscious poise. While already skipping towards the front door she called out ecstatically, "Thank you, Miss Twilight! Come on, James! Let's go, let's go; I can't wait!"

"Alright, alright!" He tried to keep a rein on her nigh unstoppable enthusiasm by walking slowly, but it was a more of a 'big dog, little owner' kind of situation. "Where to first, do you think?"

"Ahhhh, I don't know!" she squeaked as she continued to jubilantly bounce away in front of the door, waiting for him to catch up. "Anywhere!"

While patting his pockets to ensure he had some bits on him for their upcoming adventure the man rediscovered the scrunchie he had stowed there. He withdrew it and twiddled it between his fingers.

"Might as well start with returning this to the original owners. I bet you've never been to a spa before! Lotus and Aloe will really treat you to something special."

"Spa?" Her amber eyes shined a curious gold.

"You'll love it," he promised. "I keep going back. ME, of all ponies."

It was the kind of promise which the filly held in such good faith that it could led her untold miles without question. She screeched in loyal agreement before she rammed the library door open with her head and zoomed out.

James followed, scarcely holding in his laughs by biting on his finger. He looked back at Twilight once.

He was full of a different kind of excitement than she had every really seen in him before. There was a great thankfulness in him, too.

"Have fun," she wished him sincerely.

As they went she stood in the library doorway, waving and calling farewell while they gave back hearty but already-distracted goodbyes. She stayed watching until they vanished into the mire of Ponyville, and then she shut the library door.

Now alone, she turned around to face her suddenly much-less-energetic library.

But that was alright.

Not only was the spongy Drypony going to be able to soak up some of mainstream Equestrian culture directly from a gushing source, but James was going to receive something wonderful out of going around with her. 'Why,' she wasn't quite sure, but she knew for certain that he would. Just like the different pieces of himself he had given to Twilight herself, Rainbow Dash, and all of their mutual friends, some other part of him was connected to Poppy; perhaps a very special part. Perhaps a part that needed to feel things he hadn't yet been able to feel from anypony else.

James cared about Poppy in a unique way that he could not anypony else. Not even her and their other friends. Something in the filly activated his most nurturing love.

And truly Twilight was glad to see it, and to let it take the man wherever it would.

The unicorn enjoyed her time with James as much as she enjoyed spending time with any of her friends, but 'losing' today was one 'sacrifice' for that she absolutely didn't mind. The cause was good, the benefits were obvious, and her own losses were nearly impossible to specify with any accuracy; their days had always been so fluid and slapdash. It wasn't as if by parting from him she now had a Saturday of broken commitments to deal with; they had nailed down no plans or schedule! With only a few minutes of reorganizing, while blindfolded with her hooves tied behind her back, she could again have a full schedule for the day.

Actually, thinking over it, she found that she didn't feel upset or regretful AT ALL that she had lost her day with him. Oh, truly, TRULY, she did not resent him or harbor any secret grudges towards him; never once had she explicitly wished for him to have been gone. His appearance in her life had already paid many dividends: in terms of her friendship lessons, for her personal growth, and even for the pure enjoyment of having had an engaging verbal sparring partner.

The more she mulled over her odd apathy the more she came to think that it was borne from her anticipation for her future surprise for her friends; the letter she had received yesterday still caged her mind. It was almost as if nothing of the present mattered to her since the future outshined it so brightly. How she wished she could have just closed her eyes and transported herself ahead in time!

But no. The future only arrived one day at a time. That meant that, until the future reached her, she had to handle her responsibilities like normal.

Where to start?

A little cleaning first? The empty cup which had once held Poppy's swiftly-finished drink was still out next to the bowl of nibbled-on snacks. The filly had left her satchel behind as well, though presumably she wouldn't have needed it for a day cavorting around town. Also, some careless pony had left an envelope just thrown on the—

Oh!!

James had never read his letter from Princess Celestia!

The unicorn scooped it up with her magic, intending to put it somewhere he might notice it upon his return. But after no more than a single step, she froze.

He had been so casual about its presumed contents. So very, VERY unbelievably casual. DISTURBINGLY casual.

So far she had always held herself back from asking him for specifics about his personal correspondence with the Princess, but just earlier he had effortlessly shared the pen pal nature of his letters, disregarding easily his own privacy. Then... he wouldn't have cared if she HAD shown genuine interest in the details. Right?

...

The way he had described his exchanges... What he had said about Princess Celestia being more than a princess to him... She just didn't understand...

...

Maybe-... maybe he wouldn't have minded if she... took a quick peek? Just one small look, for herself? It hadn't bothered him to have shared of his own already, so what possible harm—

No, no. Don't be ridiculous. It was HIS mail. What an invasion of privacy, to have tore it open without having asked! Even if he wouldn't have cared! And if the words within were truly as normal, friendly, and everyday as he had said then it couldn't have contained anything which she desperately needed to see.

...

But if what was inside WASN'T actually important then there was really no problem with ANYPONY taking a look at—

Nope. No. No! No.

...

Well, if the envelope WERE to have been opened SOMEHOW, by some freak accident perhaps, then there were spells that could have carefully resealed it. And she hadn't practiced such a spell in a long, long time. Really, if there were ever a good reason—

No! Stop it!

She pushed the letter further away from her face, out of temptation's reach. Diligently she marched along so as to swiftly return it to his mail pile and be done with it. But as she passed a brightened window through which the unobstructed beams of the sun burned, she slowed down and held the envelope right up to the glass in shameful hope of maybe catching a word or two with the help of the piercing light.

There-... there seemed to be... nothing distinct... but maybe if she just—

No! Enough!

She tore the letter off the window and stormed forward, determined to dodge any future traps. The whole way to James' bed she berated herself silently, and once there she hurriedly returned the taunting letter to the stand she had first taken it from. She dared not to look back as she stomped away.

Desperately she needed something powerful to glue her focus elsewhere; something engaging enough to keep her far away from James' mail.

Mail...

MAIL!

Her mail! Her own wonderful letter! Just the very first thoughts of her special surprise for her friends had her trotting lighter, the hard clops of her self-reproach pulling a full retreat.

She was fairly certain that her multi-page reply to yesterday's letter was complete, but she still wanted to proofread and edit it as thoroughly as possible. Maybe now she had gained the temporal distance to adequately do so? If everything checked out then she could rush it to the post office today instead of sending it out on Monday, though in the grand scheme of things she recognized that, given the nature of her prize, advancing by two extra days probably wouldn't have sped up the—

Her ears lifted at an unexpected noise, and she came to a stop. The sound; a hard wooden tapping, but it hadn't been her own hooves on the floor.

Shortly she heard it again. A soft knocking on the library's front door! No haste, no strength; just the sound of a limp hoof barely falling against her home's entrance.

She turned about and began heading there, in no particular hurry. Mild curiosity had her pondering who it was with no great effort, but then again the unknown guest was obviously not in a rush either. The hollow taps on the door didn't cease; lifeless knocks in groups of three or four broken only by an cold pauses.

At last Twilight reached the door and, dusting herself once and straightening her mane first, she opened it.

The most beaten frown was on the other side. The pony there wobbled her lips as she tried but failed to greet the unicorn, not even getting out so much as a dry breath. Her mane was soggy not from any downpour but from the heavy gravity that surrounded her. Her spirit had been all but devoured to the last crumb and she hardly was able to work up the strength to move.

Twilight held in a single disbelieving breath.

The doorway divide had on one side a glum, infinitely-dark gloom. On the other side was a surprised silence shattered only by a concerned greeting.

"... Pinkie Pie? What's wrong?"

Her eyes deep wells of sadness, the pink pony sniffled in pain, "Why isn't James my friend?"

Spike peeled open the lid to the straw package which sat on the ground. Up to the very top it was filled with wintry treasures. They looked like large snowflakes that were molded from a hard and almost reflective material, inches in width but in many different sizes and shapes, and colored in whites and soft blues. Small, glittering crystals were attached to them in many symmetric places. If the dragon were to have spilled the container over a balcony edge then it would have been the most stylish and elegantly crafted snowfall to have ever hit Ponyville.

"Wow. These look great, Rarity! I'm sure they'll fit into your designs exactly like you wanted," he said to his adored pony.

A random sampling of the dress-accentuating ornaments came out of the pack, lifted by the unicorn's magic. Her keen eyes flipped between them one at a time as she determined, "Mmm... yes... perfect, perfect! They're exactly what is needed! Let's get these back to the boutique immediately."

She returned her sample, resealed the lid, and helped Spike get the package's straps over his shoulders. After the cargo was secure she floated a few bits in payment to the pleasant pony behind the counter and wished the shopkeeper a great 'thank you' before departing from the store, not tempted in the least by any of the other infinite baubles which lined the shelves. Such was the confidence in the dressmaker's own vision.

As they walked the streets together, making their way back to Rarity's shop, the unicorn strongly expressed to herself, "Oh, I can feel it! This is going to be my greatest winter line ever!"

"I hope so," Spike eagerly supported her. But he was too faithful to hide a slightly worried thought which came to him, "Are you sure you'll be able to finish the first batch of dresses in time? The winter swap is just around the corner."

"Tut-tut, of course I will," she affirmed, her head held high. "I've been pressed into tighter corners by worse dresses." She gave her words some space before she thoughtfully decided to add, with a very intentionally thankful inflection, "And besides, I needn't be worried when I have such wonderful help. Isn't that right, my little Spikey-Wikey? You may be Twilight's assistant officially but you've come to know the in's and out's of my boutique as well as you know the library's."

The dragon blushed.

"T-Thank you, Rarity. Just happy to help!"

He bounced the package on his back and kicked his steps up a little higher. But soon another damper came upon his happy energy, though smaller than before.

"I thought maybe that side project of making a set of winter clothes for James was really going to get in your way."

"That was a concern at first," Rarity admitted readily, "but thank goodness he has such simple tastes. Assembling something basic with a little more insulation and wind resistance than his old outfit; it hardly took any time at all."

Indeed, if she had earnestly sought to explore the fashionable possibilities that his human form had to offer then the job could have been quite time consuming. But as it was, she knew that the man would gratefully accept even the most bland and plain set of clothes as if they were an outfit devised for royalty. Ultimately for his winter suit she had contented herself with having created something that was all function and virtually no form. In her eyes, anyway.

She hummed for a whimsical moment, retracing her foggy dreams for the clothes that could have been. But her choices had been sound; it would have been an error to have created human clothes for her own sake and not for his. Besides, for projects of such personal generosity just the right inspiration was critical; an inspiration not always so hampered by need or practicality.

"Perhaps some day I'll be able to unleash my full creative talent on something for him," she mumbled to herself with the crumbs of a sigh.

Refocusing, she stated, "Rather than be a burden, having James around once a week to assist has only helped things go faster."

"You really think so?" Spike asked.

"Oh, most certainly," she attested. "He may not have a sense of fashion, nor any knowledge of dressmaking, but one area he has proven himself remarkable is in following directions. Leave him with some clear, precise instructions and by Celestia he follows them to the letter."

"Ah," the dragon realized, "so that's why you always have a list of stuff for him to do when he comes in, and why you give him the most boring-, erm, repetitive tasks."

"Quite so," she nodded, before adding a more silent and reserved, "though you didn't have to put it quite so crudely." She shook off her unladylike side-commentary. "I'm sure he would do well under my precise guidance; where I could work more closely with him, and diligently watch over him, and correct his missteps. But there just isn't the time for that. I much more trust you, my dear Spike, to do the hooves-on work right next to me since you have more experience."

"Aw shucks, Rarity."

Once more Spike's cheeks reddened and he marched more proudly.

Her reply was simply an affectionate smile.

"However," she politely picked up, "I will say once more that he has been a big help. Between his attentive obedience and those steady... fingered hoof-things of his... I can teach him a simple stitch, show him where it goes, give him a pile of dresses to apply it to, and know that he'll get the job done in a respectable amount of time for an amateur. That frees me up from some of the grunt work. It's the little shortcuts like that which have helped to get us ahead of schedule-"

Scootaloo came blazing by between them, approaching from behind and scorching a trail in the ground. She had skirted so incredibly close to Spike that she sent the dragon for a spin, and only with luck did he manage to clamp down on the package's straps and steady himself without falling over backwards and crushing his precious payload.

"Hi Rarity! Hi Spike! Later!" the filly quickly spat as she zipped through.

"Oh my!" the surprised unicorn gasped. "Fantastic save, dear."

"Yeah," Spike agreed, "that was a close-"

"One side, y'all!" Apple Bloom greeted as she rapidly rushed through, following Scootaloo.

She swiped the dragon on his other side, whipping him into a reverse spin. Again he would have tumbled over backwards and squashed his cargo but he managed to save himself by stiffening his tail and using it like a stand. Straightening up again he opened his mouth to complain.

Rarity was fast to recognize a pattern however, whatever for it took. She lifted the dragon off of the street with her magic before he got a word out, and it was just in time to avoid a collision with the galloping Sweetie Belle. Setting Spike safely back down, her magic seized her sister instead.

Sweetie Belle, lifted off the ground, ran in place for a few more moments before she realized that she wasn't catching up to her friends.

"Hey, what gives?"

"'What gives' indeed!" Rarity lightly scolded her sister. "What's all this careless rushing about? You and your stampeding friends nearly knocked over dear Spike, which could have destroyed my valuable snowflakes!"

"Oh!" Sweetie Belle looked back startled. "Sorry, Rarity! We're just in a rush! We've barely started and we've got so much more to do! We have to do EVERYTHING in Ponyville today!"

"Ah. Crusaders business, is it?" the older sister realized. She gently set Sweetie Belle back down, telling the filly, "Very well. Just do be more careful."

Overly eager to get past this obstacle, Sweetie Belle flashed a quick smile and nodded absently, "Sure thing! Bye, Rarity! Sorry, Spike!" And like that, she was charging down the road again and shouting after her fellow crusaders, "Hey! Wait for me!"

Danger passed, Rarity allowed herself a small laugh.

"Well, I suppose it wouldn't be a proper weekend if they weren't recklessly throwing themselves headfirst into their quest."

"I think Twilight said they had set up a bunch of quick lessons with different ponies and mentors all around Ponyville," Spike remarked, readjusting the straps on his shoulders. He stared at the three fillies as they wildly scrambled away, so intent on their next task that they hardly seemed to recognize where they were going. "Wonder if they'll run into anypony else?"

Chapter 6: Sharing

When James and Poppy emerged from the Ponyville Spa they were quite a refreshed spectacle. The spa ponies, as always, had been happy to see one of their loyal converts come back for another session; his delivery of an extra customer had merely been a bonus. Likewise, the return of their loaned scrunchie hadn't been a significant event to them (they had baskets full of the things after all), but the fulfillment of a promise had still been earnestly appreciated.

Professionals that they were, they had been more than delighted to have offered an assortment of their best services to the filly ambassador. From glamorously washing her mane and tail, to melting massages, to perfectly polishing her little hooves; they had made sure that their guest had a marvelous impression of what their spa was all about. The man had received slightly less extra special care, but by his own choice. Pampering still wasn't a large concern of his but, after he had worked up the courage to have become an occasional patron, he had truly come to enjoy the simple, regular, relaxing treatments given by the expert hooves of the spa ponies.

On this particular visit though he had been more pleased by witnessing his little friend's squealing excitement than by any service to himself.

Once outside, James ran his hands a few times through his now silky and shining hair before he reapplied his thin hairband to tie it back. Since they were going to be gallivanting around Ponyville he had made sure that the spa ponies hadn't wasted their efforts on a treatment which would have been ruined by some roaming excitement.

Poppy pushed herself up in front of one of the establishment's windows and inspected her own splendid mane in the indistinct reflection despite the fact that she had already spent many awestruck minutes going over herself in front of an actual mirror inside. Her hair glowed with a bit more color now, the paleness warmed into fuller richness. Her bunny-ear bundles were undone; the strands of her hair all hung straight and orderly on one side of her neck, trimmed to an even length. Every now and again she jostled her head just to see her freed mane swing and fall in ways that it simply never could have while it had been bound up. She was enthralled by the newness.

She also rubbed her hoof all along the new Prideheart mark around her eye, wielding a big grin as she did so. While washing her face the spa ponies had incidentally cleaned off much of the old mark, as it hadn't been anything more than the crushed residue of ebony flower petals smeared around her eye and forehead. Much to the filly's glee they had created a new one for her out of professional makeup; a dark highlight done with perfect curves and points.

James bent over her and asked, "So, what did you think?"

"Hehe, I look weird!" she laughed back, still pleasantly bright and fascinated with her own reflection. Then she suddenly broke away to tell him, "That was great! I wish we had something like this place at Hamestown!"

"Maybe they will someday! Getting a day spa probably wasn't the first thing on their minds when they were setting up," he teased her.

She smiled while juggling a soft giggle, and she continued to scrutinize herself with an entranced gaze for several moments longer.

"I don't know if I want to keep my mane like this," she at last said. Half of her was serious with worry but the other half was delighted with humor. "Nopony at home would recognize me!"

"Well," the man stated while fishing her Heartwood-made hair ties out of one of his pockets, "let's put it up for now and if you change your mind we can let it down again." He winked cleverly, "Or you could always come back for another treatment."

She crooned a happy noise and bounced back from the window before they spent a moment restoring her mane to her preferred style. The filly mostly managed the work herself, whirling her hair into bunches with some swiveling of her head and some guidance from her hooves, and her flexibility and dexterity at the task greatly impressed James. Once they were finished she reviewed herself in the window quickly, bobbing her head a few times to watch her two bundles of mane bounce like floppy rabbit ears.

Lively and ready she expressed, "Okay! Where to next?"

"Oh boy, I hardly know," the man complained with a certain amount of cheer. A wiser and more detached individual might have spent the quieter moments in the spa determining their next destination but he had been too distracted by watching Poppy enjoy her treatments. "If I hadn't of missed your letter I would have prepared a better plan," he apologized. His hand straddled his chin and he rubbed his thoughts out, "Hm, what does a pony do after cleaning themselves up at the spa?"

The filly borrowed his thought and glanced about before she suddenly popped up brightly. Pointing away, she said to him, "Oh! Those ponies over there look like they need to clean up! Maybe we can ask them what they'd do?"

The Cutie Mark Crusaders waddled along the street just across the way, shaking and swatting themselves as they went. A spa perhaps wasn't what they needed so much as a bath more generally; a major, major bath. Sticky and soiled autumn leaves were caught up in their manes and tails, stuck under their hooves, and glued to their bodies from neck to flank. Pockmarked by the red, orange, yellow, and golden stars they shook and wiped them off as best they could while they continued on their way. Their big smiles shined through their coats of dirt, their outlook for the rest of their day still positive.

James grinned. Their untidy appearance was almost assuredly the result of one of their cutie mark-seeking shenanigans; some ill-gone effort to assist with the final steps of the autumn cleanup probably.

But if there were any ponies in all of Ponyville who would have been tremendously eager tour guides for Poppy...

He caught their attention with a sharp whistle and then waved for them to come over.

Coming to a sharp stop first, the crusaders brightened with jubilant surprise at the sight of the man. There had been plenty of previous encounters between them and him before; only natural considering he was a friend of their sisters' (or idol's in Scootaloo's case). They trotted over in skips and quakes to loosen the last of the leaves lingering on them, smiling the whole way.

"Hail, crusaders," the man greeted as they came to stop. He extended a partial bow that was easy with formality and ripe with a sense of fun.

"Well howdy, James!" Apple Bloom was fast to return. Poppy had grabbed the crusaders' eyes well before they had finished their approach and so she was quick to follow up in avid fascination, "Who's this?"

The man nodded at Poppy, pulling himself aside.

The ready filly had hardly needed any prodding though. She held herself up with an authority both assumed yet carefree, chin raised and chest out with a hooves curved back around to point at herself.

Triumphantly she introduced, "I'm Poppy of the Dryponies, official ambassador to Ponyville, and finest Branch Dancer in the Heartwood Guard." Her own overeager self-promotion took a humble step back so her chipper geniality could come forward, and she bowed over her hoof, "It's my Prideheart honor to meet you!"

Perhaps the greeting had been a dash too proud to have been polite and a smidgen too enthused to have been formal, but the filly's body language had been understood one hundred percent by the crusaders. They themselves were quite familiar with childish pride, and that language had been more accessible to them than any of the obscure references Poppy had spoken. Wide eyes and even wider smiles spread through their ranks, and they clamored to learn more.

Seeing that, James swiftly elaborated, "Poppy here is visiting Ponyville from Hamestown and Heartwood, beyond the Pearl Peaks." He gestured at Sweetie Belle and Apple Bloom, "The place your sisters and I went to a few months ago with the others."

Instantly the stories came back to the crusaders and they were engulfed in interest, staring at Poppy as if they were altogether one happy and eager pony.

"Poppy," the man said to the Drypony, "allow me to introduce you to the Cutie Mark Crusaders."

"I'm Apple Bloom!" came the first greeting, homegrown, hearty, and delivered with all the same uninformed self-assurance that Poppy herself had just exhibited. The farm filly almost faltered for a moment afterwards, feeling a need to at least try and somewhat match the extended introduction the Drypony had given. Her eyes quickly flashed with something sly and she proclaimed confidently, "I'm the smart one! Pleased to meet you!"

Sweetie Belle gave a deliberate look to her redheaded friend, stained just shy of umbrage. Knowing better, she held herself up and enunciated a greeting that was very proper (and very vain), "I'm Sweetie Belle. I'm the pretty one. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

"And I'm Scootaloo," the final crusader immediately followed in a cocky tone. "I'm the BEST one. 'Sup?"

The other two gave the small pegasus glances that were as disdainful as they were envious. If only they had been clever enough to have come up with that one first!

Poppy took in each of their introductions merrily but her head was twisted to one side. When they finished she still didn't return to normal; her eyes thinned in thought instead. Something was familiar.

"Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle are Applejack's and Rarity's sisters, respectively," James informed her.

"Oh, wow!" the filly lit up. The last vestiges of assumed self-importance were forced out by her sheer excitement and she beamed, crowing at the crusaders, "Nice to meet you!"

And suddenly, like that, they all stepped closer together and exploded into the kind of animated, endless, engaged, fast, frantic, jittery, whirring, and wild talking that young ones often do amongst themselves; speedy group conversations held to understood rules that only made sense to those below a certain age:

"The way you done up your mane is real pretty-like!"

"Thanks! I like your bow!"

"What's with the makeup on your eye?"

"It's my Prideheart mark!"

"Woah, your wings are smaller than mine!"

"Yeah, I used to tie'em up but it's okay, I don't need'em!"

James was pleased to stand aside and watch their energy bounce off of each other.

All the years of shepherding younger cousins at family events had given him an early adoration for children and all things of a still-growing sort. Making friends with the crusaders had been a far easier endeavor than with any of the others. He had been endeared to their antics and encouraging of their growth, and for their part they had simply enjoyed having a strange, goofy, two-legged they-didn't-know-what as a playful and supportive friend.

He stayed back and delighted in catching whatever he could from their hurricane of words.

The end came suddenly when Sweetie Belle discovered with a loud call, "Oh, hey! You already have your cutie mark!"

Scootaloo and Apple Bloom quickly pushed in on either side of the Drypony to catch a glimpse of the design branded upon the filly's flank: a long, thin leaf which cuddled a twig. They both let out curious gasps of pleasure.

"So what's your special talent?" Scootaloo asked briskly.

Poppy was confused as to what had captivated them. She could feel their immense interest pouring over her but she couldn't fathom at all why their stares all fell on her sides.

"Cutie mark? You mean... my-... my flank sign?"

The crusaders were in turn puzzled by her oblivious reaction. The conversation died, as if their common foalhood language had become incompatible over the issue.

James was puzzled as well, but only for a moment. He promptly realized the problem and inserted himself between the fillies, bending down like a wise giant.

"Girls, Poppy comes from a culture that... doesn't value magic very much at all... and so they tend to regard things related to magic as not very important. Things like spells, and flying... and I'll bet cutie marks too."

The three crusaders' reaction probably would have been just the same as if he had told them something like 'dog food gets its name from actually being made from dogs.' Or if he had said that boys and girls kiss because that's how babies are made.

The man remarked to Poppy, "I bet you barely even remember when you got your cutie mark, right?"

"It just showed up one day, I think...," the filly confirmed his guess with her idle thinking. "Sometime when I started training to be a Branch Dancer in the Heartwood Guard." She peeked again at the mark on her flank, hardly familiar with it herself; the design had been all but invisible to her any time she had caught sight of her reflection. "Nopony at home really ever talks about it."

"There, you see?" James opened his palm towards the crusaders.

The new thoughts intrigued Poppy, and she asked her fresh filly friends, "What's so important about my flank sign-... about my cutie mark?"

This was a strange reality! One where there existed ponies who weren't ALL about cutie marks? But nonetheless the crusaders were ever eager to share, and they swiftly filled with positive energy.

"Getting a cutie mark is only the most important thing anypony can do with their life EVER!" Scootaloo declared.

"Yeah," Sweetie Belle assisted, "your cutie mark represents something unique about you!" She took a step forward and tapped the Drypony's flank. "It shows the world who you're supposed to be and that you have a special talent!"

There was a small degree to which the man wanted to curb their overflowing enthusiasm, fearing that they might overwhelm poor Poppy with their incredible zeal. He didn't want the Drypony to feel guilty or embarrassed because she had been carrying a cutie mark all this time and it had meant nothing to her.

But he said nothing. As he watched he saw the little filly open herself up keenly to all the things that the crusaders expressed, her eyes fresh and her smile broad, both growing stronger. She wanted to understand; wanted to spend a little time in their world.

Apple Bloom dictated the logical conclusion, speaking to Poppy in a firm and supportive way, "If you have a cutie mark, that means you must have a special talent!"

Adopting her strongest thinking face, Poppy lowered her eyes to the ground and considered these new facts. Yet she gave no immediate answer. No matter how quick-hooved she was, she wasn't a quick-witted pony by any means.

It only amused James, and he helped her along, "You are pretty special, Poppy. What's your job at Heartwood again?"

"Oh! That's right!" she immediately realized. At proud attention once more she boldly reemphasized, "I'm the best Branch Dancer in the Heartwood Guard!"

Sweetie Belle asked slowly, "Your special talent is... dancing...?"

"No, hehe!" giggled Poppy. Now that it was her turn to share, she overflowed with her own boundless energy and practically gave them a demonstration of her skills, scrambling all around while staying in place, hopping and bouncing about as she rambled breathlessly.,

"A Branch Dancer is a Drypony who flies through the forest! They jump between trees really fast like birds and they climb up and down better than squirrels and they never lose their balance and they can hide in the leaves and strike at anytime and they are some of the best defenders of Heartwood cause they can get anywhere in the forest quickly and they never lose their balance again and they're just amazing!"

Even after she had finished speaking she continued to prance about with an unstoppable grin, pouring out her excess spirit freely.

The crusaders were adequately awed:

"Oooooh!"

"Wowww!"

"Like an acrobat! Cool!"

"We don't know what our special talents are yet," Apple Bloom related, twisting her body to clearly show the blank space on her flank. There was only the mildest tone of disappointment in her but it was wiped out immediately as she continued with determination, "But we intend to find out today and earn our cutie marks once and for all! That's why we're Cutie Mark Crusaders!"

Sweetie Belle reached out towards their new friend and invited, "Even though you already have a cutie mark you're more than welcome to become an honorary crusader!"

Poppy froze up in sudden joy, so gleefully enamored with the offer that her face shined like a spotlight. But then she pulled back as a niggle of childish worry seized her and she said skeptically, "I-... I'm already... part of the Heartwood Guard. I don't know if I'm allowed-"

James laughed and comforted her, "Poppy, they're very different things! The Crusaders aren't guards of any sort!"

"We call ourselves that cause we're crusadin' for our cutie marks!" Apple Bloom shouted nobly. "It's our quest!"

Curling a resolved hoof before herself Scootaloo added, "But the credo of the crusader is to help anypony with a blank flank to discover their true self and get their cutie mark! That's why even ponies with cutie marks can be honorary crusaders!"

The collapse of the last barriers let such wonderful exhilaration into the little Drypony that she leapt into the air.

"Count me in!"

Still thumping her hooves after she landed, she turned to James and said, "I can't wait to tell Lady Willow that I'm a crusader now too!"

She didn't leave herself any time to catch the man's smile in reply.

"Where do we start?" she eagerly asked her new sister crusaders.

"We've got a lot of things lined up today to try," said Sweetie Belle. "Stuff all over Ponyville!"

"We've been setting this up for a few weeks now," Scootaloo revealed, "but today's the day! We call it, Operation: Everything!"

Apple Bloom suddenly interrupted the excited proceedings with a very subdued, "Hey... I just had a thought..."

The sharp change of tone threw the others off and caused Sweetie Belle to sarcastically quip, "Well, stop the presses."

"Shut yer mouth!" the tiny farmpony snipped right back.

She crossed over from standing with her two fellows to standing next to Poppy and, pointing to the newest recruit, she floated, "I was just thinking... maybe we haven't found our cutie marks yet because... our special talents are something that only foreign ponies do? Like branch dancin'?"

The other two put on their thinking caps, with Scootaloo bringing a hoof up to her chin and rubbing vigorously.

"We already found out this morning that our special talents aren't sweeping the streets, or repairing tiled rooftops, or cobbling horseshoes, or working with the autumn cleanup crew...," she mulled out loud. As her sky-wandering eyes came back down she squinted at Apple Bloom and Poppy. Gingerly her hoof slowed its strokes until it came to a final stop. An awakened brightness splashed onto her face as her hoof came down in a stamp and she accepted loudly, "Yeah! That has to be it! It's the ONLY possible explanation! You're a genius, Apple Bloom!"

"I told you I was the smart one," the redheaded filly smugly smirked as she pressed a hoof into herself.

"Poppy," Sweetie Belle begged the newest crusader, "could you teach us to branch dance like you do?"

Caught up in the moment, and almost assuredly with having given less than a full amount of consideration, the Drypony earnestly replied, "I bet I probably could!"

"Alright!" Scootaloo exclaimed. "Let's head down to the Everfree Forest and-"

"Woah, woah, woah, okay, hold on, time out!" James called to get their attention, classically forming a 'T' with his hands. Some things when spoken aloud innately felt like MAYBE they were mistakes worth reconsidering, but other things SCREAMED with how much of a mistake they were, like a thousand angry blasts of thunder booming in the sky. There was no doubt in his mind that a bunch of rambunctious fillies trying to play Tarzan in the trees of the Everfree was just a horrible, rotten, no-good idea. "I'm going to have to shoot down that suggestion as too dangerous. I can't allow you girls to go frolicking through the trees unsupervised like that."

The crusaders all whined together, and Poppy complained glumly, "But it'll be alright! I'm the best!"

"Poppy, I have absolute faith in YOUR ability to move through the trees," the man strongly emphasized to the little pony, "but I'm... less certain... about your capacity to teach it as a skill. Besides, the Everfree Forest is dangerous and I can't have any of you tumbling down, or scraping your knees, or getting hurt and-"

"Yeah, but-" the upset Drypony tried to interrupt.

James quickly changed up his approach. He knew from experience that he could get more distance if he positioned himself as less of 'the bad guy' and more as one of them.

"As the only adult here, if one of you were to unfortunately get hurt then I'M going to be the one who gets in trouble for it because I didn't stop you," he flatly stated, laying his hand spread upon his chest.

He quickly hooked in an extra escape clause, "Besides, the Crusaders have put a lot of hard work into setting up all their activities for today and we don't want those good plans to go to waste, do we?" He opened his arms towards the original trio and said very deliberately, "You know, Poppy is officially here to see all of Ponyville. So, it would really help if she had some ponies to take her from place to place, you know, doing things around town."

"Oh!" Scootaloo chimed in, "You guys can come and crusade with us if you want!"

"Shoot!" Apple Bloom exclaimed in sudden worry. She realized, "If we don't hurry then we're going to be late for our meeting with Miss Nestingwing!"

"No time to lose, then! Come on, everypony!" Sweetie Belle encouraged them all, rolling a big wave with her hoof.

The three crusaders took off galloping down the road, rallied with a unified cry of, "CUTIE MARK CRUSADERS!"

Poppy gave James another fast, broad smile and then immediately set off following them. Her legs whipped up to speed, she chased with the occasional skip and hop, and she gave out her own little call of, "Cutie Mark Crusaders! Yay!"

The man picked up after them with enough controlled speed that he wouldn't lose them, though he would likely drag behind them and all their powerful enthusiasm. He held his hand over his comfortably red face, spilling muted laughter into his palm.

Oh, what a wonderful day!

"... Pinkie... I-... What...?"

The empty words dribbled out of Twilight's mouth. The pink pony's statement had been such an unexpected blow in both content and demeanor that producing any more sober of a reaction would have been totally unreasonable. It was barely possible for her to do any more than stand in her doorway and give a slack-jawed stare.

With a loud, roaring sniff, Pinkie Pie pulled some snot back up her nose. The suction caused her mane to compress into a compacted, craggy stone as she did it, but it poofed back into shape when she finished.

Words coated in sadness, expression ever more desperate, she complained again, "Why isn't James my friend?"

"Pinkie, that-... that's ridiculous! What-..."

The unicorn still found it impossible to get going. Her friend's concern implied something so patently ludicrous that there couldn't have been a rational response to it in all of Equestria. After all, hadn't she just spent a chunk of the morning conversing with James about everything she and her friends had been doing for him? And the man himself had even addressed them all collectively as friends. She believed in his efforts fully, and was proud of them! The idea that he had been denying friendship in any way was just absurd.

But... she also knew her pink friend very well. Eccentricities and irrational behaviors may have been Pinkie Pie's hallmark but there was a real pony underneath it all the candy coating. The sugary laughter on the outside was unequivocally just as integral a part of the pink pony as anything else, but it wasn't the only part. So it was one thing to see Pinkie's sad affections when they were merely an extension of her effervescent personality... but deep inside Twilight knew that her friend only got like this when there was a real wound on the pony underneath.

"Pinkie, I don't understand," she tried to reach across with her support. "What makes you say that?"

"Cause he's not my friend, Twilight!" Pinkie redundantly whines, the waterworks cranking up. She wobbled with worry and fidgeted with fear, lowering her distraught gaze. Stringently upset she chaotically fretted, "I don't think he WANTS to be..."

At that Twilight immediately (and again) regretted how much space she had been giving the man; how much trouble she had gone to in order to stay out of his way as part of his recovery; how much of her own curiosity she had suppressed so that he wouldn't have felt like she was a crushing weight hanging over him. Now, thanks to her restraint, she had no input as to his take on this greatly unanticipated matter. He had never ONCE approached her about trouble with Pinkie Pie.

Perhaps it was like his letters with Princess Celestia: he would have had no qualms about it if she had chosen to have questioned him even just a little bit, if only for curiosity's sake. But she had never let herself truly investigate his new friendships and now she was no less caught off guard than when she had discovered his lackadaisical days with Rainbow Dash.

Only this situation seemed painfully worse.

"Okay, okay," she moaned in frustration, bringing a hoof to her temple. "I have a hard time believing that but... I-, I need more than that, Pinkie."

For now the only data she could gather would have to come from the despondent pink pony herself.

"Thursdays... Thursdays are your day with him. What's been happening?" Her first guess came out instantly, in an unbelieving and startled gasp, "Has he been not showing up?!"

The pink pony's still fallen head countered in a sore mutter, "No... he shows up..."

"Alright," Twilight acknowledged, and then she guessed anew, "Has he been refusing to help out around Sugarcube Corner whenever you work there?"

"No... he helps...," she spouted dismally. There was another sniffle and then she felt the need to honestly add, "He's not a natural baker but he's good at following directions..."

Growing more exasperated, the unicorn continued to conjecture in increasingly strained fits, "Does he not help when you throw a party? Doesn't help organize supplies? Doesn't carry things around town? Won't help break anything down afterwards? Doesn't assist you in running it?!"

With the tears dripping from her still falling to the ground like the regular tinkles of a piano in tune being played, the weak reply came again, "No... he does whatever I ask him to..."

At last hitting the limits of her tolerance, and nearly angry, Twilight ground her teeth a little before loudly asking, "Then WHAT, Pinkie? What specifically is going on that makes you think he's not your friend?"

Up came the sad pony's sky blue eyes, rippling under the salty flood that coated them. In a voice which was as defeated as it was certain she whispered, "... He doesn't want to be around me..."

"What?"

Once more the unicorn felt saddled with an impossibility. Pinkie Pie's claim had come out so serious and solid – so perturbed at the basest level – but there was just no way it could have been anything more than an overreaction! It just couldn't have been real!

She told her agitated friend, "Pinkie... you can't just assume that-"

"Twilight!" the pink pony cried in pain. She took a step forwards and practically leaned into her friend, begging for an open ear and some understanding.

"He never SMILE smiles when we do things together! He never REALLY laughs; not from his heart! He never REALLY has any fun; not on the inside!"

Her forehooves came up and squished themselves into Twilight's cheeks, and she pulled herself in, face to wet-eyed face. The front curl of her mane wrapped itself around the unicorn's horn in want of comfort, her pupils shrunk into horrified pinpricks like the most distant stars whose faint glimmer was only their constant weeping, and she shared the greatest terror of all in a voice of quiet dread.

"And he never sings, Twilight. HE—NEVER—SINGS."

"Peekey-" Twilight uttered her friend's distorted name through her squeezed cheeks.

"And I've tried!" Pinkie Pie carried on. "I've tried teaching him the simplest songs! Baking songs for young foals and birthday songs for growing ponies! But when we go to sing them he only ever hums the tune or whispers the words! He only raises his voice when singing with a group at a party, and even then he doesn't really let anything go! He hides inside everypony singing!" Softly (for Pinkie Pie) she jiggled her friend's head and groaned unhappily, "Why, Twilight? WHY?!"

Magical light emitted from Twilight's strangled horn. It tenderly unwound the choking pink mane and gently pried the hooves from her cheeks. She set the pink pony down with care, taking a moment to try and truly observe her wounded and saddened friend. As much as she could, she shared in her friend's despair...

... But there was a real difficulty with only having Pinkie Pie's spontaneous and indistinct take on everything. Still, she knew that for this normally shining and overly optimistic pony to be acting this way there MUST have been something true to her complaints.

At last, with the friendliest condolences she had, she said, "Pinkie... you know how subdued and reserved he can be about some things. How he likes quiet parties. Maybe-... maybe he just doesn't LIKE to sing? And maybe it makes him uncomfortable when you ask him to?"

"But he does like to sing!" she protested back. "He told me so himself once! He just- he just- he just-... never does..."

She fell far, far, far away.

"... WITH ME..."

"Well... I've-... I've never heard him sing, either," Twilight offered in attempted sympathy. The realized fact didn't strike her as unusual given the personality of his that she knew.

The gesture didn't work however. The melancholic pink pony swept her head back and forth in confusion, the glum curls of her mane wobbling with sagging and sour energy.

She murmured, "I've tried so many songs... so so so so so many songs... Not a single song did it... Won't sing... won't sing..."

Twilight sighed.

It shouldn't have been such an important thing but clearly it was to Pinkie Pie. Singing didn't seem to be something that fit James' character. However, she thought a little bit about the words she had exchanged with the man this morning; about how different sides of himself had been coming out with each different pony he had spent time with.

Why would James have told Pinkie Pie that he likes to sing?

Unless it had been some misinterpreted joke, she guessed it must have been true on some level and he had let it slip past his guard at one point. Naturally that didn't mean that he'd sing at the drop of a bit for anypony who asked him to; weaving songs could have been something very personal to him. But in such a case, if there had been ANYPONY who could have gotten him to sing... it would have been Pinkie Pie.

Seeking a solution, she started with the most obvious and asked, "Have you talked to him about all this?"

"Of course!" the pink pony whined plainly in response. There was no follow-up, even as Twilight's face and the very air itself seemed to obviously call for one.

"Pinkie," the unicorn strenuously pressed.

"I did!" she swore. "I baked him a cake to let him know how I feel!"

From some invisible, unknowable space she produced a slightly aged cake, holding it up and forward in order to display the top to Twilight. The white cream and blue frosting of the simple, round cake highlighted the design which was placed right in the center: made from gumdrops, sprinkles, and pink frosting was an image of Pinkie Pie's own sad face, with big tears flowing out of her large, sorrowful, puppy-like eyes, and an enlarged lower lip that was flipped out in bitter despondency. By the way she held it next to her current face it was all but literally a mirror; the appearance of a dejected, two-headed pony; double despair.

She tossed the cake high into the air behind her, not even bothering to look back as she did, and she complained through sobs, "I showed it to him and-, and-, and he-... he kinda shrugged, and he laughed, like really poorly, and he-, he-, he said... it was a 'FUNNY-LOOKING CAKE'!" Again her faucets powered up. "'Funny-looking', Twilight!"

"Okay, that-... that probably wasn't the... clearest approach to take," the unicorn said, trying to be as consoling as she could. She advised, "Pinkie, you'd do a lot better if you just talked to him about it directly."

Pinkie Pie cringed in fear.

"I-I-I can't!" she worried. Suddenly she dove forward and wrapped her forelegs around her friend's, squeezing tight enough to cut off the flow of blood to Twilight's hooves. "You're actually his friend, Twilight. Please! Can't you talk to him about it for me?" Her eyes peeked past her friend, watchfully looking into the library.

"Maybe a little," accepted Twilight hesitantly, knowing that the man's perspective on everything was vital to figuring this all out. But she also tried to maintain her understanding of the personal nature of friendship, and so she encouraged, "Though you really need to talk with him yourself about this."

The pink pony's scared stare inside the library only deepened as she thought about it, and her pinching grip tightened. Eventually she turned her head away and shook it in frightened rejection.

Twilight took only a single confused moment more to realize why her friend was so spooked by the inside of her home.

"Oh. He's not-... he's not here, Pinkie. He left a little bit ago."

Pinkie Pie suddenly looked up, the surprise great enough to clog her steady stream of tears. Twisting her head, her knotted legs slowly came undone and she stood up, never losing her perplexed gaze on her friend.

"But-... but...," she spoke hollowly, "Saturday... YOUR day..."

Twilight did NOT mess with schedules.

Shaking her forelegs to try and restore feeling to them, the unicorn brought one of her hooves behind her head and uneasily explained, "I know. But I gave up my day with him this week. You see: Poppy, the Drypony filly we met a few months ago, came to Ponyville for an unannounced visit. I thought he should spend the day with her instead. I mean... you should have seen the way he... just TURNED ON as soon as she was here. It was like a light in him just started shining! I really thought that-"

Something rumbled inside of Pinkie Pie and her whole body started quaking. Her mouth bent in several places at odd angles, and her eyes seemed to crack and shatter like broken windows. All her hair, both mane and tail, started to melt in despair.

"Uh... whoops...," Twilight acknowledged her mistake of speaking perhaps too candidly.

Without a doubt Pinkie Pie remembered the little filly. She also remembered the positive way James had responded to her. She hadn't thought much of it at the time except for her usual giggling happiness at seeing others so happy. But now, hearing about the instant effect which Poppy's return had produced in the man, she came to fully face the fact that the tiny Drypony had effortlessly done something in an instant that she had failed to do with months of her best efforts.

And the feeling was like playing 'Pin the Tail on the Pony' all over her heart, poking it full of holes.

She raised up her two jittering right legs and suddenly did an about-face, as if she were going to simply walk away. She did manage to take a few steps, with her violent and spasmodic shuddering causing her to unevenly wobble from one side to the other as she went. When she became overwhelmed, only just a few paces away from the library door, she dropped into a sitting position, still jumping with occasional jolts. A heavy weight descended upon her, like her whole body was being drenched with tears yet to be shed, dragging her down towards the earth. Finally, she teetered back and forth before she flopped forwards onto her face with a squishy plop. Her defeated mane folded down over her face like a white sheet being cast over dilapidated furniture, hiding the quiet blubbering that she began underneath.

Chapter 7: Effort

In the east side of town, set within a long row of typical Ponyville homes with their peachy panels and their thatched roofs, was a house that stood out because of its very different and distinctive roof. It was as if nearly the whole of the top floor had been lopped off to make space for a rooftop terrace. The simple wooden railings which protected the sides wrapped what would have been a lush garden if it weren't for the changing seasons. All of the precisely placed bushes had their buds closed tight to endure the coming winter, and most of the short, young trees that sprouted up there were bare of leaves.

Aside from those details however, that roof didn't know the cold sleep of winter. Small, occupied metal cages of all shapes could be found hanging about, and far more attractive and visible were the wooden birdhouses that also dangled in the naked trees or sat perched in the dry bushes. They were painted in many vibrant colors and had unendingly diverse designs, crafted with creative perfection. Each was a quaint home, permanent or transient, for one of many countless families of birds who always seemed to be going to and from the rooftop. The terrace was a lovingly homemade bird sanctuary of sorts, the likes of which was rivaled only by Fluttershy's cottage.

Miss Nestingwing tended the cages, birdhouses, and rooftop garden of her home, inspecting plants here and laying out birdseed there. She was a middle-aged pegasus of a creamy color that was somewhere between a peach and a carrot. By personal preference she always liked to wear a wide-brimmed, flat-crowned straw hat that sported one or two beautiful flowers tucked into it and was tied onto her head under her chin with a loopy bow; she spent much of her time on her sunny rooftop after all, and the flat surface the hat presented made it a swell perch for any of her birds who wanted to rest a spell with her.

She went about her usual work with a sideways eye though, since she had a few guests with her today. The Cutie Mark Crusaders, including honorary member and otherworldly accompaniment, were there working away on a pastime activity she had given them. Spread out on the ground in one corner of the garden they labored to assemble some basic birdhouses.

Each pony worked on their own birdhouse; their own simple search for a cutie mark in constructing tiny homes. Even James was working on one, having been talked into it in no small part by Poppy, who just wouldn't have stood to have seen him sitting aside while the rest of them had all the fun. Working with flat wood, round pegs, hammers, and glue, the sloppy mess of supplies was everything they would need to build the bird-loving pegasus some fresh dwellings to replace some of her oldest ones. Occasionally the mare herself would wander over to offer some wise advice or quick encouragement to the eager fillies.

All of them toiled under the watch of Miss Nestingwing's most curious birds, some of who peeped and squawked constantly at the girls in ways that sometimes sounded just a little bit mocking. One or two particularly boisterous birds chirped so hard that several times their wings didn't save them from tumbling off their branches and rolling on the ground with twittering laughter. But ever undaunted and determined to see their quest through, the fillies worked away with confidence, brushing on glue, slapping wood together, and hammering away.

At last, all the fillies seemed to reach their finishing touches at the same time. There were final knocks from the hammers and emergency applications of glue, and then each of them eased back a bit and twisted their finished birdhouses about, inspecting them from side to side.

"So, done!" Scootaloo announced. "A perfect birdhouse!"

She looked again at her unhealthy creation, with its walls all tilted off in uneven directions. Its disconnected corners only blocked out the wind coincidentally because of the thick and overflowing globs of now crystallized glue that held the structure together (more than one empty glue bottle lay sacrificed at the young pegasus' side). The front peg that was meant as a perch seemed to be aggressively crammed into place, causing it to skew upwards at an angle that very nearly had it blocking the entrance hole.

Reassessing her opinion, the filly less-surely chimed, "Well... a pretty good birdhouse anyway... (I think...)"

Sweetie Belle would have chuckled at her friend's performance but, as she took a look over her own work, she couldn't shirk the notion that she probably wouldn't have been able to pick her birdhouse apart from Scootaloo's in a blind test. So instead she nodded along and falsely opined, "Yeah. Yeah, we did pretty good."

"Speak for yourselves," Apple Bloom haughtily snipped at them. "Behold, the greatest birdhouse in all of Equestria!" She pushed her eccentric design towards theirs.

"Uhhh...," Scootaloo moaned, unsure of what to say.

Sweetie Belle felt much the same.

Apple Bloom's birdhouse would have easily been considered different from her peers' by anypony with a working set of eyes, but anypony with a working brain would have considered it stretching the bounds of credibility to have called it 'better.' She had managed to erect (relatively) straighter walls and seal her sides (more) properly with glue, but apparently she had also managed a lot of other things that weren't quite part of the original draft.

"You're only supposed to make a hole on the front side!" Sweetie Belle chastised her friend. She pointed at the partially swiss-cheesed walls. "What-... what are all these OTHER holes all over the rest of it?"

"What?" Apple Bloom squeaked in disbelief. "Can'tcha tell? They're windows!"

Scootaloo looked into the belly of the beast through its many 'windows' and she asked doubtfully, "Why are there... pegs glued everywhere all over the place inside?"

Again Apple Bloom seemed offended that the purpose of her improvements couldn't be discerned, though the confidence in her voice started to slip.

"They're, you know, for hangin' curtains... and putting up pictures... and stuff..."

"And... the upside down roof?" Sweetie Belle inquired flatly. What should have been more of an 'A' shape had very clearly been inverted into a 'V.'

"It's-... it's... for the rooftop swimming pool!"

"Eeeyeah...," Scootaloo rolled her eyes.

"Hey!" Apple Bloom defensively snapped right back, "I don't have to justify myself to you. I'm a genius!"

"You're a something, alright," quipped Sweetie Belle.

"You mind repeatin' that?!" the agitated filly held up a fierce hoof.

A hearty giggling intruded upon their squabbling and they all turned to look at Poppy.

The little Drypony hadn't outperformed them in any respect; there was no question that she would never be a designer of any of Heartwood's tree-borne homes. But she had given her birdhouse her best effort anyway, and now that she had a chance to see the miserable job they had all done she laughed brightly with her new friends.

"I don't think we did very good, hehe!"

She had not an ounce of condescension in her or a flick of harsh judgment. She had only a wide and happy smile for the fun their efforts had earned.

By that point Miss Nestingwing had been hovering over them for a short while, reviewing their results. She might have interrupted their back and forth herself if she had found the appropriate words to comment on their performance with. As it was, she had needed Poppy's remark to nerviously spring off of.

"Oh, well, girls... you did-... uh, you did your best, I'm sure. Very-... very worthy effort."

Although Poppy cheered a 'thank you' the rest of the crusaders held onto more reserve. They put in some effort and managed to give a united, drawn-out, and glum, "Thank you, Miss Nestingwing."

"Oh, my... pleasure?" the mare responded, with her gaze still on their bird-shanties. She shook her head and then hastily tried to usher the fillies along, "Well, it looks like you're all finished now so I suppose you want to get a move on."

"Aren't we going to paint them?" Apple Bloom interjected, rolling an odd look around at all the finely painted birdhouses that were already up and hanging.

Miss Nestingwing's voice wobbled, "Oh, uh, well, um, painting them is... uh, not-... not STRICTLY necessary."

From under her hat a pool of sweat leaked, and her eyes danced about. There were many empty bottles of glue which laid sideways on the ground, and the many sticky puddles had been splashed beyond the boundaries of the fillies' work zone! A nearby tree had strings of dried glue running down its bark, and a few of the bushes had leaves accidentally glued together! One of her birds had set down on a sticky branch and now couldn't escape, beating his wings and jostling the limb he was stuck to!

"And-... and... we certainly shouldn't be painting them up here in the garden. Because... reasons," she finished up quickly, straining to keep a polite tone.

The crusaders (save effervescent Poppy) winced.

Scootaloo twisted her flank forwards so that she could get a fast, clean look at it. The lack of a fresh cutie mark was predictable at this point so she wasn't surprised by the bare butt that she saw.

She tried assuage her friends, "Well... if our special talents weren't in building birdhouses then it's not like they were going to be in painting birdhouses either..."

Hoping to move the fillies along while they were agreeable (and before they got any more bright, destructive ideas), Miss Nestingwing turned at last towards James and said to him, "Sir, if you are finished—oh my!"

The man sat with his legs crossed. His eyes were squinted and the tip of his tongue was poking out of his lips, and he shifted his completed birdhouse in circles to study it from all angles.

The mare briskly ambled over to him, looking down at his finished work with genuine excitement.

"That looks very good!" she exclaimed heartily. "Exactly like the picture I drew, in fact!"

James looked up at her, modestly replying, "Oh, well, I tried to follow it as closely as I could."

His was a model birdhouse; the kind seen on the box of a 'Child's First Birdhouse' kit. Every wall was aligned perfectly straight and connected at sharp corners exactly the way they were supposed to be. Not an ounce of glue could be seen dripping from the seams yet the strength imparted by its sure presence was easily visible. The roof fit snugly and securely over the top, looking so homely and quaint that it was hard to not imagine a brick chimney sticking out. The hole in the front sat exactly where it should have been and the peg underneath rested in place like welcome mat, beckoning any ready bird-groom to carry his bird-bride inside.

The straight, square design of the unpainted wooden shelter certainly lacked a lot of flair, but it was still a completely serviceable and admirably average birdhouse. It wasn't the dream mansion of a rich bird but it was the perfect little birdhouse on the corner that any bird family would have been happy to own.

Apple Bloom, Sweetie Belle, and Scootaloo all rubbed their eyes and did a double take.

Poppy, meanwhile, leapt over to the man and his creation.

"Wow! That's so good! How did you do that?"

"Yes," Miss Nestingwing pressed eagerly, "have you done this before?"

"Oh, no," James dismissed with a laugh, "or, at least, if I have then it was a long, long time ago and I don't remember. I haven't done something this arts-and-craftsy for years!"

The other crusaders' jaws hit the floor.

Whispering to her cutie mark-less allies, Apple Bloom said, "It must be a fluke. It's gotta be!"

"Yeah," Scootaloo was fast to agree. "He-... he probably got lucky is all. It happens."

"Not to us," Sweetie Belle moaned.

Still speaking to just the older mare and the tiny Drypony, James felt encouraged to smile and shook his head.

"This-," he said softly, then pulled his voice up louder, "this was a lot of fun!" He looked away and wondered to himself quietly, "Why do so many ponies give up doing little fun things like this when they grow up? Why did I? Heh..."

"I told you that you should make one!" Poppy merrily challenged him.

The man reached a friendly hand out and rubbed the top of her head, swishing about her mane.

"And you were right."

Miss Nestingwing pulled his birdhouse closer and gave it another fascinated lookover before she declared solidly, "I know just where I'm going to hang this!"

"What about ours, Miss Nestingwing?" asked Sweetie Belle suddenly.

The mare's eyes popped in panic.

"Oh, I'll, uh... I'll... find a place for them, girls. Don't you worry," she... promised?

Pushing up the brim of her hat, she searched the crowd of watching birds for any particularly brave-looking specimens who would have been willing to sacrifice themselves for the greater good of their species. Many of the birds fluttered backwards, deeper into the bushes or up towards higher branches, shaking their heads or waving their wings negatively. A few even retreated into the air, diving away from the terrace.

Confused, Apple Bloom uttered, "I thought you said you were going to take down some of your oldest ones and replace them with our new ones?"

Coughing into her hoof the mare only weakly said again, "I'll... uh... I'll find a place for them."

Some of her birds weren't THAT picky... or that smart. Then again, maybe she could have taken up caring for bats? They were kind of like birds, and they're blind, right? Also, TECHNICALLY a trash can was 'a place.'

The three gloomy crusaders groaned. They checked their flanks again just to be sure, and when no cutie marks flashed into existence they held their heads down.

Scootaloo quickly worked her spirit back up and tried to rally her forces, "Well, crusaders... if not this, then maybe the NEXT activity."

Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle picked themselves up as well and exhaled their worries. Putting on strong, resilient smiles, they resolved to continue.

"Alright! Onwards, crusaders!"

The three of them turned and raced towards the steps leading into the house, leaving their wreckage behind them.

Poppy laughed, smiled at James, and continued right after them.

James was already just a little weary of keeping his energy as high as theirs, but strangely he found it was becoming more natural to him. He chuckled as he stood up and dusted himself off.

"Thank you, Miss Nestingwing," he bowed. "I really had fun. Take care."

And like that, he was off after them, striding quickly.

The mare trotted to the edge of her terrace and called down a pleasant goodbye to her departing guests as they left. Then she returned to her collection of new birdhouses and looked up at her watchful birds once more.

"So...," she began cautiously, "... who wants which birdho-"

In a frenzy, many of the birds came swooping down straight at James' birdhouse, fighting to be the first to cram themselves inside and claim it.

Balanced steady, Twilight floated down a plate piled with over a dozen cookies onto the kitchen table. They were a delicious mix, in varieties far beyond what could have been bought at an ordinary grocery store; some leftovers from an order days earlier at Sugarcube Corner in fact.

"Here you are, Pinkie," she said, pushing the pick-me-up in front of her somber friend.

The unicorn diverted her eyes for just a moment in order to grab the glass of milk that she had also prepared. By the time she returned her attention to the table she saw that the plate had already been emptied of all its bounty save for a few measly crumbs. Pinkie Pie's joyless expression hadn't changed at all but she had gained lips smeared with the remains of rent cookies.

"Well...," Twilight set the milk down before her friend, "... I hope that helped you feel better."

The glum pony grabbed the drink and chugged it down without a second thought, carelessly splashing some around her mouth. Unbothered, there wasn't a hint of change in her mood as her lifeless tongue came out and cleaned her face spotless.

She sighed and sniffled in reply, "... A little..."

Twilight eased herself into the table corner next to Pinkie Pie, offering herself as the most friendly and supportive presence as she could.

She had picked her friend up out of the street and carried her inside. She had soothed the distraught pony through her most turbulent woes and hugest tears. And now she had also sacrificed the last of the library's cookies in an attempt at healing. But all throughout the mercy and mending, while she had been busy hugging, holding, and whispering reinforcements to her damaged friend, the unicorn's mind had been furiously at work elsewhere.

And her most regretful conclusion was that, while of course she should definitely help in all ways that she could... ultimately the problem was not HERS to solve. It NEEDED Pinkie Pie.

"Pinkie...," she beckoned to her friend, "I can definitely ask James about all this the next time that I see him – to get his take on everything and let him know a little bit about how you feel – but this is something you have to fully work out with him yourself."

"B-But Twilight-!" the pink pony gasped.

"We're all friends, but this is about the friendship between you and him SPECIFICALLY," emphasized Twilight. "Nopony is in the position to define that friendship except you two. Anypony you ask to help WILL help, whether through... mediation or so on; I'll gladly do that. But they're not going to take care of everything for you. And they shouldn't try to. It's YOUR friendship."

"B-But-" again came the objection.

"No, Pinkie. I know you've tried as hard as you could and you've done everything you thought you were supposed to, and that you don't see anywhere else to go... but that's why you came to me, right? To get some advice and some help?"

The unicorn reached a hoof over the table corner and held it against her friend.

"And my sincerest advice is: you need to sit down and talk with James directly about this." Compassionately stern, she implored, "And I mean DIRECTLY. No cakes, no balloons with frowny faces, no teardrop-shaped cookies, no... any other of your more oblique approaches. I know you can be direct Pinkie; you have been with the rest of us before. You just need to politely confront him about your friendship."

"Friendship..."

Pinkie Pie struggled, still despondent and overrun with fear. Despite appearances, her despair wasn't new. She had been in that hole for some time and had been digging herself deeper and deeper with each day of failed progress befriending James. Her fallen curls, usually bouncy, hardly waved when she shook her dreary head.

"I don't have a friendship with him, Twilight... That's the problem!"

She shivered and looked back and forth across the grain of the table. The thoughts which tormented her were unchanged; all the same as the ones which had been slipping through the cracks of her happiness for several weeks now:

Why had every spark of friendship with the man failed to ignite? Why had every friendship balloon popped? Why had every happy loaf – prepared from the dough of sharing and rolled with a pin of love – why had every last one failed to rise when she had so relentlessly tried to bake them in the friendship oven?

And why... FOR HER?

"He has something special with everypony else...," something in her voice came loose, leaving her vacant. "Everypony... EXCEPT me. With me, he's-... he's not-..."

For a very short instant the change in her voice spread to the entirety of her ponyhood, pulling away all the colorful absurdities and wild extremes which she liked to clothe herself in, revealing for one unobstructed moment no more than a naked, simple, and true pony.

"... with me he's not... genuine."

The open vulnerability in Pinkie's words pierced Twilight. Their raw edge, buried under honest and quiet sincerity, triggered a round of absorbed thinking in the attentive unicorn.

A genuine man...?

A complex man.

Like anypony he had prominent aspects to him which were highly visible; his most defining traits, as it were. But there was so much more also, and to boil him, or anypony, down to a simplified, one-dimensional, readily-coherent being was a disservice to his individuality. Consider Pinkie Pie, for instance: a very complicated pony when one took the time to really understand her depths, but on the shallower surface the Pinkie-est side of her was very straightforward.

James... was a more fractured individual though. Everypony got Pinkie Pie's core face; she didn't change when she met others. But the man was much the opposite: he showed different sides of himself to everypony depending upon who they were. Why else would Twilight have been so surprised to have found him napping with Rainbow Dash?

The pegasus saw his friendly, competitive face; a face of relaxed friendship and of casual pushing and tugging, loose and fun. That was much different from the face Twilight saw: a man who swam through grueling philosophical conversations because he was fascinated by seeing the world from different perspectives and concerned with thoughts bigger than himself. And Fluttershy? A pony of quiet caring; something the man mirrored right back at her. She often saw the face of his compassion.

And most recently... Poppy...

The face Poppy saw – the side of him that she brought out – was nothing Twilight had ever witnessed from him before. It was so joyfully unguarded; so full and whole. So in love, but not as a romance. His love of being alive? The unicorn had only gotten to know him during days of pain; pain which buried such love in forgotten places. But when that filly was around she shown a light on it easily.

It was almost dizzying how many faces James had and how selectively he showed them. Almost as if he had a distinct one for each pony he met.

So... what face had Pinkie Pie been seeing? What part of him wasn't 'genuine?'

The thoughts were very troubling to her, suddenly.

"Pinkie," she swore, "I PROMISE that I'll talk to James a little bit about it; get some idea on his take and introduce him to your thoughts. But..." Her proposed solution was unchanged. "... it's still on you to really sit down and work through your feelings with him, alright?"

It was a long quiet before the pink pony responded, "I don't know if I can, Twilight..."

"You CAN do it, Pinkie. I've had plenty of difficult and deep conversations with James. About some real serious things sometimes too. He can handle talks like that." Again Twilight reached across the table corner to warmly touch her friend. "And I KNOW you can, too. I've seen it before and you're more than capable."

There was another long delay; a thoughtful tactic rarely employed by the spontaneous pink pony. But it wasn't without meaning. A hopeful shine started to appear in her eyes. The corners of her mouth found the strength to lift just tiny little bit.

"... Really?"

"You bet!" Twilight smiled.

It was such a relief to see Pinkie Pie's usual felicity peek through! To further encourage it, the unicorn on a whim let show just a sliver of her secret.

"And hey! I have something of a surprise for everypony that I've been keeping. I was going to tell everypony about it soon anyway but... it's hard to resist spilling just A LITTLE BIT of it ahead of time! I can really promise you that, very soon, you're going to get a good chance to work things out with James without all the distractions of Ponyville getting in your way!"

Curiosity; friendship; promises. They hauled the pink pony's beleaguered happiness back up to more Pinkie-like levels. She rubbed the last sadnesses out of her eyes, drew in her final sniffles, wiggled out her remaining shakes, and then revived her classic form. The scuffs and stains from her despondent stumble were still visible in small ways but the glory of her bouncing personality took center stage.

Her forehooves stretched across the table corner and seized Twilight with a surprising amount of strength. Sucking in the startled but not unamused unicorn, she squeezed and squeezed, tearing muscle and breaking bone.

"Ooooooh, you're the best friend a pony could ever ask for, Twilight! Thank you thank you thank you!"

"Hehe, you're welcome, Pinkie."

After Pinkie Pie at last freed her beloved hostage she whipped back into her sitting position and bobbed excitedly.

"Soooo, a surprise, huh?" she said with a bright smile. Then she immediately unloaded in a flurry, "What part do you think everypony'll like best? I think you'll like the boat a lot; that seems like your thing. Maybe all the history, too. And Fluttershy'll like the animal ceremony thingy for sure, a whole lot! Rainbow Dash'll get a kick out of the games and the parties, and I bet Applejack'll just love that thing with the big orchard! And I think Rarity's going to be into meeting some of the new ponies but I can't say that I blame her; I'm super excited to meet these new ponies too! And-"

"Woah, woah, woah, Pinkie, how-" Twilight tried to interrupt her friend's flood of rambling predictions.

"Aw, come on, Twilight!" the boundless pony teased. With a jutting tongue and a winking eye she suggested, "I peeked ahead a little! Duh!"

Drawers upon drawers upon drawers upon drawers, and shelves upon shelves upon shelves upon shelves, with an obsessive amount of labels covering every inch of them to boot. If it wasn't possible to find a desired part, widget, knickknack, or thingamadoodle amongst the meticulously cataloged mess then there was always the unlabeled stacks of raw materials in the wayward corner (and more out back). Then again, it was possible to make what was needed from scratch with any of the numerous cutting, shaping, bending, welding, sanding, sharpening, or smashing tools that lined the room. Hung on racks that ran wall to wall, or some even just sitting on the floor because they were whole workstations unto themselves, the endless variety of tools simply waited for their opportunities to be useful. And the whole room smelt of the diffuse dust and scattered soot of their labors.

Such was the workshop of Gadget the repairpony. Every thing had a place and, sooner or later, every place needed a thing; or so her father had always said. She had earlier dug through her infinite supplies and had pulled out what she needed a job just a little different today. It wasn't the usual fix-it-up work.

The Cutie Mark Crusaders and company had been given five identical sets of items, all laid out on a low-set workbench. Between a precise set of written instructions and the always available brain of the expert who was giving the lesson, they had each endeavored to construct something quite simple and specific as a show of engineering talent: a potato battery. It wasn't perhaps the beginner's lesson of Gadget's personal choice, lacking some of the more mechanical ingenuity that was her specialty, but it was the one lesson that all the fillies and colts always seemed to have fun with and so it had become her go-to lesson for eager, fledgling foals to sink their teeth into.

It wasn't long before Apple Bloom called, "Uh, Miss Gadget? I THINK I'm done but... my light bulb isn't lighting up."

"Well," Gadget said as she trotted over to the filly, "that means that there must be an error somewhere. So a good thing to try would be to go back and review everything you did step by step to look—oh."

She had to stop and rub her almond-colored hoof on her cheek while she tried to figure out just how Apple Bloom had gotten so far off course. What was supposed to have been a potato battery had somehow become potato surgery. The electrodes hadn't been inserted but instead had been used to carve the poor spud open and spill its guts everywhere. From there it had apparently gotten worse and turned into potato torture: many loops of copper wire were tightly wrapped around the mutilated vegetable, maybe in some desperate attempt to hold it together.

"Huh. Well mark my measure...," Gadget mulled to herself with a click of her tongue. "I, uh... I think you're going to need a fresh potato to start from scratch with."

Apple Bloom slunk down in disappointment, giving a low whine.

Just as the repairpony was going to retrieve a new potato Sweetie Belle spoke up hesitantly, "Mine's-... mine's not lighting up either..."

"Okay, let's see," replied the reserved Gadget. She went and stood over the distantly hopeful filly, bracing herself to witness the monstrosity which she presumed awaited her.

Sweetie Belle's potato was largely more intact than Apple Bloom's, but it looked like she had restarted the experiment multiple times without ever having properly reset it. The potato didn't have two electrodes wedged into it; it didn't even have four, or six. Rather, SIXTEEN electrodes were skewering the defenseless vegetable. Eventually she had built a spiderweb of copper wires around the spikes; a fishnet of metal. It was actually kind of a surprise that the battery didn't even work by accident!

"Yeah... you might want to clear everything away and start over too," the repairpony reluctantly relayed.

Another failure, and another fallen filly head.

"Ha! MINE lights up!" Scootaloo proudly declared. "Cutie mark, here I come!"

While the boastful filly's two closest companions looked over with slight stings of envy, Gadget quickly swiveled towards the reported success with great relief.

"Oh, fantastic! Congratulations-... Wait..."

Scootaloo's setup was far from perfect: the electrodes weren't stationed securely, there were multiple holes in the potato from earlier failed attempts, the clamps gripped the electrodes in questionable ways, and it was hard to follow the copper wires as they wove about in dizzying paths. But indeed, the filly had achieved some form of success because the small, round bulb at the end of the circuit was lighting up. A soft, red light shined out evenly from it.

Gadget brought her nose right up to the bulb, practically crossing her eyes to stare at it. Her perplexed gaze went from bulb to battery and back several times. Finally she grabbed one of the clamps and released it, breaking the circuit.

The red light instantly stopped. All that was left was the shaded glass of the bulb: very clearly GREEN in color.

"How did you-...?" the repairpony scarcely let up.

She reaffixed the clamp. Red light again. She took it off. Green bulb. Refusing to believe her eyes, she cycled the power several more times. Red light, green bulb, red light, green bulb. She even briefly slid down the goggles that normally rested on her forehead in order to get a good look at the phenomena through their darkened filters but they revealed none of the great mystery's secrets.

At last, somewhat taken aback, she announced, "Latch my ladder! That's amazing!"

"So... I did good?" Scootaloo wanted to believe.

"Well, it is amazing—ly wrong," the bewildered pony clarified. She quickly realized how blunt she had just been and daintily tried to soften the blow, "Uh, g-good effort, though. Very nice attempt."

Carefully she swept Scootaloo's potato battery further down the workbench, telling the now dejected filly, "I'll just set this aside so I can study it later. You'll-... you'll need to start over too."

A third saddened filly joined the others.

Poppy waved her hoof to solicit some attention.

"Excuse me, Miss Gadget! I can't get mine to go either!" she said. But far from any complaint, her buoyant words were an eager request for help. She laughed in honest admission, "I'm not sure what I did wrong."

"Hm," Gadget grunted, not expecting to find much different with this filly's attempt. And a quick inspection confirmed it: repeated insertions of the electrodes had lead to a sloppy setup and a damaged potato. "You may need to start with a fresh potato too."

The little filly's head stayed high, and her eyes were eager.

The repairpony noticed.

She bent over Poppy and pointed out sagely, "You dug out too much of your potato. See here, how little contact this electrode is getting cause your potato's all torn up? And you can't have these wires crossing and touching here; it shorts the circuit."

Poppy lapped the knowledge up, or at least what she understood of it anyway. It could have only helped her get it right the next time!

While Gadget continued to provide guidance to the interested Drypony, the three original crusaders commiserated by their failed projects.

"I guess that's another bust...," groaned Scootaloo.

"Yeah," agreed Apple Bloom quietly. With some effort, she asserted herself slightly, "We're down, but not out. There's still a bunch more we got to do today! Maybe we'll have better luck next time!"

But they both turned towards Sweetie Belle when they heard her moan, "Oh no... Speaking of luck..."

The bothered filly pointed them to James.

The man sat at the end of the low-set workbench, again with his legs crossed like a child playing on the floor. His potato was intact, with the two electrodes having been inserted only once each, both perfectly. His clamps were solidly attached and the wires from them ran straight to his green bulb, which glowed the proper color. Worst of all (to the three crusaders) was that he seemed to have been finished for awhile now, apparently having breezed through the exercise with ease. Now he only watched as Poppy absorbed the lecture she was receiving, and his face carried a greatly amused smile.

When she finished her lesson to the Drypony, Gadget looked up and caught sight of his work.

"Well, well, Mr. Man. Nicely done. Looks like you got it right," she ribbed him.

"Ah, this was a pretty easy one," he laughed. Genuinely curious, he followed up, "I'm trying to remember how this all actually works, though. Like... there's no actual electricity in the potato like a REAL battery, but-"

"Well now it sounds like you're not understanding just what electricity is, and hey, most ponies don't," the repairpony remarked, entertained. She easily launched into another lecture, spurred on by her delight in dispensing knowledge. The man followed along, ready enough to learn, and Poppy sprung a bit closer as well, equally enthused.

That same enthusiasm wasn't found in the other three fillies.

"Just great," Sweetie Belle complained silently to her friends. "If he were a pony, that would be TWO cutie marks he would have now!"

"It still could be just luck!" maintained Scootaloo, though a disguised doubt had crept into her voice. The others glared straight into her, doubt and all, but she still insisted, "What? It could be!"

"He's making us look like idiots," the frustrated Sweetie Belle argued back. She stamped a tiny hoof. "And-... and... I don't like it!"

Mumbling, Scootaloo slowly pulled her head down and said to the floor, "Well then... maybe we ARE idiots..."

Apple Bloom valiantly tried to carry the team forward. "Who cares about how he's done? It's not about him. It's about us finding our cutie marks! So we're not birdhouse builders, and we're not electricians, but maybe the next thing is where we'll shine!"

She gestured over towards their new friend, saying, "I mean, look at Poppy! She already has her cutie mark so she's okay with not being good at all this other stuff because she knows what she IS good at!" Yellow hooves fell upon the shoulders of the others. "One day that'll be us! One day we'll be able to walk around showing off our flanks to everypony so that they'll know it don't matter that we ain't good at all this because we're gonna be super-talented at something special!"

Several quiet moments passed.

"So... next activity?" Sweetie Belle offered gently.

"Next activity," Scootaloo resolved, and the crusaders clacked their hooves together in unity.

Chapter 9: Learning

The day grew obnoxiously long for the three original crusaders. Their sagging hooves dragged along the ground everywhere they went. Like the condemned marching before the executioner towards the gallows they were forced to lead the way to the many sites of their own humiliation. Place after place, activity after activity; they reluctantly directed their two guests towards new experiences in suffering. For themselves, anyway.

After their failed flirting with glassblowing they went to a large grocery store that sat on a busy corner like a fat frog on a lily pad watching a lively pond. Inside they met with a rushed and apron-wearing mare who tried to instruct them in stocking shelves, building product displays, and all the grocer basics: stacking up pyramids of cans, laying out trays of samplers, setting up wall-to-wall offerings; high margin items go front and center like so, larger and more cumbersome items go down here, balance out uneven shelves this way, product labels forward please, and so on.

But as usual the little fillies were lacking in that department. Reaching the high shelves was troublesome, and Scootaloo's efforts to float herself up resulted in more items being knocked down to the floor than anything else. Apple Bloom somehow created a perplexing maze of product labels on the shelves; rare were the labels that actually listed an item's price, and only the keenest minds could decipher the clues left behind on the rest of the labels, often little more than arrows pointing arbitrary places. The foundations of Sweetie Belle's display pyramids never had the strength to hold up their top halves; her can structures always went from standing, to wobbling, to rolling on the ground in pieces.

Their clumsiness came on harder than usual, only making their problems worse. They just couldn't lift the weights off their increasingly heavy spirits.

Poppy, in detectable contrast, didn't do nearly as poorly as the rest of them. While the mentor mare certainly had to frequently correct the little Drypony's errors, redemonstrate some procedures for her multiple times, and be ever-present to provide a guiding hoof, the final results of Poppy's endless efforts were about as best as could have been expected from such a fledgling grocer. The vicious and self-defeating cycle which had consumed the others proved unable to puncture the Drypony's unflappable optimism.

Of course, the other crusaders noticed her relative success and, feeling that they were further falling behind, only had the life sapped from their hearts even more.

It was also no surprise to them that James was again able to work the job efficiently. When the mentor mare showed him a shelf plan he would duplicate it on an actual shelf with apparent ease. Under her direction he assembled stacks of canned goods in any shape as thick or as tall as he was told to. He climbed up to the highest shelves without a spill, he knelt down for the lowest shelves without a trip, and every last area that he crossed he left behind more ordered than he had found it. And if the apron-wearing pony ever told him that something hadn't been set up properly then he always went back and corrected it.

Again he had made it look so easy. Never once had he struggled.

He wasn't a screwup.

He wasn't talentless.

When the crusaders' progress became precariously thin and their messes preposterously thick the mentor mare had the magnanimity to allow them a second chance. She proposed that they attempt something slightly different: customer service. In the hopes that a small amount of teamwork would see them through the simple task of collecting payments and making change, she set all of them together behind one register. And by working together the crusaders did indeed at least manage to achieve a store record. Unfortunately it was the record for most customer complaints in a half-hour period.

The mentor mare pulled them aside so that she could run damage control. Of course that meant that the three crusaders had a few good, long minutes to sit there and watch James try his own hand at the task on a different register, and he checked out a dozen customers one after the other smooth and orderly.

After their second miserable failure to perform they were clumsily thanked and escorted out. Leaving them no space to digest their defeat, the man immediately pressed the crusaders for their next destination and the downhearted trio, having no means or strength with which to resist, led the way.

They guided their guests down a maze of streets to a broad thoroughfare that stretched its way out of town. On the edges of Ponyville, right on that very road, they met up with a group of sturdy-looking ponies who wore hardhats and were busy working away. The construction crew was tearing up the already worn and broken cobble roadway in order to lay down a refreshed path; the last segments of road to be repaired before the winter.

The encounter turned out no differently than all the others. The welcoming workponies started upbeat and encouraging. They courteously equipped their temporary apprentices with hardhats and tools, listed out some clear instructions, and set aside a small strip of road for the lesson. Then they were slowly overtaken by horror as the threat to their lives increased with each passing second that the fillies had their hooves on any given tool-turned-lethal-weapon. And none of them seemed to be particularly observant enough (or more realistically, not otherwise preoccupied with saving themselves from a workplace accident) to have noticed the dull-eyed enthusiasm behind the crusaders' efforts.

Even mastery of a task mostly rooted in chaotic destruction seemed to elude the three fillies. Stones were cracked and shattered, but often not where they should have been. Sand was spilled and spread, but mostly over the dry and open road which certainly did not need it. And at the end of their short shift they had probably managed to accomplish so little that it had left the workponies with a good amount of overtime in cleanup duties.

Or not. James assisted some of the workponies in correcting the crusader-created mishaps and mistakes, thereby keeping them on schedule. And that was after he had successfully finished re-laying his own portion of roadway to the exact letter of the workponies' instructions.

Of course.

Naturally.

Big surprise.

Poppy had the nimbleness to work with the tools but not particularly the strength, and she wound up performing only slightly above the level of the other crusaders. Most critically, unlike them, she was undeterred by her failure and she even excitedly gushed over the man's efforts.

Eventually they were ushered away again from another horrible disaster of a performance.

The rest of the day continued in much the same way for the luckless crusaders.

The open fields of the park was their next destination, and when they got there they found that the area was abuzz with an active group of ponies and pooches; an obedience training class for the dog-loving citizens of Ponyville. Lead by a stallion with a stubby goatee and a penchant for whispering, the class was just getting underway. It was no tightly regimented setup either; everything felt loose and fun. Proud ponies stood next to their lovable canine companions, the pooches all ready to learn their way through an afternoon of organized games and carefree conduct.

It didn't take long for the crusaders to undo all of that. Madness descended upon the park. Even the tiniest, most polite and playful puppies turned into terrors. They slobbered, they barked, and they snapped at any pony within reach. Poppy had to make a quick leap into a tree for safety, and incredibly enough several other ponies found their way up there as well, tearing off bark as they scrambled up the trunk with their hooves.

The whispering stallion brought things back under control eventually. The most practiced of his pony students assisted him and, in no surprise to any of the crusaders, James did as well. Picking up some quick tips from the stallion teacher (who had managed to turn the unexpected experience into a lesson anyway), the man had several of the friendlier dogs heeling, sitting, and playing dead in no time.

A trip to a florist had the crusaders inevitably creating plant-corpse bouquets and hostile flower arrangements as savage as a jungle; the most beautiful of plantlife turned into the most heinous of decorations. A few unfortunately-present patrons fled the shop in a panic. And for every reserved word that their hostess pony gave to them in restrained distress she delivered three more in praise of James. He had crafted a few simple, elegant setups that exactly matched some of the basic ones available in the store.

At some point later the sullen crusaders led their guests to one the larger structures in town: a big, rectangular office building whose faces were made entirely of windows. It was a formal business run by ponies properly dressed in stuffy suits who acted in every way like exceptional professionals. The fools didn't see the harm in letting the outside group have a go at processing some insurance claims. Afterwards the company would forever remember that day as the day they skirted bankruptcy and came out intact.

After that everypony took short lessons in playing different musical instruments, all taught by a single mare who was phenomenally skilled in whatever instrument she picked up. Under her talented direction the crusaders weaved a discordant spell of ear-bleeding magic while James created a soft, basic melody that could have coaxed a baby foal into slumber.

And so for YET ANOTHER time the crusaders, honorary member, and man found themselves moving through Ponyville on their way towards another destination destined to humiliate the three tormented fillies. By that point they had long stopped leading the way themselves; as soon the man had learned where their next activity was (provided to him at his insistent request) then he had led the charge himself. The downtrodden fillies only crawled along at the back of the group like slugs.

James strode through the streets in excitement, a good distance ahead of the slower crusaders, and he constantly encouraged them all to hurry along. His exhortations to Poppy were more tender, and she unlike the others she easily kept up with him.

Bounding high with each step, James asked the little Drypony beside him, "So that was certainly a lot of fun, right? It looked like you were having a blast on those drums."

"I didn't know what I was doing really but yeah it was a lot of fun to whack those things!"

She beamed pleasantly, springing up and down while vocalizing a loud thump or deep gong for each landing.

"Haha! I'll bet! I think if you got more practice then you could learn to keep time better!"

"Aw, maybe I guess!" Poppy accepted. "I don't think I'd learn it as fast as you. You were really good with that flute!"

"Oh, no no," the man laughed, waving a hand and turning away with some embarrassment. "I only did alright; true, a lot better than I thought I would."

Actually the music lessons had been the first activity where a real bout of nervousness had slid into him. Earlier tasks had either been like training for a part-time job or doing a beginner's exercise in arts and crafts; things which were wet with preparation or that carried echoes of past from childhood playtime to adolescent experience; all hardly things to have been nervous about. But an honest-to-goodness performance involving a REAL skill? He had felt every expectation to fail, especially since his singular prior attempt at such a skill on Earth had ended that way.

He mentioned offhandedly to Poppy, "You know, many many years ago when I was about your age, maybe a little older, I tried learning a different instrument. I couldn't do it well at all."

The news caught the filly by surprise.

"You couldn't?"

"Yeah. Gave it up. I just didn't have the legs for it."

James shrugged.

But the filly's surprise and skepticism only deepened.

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"But you did REALLY good just now," she stated, struggling to reconcile his contention with her own observation.

"No," he denied again, "I only did alright. And remember that the last time I tried was a long, long time ago; I was much younger. What's more, Miss Sinponia back there was a very attentive and dedicated teacher. The last music teacher I had was a real—" There was a beat as he hot-swapped words to block an unneeded profanity. "—witch."

"A witch?!" Poppy's eyes snapped open with literal amazement.

"No," the man laughed and shook his head, "I mean that I didn't like her all that much." A more thoughtful pause held him before he cast his voice out in reviewed memory, "I suppose looking back on it, to be fair to her, she had to deal with a lot of rowdy and mostly uninterested students all at once and maybe she didn't have the time to really give her full attention to each one of them. Not like the focused attention Miss Sinponia was giving us back there. That helped a lot."

"Huh," Poppy let out plainly. Her mind felt teased, like she knew she had the answers to the questions which tickled her brain but they was too shy to reveal themselves.

James clapped his hands together while skipping once instead of taking a step.

"Anyway," he cheerfully announced, "I already forget where we're heading to next." Without batting an eye he twisted his torso around and asked behind himself, "Hey girls! Where are we going again?"

The defeated crusaders hardly picked up their faces as they plodded along. Their burdened voices were so cursed that they all were of the same desolate mold; it wasn't clear who was speaking as they lifelessly replied in sequence.

"... The pottery place..."

"... It's not that far from where the florist was..."

"... Two more streets down, left, then straight for awhile..."

"Ah, right! Let's go!" the man pointed on ahead and picked up his pace.

But Poppy's gaze didn't follow his finger and her own strides slowed. With her head turned backwards her stare lingered long on her new friends and their slack, broken steps. They were falling further and further behind.

She faced forwards again and lifted her saddened eyes back towards James.

"Maybe-... maybe we should stop for now," she quietly suggested.

He nearly stumbled.

"W-What? Why?"

"I don't think-... I don't think that...," the Drypony said, putting so much strength into her effort.

But she couldn't seem to lift her thought off the ground. How exactly could she have even explained it? The words needed simply weren't there in her head. She couldn't understand why the man was so impervious to the crusaders' obvious feelings when she herself so potently felt them. Worse, her trust in him was so enormous that it made her feel like she was somehow wrong to have even sensed the hurt coming from them. But her instincts were so sure!; so sure that something terrible was happening.

She started over, "I don't think... all this... is doing what we want."

"What?" James repeated. A hidden thread of anxiety dangled from him, and she was tugging hard at it. "What do you mean?"

Poppy whined, frustrated and unhappy that she again did not have any words. On the inside she felt tight, like her many fast and short breaths weren't coming back out after breathing in.

"This is wrong...," she finally managed to tell him in a quiet, cagey tone.

Rapidly the man started to fray, everything about him coming undone at once; his stride, his composure, his tone. He fell into an inconsistent volume and staggered as he spoke.

"T-That's silly. We're-... we're having fun, right? I-, I mean I am... really enjoying this time with you. And..."

Somehow he had to keep this day going. He HAD to.

Suddenly he straightened up and said to her with buried desperation, "And your job as an ambassador! Getting around and seeing all of Ponyville! Don't you need to keep doing all that?"

"I want to do that!" Poppy pleaded painfully. Her head came down and she peeked back at the crusaders once. "But... I think... this isn't the way to do it anymore..."

"H-How else are you supposed to do it?" James replied almost sternly.

"We can go exploring on our own," she offered immediately. She became full of promise. "It will be fine. I think we can have lots of fun!"

He yielded no response at first. Then slowly and subtly he closed up. An insincere authority swirled into his voice, as if he were trying to push himself past his fright not with any courage but with raw emotional force.

And even then all could he answer with was, "N-No... no, Poppy. No. I-... I couldn't. I couldn't lead you around on my own."

"You can," she encouraged, sidling closer to him, "because you're you."

"No...," he resisted again.

One side of himself held his mind back from the unthinkable places he didn't want to go, but the other side tore about in search of an honest response to give to the dear filly. He scraped so achingly close to the truth.

"I want you to see all this stuff... and I want to be there to show it all to you, and... I'm so glad that you're here with me right now... because... without you... I couldn't-... I just wouldn't want to-... I wouldn't have the reason to-..."

His bones shook. He breathed just once, heavy and hard.

"Poppy, I can't do these things on my own."

The Drypony brought herself closer to him still.

"You've... done so great at everything so far," she reminded him quizzically. "What do you mean you can't do 'these things?'"

James spat out a choked, stifled sound; words stumbling over each other too quickly to be coherent. After he cleared his throat he changed his mind about answering and quickly dismissed, "W-What does it matter anyway? I mean, the Crusaders had this all set up and are making their rounds anyhow so it only makes sense for us to tag along."

Then, to deny her even the smallest space for interruption, he pushed frantic, "We're wasting time now. Is this the left turn here? Let's go!"

She bounced a step away in surprise.

'Tag along?'

Behind them the lagging crusaders had dropped so far back that they had all but disappeared.

"But-," Poppy weakly tried to object.

"Please...," he begged her quietly.

Again she whined, much more silently than before. She donated one last half-glance back to her distant friends, whispered yet another whine, and then she surrendered. The glorious shine her mane had gained from the spa had vanished.

The man said nothing but gave a happy, sorry smile. Then together they continued on, turning left and carrying ahead.

But far back, the three glum fillies still made no effort to catch up. They followed only at the fastest pace their tortured wills could carry them.

They were all mirrors to each others' misery. If one head dropped then they all dropped. If one sighed then they all sighed. If one kicked a stone, either out of stifling frustration or just accidentally because of their hooves barely scraping above the dirt, then they all found a stone to kick.

Their greatest wish in life had always been to have found the one special talent that each of them were exceptionally good at, but now they were at a dark and dreary place where the only thing that they wished for was the sun to set and the day to end. And maybe, if they were lucky, tomorrow everypony would forget that they even existed and they would never have to parade their shame ever again.

The endless cycle of dismal dirt and cold cobblestone passed before their ground-locked eyes. If only to break the monotony, and maybe to safely relieve a tiny bit of the painful pressure bottled up inside, Sweetie Belle began to sing. Her voice floated low and private; a soft song only for her commiserating comrades, and they joined in when they found the miserable strength to:

Crusading isn't what it used to be
It's not the same quest it was yesterday
If you knew our story then you'd agree
That things should never have gone this way

(We're always last place,)
Everypony is somehow special
(In a dead-end race!)
There's hidden magic that's deep inside
(It's the worst case,)
But if that's true and we've searched it all
(Of pony disgrace!)
Why have our cutie marks been denied?

Now we keep on trying like a young filly should
But maybe our mission we misunderstood
And there's somepony here who does more than we could
Do we keep on trying or are we just—no—good?

One day I thought I'd be somepony great
With a super talent that I could show
But everyday more that day has to wait
Makes me think I have no talent to know

(We're always last place,)
He makes everything look so simple
(In a dead-end race!)
We fail no matter how hard we try
(It's the worst case,)
On easy things we always stumble
(Of pony disgrace!)
Won't somepony please just tell us why?

Do we keep on trying when we've done all we could?
Will we never rise up to the place that we should?
We have no more fight to hold the ground where we've stood
Do we give up trying because we're just—no—good?

'Quit while you're ahead' is some nice advice
But a life with blank flanks will be our doom
So is 'quit while you're behind' just as nice?
At least I'm still better than Apple Bloom(Hey!)

(We're always last place,)
It's like everything he does better
(In a dead-end race!)
While we beat our heads against a wall
(It's the worst case,)
At drowning I bet he'd drown wetter
(Of pony disgrace!)
Why even bother trying at all?

Are we STILL trying as though we even should
Let's move away and hide our faces with a hood
I'm amazed our rhymes even sound any- um- good
Do we stop trying since we know we're just—no—good?

When somepony shows you how easy it can be
And you still don't get there when you've done all you could
You know our locked talents will never be set free
There's no point in trying like a young filly should
A pony promise for the cutie marks we need
But just a promise that we never understood
So now it's the time to give up on our creed
There's no point in trying when we're just—no—good!

Dropping their heads in unison, all three fillies unleashed hefty sighs and turned down the street on their left to follow James and Poppy to the next round of humiliation.

After one final farewell from the pottery master the rickety door of the ceramics studio rattled shut. Ejected after another predictably sour turn of events, the crowd of four glum fillies and one bright man were left standing on the low porch that served as a display for the workshop. Large pieces of pottery sat here and there on the creaky wooden boards while smaller specimens were spaced erratically atop the thick half-wall that lined much of the porch.

James whipped his hands about in front of himself, shaking off the leftover wetness they held from washing away the remains of clay. The soppy hooves of the crusaders stayed stuck to the ground, motionless and still, letting the stained water dribble off. Inside they had hardly done anything more than lifelessly soak their hooves in a sink for a few dull moments while washing up, leaving behind many flecks of caked-on clay.

For once even Poppy seemed fully connected to their conquered spirits. There had been none of her usual zeal in this latest activity. Her springy energy normally would have had her prancing about casting cheers and praises (and incidentally drying her hooves as water was flung everywhere), but instead a sunken gloominess anchored her to the ground. Like the other crusaders her hooves too had spatters of earthen clay carelessly left behind, the blots blurring with her already brown body color.

If there was any part of his awareness which had noticed her evaporated spirit James didn't show it. Blind, singleminded ignorance shielded him.

"Well that was fun!" he pushed eagerly, manufacturing a smile and an exhausted breath. "Where to next?"

His question passed over the numb crusaders.

He turned towards them and the already abrasive edge came out in his voice.

"Where next?"

They all picked up their heads nervously and shrank back, awoken by the harsh cracking in his words.

"Oh, uh...," Scootaloo squirmed.

"I'm not... really sure I remember," Sweetie Belle trepidatiously stated; a half-lie. She had vain hope for escape but also was so foggy-minded from despair.

Once more a mean sharpness rose up in the man. The assumed authority came right back into his tone, harsh and hard but shy of being outright callous.

"Well think about it for a minute. You owe it to those ponies to show up and not waste their time."

"B-Building buggies," Apple Bloom's recall was crisp enough to know the next destination. In covering for her friends she was slightly jumpy. "At-... at one of those ranches just on the edge of town. B-But... I don't think the ponies there would miss the unremarkable likes of us all that much..."

James' hands came down and sternly gripped his hips. He assaulted the little filly with a disciplining stare. There was the slightest lean forward of his body; a subtle move whose minuscule size somehow enabled it to carry such a massive aura of threatening power.

Partially cowering and beginning to blanch a little, Apple Bloom tried to pacify him while still sparing herself and her friends, "W-Why don't you and Poppy go on yourselves? T-Then-... then their time isn't wasted and-... a-and I'm sure them ponies would be plenty glad to teach somepony actually talented, like YOU, all about sticking together a buggy."

All her subtleties missed the man by a wide margin.

"But then how would we know where to go after that? How many more activities are there?" he practically demanded.

"Oh, w-well," the skittish filly tried to reply, "m-maybe we could-"

"Look, I get it," James cut her off abruptly. He was concise and hard.

All three broken crusaders looked up in surprise, curious about what the man supposedly now understood. They were maybe, in some distant way, hopeful that it was their plight which he had at last grasped.

But their hopes were swiftly dashed.

"You've done all these things and no cutie marks yet!" he spat out bitter and complaining, and noticeably NOT on their behalf.

He continued on, delving into what would have been a rallying speech if it weren't for his brutal air; striking, blaming, unfaithful, unforgiving. Any truth his words held were crushed to insignificance under his ignorance, making them no more than the spittle of a selfish child attempting mature wisdom.

"But oh well! You're going to have to suck it up and carry on. That's the way it goes sometimes! Some things you really have to work hard for. So you're NEVER going to get there if a few measly defeats knock you so far back that you give up just like that-"

"STOP!!"

Poppy leapt in front of him as if her body could block his acidic words. She was trembling, with small crystals of tears in the corners of her eyes.

"Why are you yelling at them?!"

Her move stunned him.

It wasn't just the suddenness of her fierce opposition, or her defensive stance which had her slightly crouched with her stubby wings spread and flat, or the deep and upsetting pain which visibly enveloped her. There was a singular moment where the entirety of her, the depth of her soul as seen through her eyes, had projected utter severance; she was separate from him. That intimate connection, so treasured to him since her return, felt suddenly and instantly torn away like the frightening loss of a limb in an unexpected accident; the mind almost resolutely insisting that the separated body part was still there even as the wound gushing blood filled the eyes and screaming pain filled the senses.

He didn't know what to do.

"I'm not yelling!!" he reacted loudly. But his own great volume immediately struck his ears and, embarrassed, he greatly softened his voice, "I'm not."

"Yes you are!" the filly was injured but not aggressive, and she panted from how completely she exerted her emotions. "Please stop! They're so upset!"

"They're-?!"

He had to bring his volume under control again.

Unlike with the crusaders, he consciously worked to sweep all of his coarser parts under the rug for Poppy. His unexplored love for the little Drypony had turned the entire day into a fantasy of wishes the likes of which he had not known for so long. All the risks of losing that magic had left him frightened enough to do such cruel things as unleash such coldness upon the poor crusaders. He would have paid cost he had to keep the special day going.

Any cost except Poppy herself.

Now he was suddenly confronted with a reality his delusion hadn't prepared him for: all his efforts at staying the course had been for naught. The warmth of his little pony had suddenly started racing away from him despite his actions to cling to it.

The change in him from understated, subtle hostility to immensely soft pleading was fast and obvious.

"Poppy," he tried to explain, gentle and desperate all at once, "they need to learn to not be so discouraged when they don't succeed right away-"

Her head shook, left and right, up and down, and in all sorts of erratic ways.

"No! I mean, yes! I mean, it's not that!" Her own inability to be articulate about her lucid feelings frustrated her so badly. "That's not why they're upset!"

A real honesty fell into him.

"Then... why?"

"I don't know!" the filly painfully admitted.

She threw her sad eyes again towards the crusaders. The crestfallen trio didn't seem to know how to take this new conflict between the man and the Drypony, or perhaps they were already beaten beyond the point of being able to care. Held up scarcely by the last gasps of their dying strength, and held down under storm-battered confusion, they returned only shambly stares. They were too weak to voice their own concerns.

"I don't know why...," Poppy recited, turning back to James, "... but they really, really are! And... it's not helping that-... that you're being so-... so-...!"

The words crashed together in her throat, piling up as she threw herself into holding them back. She feared that calling the man something awful might have made it become more real. Again the flashbacks pounded at her: the heartbreaking sight of noble Broken Oak being dominated by his own fury, turning him into something nasty which she knew beyond reproach that he truly wasn't; the way her hero stallion had nearly thrown aside all of the good things about himself just to sate some incomprehensible battle thirst. She didn't want to see something like that ever again.

She took a sudden step forward.

"Please don't be like this! You're-... you're better than that!"

Sharp, poignant; the knife of her words slipped straight into his heart. It was a heavy slap to the face of his hysteria, sobering him up; the tidal wave at last violent enough to awaken the man who had denied the hurricane.

Only he had gotten himself so far from shore already that he could no longer fully understand where he was, what was going on, or how to get back.

"Poppy...," he reached out to her, looking for refuge in her. "I-... I want you to be able to see everything in Ponyville... and... I want to show it all to you... and I want to SHARE it all with you. But... I CAN'T take you around on my own... I'm not-... I can't... find everything... All these months here and... I've never even felt like looking-... I mean, before you were here I wasn't even-"

What word was he even looking for?

'Happy'?

No...

'ALIVE'?

"... I wouldn't enjoy discovering these things without you here."

Her face scrunched with befuddlement.

She didn't understand. And of course she didn't understand, since he barely understood what he had fumblingly expressed also.

But even if her mind wasn't as dexterous as her hooves there was a special place in her heart which much more astute. Deep in there, she felt his change. The sympathetic light in her shined out again, brilliantly.

The man meanwhile was still trying to unwind his tangled feelings.

"I'm so happy that... you're here. That you CAME to see ME. And that I've had the chance to spend this time with you. But I don't... have what it takes to... do what you need to complete all this."

The little filly swung her head in great disagreement, snapping her springy hair bundles back and forth like whips.

"You can!"

She was beyond doubt. And she pointed towards the dismal crusaders.

"And you don't have to make them upset to do it!"

James' head dipped down. He was beginning to see his own logic unravel; see how mostly it was stitched together only by his pride.

Yet he still defended it, though now tired with sorrow and confusion.

"The crusaders... they set all these things up anyway... and-, and it would be terrible for them to just forsake the ponies who are offering some of their own time. That was a PROMISE the crusaders made. So-... so they need to keep their promise, and-, and as long as they are..."

He shrugged weakly.

"And! And-, and your job as an ambassador," he added. "You need to experience Ponyville-"

Poppy crammed her eyes shut, again wildly shaking her head while she gave a distraught moan. Her tiny forehooves beat the wooden floorboards mercilessly. Then without warning she dashed slightly towards the man and bounced into the air, landing on the lengthy shelf which lined the porch. The row of display pottery was nearly knocked over like dominoes as she touched down and whirled around to face James again. The disturbed ceramics rolled wide as they settled back into place, and with her determined face held high the filly was now at a height to look the man straight in his eyes.

Boldly she declared, "As an ambassador of Heartwood I'm ALSO supposed to show everypony here what it means to be a Drypony! And being a Drypony means doing your best! It means honoring Prideheart's virtues! Like sacrificing for your friends and allies, and always standing by your commitments! They let me be an honorary Cutie Mark Crusader and now I have to stand by that! And since a crusader helps ponies earn their cutie marks, that's what I've got to do! But all this stuff that we've done today hasn't been helping them at all! It's been HURTING them!"

Finally, FINALLY, it penetrated the man.

He turned to look at the worn, beaten down crusaders and it was as if they had completely changed before his very eyes. Last he had looked they had been obstacles; whining youths who were throwing a fit because things hadn't gone in their favor. But the lie muddied and dissolved away, revealing underneath a trio of disheartened shadows, in pain and swallowed by despair. The upbeat fillies he had known – who had always been playful, happy, and so eager to grow – were gone; slaughtered by darkness.

A darkness which had originated FROM HIM.

Poppy, with a soft plea, gave him a final nudge over the threshold.

"Please help them..."

"Oh my God...," James whispered to himself. He shivered, overcome by his own disappointing, abominable failure.

Gently the man approached the crusaders, and he was greatly distressed to see them pull back slightly as he came; to see them automatically withdraw in the fear of him.

Just how terrible had he been?

Slowing even more he got as close to them as they seemed comfortable with and carefully brought himself all the way down to ground, folding his legs under his body and resting his knees on the wooden flooring.

"Girls," he opened up to them, leaning forwards with upturned palms, "I'm so sorry. I-... I was being so stupid. I'm ready to listen now. I am. What's wrong?"

The fearful fillies, crowded close together, exchanged reluctant looks as they hesitated to respond.

"Please. It's alright. What's wrong?" he showed his remorse as he encouraged them.

Sweetie Belle spoke up, throwing her sad voice down at the floor, "WE'RE wrong. We're no good."

James scuttled on his knees, scooching a little closer to them.

"No, no, no. That's not true at all," he said.

"But we've just been big failures at everything so far! We're ALWAYS failures!" squeaked Apple Bloom.

"And," Scootaloo pitched in, very wary of how much her frustrated envy was showing, "whenever YOU try something, you do great. This stuff can't be that hard if-... if-..."

The three put out a powerful moan together.

The man moved closer still. More he tilted towards them, and when he reached out they didn't recoil.

"Oh, girls, no," he told them kindly. "That's not how it is. There's a lot more to it. There's a lot of important differences between you and me."

Unsatisfied with his explanation, at least in a fashion, Sweetie Belle lamented with lifeless sarcasm, "So you're just so super great at everything?"

"No. Not at all," he securely responded. A thin smile stretched across his face, his voice turned up in comfort, and he tried to get them to see, "Think back on it. Have I really been doing AMAZINGLY? I got everything done, yes, but was I doing 'super great'? The ponies who were mentoring us were MASTERS at their crafts; was I doing as well as them?"

"W-Well, no, but-" whimpered Scootaloo.

"The birdhouse!" James interjected. Out of the air he molded it from memory with his hands. "The birdhouse I built for Miss Nestingwing; the very first thing we did together. She showed us how to make a very simple, very basic birdhouse, and I got one done. But it wasn't ANYTHING like the incredible birdhouses she herself has made and had hanging in her garden! The tall and twirly ones! The wide ones with curvy shapes! They were astounding, and decorative, and beautiful!"

At last he leaned as far forward as his weight could hold, setting his face close to theirs. His hands reached around and patting their sides in comfort, which they didn't resist.

"I didn't do so much at all," he concluded. "I made a very average, beginner birdhouse. And only because I had some good instructions from a wise mentor who answered every question I had. It was the same the whole way through the day."

"But WE'RE still no good!" Apple Bloom cried. "Even with ponies to show us what to do we still couldn't get any right!"

"Sh. There's more," he consoled her. He straightened himself out and picked up his chest a little, showing off his size. "For one, I am so much OLDER than you. Than all three of you combined probably, right? And while age isn't everything, it does mean that I have that much more experience compared to you."

Sweetie Belle twisted her head, squinted an eye, and recalled, "But you kept saying that you had never tried so much of this stuff before."

"Well, there's more to having experience than just having tried lots of things," the man responded sagely. "I mean, I went to school for... twelve years? Or more, actually! I don't really remember exactly! But still, I've sat in classrooms longer than you've been alive. And also there were a few jobs, and then training, and-... well, you get the picture."

Gazing upon the still weepy fillies in front of him, themselves watching him closely with their wet eyes and occasional sniffling, he had a sudden sense of old familiarity. In the air he felt his parents' presence. In a certain way he felt them and their faith WITHIN him; a brief moment where he had somehow become them.

Lovingly he lectured them, "You see... I can do these good first efforts NOW because I have a lot of experience with learning. That's what my age gives me that you don't have. I have LEARNED a lot about HOW TO LEARN. And it doesn't make me great at everything... but... maybe I grab new things a little faster than you might."

And, in just the same way his father had always used to do, he tenderly gave each of them a soft rub behind the head.

"Trust me, when I was your age I fumbled my way through completely failing at A LOT of things."

Slowly his words came down over the huddled crusaders and settle within them. They eased up from their cowering; their heads rose, in little pieces. Again they were able to glance between themselves and out at the world. Small things began to sprout up inside: happiness; hope.

Apple Bloom, dabbing some of the water from her eyes, asked earnestly, "So... we're not really super bad?"

"Nope. Not at all," James smiled. "You're just young. And still searching. And still LEARNING. And still GROWING. And you need to hold on to doing all that, just like the great crusaders you are. Cause you'll get there some day."

Their steady recovery brought ever more light back into them, and their spirits rebounded with strength. At the sight of it the man discovered a fresh feeling arising in himself; a great uplifting of heart. His earlier discomfort and fear, sinister agents within that had been feeding him dark whispers, were banished into silence.

Behind him he heard upbeat, skipping clops, and then he felt Poppy snuggle up against him, sharing in the joy. A wholeness washed over him. He was readily connected to the dear filly once more.

But just because everything for himself felt fixed, that was no reason to pull back from this new course now.

"So," he entreated the crusaders, "you understand now that I'm not incredibly talented at everything? In fact, I'd say it's obvious that I'm super UNTALENTED at something very, very important: noticing when the ponies close to me are having an awful problem with me. For all the little failures you girls had today, I had one REALLY BIG failure. Bigger than all of yours put together."

He bowed, ashamed.

"I'm so, so sorry. Can you forgive me?"

There were no retreats. There were no deliberate hesistation filled with uncertain thoughts. They all came forward to hug any part of him they could grab, happily reciting their pardons. Certainly they had all long ago learned good lessons about the value of forgiveness. And maybe—just maybe—there was somewhere inside them a tiny, tiny thought that they should have forgiven him anyway in case it would have earned them cutie marks in mercy.

Time passed; long or short, nopony there cared. It was calm and affectionately warm, like an evening's rest before a crackling hearth. Everything stayed that way until they finally let go of him.

"So...," Sweetie Bell cautiously spoke up, "does anypony really want to go learn about building buggies or...?"

By the careful way she looked up at the man it was obvious that she was checking her suggestion with James, though this time it wasn't out of fear for some potentially harsh response from him.

She tried to more cleanly express herself, "I mean, I feel a lot better now but... I don't know if I'm really ready to do more crusading yet..."

She and her fellow crusaders shared a mildly downcast look. They all felt emotionally exhausted.

"Well...," the man said to them, both perfectly serious yet intentionally crafty with his tone, "... I meant what I said before about respecting those other ponies' time (even if I said it in a very terrible way). They set aside time on their weekend JUST FOR YOU, because YOU asked them to. It really is very unfair to them for you to suddenly decide not to show up. You need to understand that."

Dismal but undaunted, they lightly nodded their heads in acceptance while looking down.

"But!" he loudly broke their stillness, to the head-raising surprise of the crusaders. "But! Given these special circumstances I guess it's worthwhile to remember that we can't always be perfect. Sometimes we have to settle for only doing our best. So... I think this time it'll be alright to call it quits if-..."

He gazed upon them with critical trust.

"... IF... you can promise me that later, or maybe tomorrow, you'll hunt down each and every pony whose activity you missed and sincerely apologize to them for it?"

Relief swept over them and the bright crusaders altogether swore up and down to the task. Even tired from their whole ordeal they still snapped back into their old enthusiasm.

"You bet we will! That's a promise, sure as sunrise!"

"Yeah! We'll apologize to every last pony!"

"And maybe we'll get our cutie marks in offering apologies!"

"Ah, I don't know if I want THAT..."

"Hehe, well then maybe we'll just get them for finding ponies on their days off."

"I don't know if I want that either!"

"We could be Cutie Mark Crusader Bounty Hunters!"

"Okay, now THAT makes it sound cool."

Their powerful exuberance played so perfectly off of each other that it predictably pulled in Poppy, and the flow didn't break at all when she spiritedly asked, "So if we're not going to do anymore crusading, what are we going to do now?"

But James had an answer already prepared.

He didn't suddenly believe he had the ability to lead Poppy around Ponyville on his own, without the crusaders, thought he now had the faith to try. And he did have one idea for a place to start. More importantly though, he felt that he owed the crusaders after having selfishly abused their trust.

So, to kill two birds with one stone...

"I think, to celebrate a hard day's work of crusading, we should all go and get some ice cream. What do you say? I have enough bits in my pocket to get everypony a treat."

It wasn't all that different from ringing a dinner bell at a dog kennel.

Though Apple Bloom did make the observation, "'Celebrate'? But... we didn't get anything done!"

"Even if things didn't turn out successfully, I think a good effort is worth rewarding," he replied, playfully wagging his finger. "And besides, are you REALLY going to say no to free ice cream?"

No, they weren't.

Their restraint came undone in an instant and they bubbled up like fizzing soda before exploding with a unified cry of: "CUTIE MARK CRUSADER ICE CREAM EATERS!"

Away they went, soaring off the low porch and tearing down the street, trailing jubilant shouts and laughter, hardly cognizant of the fact that getting to the ice cream parlor faster only meant that they would have to wait longer for James and Poppy to catch up.

As he watched them go the man sighed out a large breath; contented relief saturated with slow exhaustion.

In a way everything had turned around and he was back at square one: now he was again the so-much-older man who barely had the energy to remain standing while being pulled around town by the unstoppable enthusiasm of a group of rambunctious children. Briefly he had truly joined them – had truly transformed into one of them; a child with so much ardor for life and the world of infinite possibilities found everywhere – and it was nice to have been that young again.

But the simple wisdom of a loving little filly had shown him an important truth: to stay that rejuvenated required him to have stood on the backs of the crusaders and held them down under the water. Maybe he had made enough mistakes to have proven that he still had some growing of his own to get done, but stealing a vicarious childhood wasn't the way to do it. Today was the time for the crusaders to live THEIR youth. For him, it was the time to be the adult for them.

And, all his fear drained away, he felt like he could live satisfied with that outcome.

His little cloud of airy thoughts burst when Poppy suddenly sprung against his chest, casting her forelegs around his neck in an adoring embrace. Still on his knees and somewhat unsteady, he scarcely managed to catch her in his arms without tumbling over. But once he leveled himself and had her secure he gave her back all he had with a hug of his own.

"Thank you James!"

"Thank you. ... I'm so glad you're here."

"Haha, you keep saying that!"

"It keeps being true."

The happiness flowed back and forth between them, and once it finally found equilibrium she hopped out of him arms, sticking a perfect landing as she always did.

"Now let's go get some ice cream!"

Standing up at last the man rubbed out the soreness in his knees and the aches in his thighs. The discomfort came into him consciously now that the unlimited youthful energy he had pilfered wasn't around anymore to power him.

He remarked, "That's right. They do have ice cream at Hamestown, don't they?"

The two set off together down the road after the already vanished crusaders, though they kept a much easier pace.

"Yep!" Poppy answered. "All three flavors! Vanilla, strawberry, and chocolate!"

"Three...?" the question leaked out of him. Then he laughed, "Ohhhh, dear Poppy, you are in for a tough choice ahead."

Delicately her neck turned to look up at him, and her eyes went wide.

"... How many flavors are there...?"

"How high can you count?" the man intentionally teased her.

If she was a rubber ball then he had just thrown her. Her amble became acrobatic, eagerly bounding up and down and all around. Her hurricane of happy words were as enjoyable to listen to as they were hard to follow.

But after only a few moments her energy suddenly wound down, and she even came to a stop. A long thought wrote itself across her face, and then she looked at him with a hint of doubt.

"Do you really think you're not very good at knowing when you're making other ponies upset?" she asked.

James wasn't caught completely off guard by the sober question, though he was gently surprised that she had latched on to that particular comment of his.

"Maybe I could use a little more practice, I guess," he replied, and then he pointed down at her. "But, like before, it helps to have a good mentor to teach me."

A gracious and proud smile beamed out of her.

Her usual felicity returned and they went on, but barely four more steps down the road she avidly inquired, "So what are we going to go do AFTER the ice cream?"

"After?" he quipped and chuckled. Being an adult again already felt like it was rapidly catching up to him. "I think afterwards I'm taking a nap."

"A nap? No way!" Rich giggling filled her, very aware of his humor. She taunted, "I'm not going to let you take a nap!"

"Well then you're just going to have to try and stop me."

The man suddenly seized the gleeful Drypony, gripping and carrying her under his arm like a small barrel. Squealing with laughter she kicked her dangling legs in frisky fits and wriggled her small body about, unable to break free but enjoying every second of her attempts. Together they romped their way down the road, shining bright with unreserved bliss, perfect in each others' company.

Certainly that was the impression had by most everypony they passed by as they went along, though the two were so absorbed in their own silliness that they took no notice of any other ponies on the street.

They didn't catch a single glimpse of a particularly pink pony with sad blue eyes who, because of what she saw, was too timid to approach and too dismayed to speak. She couldn't do anything but stay far enough back to be out of immediate sight and hang her head in shame.

The library door shut with a very soft creak. Such gentleness wasn't from exhaustion; being about town hadn't been unusually tiring. Twilight was simply in no great rush. With her reply to the special letter off her shoulders it felt like ALL of her tasks were complete (even if they weren't).

But as soon as she was back inside her home her interest in what had become of James and Poppy was immediate. Down on the ground she noticed that Poppy's travel pack had been disturbed. Since Spike wasn't due back until a little later it meant that the man and filly must have returned! She peeked here and there about the main chamber but nopony seemed to be around.

Naturally she headed upstairs next, but she held herself back from calling out a name in search. She didn't quite know why. Either they would have answered her OR they had already left again and then she would have only looked like an awkward fool speaking aloud to themselves. In any case, once she reached the bedchamber she was glad she had been so quiet.

Laid out on his bed, slightly sprawled and on top of the covers, the man softly slept. He was well-settled into a late day nap. It was the easy rhythm of his breaths that gave it away, with their slow pulls inward falling short of harsh snoring and their dull outbound wisps being shy of whistles.

The unicorn hadn't really known him to be somepony who indulged in such lethargic behavior, but he obviously did from time to time (again, her discovery of him and Rainbow Dash in the park). Today she decided she wouldn't blame him; keeping up with a young pony would have taken a lot out of anypony, but a frenetic filly like Poppy must have been especially draining!

After all, the little Drypony herself was tuckered out too!

She was snoozing on the mattress right there besides him, laid on her side in a slight curl. Even in sleep she was very energetic. Her breathing had a rapid pulse to it and her legs jittered with tiny, constant twitches like she hadn't even have meant to have gone to sleep but had fallen into a perfectly cushy trap laid by her big friend. Or maybe some slumber spell had been cast upon her by the man's arm; it rested over her protectively. Whatever was going on inside her dreams, she smiled.

It was hard for Twilight to do anything but silently appreciate the sight. At least for a short while. The day those two had shared together must have been quite special! Good for them! She was awfully glad she had abandoned her own day with the man.

Content to let sleeping ponies rest she turned to depart, but her attentive eyes spotted a slight disturbance: on the stand where James typically kept his pile of unread mail (for an arbitrary number of days before disposal without inspection) two of the letters had been separated out and subsequently opened.

One of them she recognized as the letter from Princess Celestia. Seeing the envelope sitting there open and defenseless with its letter stuffed back inside reignited her desire to sneak a peek at it. Just a nibble would have sated her curiosity! She was able to hold herself back though, by reminding herself that if he had already read it then she could therefore have always asked him about it later.

However, the presence of another open letter greatly intrigued her. What else had he received that wasn't a mass-mailed advertisement? Battling her itchy inquisitiveness was doubly-difficult task for this new letter. The absolute unknowns of it pumped irresistible mystery into the air.

Eventually she decided that it wouldn't have been SO BAD to have taken a look at ONLY the envelope. She could steal a clue from the name of the sender since, after all, it was on the outside and so was kinda-sorta-maybe public information anyway.

Tiny tugs of her magic wobbled the envelope out from under the Princess's and drew it over to her. Her stealthy plan was almost foiled when she read the sender's name and forced herself to suppress a strong laugh.

The letter was from Poppy, but the post mark was many days before she had arrived. No doubt it had been mailed to have given the man advance warning of her arrival. A warning unheeded due to a poor habit of his that she had chastised him over more than once already.

Carefully she deposited the envelope back on the stand and tiptoed away, hauling only her sly smile. That was ammo to tease him with later. Maybe she could have used it to lighten the mood before talking to him about Pinkie Pie.

Chapter 10: Asymmetry

The romp about town with the Cutie Mark Crusaders had temporarily satisfied both James and Poppy, each in different ways. Consequently, after they awoke from their nap, they quickly decided to spend what little remained of their Saturday inside of the library.

The friendly evening flowed along gracefully into pleasure. Much of it they spent around the kitchen table, snacks and soda ever ready, as they shared the tale of their day with Twilight and Spike. Most of the story was told from the breathless perspective of the easily excitable Drypony, but the man didn't shy away from helpfully plugging in missing details, reworking untidy portions to be more sensible, and happily adding his own commentary every now and again.

Certain more intimate details were either omitted or only vaguely alluded to; things regarding the man's failure to acknowledge the crusaders. For James' part they were dodged out of embarrassment; expunged from the recounted tale as, he felt, not truly necessary to what was important. But Poppy never even once thought of sharing them to begin with. She focused only on the absolute best of what their day had given them.

All in all they together told a proud tale; a tale of an adventure, at least of an everyday sort.

Twilight found it inspiring, and her eager awe was reinforced only more as she watched them work together to tell their story.

She could plainly she how incredibly moved the man was that the little filly had come all the way out to Ponyville just to spend some time with him. It was not a side of himself which he had openly showed to the unicorn or any of her friends. Poppy had the remarkable power to ignite something wonderful within him, solely by being who she was. In her normal life out at Heartwood and Hamestown the spirited filly was doubtlessly many dear things to many dear ponies, but here and now she was in a fashion intimately his. And he was hers, in a same but different sort of way.

Poppy was a pony whom he could without reserve pour his undiluted affection into; somepony to love and care about, above and beyond any of the barriers built from the complications and considerations that life was so very fond of introducing. He had no second thoughts about loving her, not for any reason: pride, fear, logic, nor risk. The choice to love her came from the most base part of himself which was critical and immortal. It was all so clear and simple: he could not be a complete individual – his truest self – without being able to give love.

Poppy was somewhere pure and perfect to channel that love.

Recognizing all those great thoughts, Twilight imagined that perhaps the friendship between man and Drypony wasn't unlike herself and her many beloved friends: any one of them would have been thinner and less duly-purposed in the true absence of the others. It wasn't just about receiving friendship, it was also about being able to give it. She, and all of them, had become something MORE by having each other to give themselves over to.

As for the man: after having been shredded apart by his trip through the universal membrane, severing him physically from every love of his old life, he had now in Ponyville been building back up the friends, acquaintances, and perhaps even family necessary for love. But he was still only at the beginning of that particular journey. So to have somepony come along who, like magic, was a perfect fit for his need to love?; was perfect to resuscitate his sometimes forgotten desire to live an ordinary life?; was a perfect blessing during a time in his life that had proven unfairly hard?

Well, how lucky and exceptional was that?

And as for the other half of the special and loving friendship: Twilight couldn't say for certain what had drawn Poppy to James, nor what continued to keep the Drypony so intimately attached to him. But what was known was that the river of love between them coursed equally strong in both directions despite how short a time had been needed to dig the channel. Perhaps that was merely who Poppy was; she had similarly powerful bonds with Broken Oak and Willow Wise, after all. For a foal it was often the most natural thing in the world to simply love another being because they were there and they COULD be loved. Had she somehow innately sensed that he had been in need of unfiltered affection?

With respect to Twilight herself: witnessing the sacred relationship didn't arouse the smallest hint of envy nor stir the faintest whiff of jealousy. Of course not; she was studied enough in friendship to hold herself above such a thing.

Absolutely.

Without a doubt.

So what if she had never been able to get the same blissful light to shine out of the man as Poppy had so effortlessly done? Had never caused him to so strongly express the same incorruptible love in so outwards a way? Had never so immediately eased any of his pain and filled him with such unbounded life? She was too smart to allow herself believe in ridiculous friendship competitions!

And what would have even been the point of such petty jealousy? She believed beyond question that the man cared deeply about her and her friends. The proof was all the sincere effort he had put into befriending them! He did love them! There was nothing to fight with Poppy over!

Okay, SURE, the love he showed the filly WAS so much more loud and glaring, but quiet love was just as heartfelt and just as good! Twilight herself had hardly expressed her fullest affections for her own friends except in very special moments where it had felt right.

Besides, there were elements to her friendship with James that Poppy DIDN'T share! Like the thick complexity; the depths they delved together into philosophy, history, ethics, and anything else they could sink their teeth into! That was pretty great, right? And Poppy didn't get any of that!

So... maybe... MAYBE... in only the most fleeting and fanciful thoughts... in the idlest whims of her imagination... MAYBE only there did Twilight pretend that she would have liked to have exchanged places with Poppy, solely so that she could have released such unburdened happiness in the man whenever it would have pleased her. But never—NEVER—would she have really wanted to have sacrificed all the more intricate things that were hers uniquely to share with James.

Never. Of course not.

Secure in herself, Twilight enjoyed the evening without regret.

Mostly.

One rudimentary regret which she did have was that she had been unable find the chance to speak with the man in private about Pinkie Pie. Poppy was too ever-present, and it would have been unacceptable to have intruded the Drypony's special story time.

The first to retire to bed were unsurprisingly Twilight and Spike. Their own respective days had been adventures themselves and they jumped swiftly to sleep once the story was over and the sun was gone.

James and Poppy had more wakeful energy because of their earlier nap, and so for a few short hours into the night the man quietly helped his young friend explore the library lit softly by candlelight. The late night excursion through the dim glow was no trip out into the wilds of Ponyville, but good company and vibrant imagination made up the difference. At the very least the library's respectable collection of books was far above and beyond anything Hamestown had, and that was enough of a hook to keep the hungry filly engaged for awhile. But before too long the night's yawn also grasped them and they retired to the man's bed without waking the others.

Saturday departed, Sunday came, they rose late, and they were off again into the busy bustling of a weekend Ponyville, bearing with them the best wishes of Twilight and Spike. For the new outing they bravely sought to engage in some adventurous (if perhaps less eventful) exploring of their own. And less eventfully adventurous was indeed how it went. So much so that their absence from the library was short and they returned by the early afternoon. Regardless of such a quick result, Poppy's magnificent smile called their excursion an unequivocal success.

In the slow currents of that Sunday afternoon Twilight finally had her opportunity for privacy with the man.

Spike had somehow seized the attention of the voracious Poppy and was leading her on his own guided tour of the library, teaching the spongy filly about how the bookshelves were organized and helping her to pick out some books which she might have liked to borrow when she would eventually have to depart. Meanwhile James spent his brief release from the ever-whirling amusement park ride of a filly in the kitchen, finding respite doing mundane chores. It was while he was wiping down the table with a wet rag that the unicorn approached him.

"Here," she offered, snatching the rag from him with her magic, "I'll take care of it. Why don't you sit down and take a few minutes to catch your breath?"

"I'm holding up perfectly fine!" he mockingly protested, giving a bouncing laugh as he sat down at the table anyway. He easy squat into was slow and tired, and he didn't try to hide it. "You know, I have endurance. I can jog for miles. Or I used to be able to anyway; haven't tried in a long while."

"I'm sure you're in great shape for your age but that doesn't mean you can keep up with a pony like Poppy!" she prodded him right back. She focused on the rag as she swept it in small circles over the tabletop. Lowering her voice, she told him more seriously, "Besides... I'd... like to talk to you about something for a little bit. If that's alright?"

"Hm?" Projecting no obvious signs of anything amiss, he eased back in his chair and openly invited, "Sure. What's on your mind?"

As Twilight weighed her options the rag drove itself about on autopilot, becoming somewhat sloppy. She felt pretty strongly that, while Pinkie Pie's trouble was a very serious issue that should be addressed immediately, perhaps a building towards it smoothly might have gone over better with the man. The sudden, slight indecision clung to her for a split second and she had to shake it loose.

"So!" she perked up, choosing a convenient distraction, "I noticed that you read your letter from Princess Celestia!"

James nodded.

"You know," the unicorn hinted scarcely, "I've never really asked you before about the letters that you share with her."

"Aside from just yesterday," he teased, reminding her.

She floated the damp rag over to the sink and wrung her mild frustration out through it. Where subtlety had failed, directness would have to make due.

"What I mean is," she erased her posturing and questioned him straight, "I'm understandably curious. You told me that they're nothing incredibly important but... I'd like to hear about them anyway. Anything interesting in this latest letter?"

He thought for a moment.

It wasn't that he had any nervousness about sharing the details with Twilight; far from it, in fact. The letters' literal content held nothing of intimate personal importance. What truly slowed him was that yesterday when he had tried to explain to his friend all about what his exchanges with the Princess meant to him and Twilight had not been able to grasp his meaning. Or maybe perhaps he had not been able to have explained himself sufficiently. Nothing gave him hope that a similar effort today would have worked out any differently.

Irregardless, he held nothing back.

"I guess that depends on what you think is interesting. I mean, in the last letter that I sent to her, in addition to just replying to her even more previous letter, I wrote about some of the stuff I've been doing with you all, and what I thought about it."

Friendship reports!, Twilight immediately thought to herself. Of course! Just as she had earlier guessed!

But James' sentences chiseled away at her conclusion, each word chipping another pebble free.

"You know... like I wrote what I thought about Rarity slaving away over those special winter dresses of hers for these past few weeks. I just don't get her zeal for that sort of thing at all. That dressmaking and fine needlework just makes the tips of my fingers burn when I try it, and it's the most mind-numbingly boring work ever."

A sudden, sore guilt seeped into him and he lowered his eyes. Very quietly he tacked on, "I'm glad to get the chance to help her, though. Really, I am."

"That's what you reported to the Princess?" the unicorn incredulously asked him. She tried to set the table rag back at its resting place but it flopped over the faucet in a disorderly fashion.

Turning a thin eye to her odd choice of verb ('reported'?), he continued, "Anyway... the Princess wrote back to me that she never really managed to pick up any interest or skill in sewing either. But I already knew that, of course. You know, from that stupid tablecloth robe she made for me?" His 'gift' from the Princess only sat around in a drawer now, drawn out to be worn for sleep exclusively. "She wrote that it was the first try—I mean, obviously she was kind of joking with this—that it was the first try she had given tailoring in ages and nope, still no good at it. She also said that she really admires the ponies who can do it well. She loves some of the stuff she's seen which Rarity's made."

He shrugged a shoulder. Was this what Twilight really wanted to hear? It certainly didn't seem so; not according to her hollow stare.

Having precious little else to try, he only continued on, "She left me some advice that she said she found useful for slogging through boring tasks: try to keep your mind squarely focused on the bigger picture so you can understand what the small things you are doing really mean. She said that's how she endures a lot of the formalities she has to put up with."

And upon reflection, surely her strategy had worked for her: over a thousand years in her position of service to all ponies and she was still going strong. Maybe her nugget of wisdom could have eased the painfully long hours of stitching at Carousel Boutique if he were to have always kept in mind that he was doing it to compensate Rarity for her generosity. He endured every Tuesday in that sweatshop because he owed so much to the seamstress.

None of what James had shared seemed all that relevant to Twilight. Work habits, dress opinions, mental endurance advice; what CONTEXT allowed for such an exchange? Moreover, the casualness of his attitude towards the Princess disturbed her. WHY was he so brazen when dealing with the most royal of all ponies? He wasn't exactly the type to believe that he could get away with so disrespectful an approach to a superior, but by the color of the Princess's responses (as he had described anyway) she was quite comfortable with his attitude.

He had said before that she wasn't THE PRINCESS to him...

What did that mean?

Purely to try and recenter her thoughts somewhere with a better foothold, she asked, "What about me? Have you written to her about me?"

James immediately sat up in his chair and peered into Twilight.

"Is THAT what this is about?"

She realized too late how neurotic her question had sounded.

"N-No! I'm not worried about-... I mean, I'm just-... just curious. I'm trying to understand... why... you-..."

She had to shake her head again, as if it might dislodge the incorrect thoughts.

"This isn't about me, like that. I swear."

He leveled a scrutinizing gaze back at her, partially wary of feeding her bad habits. But she glimmered with honest light; sunshine piercing through the cloud cover on an overcast day. She was at that moment the struggling student seeking to understand, not the struggling pony cowering in self-doubt.

"There wasn't much about you specifically in this last exchange, but I have written about you before," he explained, letting a half-sigh slip past his half-smile. Briefly he had to throw his glance aside in order to ease the act of complimenting her directly, but he was hardly ashamed to admit, "You know... mentioning how smart and selfless you are. And how enjoyable it is to have somepony – a friend – to talk to about so many interesting things. And I've told her about some of the stuff we've discussed and the thoughts you've had that have surprised me. Things like that."

The praise caught the unicorn off guard, drawing a faded blush out of her. It didn't help her at all to discover what she had been seeking to know, but the gentle reinforcement felt refreshingly good and it further encouraged her curiosity.

"... And...?"

"Hehe, AND the Princess certainly wasn't surprised to hear it," James relayed to her. "In fact she had a lot of great praise of her own to share."

Then something devilish crept up in him; a secret thought that spread delight over the entirety of his face. However he only stated tauntingly, "Among some other things which she told me."

"... What?" Twilight inquired, drawn in. She could sense how harmless his sneaking around was, but that didn't keep back the tickles of discomfort.

"Well, she told me this story...," he began, squeezing every last drop of pleasure he could from Twilight's reactions. Lazily his eyes rolled around the room, he drummed his palm slowly against the tabletop while swishing his tongue across the front of his teeth; he did anything to add torturous delays to his recounting. "... It was a story about how, once... some time ago, but not all that long past... she had this particular student of hers. Very talented and gifted young filly. Hardworking. Studious to a fault. Sound familiar?"

He wobbled his insufferable eyebrows at the unicorn.

Obviously he was referring to Twilight herself, but she didn't have the foggiest clue what he could possibly have been referring-...

Wait.

WAIT!

"And... one day...," he carried on, twisting the knife, "... well, one day the Princess was tremendously surprised to find that her incredibly dedicated student was NOT where she was supposed to have been: studying her lessons. So the Princess went looking for her and... eventually, hehe... eventually the Princess found her – CAUGHT her, even – hidden away..."

He rose slightly out of his chair, leaning more and more on the table, absolutely uplifted by how Twilight's swelling dread all but confirmed the spectacularly hilarious story.

"... inside of a thin broom closest WITH A COLT!"

Tendrils of embarrassment choked Twilight and she drowned in red as her eyes receded in humiliated terror. Her forehooves came up and crashed against the tabletop as she bent forward in panicked protest, and she fought for her dignity, "T-T-That wasn't w-what happened! I m-mean, it W-WAS but it w-wasn't what it l-looked like!"

James exploded with laughter. When he had originally read the tale in one of the Princess's letters it had been no more than an endearing story; a bundle of loving and amusing memory delivered by a caring matron; something quick which had given him a smile. But seeing the story verified by the unicorn's squirming turned it entirely into something so delicious.

"Pulling boys into the closet for makeouts in the dark? Why Twilight, I never knew you had it in you!" he teased between his chortles. Then something about the thought quietly stunned him, and he dialed down his laughter immediately. He mulled, "Didn't know anypony had it in them."

Twilight barely heard him, too caught up in saving her own reputation.

"N-No! That's n-not what-! It was an accident!" she pleaded.

At last she exerted some control over herself, expelling a groan of immeasurable depth. She sat back down and paused herself, counting her breaths.

Still flushed across her cheeks, she elaborated sternly, "I was in Princess Celestia's School for Gifted Unicorns to study magic and because of that I often worked with students from the Advanced Magics Institute of Canterlot. This one student from the AMIC was having real trouble with his teleportation spell and I was just trying to help him out! We landed and got trapped in a broom closet when something with his spell went terribly wrong."

"Or terribly RIGHT!" croaked the man, livening up again. "Depends on how you look at it! You say 'accident', but maybe HE did it on purpose? It was his one-way ticket to snog city!"

"No!" Twilight maintained. Her strength returned steadily and her agitation leaked away. Still somewhat off-kilter, but showing much more firmness, she asserted, "We didn't DO anything! We got stuck and sat there in a tangle until Princess Celestia finally found us and got us out."

Light chuckles continued to bounce out of James' throat, but he finally pulled back. The space left open by his fading frivolity was filled in by happy curiosity.

"So...," he wondered, "... even though it was an accident that you got trapped in a tight closet with that guy for awhile... you STILL didn't make use of the opportunity to just get a little bit of smooching in ANYWAY?"

"Ew, no!" she spat, whipping her head back and forth. "Why would I have kissed him? It was cramped, and uncomfortable, and awkward, and stuffy. I barely knew him. And I didn't even like him!" She fumbled at the possibly-insulting interpretation of her words, trying to correct herself, "I mean-... not that I thought he-... I didn't... dislike-" Again her head swung about negatively and then she pointed a solid hoof at her tormentor. "You know what I meant! And I was quite happy having forgotten about that whole embarrassing scenario so thank you very much for bringing it up and reminding me!"

"You're welcome," he released her, amused but still bowing in simple apology. He laughed to himself for a few otherwise vacant moments as she continued to lightly fume.

The unicorn's feelings of embarrassment ebbed away (as did her desire to pick up the soggy table rag and slap him with it), and as it went it became easier to sympathize with his perspective. He saw only yesterday's mortification as transformed into today's entertainment. She'd be guilty of poking him in the same way under different circumstances. A small smile built back up on her and she relaxed.

As if to help her along James suddenly adopted a very straightforward and soft presentation, and he said, "There was a lot of love in the way the Princess wrote the story, you know? You get the sense she's proud." He nodded slowly and assuredly, but then he flinched and hastily clarified, "N-Not proud of what happened, with the closet and the theoretical smooching and everything. I mean she's proud to be your teacher."

Twilight little remaining defensive ego turned into bashful happiness. Sometimes Princess Celestia's direct praise had felt undeserved, but hearing it from a third party one step removed from the Princess herself had an extra kick of validation.

Soothed and upbeat, she falsely lamented, "Proud enough to only share the humiliating stories about me, huh?"

"Heh, like I said," the man replied, "she had A LOT of praise. The embarrassing stories are just more fun to remember."

Then, in further concession for the mild if friendly discomfort he had caused her, he offered, "You know, if you ever had the chance to sit down and talk with MY mom you wouldn't have to trick anything out of her. She'd fall all over herself to share every embarrassing story about me she had. You'd hit the mother lode; pun intended, I guess."

The thought greatly delighted the unicorn. She had already heard many stories of his past, but always from HIS perspective; no doubt he had spared himself grief wherever he could have or had embellished the details which had best ennobled him. Hopefully one day they'd be close enough that she could get him to erase the adjustments and divulge the fun, uncomfortable truths.

It was only fair, of course!

In the meantime, she felt that she had finally warmed things up enough. It was nearly time for Pinkie Pie.

Lightly Twilight ribbed the man, "So maybe you're mother would tell me more about all the trouble you get into from not being so diligent with your mail?"

"Oh, you noticed that did you?" James replied with a glance away and a sour turn of his mouth.

"You hardly have the right to pout!" she giggled at him.

He smirked; she was right of course. Her counterattack had hardly been a needling of the same degree which he had just pierced her. Thankfully she didn't know about his failure with the Crusaders; a far more ghastly failure on his part. He'd rather have her disappointed with his mail than with that.

"Yeah," he said, "I know. And I've made some mistakes before that turned out much worse than being trapped in a closet, that's for sure."

"Well, it's a sign of good character that you admit it," she responded.

She held her breath for a instant.

There he was before her, obviously reflecting on himself. And here she was, ready. They were both comfortable.

The moment felt right.

Pushing some of the flecks of anxiety down her throat, Twilight stiffened and requested, "I have something a little more important I want to ask you."

"Yeah?" Not a hint of suspicion was within him.

In her own mind she silently reminded herself that she wasn't trying to solve Pinkie Pie's problem; she was only trying to gather data.

"How have your Thursdays with Pinkie Pie been going?" she approached the subject obliquely but without any stains of deception.

His face shrugged.

"Fine."

It was the most undecorated answer she ever remembered him giving.

Ordinary. Regular. Unremarkable. Burned so completely bone-dry of anything but an everyday casualness. A stock reply ground to form by its millions of repeated uses.

It was nothing in his mind.

There was nothing.

His Thursdays had been no more than Thursdays.

"Are you... sure?" Twilight dug a smidgen further, disconcerted.

James felt mutually surprised by her enlarged reaction.

"Yeah. Why?"

"... Pinkie Pie came by yesterday," the unicorn admitted cautiously. "She was... upset about the way you two have been getting along."

Not even the most infinitesimal drop of recognition came out of him; not the faintest shadow of a clue passed over him. He adjusted his sitting, his chair scratching loudly as it shifted under him, and a host of nothingness drifted behind his eyes.

"Really?" he at last responded, full of undesirable doubt.

"Yes, really!" she immediately retorted, flabbergasted by how diametrically opposite his attitude was compared to how Pinkie Pie's had been.

Quickly she bit her lip in remorse of her fast outcry. This wasn't about laying blame and she truly didn't want to imagine that he was at fault; it was just so impossible to accept that he knew nothing about it. It wasn't easy for something to get under the skin of the unflappable Pinkie Pie, and the man... well... Applejack had said it fairly well: he wasn't dishonest but he also wasn't always transparent. So between the two of them SOMETHING was getting lost, and it would have been an incorrect approach to have assumed James was the antagonist; to have assumed he MUST be in the wrong somehow.

This was about teamwork and friendship.

She nodded her head and gave a glance in apology, and thankfully he understood how unintended her harshness had been. He nodded back.

Twilight was still hopeful for answers, and so she told him, "Pinkie was incredibly distraught. It's rare to see her so upset, and she very specifically mentioned that it was because she felt like she wasn't able to get along with you. I was as surprised to hear it as you apparently are right now. So, I have to ask... you haven't noticed anything odd during your days with her, have you? What exactly have you two been doing together?"

"No, nothing," James shook his head, answering her first question. "Or nothing outside of what I would have expected anyway. I mean, it's pretty much only ever been a bunch of baking at Sugarcube Corner and helping her throw parties for ponies around town, when she doesn't want to play silly games. That's all we've ever done. And she's always been very...," he rolled an exasperated hand through the air, "... Pinkie Pie about it all."

"What exactly do you mean by THAT?" the unicorn asked, unsatisfied with how few useful details he had given.

"You know...," he started to answer, rocking his body indecisively. There were hardly real terms with which to describe that impossible pink pony. After a painful delay where his throat seemed parched for words he finally got going, "Always so giggly and happy, and smiling. And bouncing. And singing. And dancing. And bright. And fun-loving. And high-voiced. And crazy."

Twilight's stare was unmoving. The truth be told, she would have an equally hard time choosing perfect words to describe the essence of Pinkie Pie, but his snippets certainly sounded like the usual party pony she knew. And likewise they sounded nothing like the anguished pony that had come to her door yesterday.

James went on, fading further into strange descriptors, "Uh... blue eyes sparkling with laughter. Um... cotton candy mane seems to take on a life of its own. Uh... randomly singing songs that shower sunshine across everypony she passes. She's been like that; that kind of 'Pinkie-Pie' Pinkie Pie."

"Really?" was Twilight's disappointed reply.

How... inconceivable: two sides of a two-pony story, both so opposed in every way. It was disheartening as well: if these meager results were all that SHE could get, what would happen if Pinkie Pie were to confront him?

The unicorn moaned, "She's been nothing but her usual perky self for you?"

"Yeah," the man acknowledged. "I don't know that I've ever seen her unhappy in all the time that I've been here. She's so unbelievably loaded with positive energy that I wouldn't think it was possible for her to be sad."

"Her optimism seems invincible sometimes," Twilight acknowledged, "but she's a pony like any other, with her own worries and fears."

Fears and worries that he had never seen apparently.

But... hadn't Pinkie Pie mentioned that she had approached him about her troubles, albeit indirectly? So, her quirky messages hadn't penetrated. Maybe he had been honestly confused by her unorthodox attempts at communication. It would have made sense as a reason why the pink pony would have sought Twilight's specific intervention; Twilight COULD communicate with him.

She intentionally hummed aloud, "Pinkie may be afraid to talk to you about the matter herself, which is why you might not have seen much and she came to me about it instead."

"Really?" he dubiously croaked. He snorted with dark sarcasm, "Pinkie Pie? Afraid to speak her mind?"

"I know, I know," Twilight said, "but she can be like that when something deeply bothers her. She DOES have her insecurities."

A moment of hushed thought came upon her and she lingered her gaze upon the soft bends of light painted over the silky tablecloth.

"Despite all her silliness though," she picked herself up and conveyed sincerely, "she is strong and can handle facing her fears. James... could you please talk to her yourself about all this?"

The man's initial response was less than reassuring. He pulled back slightly, his posture doing not a thing to show his doubt diminished.

"Please," Twilight requested, emphasizing hard her concern. "She's definitely suffering from something and she needs to speak to you about it. Promise me that you'll talk with her when you get a chance?"

Seeing his friend's tremendous worry displayed so openly, this time he accepted honestly. He planted a solemn hand on the table.

"Alright. I promise."

"Thank you."

Her words were reassured and comforted.

But why didn't she feel that way inside?

Their exchange finished just in time; Poppy's brilliant voice suddenly came calling from elsewhere in the library. Peppered with excitement and squeaking giggles, she absolutely had to have James come see all these books that Spike had shown her, and surely she wanted to ramble on to him about all that she had discovered during her guided tour.

Charmed immediately by the filly's spell, he rose out of his seat while an unstoppable smile of anticipation took over him. He started off with a single step but then stopped and gave Twilight a small bow farewell before he dashed away out of the kitchen.

After he had departed the unicorn also rose from her seat and plodded over to the sink. She sighed as she fixed the poorly placed rag so that it laid properly over the faucet.

Two parties; two dramatically different accounts.

Alright...

That was possible, especially when it was between a pony as unpredictable as Pinkie Pie and a man who was still lost and finding his place like James. Friendship and honesty had the power still to uncover healthy truths; they just needed to talk.

But something more vexed Twilight, painfully. It vexed her that, after having heard both sides of the story, she had found them unequal in weight. It vexed her that in her gut her scales had tipped.

It vexed her that somewhere inside she intrinsically and inexplicably felt like she trusted Pinkie Pie's words over James'.

Why?

The tape recorder in her memory played back, scratchy and indistinct:

"You are my friend. I'm... actually kind of proud of it."

"Friendship... I don't have a friendship with him, Twilight..."

"With me he's not... genuine."

"Beanstalk, he-... well... he isn't a DISHONEST fellow... But..."

Chapter 11: Departure

Time flew, though most happily.

As Twilight had anticipated, the first outings of Heartwood's ambassadors had been scheduled as short test runs: no more than a week. Though that depressing news came to light early on it didn't diminish anypony's enthusiasm. Poppy had her mind set on enjoying every moment of her trip, and James certainly had no thought to resist her. Since in the first two days the pair had indulged plenty of free exploration, the filly delighted in following the man's usual schedule for the rest of the week: time with one of his friends each day.

Monday brought the first snowfall of winter.

Poppy was enraptured by the local pegasi raining cold cotton on Ponyville. No such phenomenon had ever occurred back at her home, where weakened magic had always meant ponies couldn't perform such organized weather manipulation. On the walk to Sweet Apple Acres she lead the way eagerly, pulling the man along through the all-new, all-white town.

It was James' first opportunity to wear the winter clothes Rarity had fashioned for him. Poppy reveled at seeing him in them; she declared that he looked the same as before but more snug, and indeed the clothes borrowed the bulk of their design from his previous outfit. The color schemes matched, the shapes were the same, and even all the buttons and other functional bits were one-to-one. The three main differences were that the whole outfit was more woolly and insulated, it fit more tightly and was built thicker, and there were fuzzy collars that guarded his neck, wrists, and ankles. The same applied to the footwear: they looked like the old shoes but with higher cuffs and a little more boot packed into them.

The outfit did well keeping him warm at Sweet Apple Acres, and with no winter cold to bother them the man and filly spent a tremendous day there. Shoveling snow was more fun than a chore, other odd jobs were made more entertaining because the farm had become a winter wonderland (with plenty of snowbanks to goof off in!), and later they shared hot drinks near a crackling hearth while listening to an old mare's tales of days gone by. Afterwards, Applejack released them early so that they might enjoy the rest of their day however best pleased them.

Of everything that had happened, the only legitimate bit of trouble was that James' hands had been turned raw, red, and nearly frostbitten from all the outdoor work. Though some ponies in Ponyville wore soft, warm boots over their hooves during the wintertime, ponies in general powered through the cold easily enough without such conveniences. Thus, the concept of fingered gloves hadn't quite occurred to Rarity during her production of the man's winter outfit. For James' part he had eventually noticed the mistaken omission not long before the outfit had been completed, but he had been far too reluctant to have mentioned it to the seamstress; he had already exploited her generosity badly enough as it was.

So it was Poppy who spontaneously mentioned to Rarity that the man needed something to keep his graspy-hoof-thingies warm, much to his embarrassment and chagrin.

Tuesday was James' usual day at the Carousel Boutique, and the filly hadn't objected in the slightest when told of the day's plan. In the early morning they had left as soon as possible and had plowed through the snow-covered streets of Ponyville before they had been welcomed in warmly by the seamstress, and Rarity had quite anticipated their help; there were miracles to be made in her shop, and by goodness, every extra hoof and hand was needed! James had already intended to spend the whole day there, if possible, helping out, but he especially hoped for the chance to be useful to Rarity after the little Drypony had quickly blurted out his need for gloves; as soon as Rarity had heard it she had insisted right away that they make him some (and for no charge, of course!).

Unfortunately once they got to work it became obvious that the Drypony didn't have the faintest knack for tailoring or most of the skills that went into it. That didn't prove to be a serious setback, however; Rarity had dealt with helpers of a less-than-desirable quality plenty of times before, and as the graceful host she was she found uninsulting ways for Poppy to be productive. Mostly the nimble filly carried items about or held things up, which her acrobatic talents allowed her to do exceptionally well. She also acted as a cheerleader, instantly falling in love with every little item of clothing, complete or in progress, which Rarity showed to her, and she wasn't afraid to unleash her breathless praise at the slightest request for commentary.

And there were some fine works to show! The seamstress had nearly finished the first run of her special winter line of dresses; there were only a scant few more finishing touches needed. It very easily pleased her to grant Poppy sneak peeks of her almost-perfect product since the Drypony couldn't do anything but feed her ego with effusive lauding.

James worked at his assigned tasks with as much dedication as he could muster, though he still found the intricacies of dress-work to be a special kind of intolerable. This time it was worse than usual since the dresses were so near complete that they only needed 'a few minor refinements,' which seemed to be Rarity's codewords for 'random endless tweaks.' He couldn't begin to imagine what difference it made whether a decorative snowflake was an inch more to the left or to the right, but the very fashion-minded unicorn would go back and forth on such questions for many minutes before deciding. Then later she would spontaneously go back and change her mind, leading into another cycle of tweaks. If Monday froze the man's fingers from the winter cold then Tuesday had them on fire from all the fine needlework.

He focused on having Poppy's support, as well as on the fresh advice from Princess Celestia's latest letter. Together the two helped support his spirit through the whole ordeal. Not that he ever would have given up on the task; there wasn't a more noble cause than serving a pony as generous as Rarity! He HAD to repay her what was she owed, even if it meant enduring sweatshop hell.

Eventually Rarity tried to convince her two guests to leave, but not out of any disdain for their work; she was only trying to free them up so that they might enjoy the rest of their day together. Plainly the man adored sweet Poppy, and she had the generosity of heart to want to encourage that. Moreover, try as he might have, the man hadn't been able to hide his antipathy for her chosen line of work. She had long ago picked on it, though of course being a lady she had never taken umbrage and had always been truly thankful of his continued loyal assistance to her despite his buried discontent. It was a fitting reward, she thought, to not treat him like a slave chained up inside her boutique.

James, feeling his debt but reluctant to voice it, tried to justify sticking around with several flimsy half-excuses. Poppy thought his odd behavior was comically silly, and it gave her plenty to laugh about. Rarity meanwhile was far from foul when she declared that she'd take no arguments on the matter.

"You have your new gloves, your new little friend, and a new beautiful winter out in Ponyville! Go and enjoy it!"

Finally the man conceded once her multiple kindly refusals to every objection became too heavy to bear. The two guests left, Poppy exuberantly and James quietly, and Rarity was left to finish her work and ponder over how strangely resistant the man sometimes was to her charity.

Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday all passed without much undesired commotion. There was a day of guided caretaking with the infinite animals that lived at Fluttershy's cottage, a day of seasonal baking at Sugarcube Corner, and a day of palling around with Rainbow Dash doing 'whatever' (while ostensibly monitoring the snowclouds). The time spent with Fluttershy's animals had been especially enlightening for Poppy since the Dryponies were in the process of rebuilding their hurt relationship with the animals of Dryearth forest. Likewise, Rainbow Dash had a personality that was inspiring to most little ponies and it made Poppy's Friday feel like a day with a celebrity.

But a strange atmosphere had settled upon the Thursday at Sugarcube Corner.

James hadn't been able to place his finger on it. Maybe his mind had been tricked by his recent conversations with Twilight about Pinkie Pie, or maybe Poppy's lovable personality had given him a disorienting high, but whatever it was something unrecognizable had enveloped Pinkie Pie. All the trappings of her usual character had been there: the smiles, the giggles, the party favors, the jokes, the non sequiturs, the odd references for the apparent benefit of an invisible audience, and the like. But within her bouncy voice – behind her every spoken word – had been a dull echo; a blunt resounding on her bubbly curves.

She had been unusually distant, always keeping Poppy between herself and the man all throughout their long session of baking tasty treats. It had been more than physical too; almost overzealously she had encouraged James and the filly to work closely together while she had stayed back and watched. Anytime he had incidentally glanced at her James had noticed something funny (in an un-Pinkie-like way) going on with her eyes.

Something had been swimming in them, darting about in the darkness, avoiding the light.

Despite all the boundless fun Poppy had been having creating a zoo of cookies, the pink pony had let them go early. A few orders of cakes had to be delivered around town and she had suggested the three of them split into two groups to do so, with herself in the lonely group. At the last moment, just as they had been departing, she had said that they shouldn't bother returning and instead that they should, "Enjoy the rest of this fantastically friendly day together! With your friends!"

And then it was Saturday. Sweet and sorrowful Saturday.

In the bottom of her travel satchel, stuffed under all of the miscellanea she had brought, Poppy kept the ticket for her return train trip. Her entire time in Ponyville she had kept it pushed down where it might not have been seen or thought about until it had to be. The departure time written upon it was a miserable ten o'clock in the morning.

All throughout breakfast the young Drypony was diligently gracious. She never complained about her time being up, but instead she made the meal run extra long by reciting to her hosts all of the wonderful things she had experienced which she planned to share with everypony else once she got back home.

James, bright but silent, listened to her intently the whole time.

Rainbow Dash, Pinkie Pie, Applejack, and Fluttershy waited at the train station, all of them hiding from the winter cold by standing much closer to the building than to the resting train. Fortunately it wasn't a scheduled day for snowfall, but all the previous showers had left large piles of packed snow clumped up around the station platform. The morning sun gave at least enough bare warmth that the long row of icicles on the overhang were releasing a steady stream of plinking drips. Still, everypony had donned a small thing or two in order to battle the airy chill: a long scarf on Rainbow Dash, a tight-fitting hat topped with a precious pom-pom on Pinkie Pie, some comfortably fuzzy boots on Applejack, and Fluttershy in particular was bundled up in hat and scarf to the point that it almost hid a lovely necklace which she mysteriously wore.

They all had agreed to meet for Poppy's departure, and for more than simple politeness. Twilight had put in a special request that they all be present. She had mentioned something about wanting to deliver them some news afterwards.

"Cold don't bother me much," the frustrated Applejack asserted, "but I think I wish I hadn't gotten here so dang early. What's taking'em so long?" She puffed a breath which came out solid, and she watched it dissolve away into a dozen thin wisps.

Fluttershy quietly responded, "Oh, well, they have to be here soon. The train is going to leave on schedule with or without little Poppy."

Rainbow Dash grinned, eager with anticipation.

"Well," she leapt in front of the farm pony, "if you're cold then there's nothing like a little activity to warm yourself up! How does a snowball fight sound to you?" She lurched forward, wound up and ready, and she challenged, "I bet I could tag you five times before you even get me once!"

"Ugh, for the last time, no, Rainbow! I'm not in the mood!" Applejack cast her angry grimace to the side.

"You're just SCARED!" the pegasus pressed her juvenile taunt in.

The farm pony unleashed a coarse, grumpy, incredibly tired harrumph. Somewhere under her breath she moaned to herself, "Had it up to here with that pony's knicker-knotted, sore-saddled, razzer-frazzer..."

"Alright, alright. Chill, Applejack," laughed Rainbow Dash, "I'll give you the pleasure of losing to me another time."

She stepped away and openly invited the rest of her friends, "So, how about it? Anypony in for a little snowball action?" Her face turned towards the most likely candidate. "Pinkie?"

The pink pony's mind was somewhere else. Her eyes had their normal sparkle and her voice had its normal squeak, but she stared blindly ahead and spoke in oddly floppy words, "They'll be here. Friends don't let friends be late for trains."

Something murky snuck over her briefly.

"... And they're friends..."

"I-... what?" Rainbow Dash dribbled from her hanging jaw.

"Huh?" Pinkie hiccuped.

"What are you talking about?"

"Friends."

The pegasus raised her voice, belting with unnecessary slowness and enunciation, "EQUESTRIA TO PINKIE: DO YOU WANT TO HAVE A SNOWBALL FIGHT?"

"A friend-ball fight?"

"I-... Whatever."

Rainbow Dash shook her head harshly, admitting defeat. Immediately she moved on, but she sunk with dismal expectation.

"Fluttershy?" she offered.

In a soft, simple reply, "Um... No."

Cheerful salutations sliced across the air.

Everypony turned to see the Cutie Mark Crusaders charging towards the station. The energetic fillies bounded up onto the station platform, kicking off sticky clusters of snow as they came. Like one fumbling, twelve-legged creature they slid to a stop, and they heaved a unified sigh of relief to discover that the train was still there waiting to depart. They hadn't missed the goodbye.

"Hey, sis!" Applejack gave her little sister a fast, familiar hug in greeting. "Glad to see you were able to round up your little friends in time!" She turned to Sweetie Belle and asked, "Rarity couldn't trot her way down here with y'all?"

"She'll be here any minute," the young unicorn reported. "She was just preparing-... Well... you'll see when she gets here."

"Oh boy. If it ain't always the same," the farm pony grunted a laugh.

Nopony had to wait long to see Sweetie Belle's prophecy fulfilled. After hardly more than three extra minutes of shooting the breeze, Rarity appeared.

She trotted in at her own pace, carrying pride and dignity with her. It was such a bold and bright walk that she was seen coming a mile away, but of course that had been her intention all along. Knowing that all her friends would be gathered in one place she had decided to use the opportunity to unveil the latest child of her genius.

She came styled in one of her new winter dresses.

The dress blended right into the snow-coated streets of Ponyville, being made of icy blue tones and unstained shades of white. A serrated collar behind her head stood tall, the spikes like upturned icicles. The ends of the skirt were the same, cut into teeth of frost. Along her body the length of the dress was bedazzled with beautiful artificial snowflakes, put together like a puzzle; they glimmered the same as crystallized snow under a clear winter sunrise. On her chest, drawing center attention just beneath her radiant face, was a larger snowflake sewn within the fabric of the dress, six-pointed and built from coldly-shining trimmings. Yet another snowflake sat atop her head in front of her horn; the centerpiece of a thin metal tiara. The final detail was a set of short slippers on her hooves, all also bearing a snowflake. This time the winter symbols were part of the slippers' stiff tongues which reached up in front of her hooves.

Gracefully the modeling dressmaker strode up onto the station platform. She made sure to take wide steps back and forth, swinging her neck and hips with extra flourishes to give her darling design the show it deserved. The excited gasps of admiration all of her friends produced only encouraged her to take an extra walk down the runway before returning.

"So, what do you think?" she asked at last after she came to a final stop (striking a flashy pose, of course). "Surely it'll get my name mentioned in Pony Stylewatch. Or, dare I say it, it might find me a place on the cover of Graceful Gale's G Magazine as the sensation of the season!"

All the glowing comments poured out of her friends at once.

"Oh, it's so gorgeous!" Fluttershy crooned.

"That's the friendliest dress I've ever seen!" Pinkie Pie chirped, though her emphases were lodged in strange places.

Applejack chuckled supportively, "It sure is a pretty thing, Rarity! Fits this weather like cinnamon on apple pie! But don'tcha think you're maybe getting a little ahead of yourself with all that starry-eyed dreamin'?"

"Nonsense," the seamstress replied. "The first batch of this line already had a tremendous number of orders before they were even finished, and some of them were rather BIG names in the fashion world!" Her nose rose up with confidence, she leveled a regal hoof onto her chest, and boldly she forecasted, "Just you wait and see! Once those divas and fashionistas get a look at my dresses, word will spread. Soon, ponies in every snowy corner of Equestria will request – nay, DEMAND – that they too be allowed the privilege of wearing one of the finest garments the winter world has ever seen! Everywhere they will cry that they want a dress from my line! From Rarity's Winter Glory!"

She positively tingled.

"Hehe, well, sugarplum, I really hope it all goes like that," the farm pony said honestly.

"Oh, thank you, thank you, yes, thank you!" Rarity bathed in all the compliments still coming her way from her impressed friends. A smidgen too haughty perhaps, but the feelings certainly weren't undeserved.

Eventually the excitement calmed some.

"Ah, well, perhaps the most immediate reward for all the hard work is the chance to at last take a BREAK," Rarity sighed with latent exhaustion. "I can hardly remember a time when these dresses weren't hanging over me. Now at least it'll be a few short weeks before I even have to THINK about a follow up line, thank goodness. 'All work and no play,' as it goes."

Tiny voices in the back her head kicked her with a few admonishing reminders.

"And of course," she declared loudly, lest it go unrecognized, "the same respite has been earned by everypony who so generously helped me complete my lovely dresses! Without their amazing support things never would have been finished in such a timely fashion, after all."

Fluttershy still was enthralled by the magnificent dress, and she couldn't help herself against extolling, "Wow, Rarity, I really love it. The snowflakes are such an incredible touch." With subtle eagerness she inched forward, and a timid hope spilled out of her, "Do you think, um, maybe I could get one of your dresses?"

"Why Fluttershy, darling, of course you can have one!" the happy dressmaker exclaimed. "More than enough were made! Some to fill the orders, some for show, some for sale at the boutique... and a few extra to give away to JUST the right ponies."

To make absolutely clear her meaning she gently tapped her close friend, pressing a hoof over the yellow pony's scarf. But from under the surface of the fabric came a funny sensation; a feeling of a buried treasure chest being struck.

"Hello, what's this?"

Gently Rarity pushed the folds of the scarf out of the way, revealing underneath a necklace which made her breathlessly gasp with delight. It captured her eyes, reeling them in close, and her hoof was magnetized to it. She tickled the jewelry like it was a precious child.

"Oh my! Fluttershy, dear, this is gorgeous! It looks quite stunning on you! Wherever did you get this?"

Hanging around the pegasus' neck was a thin chain of small silver links which held fast to an equally shining silver setting. Inside, blue as the warm ocean depths, firmly rested an enviable sapphire carved in the simple shape of a heart. It was in fact the very same necklace she had bought a week earlier and had attempted to give to the lovelorn P.V. so that he might have won back the heart of his beloved Star Glitter.

Not that the gift had been necessary; P.V. had left it by the wayside and succeeded without it. Afterwards Fluttershy had made a brief effort to have located the original vendor and returned the necklace. However a certain wishful whimsy had overcome her during her search and she had instead decided to have kept the item for herself. On some mornings over the past week she had put it on and taken long looks at herself in the mirror; on other mornings, not.

It had again been on a thin whim that she had worn it to the train station this morning, but she had very intentionally tucked it into the scarf.

Tender red flushed across the yellow pony's cheeks. She tried to elaborate discreetly, "It was a gift for-"

"A gift?!" Rarity shot up in gleeful surprise.

All at once she was taken over by enchanted thoughts and romantic empathy. She swiveled herself around so that she stood alongside her friend, and she leaned in with her indulgent whispers.

"Lucky girl! Oh, do tell, do tell! Who's the charming pony who gave it to you? Is he handsome? Oh! Does he perhaps have a handsome friend?"

Fluttershy's tiny shame over having kept the silly trinket ballooned into mammoth embarrassment because of the unicorn's very particular implications.

"N-N-No, Rarity! I-It's not like that!"

"Oh my! A secret admirer then, is it?" the other pony steered herself further off course.

Visions of valiant shadows sending their love from the dark raced through her head, her attention entirely taken by the tales her entranced imagination was spawning. Her own fantasies sprawled out as fast-paced, fanciful babbling.

"How mysterious! Any hints to his identity? Did he leave the necklace for you on your door to find one day? Have there been folded notes tucked here and there at the places you frequent; secret treasures of a shy romance for you to discover? You pick one up, its paper still fresh and crisp from the single bend he gave it before having left it there, because of course he only had room for one crease if he didn't want to smudge the lines and lines of heart-melting prose he left for you – and only you – within! And as you carefully lift it open to peek at his heavenly oath of devotion, your nostrils just barely grasp the very last whiff of his scent left behind inside; your closet touch to that pony prince who is so near and yet so far away!"

All throughout Rarity's rant Fluttershy tried to interrupt, but her breezy little half-word whispers just hadn't been able to make a dent in the unicorn's wall of words. Her steady slide backwards into greater embarrassment hadn't helped either.

Finally Rarity ran out of breath, spilling out in her final wheeze, "Oh, to have a dedicated pony desiring you enough to do these things! How I envy you, dear!"

"Rarity...," the meek pegasus broke through in the brief interval of silence, "... I bought it."

"You-...?"

Grating gears ground hard in the seamstress's head.

"My goodness, Fluttershy!" she exclaimed, beyond impressed if still slightly confused. "I had absolutely no idea that you were that BOLD! Giving the chase? Buying such a stunning trinket to woo a pony who's taken your fancy? I never imagined! Well done!"

The flustered Fluttershy dropped her head a notch, slid her eyes away, and handed out a heavy hum at the impossible implication.

For her part Rarity quickly understood that she had gotten SOMETHING wrong. Her hoof came up and innocently tapped upon her chin, again and again and again. In the end she had to speak her way out of her befuddlement.

"Though... traditionally... one gives the gift to the pony whom they are trying to court... So why are you wearing-...? Unless... they asked you to wear it...? ... Oh dear, why does this all not sound right?"

"I bought it for somepony else to use as a gift but they didn't need it, so I kept it," Fluttershy admitted ruefully, dropping her tiny words down to the floor.

"Oooooh. Ahem. Well... I see now."

Quite obviously she had pressed her friend into an uncomfortable place, and the unicorn froze up, mortified. Her absolute disaster of a faux pas wasn't just an egregiously poor mark upon her own ladyhood but also an insult to refined and classy ladies everywhere! Not to mention that this was poor Fluttershy, a dear friend. This needed to be fixed, with equal parts apology and redress!

And then lightning struck.

"I'm so very sorry for my confusion, darling," Rarity said, coming up with shining integrity and remarkable warmth. "I was so stuck because it honestly hadn't surprised me to have heard that you had caught somepony's eye. I know it will happen sooner or later."

Still splashed with red, but cooling with content, the pegasus brought her face back up.

"Thanks, Rarity," she accepted with a tiny smile.

"Oh, quite my pleasure I assure you!"

As good and as solid as the fast reconciliation felt, Fluttershy still could have used a little bit more.

Somewhat unguarded, but warm and open, Rarity said, "There's no shame in having kept the silly thing, dear. It really does look quite striking on you."

An ounce of her magic lifted the necklace so that it laid over the pegasus' scarf instead of under it.

"There's no need to hide it."

Some more of Fluttershy's red melted away, revealing a bigger smile.

"Oh, that's so much better, darling," Rarity hummed, gentle and pleased. After a moment of thought she snickered softly to herself and then shared with her friend, "And really, the truth about admirers, secret or not-so-secret, is that not all of them are-"

"HEY EVERYPONY!"

Spike's loud greeting arrived first, followed by the dragon himself, rushing ahead of Twilight, James, and Poppy.

Pleasant salutations were thrown about everywhere, all at once, as the arrivals climbed onto the station platform and merged with the group already there. Basketfuls of hello's were needed for everypony to welcome everypony; with ease they were going to use up their whole supply of greetings for the month.

Spike only offered a few quick ones before he was brought to a hard stop in front of the pony whom he found the most lovely.

"Wow, Rarity," he blushed, "You look beautiful! Er, I mean, your finished dress looks... beautiful... on you!"

Giggling, she replied, "Spike, don't be so superfluous! You've seen it before already! Still... that was a very sweet thing to say." She leaned down a gave him a generous peck on the cheek. "Thank you."

The dragon took a tumble into a blissful wonderland, his claw rubbing his blessed cheek and its now ruby red scales.

Poppy bounced with excitement, and the travel satchel which hung over her whipped about as she pranced.

"Ahh! You all came to my goodbye thing!" she shouted.

"Of course we did," Rainbow Dash said with a smirk. "Had to see you off, kid."

Pinkie spouted a blithe, "Uh-huh. Nothing like a friendly goodbye! For friends!"

"Hey, Poppy!" Apple Bloom beckoned, equal echoes coming her comrades. The three fillies pulled together tightly, forming a line which blocked something behind them from view.

The lively Drypony brought herself before them, still bobbing in place. She was already beyond happy to simply see them, but the fact that they obviously had a surprise for her shot her ten times over the moon.

"We're really glad to have met you," Sweetie Belle said.

"And we're really sad to see you go so soon," added Scootaloo.

"So that made it a right scramble to get this together in time, but...," Apple Bloom chirped, before giving her two fellows a sly glance and a nod.

They all turned about, away from Poppy. They wriggled and writhed, fussing with their surprise, and all the while they whispered a fast argument amongst themselves.

"You hold here."

"No, you take that side."

"Grab it like this."

"Not that way!"

"Come on, this isn't that hard!"

"Hurry up!"

At last they came back around, announcing in unison, "TA-DA!"

Held up in their hooves and mouths was a crimson cape, the emblem of the Cutie Mark Crusaders sewn prominently onto it.

Scootaloo beamed, "An official Crusaders cape for an official honorary crusader!"

Poppy squealed. Her satchel fell from her as she surged forward and crashed into her new cape and her friends. The gift crinkled between the filly-hug-pile.

Eventually they unlinked themselves, and the Drypony showered thanks upon the crusaders as well as infinite promises to take extra special care of their gift. She smoothed out some of the fresh creases and then, with a flick of her neck, nimbly cast it up into the air such that it fell perfectly over her back. The others helped her tie it on, and she stood merry and tall as a true crusader.

Suddenly the train's whistle sang a single note song. Sharp and clear, the tune had no urgency. But it was a warning.

Twilight said, "That wasn't the 'all aboard,' but the train will be leaving quite soon."

Poppy understood. Her vaulting excitement squeezed aside to make some small room for just a little bit of sober seriousness, needed for the farewells ahead.

She gave the three crusaders her best goodbye and the group of fillies again collapsed into a hug. Afterwards she bounced before everypony else one by one, and she gave them equally adoring hugs and wishes.

"Goodbye, Miss Rarity! Thanks for everything! Your dress is really pretty!" "Bye, Miss Fluttershy! Say goodbye to all your little friends for me! When I get back I'm going to ask if I can work with the animal ponies at Hamestown sometimes!" "Oh, goodbye, Miss Applejack! I'm gonna find somewhere nice to plant those apple seeds you gave me!"

And so on.

When she went to hug Pinkie Pie she was slightly surprised to be hugged first instead.

The pink pony pulled Poppy against her chest and squeezed her forelegs tightly. She closed her eyes and rubbed her cheek against the top of the smaller pony's purple mane, soft at first but then harder, and harder, and harder.

"Hehehe, goodbye to you too, Miss Pinkie! It really was a lot of fun! And thank you for the candy!"

"Bye-bye, friend..."

Poppy went to let go only to find that she couldn't; the other pony's grasp simply grew stronger. It never quite became painfully uncomfortable but the Drypony felt the space for her breaths shrinking and shrinking as the embrace overextended itself.

"Uh... Miss Pinkie?"

Pinkie Pie's limbs started to shake. She held so tightly that it was like she was trying to squeeze something out of Poppy in the hope that a fraction of it might have splashed onto herself. She was trying to rub some of the little pony into herself.

Finally the great constriction started to unwind, very slowly peeling away tension until the Drypony was fully released. The smile Pinkie Pie held onto stayed true, but it wasn't quite bright. Something ill crept behind it.

And then Poppy came to the last farewell. The one for whom she had originally come so far to see.

Instead of skipping gaily towards the man like she had done towards all of the others, she only stepped nearer one cautious hoof at a time. Sadness was clothed over with soft courage. It was the long-foreseen end of a happy day at the amusement park. She had maturity enough to know when the park absolutely HAD to close, and it wasn't a problem for her to cherish the memories which had been made. What made her slow and weak was that she didn't have words which felt good enough to make the goodbye as special as it deserved to be.

And neither did James. Even when she stopped right in front of him and very nearly started to babble only to come up hesitantly short, he never offered to start their last exchange.

Twilight paid careful attention to him.

Poppy had brought out of the man something previously unseen; something miraculously wonderful. Certainly the friendship he had made with the Drypony was his most deeply felt experience since he had first arrived in Equestria.

So... how would he now respond to what had always been inevitable? The little pony HAD to depart, and thus this first big joy of his now would also share with his first big separation since the permanent physical separation from his past. It wasn't a pleasant thing to ask of him after how sharply his tragedy had pierced him. But if he wanted to truly recover then he would need to exercise his ability to love, in ALL ways good and bad. This was a test he would have had to take sooner or later.

The student of friendship didn't anticipate any sort of problem. Her prediction was supported by her observations of James: expected sorrow floated in the air around him, but there were no signs of unreadiness; no quivers lacking control.

Poppy still struggled to say anything at all, again and again coming within a hair's breadth of an opening whisper before she halted abruptly. Always one to have been clumsy with her words, her head suddenly lifted when a alternate solution came to her; one which allowed her to speak clearly with her talented body instead of her inadequate mouth.

Wordlessly she popped into the air, right into the man, nearly spilling him over with the unexpected action. She latched her forelegs around the fuzzy collar about his neck, pressed her cheek to his, and filled her final hug with all the special love she had in her.

Once James steadied himself he didn't wait to respond in kind, holding her softly in his arms.

She murmured, "I hope this is a good goodbye."

"This is a GREAT goodbye," he answered, tensing his arms around her to emphasize his chosen word. As he snuggled the side of face against her cheek he added, "I think maybe the BEST way to say anything important is with a hug."

The simple sweetness of his comment drew a giggle out of her and she abandoned all of her tiny worries. Opened, she savored the rest of their embrace without reserve.

After it had gone on long, but never too long, she pulled her grinning, bright-eyed face back to look at him.

"This time I'm going to try and write you a lot of letters," she vowed. "I mean it!"

"Well, guess I need to get a lot more diligent with the mailbox then, don't I?"

"Heehee, yeah!"

But though she giggled a smile, a faint glistening came into her eyes and she dipped them down at the man's chest.

Particularly quiet, she asked, "So... we're going to see each other again, right?"

He met her forehead-to-forehead, drawing her face up enough so that they could nuzzle noses.

"You bet. Maybe a trip to Hamestown. Or maybe you'll have some ambassadorial duties again; we've already learned that there's always more of Ponyville to see. We'll figure something out. That's a promise."

There was a short pause, then a tickling thought came to him and he uttered, "No scrunchie this time."

Poppy laughed, recalling their last promise. Again he had a way of speaking to her which filled her with wholesome confidence, and she understood what he had meant. They were beyond needing frilly bows to wrap their promises.

But the simple mention of it also triggered a different memory in the Drypony. A slippery old detail which for the longest time had be delicately hanging from a thread in her mind finally dropped.

"Ah! I almost forgot!"

Tearing herself from James' arms she jumped down to the floor and rocketed over to her travel satchel. Opening the bag wide, she stuffed the whole front of her body inside. Items, those brought-with or recently gift-given, were flung out across the station platform as she rummaged aggressively for something buried deep at the bottom of her bag.

Moving past the short shock of her unexpected action, the man asked, "What did you almost forget?"

"Lady Willow had-, she had-, she said she wanted me to give you something," the filly replied quickly from inside the satchel. A few more items came flying out, including her train ticket which would have slipped away through the cracks of the platform if it wasn't for a fast, magical catch by Twilight. "She said-, she said that since we don't need it anymore you can have it. She said it was a momenty-, uh... a mimenta-, ah... a-... a momotoe-"

"A memento," Twilight assisted.

"Yeah, that!"

Whatever the filly had been looking for she apparently found; her foraging ceased and her tail excitedly shot up like a spike. Clicking her little hooves against the wood she wriggled backwards out of her satchel, and she turned about to proudly offer to James his small gift from the wise old mare of Heartwood.

It was a medallion.

Quite specifically it was the very same medallion that he, Twilight, and all the others had seen months back when they had first been prisoners of the Dryponies: a wooden base which held what looked like a blooming flower made of crimson crystals, all tied to a sturdy loop of string.

It dangled from Poppy's mouth, and there was a soft red light which beat out of the crystals as they faintly flickered from the filly's innate bodily magic. In the past the trinket's purpose had been to test individuals for the amount of accursed magic they put out; the Dryponies had held it close to suspects and read the strength of the light the crystals emitted. Because of their change of heart, animosity turning to tolerance and friendship, the simple medallion had no more functional use for the Dryponies; save perhaps appearing pretty or feeding sentimentality.

And the latter property certainly made it a reasonable gift for imparting a memory upon James.

The man reached down and took the medallion from the little Drypony, chuckling as he remembered the odd thing himself. When he held it up the gentle light which had been glowing inside the crystals swiftly faded away, exchanged for a starving darkness; a greedy black which pulsed within the red crystal flower. He only smirked some more as he playfully brought the trinket closer and further from himself at random, watching how the darkness strengthened and softened depending on how near to him the crystals were. Their silent screams of, 'This one has no magic!' quite amused him.

He then laid the medallion securely over his neck, setting it so that it rested upon the center of his breast.

"Thank you. And tell Willow Wise I said, 'Thank you.'"

"Uh huh!" Poppy promised with a bounce, pleased endlessly by how happy he had been to accept the gift.

Suddenly her bounding came to a fast stop, and a momentary thought contorted her face. She gave the man a look of genuine, earnest curiosity.

"Anything you want I should tell Broken Oak?"

The entire crowd levied queer glances at the filly's question. None of them knew the stony Drypony stallion all that well but, with everything that had happened between them and him, he didn't seem like he would have been interested in anything they had to say.

James certainly felt that way. In his own opinion it would have been supernaturally generous to say that he and Broken Oak had parted on neutral terms.

But the man also understood Poppy's desire to have some sort of message for the mighty pony. Broken Oak wasn't to her like the stallion was to Twilight and the others. To her he wasn't very different than the man: an adored friend, a role model, and somepony whom she loved to her fullest unquestionably. If the stallion had gone to Ponyville instead of her, well then she would have very much liked for him to have carried a message from everypony back for her.

And the opportunity awoke the mischievous devil inside of James. It whispered delightful, juicy things into his ear. He didn't know much about Broken Oak, especially in regards to how the stallion might have changed in the past two months, but there was ONE THING about him which Poppy had mentioned earlier...

... Something she had said about how, nowadays, instead of spending his days being a pushy brute and a hard bully, the brawny stallion sweated his time away quietly on the farm fields of Hamestown...

... Something about how he labored for hours under the sun, plowing and sowing and harvesting; doing the work of ten ponies at once with his huge body; grinding away every day until his muscles were soaking wet...

... All in front of an audience of swooning local mares.

The man had a message for Broken Oak. Oh, did he ever. One which left him struggling to contain a puckish smile.

Wishing not to share it with the others (they wouldn't understand), he bent his legs and crouched way down, waggling a finger to summon Poppy closer. When she trotted up to him he leaned daringly close and held her ear, twisting it into a cup over his mouth.

In secret confidence he whispered, "Tell him I said, 'Keep hitting that.'"

Poppy pulled back. Her mouth crunched with confusion, but her whole face was still turned up with glee. She had no idea what his message even meant but she sensed the silly humor he had conveyed it with. More importantly, the secrecy of it thrilled her. It was a game which she wanted to be a part of, even if she didn't understand.

If for no other reason than her fun trust in the man, she nodded that she would relay the message faithfully.

And James' hidden lament was that he wouldn't be there to see the stallion's face when she did.

The whistle of the train screamed once more, bearing more warning than before.

"Time's running short," Twilight spoke up once the blaring tweet died down. "Let's gather up all these things and get them back into your bag so you're ready. Oh, and you'll need this." She returned the nearly-lost ticket to Poppy with a crafty wink.

In short order the travel satchel was repacked, a bit more evenly than before thanks to Twilight's organized help. Poppy donned the bag, sliding it on carefully so that it wouldn't scrunch her new Crusaders cape, and she held her ticket clenched between her teeth. She recited some more eager goodbyes as she took backwards steps away from the company of friends. When there was no room left for a slow retreat she at last turned around and boarded the train, handing her ticket in to the genteel stallion just inside. A few moments later one of the train's windows opened and her cheerful face popped out. Everypony gathered near, and for some final minutes more they stayed there and chatted with the filly, all in loving farewell remarks.

Eventually the very last warning whistle blew, this time backed by a professional cry of, "All aboard!"

The others backed away to safety and then, after an extra minute or so, a roar kicked up as the train engine sprung to life, puffing and chugging. The wheels rolled, gathering speed. The whistle screeched a farewell to Ponyville.

As the line of cars pulled away, Poppy gave big waves of her hoof out the window, calling jubilantly the whole way, "Goodbye! Goodbye! Thank you! Goodbye! See you again soon! Goodbye!"

And of course all the same was given back to her, with waving hooves and loud farewells reaching her for quite some distance as the train went.

Twilight kept a careful eye on James.

He shouted nothing to the departing Drypony. He only waved; one hand sat resting in his pocket, the other flowed back and forth gently, stretched high over his head. His eyes were dry too, though all was not perfect behind them.

And quite clearly she heard him give a burdened sigh.

While everypony else still shouted their best towards the shrinking train, Twilight slipped closer to the man and asked him privately, "Everything alright?"

He gave a brief silence followed by another dry sigh, and then while still watching the train he said thoughtfully, "It's-... it's nice to have something so..."

'Special'? 'Beautiful'? 'Meaningful'? 'Important'?

An empty, exasperated breath filled the gap left by the unknown word too important replace with a pale imitation.

"... something... to look forward to."

"To look forward-? Oh, you mean, seeing her again?"

Twilight gazed at the now-tiny train once more, thought, and then responded brightly back to him, "Yes. Yes, I agree. And it feels exactly how it's supposed to, right? She came... she went... and yet she's still here. Right there in your heart."

He hiccuped a suppressed laugh, forgiving her of her corniness if should would forgive him of his rude joy. But she wasn't wrong, and the ultimate truth in her words helped him swell with happiness.

"Yeah. Yeah, I suppose so."

"So it is, and so it always was with everypony in your life that you've ever cared about," the unicorn concluded affirmatively. Calm, she was uplifted by how the man – her friend – had tackled the whole experience from beginning to end. "If you ever doubted before because of your tragedy, now you have the proof before you: love endures. It's one of love's little secrets, taught to you by the incidental wisdom of a filly."

James mumbled, "... 'And a little child shall lead them.'"

"Hm?"

"I dunno," he shrugged, finally lowering his arm as the train had all but disappeared beyond the buildings ahead, visible only by its engine's rising plumes of smoke. A brown, bouncy, jubilant filly danced in his imagination. "I don't remember where that quote's from."

Silence came upon the group as they shifted closer to the walls of the station, but nopony departed. They waited in the chilly air, some of them shivering slightly now that their minds were free to notice the cold temperature again. All of them had eyes on Twilight, who couldn't hide her increasingly eager grin.

"So!" she called, "I'm glad everypony is here! I have something incredible I've been wanting to announce for awhile!"

"Boy howdy!" whistled Applejack, "It's about time, I say. You been droppin' hints on us about it all week!"

"Oh, yes. Time to spill the hay, dear," Rarity agreed. "You've been so very hush-hush and careful about it that it's got us all exceedingly curious."

Several of the others said the same in concert.

Twilight adopted a grandiose stance. Brimming with joy, her smile shot wide and her voice swelled with an inviting tone.

"Alright! It's been quite an autumn! Everypony's been working hard, whether that be on a farm, or sewing dresses, or... trying to make friends... and I think a GREAT way for us to kick off this new winter would be with a little bit of rest and relaxation away from all the cares of Ponyville."

The others looked at each other, twisting their heads, before they came back to her.

First drawing in one big breath, the long-held excitement came blasting out of Twilight like a freshly unclogged fire hose.

"Who here's up for an all-expense-paid tropical vacation?"

Author's Note

"And a little child shall lead them," is a quote from the Bible, specifically Isaiah 11:6. However, in Biblical context, it comes from a section about the peace of Christ coming upon the world; e.g. the child leads all sorts of dangerous animals (lions, wolves, etc.) without fear of harm. James readily admits to not knowing the source in order to divorce the quote from its original context and instead let it stand on its own power, which is how you normally hear people use it nowadays: there's something that we so often accidentally lose or even purposefully abandon that many kids often hold on to so well.

Chapter 12: Fractures

Everypony was left dazed by Twilight's question despite its tangible excitement. For a long while the words floated in the open air, pulsing with a hidden electricity which only seemed to affect Twilight herself, until at last it drilled deeply enough into one of her friends that a careful response came out.

"Wait, truly?" Rarity said, almost still unbelieving. "A tropical vacation... where?"

One by one the announcement sunk into the others. They all stepped closer, clustering around Twilight as they woke up eagerly to dreams of palm trees and coconut drinks.

James however did not approach. He merely folded his arms and tilted his head with suspicious interest.

Meanwhile the three young crusaders also became abuzz with an energy, but it fizzled short of perfect enthusiasm. Something told them that Twilight hadn't exactly been speaking to them.

Certain that each tidbit of a revelation she gave would only impress her friends further, Twilight was drunkenly indulgent. She let herself wander between vague and cheeky, willing to feed the others just enough to taunt their hunger.

"Oh, somewhere in the Carriaggean," she answered Rarity.

The Carriaggean!

All of the ponies (and ever faithful Spike) lit up immediately. In their eyes were endlessly orange sunsets. Beating in their ears were the soothing sounds of blue water slushing on the shore in a relaxing rhythm. Their winter shivers turned to tickling tingles as the salty sea air rushed over them.

It was one of those fabled places in Equestria; the kind of place where everypony knew somepony who had been there but actually finding somepony who had gone was mysteriously difficult.

Suddenly everypony started talking at once.

Twilight smirked as she picked out delicious bits and pieces from her friends' thrilled, rambling chatter.

"...—I've heard such lovely things about—..."

"...—the Wonderbolts do an annual tour across the islands—..."

"...—beach parties every night, with friends—..."

"...—I remember reading a book in the Canterlot library on—..."

"...—think there ain't never been an Apple who—..."

"...—there's some animals there who can't be found anywhere else in—..."

"...—and tossing coconuts, with friends—..."

"...—and my goodness, the culture! Have you seen any pictures of the—..."

"...—some of the fastest short distance fliers come from—..."

"...—fruit punch and ukuleles, with friends—..."

"...—even before we came to Ponyville I always wanted to go—..."

"...—maybe I could adopt one. Oh, that is, ah, if they let—..."

"...—all kinds'a fruits what I don't even know the right name for!—..."

"...—with friends—..."

"...—and there's—..."

"...—with friends!—..."

"...—don't they—..."

"...—with friends!!"

Pinkie Pie's outburst peaked with just enough height to take everypony out of their trances, leaving them all staring at her with raised brows.

"... Friends...?" the pink pony repeated, oblivious as to why all the excitement had ground to a halt.

"Sooo... we're all going to the Carriaggean?" Scootaloo deviously attempted to take advantage of the quiet interlude. She put on her most innocent and pleading smile, excessively so, and her two cohorts duplicated the expression; a three-pronged attack of filly adorableness.

But an ineffective one.

"No. I'm sorry, my little ponies," Twilight said, friendly, unfailingly polite, and not at all devoid of sympathy, "but you almost certainly can't come. I think you're just a little too young for such a trip, and I would need to get special permission from your parents, guardians, or other legally appointed caretakers."

The most unaware honesty came to her and she chuckled earnestly, "Besides, you have school! You wouldn't want to miss any school days for a little vacation like this!"

The spirits of the three crusaders' deflated.

"Oh. Of course we wouldn't want that," moaned Sweetie Belle.

"Hooray, school...," Apple Bloom chipped in dismally.

Applejack, wielding her sisterly might, stepped up to cut their complaints short.

"Alright, alright, you heard the pony," she said, giving the wooden floor a hard tap with her hoof. Her focus narrowed on her sibling, hoping to use the filly as example for the others, "Ain't nothing you can do 'bout it Apple Bloom, unless you really think you can convince Granny Smith to let ya miss out on that much schooling, and I wouldn't go getting your hopes up on that if I was you. Besides, the farmwork may be lighter in winter but they're gonna need ya if I go."

"Oh, but Applejack, you already got to go to Hamestown last time!" the sore filly groused.

"So? That was different!" her sister retorted, lifting her chin with authority. "We were doing the special business of the Princess, and don't go forgetting that we nearly got our hides tanned in the process. Now, this is gonna be a real vacation and I'm sorry but there'll be another time, Apple Bloom."

She expanded her uncompromising look to include the other fillies, and she stamped her hoof again.

"Now then, you already got to see your new friend off so it's time for y'all to clear out. Don't you ponies have somewhere to be, anyway?"

"Yeah...," Sweetie Belle replied, disappointed, and all of the crusaders lowered their heads in unison. "We've got some rescheduled, make-up crusading to do after what happened last weekend."

"Well, y'all don't want to be late. Go on. Git."

The farm pony scuddled them along with some light physical encouragement.

Recognizing their defeat, the three crusaders reluctantly waddled to the edge of the platform and stepped down, doing their best to still appear stalwart even if they were so downcast. Crusading waited for nopony, though. Pulling themselves together they managed to wish everypony a resent-free goodbye, and then they went racing off.

Applejack returned to her friends, giving a tickled shrug and a smirk.

"So, sugar cube," she said, bringing everything back to Twilight, "tell us more about this trip of yours."

Arms still folded, the only one who had stayed silent since the beginning, James finally spoke up, "It sounds like... you're taking us island hopping?"

"I apologize if I gave you that idea," Twilight replied evenly. She giggled, "I was just playing the prevaricator, hehe. In actual fact, we're only going to one particular island."

"Oh, where?!" Rarity beseeched her friend, gasping. She unloaded her ready-made dreams in a hasty prattle, "To Galloloupe? The way the native ponies dress there is said to be uniquely stunning! Oh, or maybe perhaps Hayti? There's a rich history on that island that I've heard ponies of great taste get absolutely lost in! Ooooh, or is it Pinto Rico? They say after experiencing the nightlife there, why, a pony is never the same again!"

"Nope, none of those," Twilight calmly asserted. Again she grew wily, and she revealed, "We're going to Isla Equufera."

"Isla Equufera?!" the others (except James) all gasped in unison, their faces coming up glowing.

An empty beat passed.

Turning to each other, suddenly saturated with confusion, they repeated together, "Isla Equufera??"

"I don't think I've ever heard of it...," Fluttershy mused softly.

"I very much doubted any of you would have," Twilight stated with confidence. "It's a much smaller island than all the ones you named, Rarity. Both physically and in reputation." Her trickery collapsed at last now that the big reveal was out in the open, and she let her zeal take over, enthusiastically sharing, "But that doesn't make it any less interesting! The island was once home to a small civilization which we know very little about today! At some point the ponies and culture there disappeared from the historical record! There's no definitive clues as to how or why, but I've been reading up on the speculation–"

Rainbow Dash groaned, "Skip the history lesson, Twilight!"

Knocked off her ground but otherwise unoffended, the unicorn recentered her calm and then got to the point, "The meager population who live on the island now are only very recent arrivals; it's been free of ponies for a long time before that. It's not like the other islands which have larger, more entrenched populations."

"Oh dear...," Rarity whispered in worry. A trip for a reasonably large group of ponies to an unfamous destination with little in the way of civilization? She nervously questioned, "Twilight, darling... you didn't-... you didn't sign us up for... some form of... discount... island wildlife... safari excursion, did you? Being in a dirty jungle with all the-... and the-... ehhhhwww..." Her tongue came dangling out.

"No, not at all," Twilight answered. "The ponies who are there now have been building a new resort on the island; a fairly high class one too, designed for extra special getaways; not one built to cater to massive crowds of tourists but to smaller groups of ponies instead."

The news lifted the others out of their doubts. Each new detail may have been strange in ways, but Twilight made sure they all resonated excitedly.

She continued, "The resort is actually almost finished. It's not open yet, but they have served specially selected clients for awhile now. You know, as promotional trips." She raised a celebratory hoof to invite everypony in, and she crowed ecstatically, "We're going to be some of the few lucky ponies to experience it before it opens to the wider public!"

"Woah!" Rainbow Dash called out, rising over the others' similar exclamations. She in particular was delighted with curiosity, and she asked, "An exclusive trip? And... you said it was all-expense-paid, too? For eight ponies? How in Equestria did you manage to pull that off?"

The question made Twilight giddy. It was perhaps the detail she was the most eager to explain!

She almost had to restrain her shriek, "I won a contest!"

"Oh? Really?" asked Fluttershy.

"Uh-huh!" the unicorn replied, practically bouncing in unbreakable bliss. "The resort owners hosted a contest in Equinational Geographic magazine! The challenge was a very open, 'Write a 3000 or more word essay on what you think brings ponies closest together and how you want to see it change the world.'" Beaming with pride, she pressed her hoof against her chest, "I called the essay I composed: 'The Magic of Friendship: Utilizing the Power of Harmony to Bring Ponies Together in Common Cause, and Similar Miracles of Amiable Collaboration.' It was one of my lighter ones, I admit; only about three dozen pages."

Spike snapped his claws once.

"Hey, I remember! That's why you asked me to pull out all those books on Harmony and the philosophy of friendship that one day!"

"That's right!" Twilight laughed. And looking through amused hindsight, she shook her head and added, "I actually wasn't terribly interested in the prize they offered; it was the challenge statement which really grabbed me. I decided to write the essay for the hay of it, and once I had already written it I figured that I might as well submit it, even if I had no chance of winning the contest." She snickered, "Can you imagine my surprise when the news came back that I did?"

Almost all of the others happily cheered for her.

Except Rainbow Dash, for whom the news had turned her opinions around.

"They... chose a super-bookworm-thing like that as the winner?" she dubiously wondered.

"Yeah!" Twilight obliviously bowled over her friend's doubt. Incredible energy poured from her. "But that's not all! The original prize was actually a trip for only two ponies. (Something about a 'romantic getaway.' At least, I think that's what the contest details said...)"

Many eyebrows went up at the incongruous math: how does one squeeze eight individuals on a trip for two?

Twilight sensed their obvious confusion and cleared up, "Anyway, when I got the congratulations letter saying that I won, it also said that they were so impressed with my work that they would allow me to take AS MANY PONIES AS I WANTED with me on the trip! Isn't that incredible?!"

There were stunned reactions all around at the amazing case of double-luck. A contest victory and a bonus upgrade to the prize?

And again Rainbow Dash was the only one excluded. From under her silently ruffling wings came a quiet groan of thought.

James, more taken aback than outright awed, asked, "Really? Not that I'm doubting the quality of your essay but... they'd allow you to take a trainload of ponies just like that?"

"Well, I mean, they did qualify it somewhat," admitted Twilight. "They asked me to send them a short write-up of everypony I intended to bring along so that they'd know who was coming. And not just names I mean, but a little bit about everypony: details about your interests, what you all do for a living, the things you like, and so on."

The man realized, "Ah, that's what you were working on that one night: scribbling little synopses of all of us. That's what you had to get out in the mail."

"That's right," she acknowledged. "I wrote a summary of each of you, and one of myself as well since they asked for it. Eight total. I sent them all off last Saturday." She spread a big grin. "And sure enough... I checked the mail not long before we left the library this morning and a small package from the island was there... and inside was the eight tickets we'll need! We can all go!"

"Well, dear, I must say, this is such a stupendously lucky opportunity you've provided us!" Rarity commented gainly. "Though...," her voice dropped, "... I do have to wonder why they would request such details about us all?"

Twilight replied, "Aside from getting an accurate count of ponies? They said it was so that they could engineer a vacation specifically tailored to us and our interests. They want to craft a getaway so perfect for us that we'll never forget it for the rest of our lives!"

Again her friends' imaginations were spurred. A rejuvenating stay on a serene tropical island was already the stuff of dreams, but to overlay their own personal accouterments on top of that was truly heaven brought down to Equestria. Pictured in every head was a different perfection: well-dress ponies who waited on every whim, endless spreads of island treats, infinite families of adorable animals prancing everywhere, and more. But one thing was for certain in all of their minds:

A vacation sounded good.

A free vacation sounded better.

A free vacation built from the ground up, by hoof, especially for them, to fulfill their every desire before they even asked for it...

... That sounded fantastic.

Yet still Rainbow Dash only hummed, low and concerned.

She leaned sneakily towards Pinkie Pie and whispered sideways, "I dunno if I want to vacation on egghead island. I mean, it's run by ponies who think Twilight's yammering is super awesome. Also, what's up with needing biographies on us just to plan a little getaway trip? Vacation isn't hard!"

Reciprocating the stealthy whisper Pinkie Pie buzzed a rapid answer back, "Aw, it doesn't sound so bad, Rainbow Friend. Maybe they're just really super worried we won't be their friends and they want to be our friends so they asked Twilight for help with being our friends and Twilight told them smart things and if they're really good-friend ponies then they'll know what to do with what Twilight told them about being friends and then we'll all be friends instead of not being good-friend enough to do anything with what Twilight said cause they're bad-friend worthless bad-type awful ponies and other ponies are better than them."

Rainbow Dash blinked.

And then blinked again.

"Uh... did you get hit on the head or something?"

Pinkie Pie, alive with a dead, glassy stare, clarified her rambling only with a chipper, "Maybe other ponies are better than them at friends."

All of the optimism flowed into Twilight. With each passing second she saw them becoming more enamored with it in every way.

She raised her voice to gather their attention and said, "It sure sounds like everypony is interested! Personally I think that, with all we've been through over the past few months, a trip away to an island resort will be a great thing for us! We can all take the time to just relax and let go of everything that's been bothering us!"

She stretched her hoof out before herself, into the open space between everypony. It called out to the others, ready to receive all who would join it in solidarity.

"So, I'll say again: who here is up for an all-expense-paid tropical vacation?"

The first to join was Spike, who immediately slapped his claw up against her hoof.

"Yeah! It sounds awesome!"

Smiling glances passed between Applejack, Rarity, and Fluttershy. They were quick to shout encouraging acknowledgments also before they stepped forward and threw their hooves in.

Pinkie Pie followed right after them, held back by only the fainest delay. When she joined she also gave an indistinguishably off-kilter cry of, "Yay! Friend me in!"

It was a surprise to all of them that neither James nor Rainbow Dash came forward. Both remained held back even when the knot of hooves jiggled in invitation.

The man was preoccupied with thought; that much was visible to everypony. One arm was folded across his chest, and meanwhile his other hand moved between rubbing his chin and tapping the gift medallion which now hung upon his neck.

Rainbow Dash was more difficult to read, mostly because she instead appeared far more conflicted. Avoiding an unawesome waste of time was always a priority, but she felt a lot of queasy nervousness for shooting down a suggestion all of her friends seemed to be so enthusiastically into.

Attention turned towards her first, but she spoke up before anypony could level guilty questions at her.

"Uh... I think everypony knows I appreciate chilling as much as the next pony... but... I don't know if-"

"Oh, confound it, Rainbow!" yelled an aggravated Applejack. "Why are you so much trouble lately?! Can't you see we're all on board already?"

"Hey!" the pegasus stiffened up and defended herself, "I just don't see the point of going to nerd central to do some snoozing! I mean, what are they going to know about how I like to chillax? Besides-"

The farm pony spat out the hoarsest groan ever hurled from a horse. If it wasn't one thing it was another!

However, she knew of one way she could convince Rainbow Dash to come along. Unfortunately, as a side effect her particular method would also feed her friend's already substantial hunger for rivalry; a bad habit she was loathe to reinforce, especially lately. But still, Twilight had so generously arranged this incredible trip for everypony; for one of her friends to miss it would have been such a shame...

Ugh...

Best to just get it over with quickly...

Swallowing her reservations and hardly covering over the mountain of regret in her voice, Applejack falsely challenged her reluctant companion, "Hey, Rainbow. I dare you to come along with-"

"I'M IN!" cried Rainbow Dash, swooping forwards and pounding her hoof into her friends'. She confidently sneered at Applejack, "Just you wait! Once we're on that island we'll see who's the awesomest pony!"

Applejack tossed her eyes away with a rolling sigh.

Focus shifted towards the still-thinking man, and Twilight called to him warily, "... James?"

He stirred, and his hand came off his chin.

"Well...," he spoke very deliberately, sharing his mind with all of them, "... it's not like I'm thinking about not going. It's just-... Hm... I don't know if I'm ready..."

His head swayed from side to side at an uneven pace, rocking with his undecided thoughts. One of his legs bent, holding him up at a tilt.

"I mean, it's been a little while since I've done anything like this. And what I mean is, like-... The last time, my good friends and I... we didn't go to an island or anything but we drove to the shore, and we..."

He trailed off.

A nauseous discoloration bled into the corners of his vision. Vipers of nervousness slid across his skin, leaving behind uncomfortable itches wherever they roamed. He remembered well those good old times, and perhaps that was the problem: too much joy in those short few days of close company with his truest friends; too much happiness in a time where there had been nothing in the world but him, them, and the friendships they had built with each other over many long years.

How could this new trip have possibly compared to—

From the very back of his mind all the way to the front, young laughter came echoing up. The giggles weren't in his own voice. Then came reverberating clops, punching down on soft earth with vivacious energy, pouncing here and prancing there, every joyful step a clap of applause. A bright smile showered light upon more recent memories: building birdhouses together, sounding sweet songs while fiddling with instruments in the park, the sight of rosy cheeks warm with love even in the fresh winter cold while playing in the snow at Sweet Apple Acres.

A thousand moments each with a thousand little touches of a thousand beautiful things. All tied back to one adorable filly.

The carefree laughter he still heard, filled with love, teased him. What a silly he was being for considering staying behind!

Suddenly James came forward with a smile.

"Yeah. Let's do it."

He hand came up and he threw it over the gathered hooves (and claw), holding back no eagerness in joining.

There was a strange jostling from the pile of appendages as his hand came down upon it, but it wasn't from any force of the man's. When his palm had come down, Pinkie Pie had quickly withdrawn her hoof and reinserted it below everypony else's, putting her at the very bottom; buffering the others between her and James.

The unusual move didn't escape Twilight's notice.

But it wasn't the time or place to say anything.

"Alright!" Twilight gleefully announced, moving past it. "I'm so glad that you're all in for it! I think we're going to have a lot of fun! I don't think accepting the original prize would have been nearly as great as taking all of my friends along!"

Everypony spoke in solidarity, and they broke up their unified huddle.

Twilight continued, "Great! We won't be leaving until next weekend, so you have all of next week to make any arrangements for while we're away. Thanks so much, everypony!"

"Oh, no, thank you, Twilight. This is so very nice of you," Fluttershy countered.

The others, of course, unanimously spoke their agreement.

"Welp," Applejack politely articulated after everything had settled into an easy stillness, "sounds like we're going be having ourselves a doggone good time later. As for today though... I got places to be, so... thanks again, Twi! I'll catch you ponies another time!"

With a farewell tip of her hat, and equal goodbyes from most of her friends, she began trotting off.

Rainbow Dash took to the air and drifted swiftly after her.

"Woah, hey, Applejack, wait up!" the pegasus hounded the departing farm pony; the latter developed a sore grimace in response. "Where are you heading? Maybe we could make a race out of it? I bet that I-"

"Great apples almighty!" Applejack squawked. "Give it a rest, Rainbow! I got things to do!"

They only continued snipping at each other as they wandered away.

"So, darling, I can't tell you what perfect timing this is!" Rarity expressed to Twilight, lively electricity dancing in her eyes. "I was just telling everypony about how I could really use a vacation now that my dresses are finished. Why, knowing now that we're going to be leaving for a spectacular island resort where we'll be treated like princesses... it makes me want to head right back to the boutique and take care of shipping all the orders this instant so that I'll be ready to go at a moment's notice!"

Spike leapt at the opportunity, offering, "Oh! Need any help?"

"Why Spike!" the refined unicorn was thrown back with mild, yet delighted, astonishment. "You have really woken up a perfect gentlecolt this morning! I'd more than welcome the assistance."

"I could help too... if you need...," James suddenly spoke up. His tone was more insistent than generous; an inadequate request more than a free proposal.

"I do appreciate the offer, and you've been quite the help already through this whole task, so there is no undue amount of thanks which I could express," Rarity said to him gently. However, a shadow of condolence fell over her. Careful and courteous, she let him down, "But... I don't think I should need more than Spike to carefully package a good number of dresses. Thank you anyway."

"... Are you sure...?" the man asked vainly.

His almost do-or-die attitude about it wasn't invisible to the dressmaker, however she saw it as only a compassionate quirk of character. He probably acted the same towards all of their mutual friends, she imagined, though she had never actually heard as such from them. In any case, she thought it worse to humor him with a false hope.

"I don't think your assistance would help things along in this case; too many cooks in the kitchen, you understand. But again, thank you for the offer."

He said no more and gave only a doleful nod. It came more like enduring a wound than surrendering to a friend's decision.

"Well," Rarity bowed, "ta-ta then, my friends. Come along, Spike."

After more goodbyes were traded, lady and dragon began to leave. But Rarity had hardly gotten a few steps out when her memory hit her hard: she had made a promise, just earlier.

Wheeling about, she asked, "Fluttershy, dear, would you like to come pick up your dress now?"

"Oh!" the pegasus piped up, herself just reminded of the generous promise. "Coming, Rarity. Goodbye, Twilight. Goodbye, James." Wings out, she lifted off and kept gentle pace with the others as they all left.

It seemed to Twilight that the day was being returned to her more personal affairs, and most immediate on her mind was the particular case of friends-in-need involving a certain man and a certain pink pony. She turned to the only company she had left on the station platform.

"Alright, now that it's just the three of us... Pinkie, why don't you-... Pinkie Pie...?"

There were frozen drops of waters dripping from the icicles in perfect time, together playing a soft percussive melody on the wood below. There were clumps of crushed snow all around, kicked aside by the many hooves passing through, their exact positions the echoes of the early morning departures. There were streaks of smoothed ice running along the floorboards like claw marks, frozen logs asleep where the sun hadn't managed to yet wake them and roll them away.

But there was no Pinkie Pie.

The unicorn stood alone on the station platform with James.

"Must've pranced off already while the others were talking," the man suggested casually, hardly giving his attention to the matter.

"I... suppose...," Twilight tentatively accepted. Her mouth contorted into a leery frown and she murmured, "But so silently? Without even saying anything? How... strange..."

"'Strange'?" James looked back at her with a gaze askew in amusement. "So... normal for Pinkie Pie then?"

What a comment! So quickly deployed, cloaked in uncaring sympathy, and so... bizarrely disingenuous.

The unicorn didn't supply an answer except to stare at him oddly before she swept her eyes back across the empty platform. None of this felt good.

Already James was beyond the topic, instead idly pulling on the cuffs of his gloves to tighten their fit.

"I'm going to head back to the library. Decompress a little, I guess. It's been quite a week," he informed Twilight. When she didn't immediately respond he only shrugged and started to walk off on his own, leaving her to her own business. "Later, then."

Many empty moments passed. The unicorn kept her pondering gaze roaming across the platform, searching for answers. Her eyes passed from ice to snow to wood and back again. All of them were the colors of winter... but there was no pink.

Had the missing pony really run away without a word?

"James! Wait!"

Twilight turned and cantered up alongside the man before she slowed to match his pace.

"James... about Pinkie Pie..."

Her words breezed right past him, no different than the frosty air sliding off his warm vest.

He cocked his head towards her, smiling congenially at her decision to join him for the walk back, and as if she hadn't said anything at all he began a new conversation with her, "So! Tropical vacation in winter, huh? Sounds like we're going to have to do a good distance of traveling."

The unicorn staggered, blindsided by his unassailable reaction, but was fast to recover her pace. She didn't leer at him in quite a normal way, though. His strange and forceful behavior bothered her, but it also moved her enough to choose patience, at least for the time being. She would carry along with him until a better moment to bring up Pinkie Pie would present itself.

"Oh! Uh... No," she replied, maneuvering her way into informal parlance. "Not so much. We could get out to Isla Equufera in just under a day: a train to Baltimare and then a cruise down to the island. Though... the cruise ship departs in the morning so we'll be staying overnight in Baltimare anyway."

"What? How could we get far enough south to escape the winter weather in such a short-"

His palm struck his face as he nodded and chuckled all at once.

Of course! It was so obvious!

"The pegasi, right?" he guessed.

"That's right," confirmed Twilight, easily amused by his continued unfamiliarity with scheduled seasons. (Though, as evidenced, he was getting better about it.) "Just like our weather crews brought winter here, they keep it from going there. It's good business for most island resorts to maintain summer weather all year round."

"And always winter at the ski resorts, et cetera, et cetera," he lightheartedly demonstrated his mastery of the lesson. "That's really convenient for them. 'Acts of God,' indeed."

His stride then stiffened as he worked his way through a chain of silent thoughts, and it ended with him chuckling to himself. It was an odd laugh, too: not fully humorous, somewhat marveled, and even slightly disappointed.

When Twilight gave him a curious look, he shared his mind, "Sometimes I think that... the more magic you ponies put into the world, the more magic you're actually taking away from the world."

"That's completely self-contradictory," Twilight pointed out, "and not to mention senseless."

"Of course you would say that, Miss Magic Horn," James ribbed her.

A sly, giddy look snuck onto her, revealing that she hadn't actually confused his literal words with his intended meaning.

"We've talked about this kind of thing before," she reminded him. "There's a difference between magic and 'not knowing how something works.'"

"Maybe not knowing exactly how it works is part of the magic," he prattled in return, waving a comically defiant hand and twiddling his frivolous fingers.

"That's ridiculous!" the unicorn laughed. Her lecture didn't rob her of a smile, "Magic may be a complicated subject with many interconnected layers of understanding required to fully grasp even some relatively simple concepts surrounding it, and the inherent pseudo-intelligent nature behind it only increases the difficulty in studying it—but!—it is completely testable, and predictable. In sufficiently controlled environments, anyway. Ultimately, magic is a science just like any other."

"So you've told me on several occasions," the man gladly sighed. He used a finger to trace along some of the crystals on his medallion, pulsing with darkness. "But, you know, for all the magical experiments you've shown me or had me help out with as part of my ongoing living-in-Equestria experience, I don't really think I've actually learned all that much about magic."

"That's not true at all," Twilight merrily rebuffed him. "I've noticed that you've definitely picked up on a few things, and that's better than can be said by some ponies! Some ponies go their whole lives without ever learning ANYTHING about magic. That doesn't mean they live without it, but they just sort of unwittingly collect everything related to it under a banner of 'familiar experience' and never bother to think about it or understand it. As far as I'm concerned... for being a magicless being who has lived here only a few months and has had only some rudimentary magic lessons that weren't anywhere close to formal study... I think you've done rather well."

It was a rather glowing assessment for how little he felt he actually understood of magic. Still, his curiosity was piqued, and he asked, "What about it exactly do you think I've gotten an okay hold of?"

"I've always been impressed with how you can very quickly pick up on the subtler influences magic has upon things. Deliberate spells are usually flashy and easy to discern, but there are many understated effects magic has on ponies and the world around us that are often not so obvious. You've been pretty observant there, keenly noting some hard to catch things, unprompted. For example: pegasus flight."

"Hm? Oh, well, that one seemed obvious," James shrugged. "Simple physics: those wings weren't going to hold them up on their own. So there has to be something else that lets them fly like they do."

"But that's what I mean: that's a good observation! You'd be amazed at how many unstudied ponies wouldn't pick up on that!"

"I guess," he nodded, trying to accept her compliment. "Seems a little amateur though. I mean, it goes right back to what we were saying: 'Oh, I don't get it, so it must be magic!' That's not strong, deductive reasoning."

"I didn't say that it was," the unicorn chuckled, "but it does show good knack for scrutiny and some attention to detail."

She took her thoughts to the sky for an extended moment before she came back down with another example.

"How about this: earth ponies have a magical connection to the land. It's even less perceptible than pegasi magic, yet you've made some startlingly accurate guesses about it before, all without any leads or specific direction by me. That's some impressive perception."

"Alright...," the man again made an effort to accept her words on faith. "I still don't 'get' magic, though."

It didn't seem like giving another example of his commendable instincts would help illustrate anything. Merely she tried to give a helpful conclusion, "Well... I think you have a really good intuition as far as the more hidden workings of magic go, even if some of the bigger pictures and more specific intricacies might elude you."

After pondering for a moment he agreed with her decision to leave things at that.

"Thanks," he said, loose and direct.

Once they talking ceased, the cold quiet of a winter Saturday retook Ponyville. Many of the residents must have preferred to experience the snowy streets through their frosted windows, for everything outside their warm homes was empty except for the two friends. With nothing to interrupt them they walked along to a harmonized beat: two-step, four-clop, each coming down with unique and tranquil crunches into the thin layer of snow.

It was peaceful.

And the easy silence convinced Twilight that she now had her chance. She cleared her throat softly.

"So... James... About Pinkie-"

Suddenly the man halted. His eyes became disturbed, and he let them fall to the ground. His tense fingers clasps over his mouth, nearly clawing into his lip. Before long a muffled vulgarity snuck out of his mouth and into his waiting hand.

"What? What's wrong?" the unicorn asked. She came to an immediate stop also, spinning to face him. It was her hope that something specifically pink had taken a hard hold of his thoughts.

But the next noise to come out of him was a burning sigh, billowing wet and misty in the chilly air. The hot anger lit up his skin, melting the cold color off of his exposed face. However his rage was mostly undirected; he had nothing to launch it at and so just brought a leg up only to strike the ground with his heel, sounding off an unsettling clap.

At last looking back at his friend he spat in futility, "I don't have any summer clothes! We're heading into a hot climate and I don't have any summer clothes!"

He shivered, and he swore again under his breath.

Admittedly Twilight was very disappointed. It wasn't just that he had apparently no consideration for the serious matter about Pinkie Pie which she had hoped would come up, but that the concern he had come out so fiercely with was so small and unimportant.

As much as her reply was a pillar of advice it also was a grinding pestle of frustration, "It's not a big deal. You can just ask Rarity to make you some. She'd be glad to, and now that she's essentially finished her dresses she would easily have the time to."

"I don't want to ask Rarity for more clothes!"

The reaction, almost venomous with hostility, caused the unicorn to jump back. He had so unnecessarily bellowed into her face, though not at her per se; the anger was again very impotent, wanting a target it couldn't possibly hit. That she was the victim of his abrupt loss of composure had been no intention of his.

He attempted an apology immediately, bringing up his hand and waving the undue harshness away with remorse. There was still a bit too much fire in his mouth to speak any sorrow so he drew in a cold breath to smother the flame, slathering the winter around with his tongue. It still wasn't enough though, so he only explained his explosion to Twilight in a short, uneven statement.

"She's... given me enough as it is."

"James..."

The name carried a troubled gravity. Twilight had been badly startled, was shaky and uncertain underneath her intact exterior, and was fighting off a rising tide of panic. But in the few months her new friend had been around she had better learned some of his intricacies and discovered healthier ways around them.

When he didn't immediately acknowledge her she tightened every muscle in her body and called his name again. Finally it grabbed him and he made eye contact.

"You need to calm down," she pressed into him compassionately.

"Right...," he rasped, and he started to manage his breathing carefully. His fingers squeezed into a fist, as hard as he could endure the pain, and he flexed it again and again, trying to choke the life out of his tension. After many, many simmering moments, with the unicorn patiently waiting, he was able to expel most of his irrational anger in a single, fuming breath which got carried away on a cold winter breeze.

Though the most potent part of his anger had been safely released he was still gnawed at by ravenous frustration. He didn't hold back from sharing it with Twilight, storming less like roaring thunder now and more like the heavy patter of oppressive rain.

"Again and again Rarity has given me things for free, without accepting the slightest repayment. I mean... ALL of my clothes, she made. She has NEVER accepted money for them. I tried! After I started getting a stipend I tried to pay her the bits she was owed and she just wouldn't have it!"

His leg came up for another stomp but this time he had the control to bring it gently back down.

"Okay...," Twilight hummed, collecting her thoughts.

Unfortunately, once again, Pinkie Pie would have to wait. This sounded like quite a serious friendship matter to the man, and if it was on his mind now then it was better to tackle it immediately.

Though, things were beginning to feel excessively unfair to her pink friend...

Carefully she reviewed what he had said, breaking it down in her mind and going over it piece by piece. His statements had entirely sensible content, yet how exactly it had aroused his agitation escaped her.

"That's how Rarity is," she stated pointedly. "She's a very giving individual, and if she's generously giving to you again and again then that's simply because she wants to. I'm sorry James, I just don't see what the problem is?"

"Ugh."

The thick fuzz of his glove scratched against his hair as he rolled his hand over his head, and his teeth ground together while he tried to pick out the right way to describe his feelings. When the words finally came to him he leaned down towards the unicorn and said, "Generosity is one thing; she really is amazing like that. But if I'm just expecting her to fill my needs whenever I have a problem, that's NOT generosity. That's me taking advantage of her."

The links snapped together in Twilight's head.

"But you're not taking advantage of her," she responded. "As you've just demonstrated, you're very clearly aware of all that she has done for you and you're lamenting that she does it at a cost to herself. That's not exactly an exploitive mindset; there's no foul intention there."

"What does it matter what I intend?" he bounced his shoulders in a powerless way, feeling very disconnected from her argument. "If I'm cackling like a villain or if I'm sitting there feeling sorry for myself... it doesn't matter! I don't need to have the intent to have the effect. It's still happening over and over again! That's exploiting her generosity."

"What? No, that's not-"

It was like his frustration was infectious. Many times before the back-and-forth in their disagreements had sometimes been a little rocky, but by Star Swirl's beard had some of his heat-of-the-moment remarks sounded so unbelievable. And right now this last one of his might have set a record for his most absurd assertion. She actually had to push her own ire down, and she reminded herself that this wasn't any different from the many philosophical battles they had fought before for mere recreation. The only thing that made this different was how closely it involved Rarity, their mutual, personal friend.

Focused, nicking the buds of her more troublesome emotions before they sprouted, and minding her manners, she insisted gently, "It's not like that. There's no crime of abuse here. Every time Rarity is choosing to help you, that is a gift she has decided on her own to give to you."

"That's not the part I have a problem with," James attempted to explain again. His patience was ramshackle but intact. "She is incredibly selfless, altruistic, and magnanimous; and it makes her amazing. The problem I have is that: regardless of ANYTHING I've tried to do, I'm STILL leaning on her again and again and again."

He desired to pound the street another time, but Twilight's kind caution had planted itself deep. He lightly kicked aside some snow.

"Anything I've tried, nothing's changed," he complained. "I've offered to give her the bits she's owed; she doesn't take it. She refuses to. Almost like I can't hire her; I have to get it for free."

He held up one of his hands, covered as it was in a simple and elegantly designed glove. Snatching the cuff, he roughly peeled the glove off and dangled the inside-out item in front of the unicorn.

"I showed up the other day and she caught wind of the fact that I didn't have anything to keep my hands warm, so she made these on the spot! Even when I asked her not to! 'Don't be ridiculous,' she said."

He reversed the glove back into its proper orientation and wound it onto his hand, jerking it with unnecessary force, and he lamented, "Practically the only thing I haven't tried is just outright demanding that she stop with all the generosity. Like, just vehemently rejecting anything she tries to give me. And I don't do that because then I'd still be the bad guy! Instead of exploitation, I'd be insulting. Insulting both her and her generosity."

The cold air had made his lips dry and cracked, and all his constrained shouting had exposed his mouth to the same parched sensation. He took a moment to drag some swish some spit around before he squeezed a hard swallow down his throat.

"It's such an uneven friendship, Twilight."

"So that's what all this relentless volunteering to help Rarity has been about," the unicorn realized at last, taking significant note of his final, illuminating statement. "You're trying to find a way to balance things out."

"Yeah, I guess," the man said. "She's earned it."

Put bluntly, Twilight did not quite agree with his take on the situation, but she made no contrary utterance of that. It would be better, she thought, to contextualize any such remark with a strong foundation in the ideals she truly believed in. That way there wasn't any room for misinterpretation.

"Well, in that case," she said, intentionally shooting to sound friendly and supportive, "you don't need to feel so upset. You're doing great! Rarity has told me herself how appreciative she is of all the help you've given her lately."

A glance of doubt came from the man. Not one which labeled her a liar, but one which didn't believe his deeds were as grand as she supposed.

Twilight easily read his expression, and she moved on to revealing her truer thoughts with the hope that he was ready to hear them as she intended.

"I think that... this is more about how you feel, and much less about Rarity's generosity."

Something nasty came into James' stare, though it was more woundedness than hostility.

"I don't mean anything dismissive by that!" the unicorn stressed quickly. "Let me explain: you want to give back to her, saying that she's earned a reward, but that's not what generosity is! Rarity didn't help you out of some expectation of future recompense. She gave out of her heart, because she wanted to, and that was the end of it. It's all on your side! If you've never spoken of this to her before, then she doesn't even know that you feel this way."

"Fine," the man barely accepted, "but still, if the situation doesn't change-"

"Listen," she gently demanded his attention. Her magic then swept off the small clumps of the snow which had gotten caught on his boots during his tantrum. An invisible hand tugged upon his reapplied glove, correcting it so that it sat more snuggly. Happily she said to him, "There's nothing wrong with you wanting to give back to her. That's great, in fact! When generosity inspires generosity in a friendship; what could be more wonderful?"

Her fuzzy warmth faded behind some steely wisdom.

"But you're so worked up about it, and that's not good. You're getting too absorbed in trying to make the friendship feel balanced that you're losing sight of the meaning of generosity itself. Rarity is glad to give to you. I think you need to get yourself to a place where you're simply just as glad to give to her also."

Anger didn't pour from the man this time, or even any heated frustration. He continued to stand sore and sour, but otherwise he only silently let his eyes play in the snowy street.

Seeing this cooler reaction, Twilight sought to move forward. She asked, "Have you ever sat down and talked with her about your feelings?"

Weary, he indecisively shook his head; not 'no,' but almost certainly not 'yes.'

"Like I said, it's been kind of mentioned: telling her she doesn't have to do these things for me, offering to pay her back-"

"But directly!" Twilight begged. "Have you ever come straight out and told her how uncomfortable you are with accepting all her gifts?"

The blunt beating trickled into James. He twisted his head to the side, turned up a sagging palm, and dryly replied, "Not really, no. I think she'd be hurt or insulted if I did."

"Ugh," the unicorn groaned. Her eyelids snapped shut and she clawed at her temple with her hoof. Loudly she lamented, "Why, lately, has everypony been having problems just talking openly to each other?"

Pinkie Pie... Applejack... And now him...

"What?" the man croaked.

"Nevermind. Maybe we can discuss that in a little bit," she sighed. On a open window sill in her mind she set the thought aside; somewhere it hopefully wouldn't be forgotten.

"I guess I understand why you feel the way you do," she said, bringing her attention back to the issue with Rarity, "but I really think you're making it out to be more troublesome than it actually is. If you can approach Rarity in a truthful and open way then I think you two can work everything out so that nopony feels insulted or in the wrong. Maybe that's something you can use the vacation for? Once all the distractions are gone you might have an easier time speaking with her."

Her voice came down, staying friendly and gentle, but getting its weight low so that it was ready for battle.

"In the mean time though... you really should get some suitable clothes for this trip. Please? Just ask her politely about making you a set. It'll be alright. She'll be more than pleased to help."

And James, to his credit, had listened without making one contrary motion with his body or one dismissive flaunt with his eyes. When she had finished he slowly drew his arms up over his chest, jostling his new medallion, and he folded them tight in consideration. He did his best to show his friend's opinion the weight it deserved, but the effort had his feet shuffling his place, his fingers twitching, and his nose breathing out a sticky, moist heat.

"... No...," he said eventually, speaking low and quiet.

Suddenly he began to walk again, carrying on down the road without Twilight. The shock of his escape attempt caused her to stumble as she scrambled to pick up after him, but his wasn't a pleasant walk home anymore. The man's steps had grown larger and faster.

"No. No, I'm not going to bother her with this," he repeated his denial as soon as he sensed that Twilight was still following him. "If I can't even things out with her then, for now, the best thing I can do is avoid situations where she'll feel the need to help me out and dig me deeper into debt. That's how I'll spare her. What she doesn't know won't hurt her."

"But-," the unicorn began.

"I'll just... wear my autumn clothes for the trip," he countered her objection before she had even gotten out the first word.

Trailing behind him with too much difficulty, Twilight's horn shimmered. With a poof and a flash she appeared in front of him, and she planted a hoof into his stomach to bring him to a stop.

"No, James. With the heat there you'll be too warm in those clothes."

"Oh no, too warm," he mocked her concern. Then, deadly serious, "I'll deal with it."

He tried to push forwards, but her leg didn't yield and her hoof dug deeper into his belly. She likewise pushed back with her pleas.

"It's a vacation! It's supposed to be time off to relax. You can't just be sweating and panting the whole time!"

"That's my problem! I'll deal with it!"

He extracted her hoof by force and then moved to one side to get around her, but she only shifted as well. Once more she barred his path, jabbing her hoof again in him.

"There's more to it than that! Rarity will notice that you're uncomfortable and she'll quickly realize that it's because your clothes are too heavy! She's not going to blame you for not asking; she's going to blame herself for not having had the foresight to make you something more suitable! Then she'll be uncomfortable for the trip too!"

Again the man gripped her leg to yank it away, but he stopped mid-pull.

She was right.

Of course, Twilight Sparkle was right again.

That was exactly how Rarity would react.

The 'bad guy' never wins, huh?

He let her hoof go and it dropped softly onto the street.

"Then-... then..."

Fruitlessly he struggled to come up with an alternative; any alternative, no matter how reasonable or ridiculous.

"... I'll just... go pick up some light clothing somewhere else."

Quickly he scanned up and down the street in an impromptu search, as if he expected luck to have stopped them before the perfect storefront. Naturally he had no such fortune; the district was entirely residential. Yet he twisted his head further about anyway, pulling a pain into his neck, all in a pointless effort to peer through the buildings themselves for some impossible solution.

"Where?" Twilight asked rhetorically, pointing out what he already knew but wasn't accepting. "Nopony makes clothes in your size and form. Actually, Rarity's the only pony in all of Equestria who even has your measurements."

Every corner of herself she could find she fluffed with compassionate softness, taking away the sharp edges. A shake came to her head. A sigh fled from her lips.

"James, please," she begged, "just ask her. It's not a big deal."

He tensed.

But there wasn't an angry reaction. When he pulled himself tightly in it wasn't as a bomb about to explode, but a shriveling under sad, tired hopelessness. His labored breathing was from being so long trapped under an oppressive pile of generosity from which he had exhausted himself failing to claw an escape. The dry, cold air might have been the only thing that kept any tears from forming in the thin crack of his nearly-shut eyelids.

Reluctant, sore, sorrowful, and without a word, he surrendered and very dimly nodded his head.

Twilight made sure to bring forward all of her sincerest humility.

"Thank you."

Again he acknowledged without saying a thing, only weakly nodding. Then, without another word between them, they began walking down the street again, traveling side by side.

The long silence started to ripen into discomfort.

"It'll be fine," the unicorn softly spoke up, trying to shoo away the awkward air. "You have a real need right now, so ask her for help. Just remember to keep an eye out for a chance to open up to her, and it'll work out. I promise."

"Hmm...," the man leaked the agitated noise. "... Maybe you're right. Right that... it's more me than anything. But... that doesn't matter."

She peeked suspiciously at him.

"Something has to change regardless," James warned her, returning her look. "Because if I keep having to fall back on her charity despite my best efforts... well, all that really says is that I'm a terrible friend for her."

It was the precise wording of his statement which got to Twilight. A blade, perfectly crafted to slice into her; not that he had intended such. The wound stung sharply.

And, moreover, the echo of the pain forced her to recall the item she had set aside.

"James...?" she addressed him, her voice very far away.

"Hm?" Her specific tone created a caution in the man.

"Can I talk to you about Pinkie Pie?"

He halted. It was short enough that he skid an inch on the crumbs of snow and ice below his feet. He looked away. One hand, implacable, thumped lightly on his thigh again and again. He shrank. A weight crushed him.

It all made clear to Twilight that, when she had earlier tried to broach the subject, he hadn't somehow missed her words. He had dodged them; ignored them.

A small spear pricked her in the back of her worried mind.

"Did you get the chance to talk to Pinkie on Thursday?" she inquired, not quite managing a neutral tone. "About... you know... everything we discussed?"

An aching, lonely moment passed before any reply came from the man, and when he spoke his tone was bone-dry.

"Yeah... I spoke with her."

Subtle, slight, quiet; the answer hit Twilight like a hard, loud slap. It wasn't merely the chill girding his response which made her hair stand on end; it was that, whatever he had done, she already knew the final result:

Pinkie Pie hadn't behaved today as if things had been resolved.

The caught spear twisted and drove, wedging itself deeper.

"Really?" she hiccuped. Her whole body leaned in, almost aggressive in its inquisitiveness, and she pounded out friendly demands, "How did it go? What did she say?"

"It was really quick," he shook his head helplessly and tossed a hand with casual disregard. "She said everything's fine."

"What?!"

For some reason her yelp had real striking force, like a hammer missing the nail and cracking the wood. She only recognized her own unintended aggression too late when he immediately struck her right back in retaliation, complaining bitterly as he threw up his hands.

"What do you want, Twilight? I tried! I told her that you spoke to me, and about what, and I asked her if there was something bothering her. And"—he snorted, so supremely fed up with it all—"she just did her airhead giggly-smile, called me silly, and told me to keep helping Poppy mix the batter. And that was that. Barely spoke a word to her for the rest of the day after that, because she wouldn't let me; she was hellbent on Poppy and I getting those cookies baked."

He tossed his hands again, disposing of the matter once and for all.

Further plunged the spear, ripping open the gaping wound.

Twilight jumped back horrified, and she panted her way through fast deductions to herself.

"She-... she must have been... too nervous to talk to you openly... There must have been something-... something frightening her confidence... Maybe because Poppy was there...?"

She snapped back and instructed the man forcefully, "James, you need to try again and-"

"I did my part already!" he erupted. It was a fury drained of energy, lacking willpower. "I tried, Twilight."

"But-"

"I tried!" he repeated for a third time.

Suddenly his hand, still drumming in agitation against his thigh, came down in a final, exceptionally hard blow.

"At this point, if there is something wrong... then isn't the problem with her? I tried. You talk to her."

'If there is something wrong'?

'IF'?

Is that actually what he had said?

How?

How could he not care?

"Maybe it's even nothing," James suggested with the most idle, detached, thoughtless regard. "Caught up in one of her quirky spells or whatever. Being a nut."

He shrugged dismissively.

"You know how she is."

There was a sharp, stabbing pain as the spear impaled all the way through her mind, leaving it hoisted wet and bleeding in the open air.

Offended far beyond her normal boundaries she stomped she roared, "Yes. Yes, I DO know how she is. Because she's my friend!"

But the regret for her outburst was instantaneous, especially once she saw the reaction in his face. Whether woundedness or sour indignation, he had undoubtedly picked up on the very subtle assault she had slipped in: she knew Pinkie Pie because she was a friend, and inversely he didn't know Pinkie Pie because he-...

What a disgusting thing to have said to anypony.

"James...," she tried to apologize.

"Look! I don't 'get' Pinkie Pie, okay?!" he suddenly confessed loudly.

It was a long-bubbling pot finally getting the last burst of heat it had needed to boil over; so obvious in hindsight. There was too much sadness in him to say he was merely upset; too much unconstrained fury to say he was simply angry; too much disorientation to call him only confused. Things he had before chained up because anypony should have, he unleashed.

"She's got a scary amount of energy and... at first I thought it was all just an act... like, a weird affection she adopts, but... she really is like that all the time. So... good for her and everything, I guess? But-... but... I-... I don't know. I don't 'get' her."

Then, in a snap decision, he began retreating again, starting down the road once more. This time Twilight was able to quickly copy his pace and stay alongside him.

"I tried though, alright?" James yet again insisted. "I did what I promised you and... she wasn't any different about it. So, I guess that means-..."

A few stubs of words followed but they crumbled into silence.

Twilight said, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry about what I-"

"God!" he interrupted, screaming it out while he jabbed his knuckles into his temples. "Poppy's gone for all of five seconds and already everything has turned into-"

He had a choice word ready, but he didn't use it. Instead his quivering hands traced in front of him a large pile of something foul, and then he blew it up with a mimed explosion.

"James-," the unicorn tried again.

"Twilight! You-... you're not-..."

He grabbed a hard hold of himself, and a slight clarity settled upon him. At least enough to steer him away from carelessly diving into dangerous territory.

Through his broken calm he said tiredly, "I know you're just... really concerned about something and you're only trying to do the right thing. I don't want to... blame you or anything for that. But... for me... I can't-..."

One more breath was all he could take, and it was long and horrendously heavy.

"I can't," he concluded, and he begged, "Not right now, please? Can we just... not do this right now?"

This was a serious issue! It shouldn't be left to wait! Pinkie Pie was devastated!

But the man really did appear to be under enormous strain, for reasons unclear to Twilight. He was still only a bare few months out from his permanent, involuntary trans-dimensional relocation; the weights, even if they were easing, were still piled up on his shoulders. Could she have pressed on him more or would that snap him?

She was trying to call him 'friend' too, after all; something she could still do even if standing against him, but even so she had to make her opposing stands with real sympathy. Hadn't she already burdened him once earlier by binding him with the promise of requesting new summer clothes from Rarity despite all of his stern reservations? And he had acceded to her there.

She swallowed.

Mirroring his earlier concession to her, her head came down and weakly nodded.

He returned no verbal thanks, but his own nod had a gentle appreciation present.

They walked. It was a mournful, slow march for such a shivering and bright morning.

Step, clop clop, step, clop clop. And on and on for a silent time.

Twilight suddenly spoke up in one last lament, though she didn't betray any prior intentions. She was only honestly commenting on her feelings.

"I know that haste makes waste, and maybe trying to act now might be too reckless and make things worse... but I don't feel very comfortable letting something like this just sit."

James didn't misinterpret her in any fashion.

"Well... like you said," he mumbled with a strange little light—perhaps a dim hope, "maybe this is what the vacation's for, yeah?"

Chapter 13: Drift

A swoop and a poof.

Every now and again that exact sequence of sounds was heard coming down from above. The banking swoosh of a pegasus moving into position, followed by the floating pause of their legs winding up, and then the marshmallow poof of a snowcloud bursting with one solid buck. Keeping the pier skies clear was slow and almost lazy work but the several dozen pegasi stayed on their watchful task diligently, flying on patrol while intercepting any stray clouds which occasionally drifted into the wrong airspace.

It was the most fascinating thing to watch while waiting to board the boat, or so James certainly felt. Cruise liners large and small he had seen a few times before in his life, docks and wharfs were familiar to him also, but a weather patrol on duty? That was still relatively new and interesting. It was also a particularly ludicrous and baffling sight on this occasion, at least when it wasn't so outright amusing.

He needed only look out at Baltimare behind him to see the city engulfed in its winter season. Slush-covered streets ran between sizable buildings who themselves were encrusted with snow and ice in layers, from above came a merry snowfall of tufty snowflakes which dreamily drifted down and sweetly kissed the ground, and everypony who walked by curb or on path had their heat packed close in some form of winter wear. The city wore its season like a white and gray overcoat.

And that made the summer heat which surrounded the man the most dissonant feeling to have ever struck him. The oppressive warmth squeezed bubbles of sweat out of his forehead, the cooling sea breeze which ambled its way over the pier carried the most refreshing morning sensation with it, and his clothes had that spacious feeling of thankfully hanging so loose that there wasn't any risk of them clinging to his sticky body. The section of the docks which he stood upon bloomed with summer; melting in a season so impossibly opposed to the city's, like the tranquil eye of a hurricane.

So, swoop and poof.

A portion of Baltimare's port, at least a dozen piers, was owned by some unholy conglomerate of travel agencies, cruise corporations, island embassies, and tourism boards. Separate from the city's team of weather pegasi they had hired their own team of ponies to manage the weather over their docks. The group of well-paid fliers made their living maintaining a glorious, eternal summer over that tiny section of the waterfront, day-in and day-out; driving away unwanted clouds to keep back any undesired snow or rain, constantly shipping in wind from warmer places, and doing their utmost to allow the most powerful rays of the sun free reign. It was all part of the business, done as a customer courtesy; something to get the money-flush tourists in the vacationing mood just before they began their journeys.

Swoop and poof.

The more the man watched, the more it tickled him. The contrast! The frozen city so close to the summer docks that he could pitch a snowball to it, or perhaps catch one which some mischievous city foal might try to throw through the threshold. The rivalry! It seemed like the pegasi maintaining the winter over Baltimare itself would sometimes intentionally let a cloud drift out of their zone, just to see if their better-paid counterparts were still paying attention. The ordinariness! Not one pony from the vast crowds gathered on each pier seemed to think anything unusual of the situation; no, they had all come prepared for their wintertime summer vacations in their straw hats, sunglasses, aloha shirts, and sunscreen-slathered noses (when they wore clothes at all.)

It was perhaps what the Equator would have been like on a very, very, very, very tiny Earth.

Swoop. Poof.

James, Twilight, and their six other friends had arrived in Baltimare the prior night. What could have been an awkward train ride to the city had turned out to have passed fairly quickly in polite silence since the car had been filled to a healthy capacity with other travelers who had the same destination, either as a waypoint or a final stop. Arriving in the dim of evening they had wasted no time beating a fast canter to their hotel for a single night stay; their rest beds before a short cruise to the island resort. It had all been part of a simple travel schedule.

Except nothing about the hotel had been simple at all, save for perhaps being, "Simply awesome!" as Rainbow Dash had put it. From the grandest architecture of the massive lobby to the tiniest embellishments on their rooms' toilets, they had marveled at the luxury accommodations their eventual island hosts had paid for: countless stories high, like a goliath of glass lights rising out of the street; a palace of a lobby with golden colored fountains casually strewn about and hanging gardens streaming down every surface; an army of bellhops who had been impeccably trained and had even refused tips (later discovered to have been because the island hosts had generously prepaid for any such service;) and so much more.

The instant that the front desk staff had been shown the group's passes they had whisked them all up to one of the highest floors and shown them their suites. Eight suites, specifically. Eight individual suites, each one absolutely drowned with the trappings of royalty! Enormous beds with half a dozen cushiony pillows each, dazzling drapes which framed gorgeous wall-window views of the city's winter night, magically self-tending hearths whose full warmth was more comforting than being wrapped in the shaggiest blankets, bathrooms with more elegant fixtures than most two story houses! For all those who had once been guests at Canterlot Castle, an ocean of modesty would have been required to declare that the home of Princess Celestia was equal or superior to the hotel. Already, even before having seen their destination island; even before having met their hosts; the group of friends had already come to believe in the promise of a perfect vacation.

And so they had slept a restful night as queens and kings, had been woken up for a catered breakfast buffet, and then had been escorted to a fleet of taxis which had taken them to where they were now: at the summer docks, mingled with a crowd of fellow travelers on one of the piers, and waiting to board a cruise ship which had a smaller stature compared to some of the other harbored boats.

The man had to admit: despite everything, already he felt great. That short stay at the most lavish hotel he had ever seen certainly had felt like the opening salvo of an amazing summer vacation. Summer! Even that magical reversal of seasons had some buoying effect upon him, like a step out of time into some exotic fantasy, ancient and incredible. It probably helped that the fantasy was true in some way; this was pony magic.

For once it was like the tomorrows ahead, usually unspoken of, swelled with so much miraculous possibility. For once the today and yesterdays didn't seem so important. He actually wanted to see what waited ahead.

And better than that, he really felt some inner sense of leaving behind his troubles so as to seek solace and rest. The week between Twilight's announcement of the trip and their recent departure hadn't been his most enjoyable. Sure, the bulk of the days had run as they usually did, the prime difference having been that his friends had been wound tight with anticipation for what lay ahead. Otherwise, only two deviations of note had occurred; one unexpected and one sour.

When he had gone to Sugarcube Corner for his day of assisting Pinkie Pie, he had encountered only a mildly dismayed Mrs. Cake. The baker pony had regretfully informed him that Pinkie Pie had suddenly dashed off in the early morning, claiming she had lots of parties elsewhere to prepare. The motherly mare had then offered him the option of hanging around the shop to see if the pink pony might return at some point, but he had declined politely. If that crazy pony had wanted to skip a day with him then who was he to have disagreed?

And throughout the whole week, before that day and after, he hadn't seen hoof or tail of the unpredictable pony... Only at their Baltimare bound departure had he at last seen her again, and she had appeared no more or less than her usual self to his eyes. Consequently, he had made no approach to ask her about the missed day.

Actually... losing a Pinkie Pie day had been something of a relief. He hadn't felt any regrets about how that had turned out.

The responsibility which had truly ensnared his most troublesome worries had been his obligation to Twilight: his negotiated promise to ask Rarity for summer clothes. His disagreement with that course of action could not have been stronger but, since he had swore to his good friend that he would do so, what choice had there been but to follow through? Working up the nerve to simply ask the dressmaker had been the worst part of it since there hadn't been time to pace himself; the trip had loomed over them like the threatening rise of a dark moon dragging a starless night behind it.

The pressure had come on all the more intensely because James had sought not to have left the generous pony with so little time that she would have felt rushed. He had approached her early in the week about possible summer clothes; barely more than a day after he had conceded to Twilight's demand. He had forged ahead with meeting the dressmaker at her boutique and, choking on miserable humility, had made the most minimalist request for summer attire that he could have.

Just the act of asking her had been torture. Those few hours of bracing himself mentally hadn't been enough to have left him feeling prepared for his duty. In his mind he had again been abusing her giving nature in order to solve what had been decidedly one of his own minor problems.

But of course the dressmaker had taken up the cause without hesitation, without disdain, or even without disruptive pride. "Oh, heavens!" she had cried when he had at last put the matter before her, "I should have realized!" There was secret hurt in hearing her express such simple guilt. SHE should have realized? Any attempt to counter her claim had her shushing him with short, insistent speeches on the duties of a lady and a friend. And then, like always, it hadn't mattered what she had already been doing or what her plans had been. She had vowed then and there to work tirelessly to solve his stupid clothing dilemma.

At the very least, asking for the clothes truly had been the worst part of the experience; the most profoundly uncomfortable of the bumps in the road. Things had improved after that. The wonderful opportunity had come up to give her a little bit of freedom.

Somewhere early on, while assorted bundles of fabrics were still being blindly pulled in whole rolls off the shelves according to some intuitive plan of hers, she had spontaneously asked him, "I know your clothing tastes hew more towards the, ah... austere... but... if it's alright with you... I have a few more... refined... ideas that I think might make a superior outfit. Perhaps if I could just sketch them for you?"

It had been perhaps the one single, sincere, and worthwhile moment that the unwanted course of action had wrought: when he had been able to answer her without a diluting drop of reserve, "Whatever pleases you."

Fearful of any limit he could have restrained her with, he had given his fullest agreement to absolutely everything she had put before him, whether it had been the most critical piece of the master plan or the most errant thought of a wild brainstorm. She must have had her suspicions about how strangely accommodating he had been; how he had seemed to have no thought, desire, or design for what were to have been his own clothes. But she had never said anything. Maybe she had merely guessed how reluctant he had been to have asked the favor of her, and she had readily accepted his pliable behavior as his apology?

In any case it had been a relief to see what fun she had gained from the project. From drawing, to shearing, to sewing; through it all she had been served a creative buffet, and she had indulged herself in every sweet taste the process had to offer. She had finished well before the trip deadline, and the greater freedom she had been given had meant that the end product she had produced was different in more substantial ways compared to the previous two designs.

Standing on the pier, busy as it was with the crowd of ponies caught up in their own pre-vacation preoccupations, James self-consciously looked down at what he had worn for the first time today (barring having had tried it on once initially, for Rarity's pleasure.)

It was a piece whose motif didn't reflect a royal class in the modest ways that the other outfits had. There was no double-breasted torso like a soldier's uniform; no, his chest was barely touched by the new top. The shirt portion loosely hung off his shoulders by two stringy straps, the shirt itself floating around him. It wasn't a simple sleeveless shirt though, oh no. It had thin, layered ruffles flowing down it, like the folds of sagging drapes, each row a slightly different shade of soft green, like a watercolor prairie sweeping down him. The fabric breathed so well that both shining sun and ocean breeze drifted right through it. The thin straps were perhaps the most embarrassing part. They tied to the shirt in little knots which steered just a bit too close to resembling bows, and a small diamond-shaped sapphire adorned each one like a glittering lock.

The pants weren't much better. When they had been initially laid out before him they had almost looked like knee-length shorts, but they certainly didn't wear like that. They didn't have that rugged strength of form that might be found in such outdoor wear; no, there was a bending, wavy looseness in them that was perhaps more befitting of a flowing skirt. Though the grip on his waist was snug, the two pantlegs below simply fell freely. They moved in any direction that the wind told them to go, at least when they weren't seemingly moving in whatever arbitrary ways so pleased them. The whole thing matched the top in greenness, mostly using one of the darker shades. At least there wasn't quite the excessive flare which the top had; there were very few folds or seams at all, which probably contributed to its incredibly flexible form. Mostly there was only some ridges around the waist and the bottoms, and a few more small sapphires could be found highlighting the corner lips of the four pockets.

For footwear Rarity had created something that she had said she hoped would work, "Like a sandal." There had been a palpable lack of surprise when it had turned out that she had in fact just created sandals: a sole, a thick flap which hugged the instep, and four small threads which ran between the toes. It had really called into question just what a 'sandal' was for an ungulate creature like a pony but he had neglected to ask for further details. And again, the items were green with sapphires; in this case a single gem on each sandal, sitting centered on the flaps over his feet.

There wasn't any doubt in his mind that the clothes were summer wear. They would keep him comfortable in the most brutal of estival weather. Comfortable physically, anyway. Comfort when under the eyes of others would be impossible for him. Just beneath the surface of the man was an honest shame. It was as if he had been caught wearing something similar to what the girls in high school used to wear on the fading days of the school year; sandals to go with a weird camisole-like top and some kind of teen-trendy shorts below. If he had ever found one of his old guy friends in something like this he knew he would have unleashed teasing of an unending and merciless variety.

But no matter what cluttered pile of disorganized regrets he had about his new outfit, he allowed not a speck of them to show. They all were swept under the rug. What these clothes meant as a gift from Rarity was too important. Now the unicorn would have no reason to be concerned about him and she could enjoy her vacation to the fullest. He would have to endure the embarrassment in silence.

Not that any of the ponies about him, whether friend or merely fellow traveler, seemed to notice or care what he looked like. They were all abuzz with excitement for their own impending vacations, invested far too deeply to be concerned with the oddly dressed non-pony. Maybe... maybe the troubles raking at him WERE all in his mind.

He still wanted to stay fixed on what could become of this magical vacation that had managed to so far get him excited. Wearing a reminder of what he was trying to stay away from wasn't helping.

Somewhere down the docks from him one of the larger cruise ships let loose with an impressively bold foghorn. The deep sound crashed over each pier like a massive, rumbling wave. A united group of celebratory voices cheered with it; the two sounds together heralding the start of some other ponies' grand adventure. Nearly everypony's head turned with friendly envy, for they saw that all of the ponies on the nosiest pier were marching forward and boarding the ready ship which had given the booming welcome. Primed energy pumped into all the crowds that had yet to board their own ships; hopefully their boat would be the next to call!

But the man didn't move his eyes to inspect the luckier travelers. Instead he gazed through the busy commotion of his own pier, looking at the talented tailor friend whom he was so indebted to. Not far in front of him, past a nervous Fluttershy buffering a bickering Applejack and Rainbow Dash, was Rarity. Wrapped tight over her mane was a violet headscarf, there to protect her precious hair from the salty sea air, and the tails of the headscarf's tied knot jutted out from under her chin. A pair of sunglasses she wore too, their thin silver rims gripping the wide, dark lenses which shielded her eyes as if the sun was the flaring flashbulb of some paparazzo.

"Ugh," she moaned as she fanned some of the heat off of her face, "I didn't realize we'd be standing here this long. This sun is positively unbearable." Then, with command, "Spike! Parasol!"

An oversized pile of luggage, all of the bags nearly bursting at the zippers, laid at her side. They were five or six bags at least; it was hard to tell exactly because of how misshapenly stuffed they were, the disorder of how they were clumped together, and the fact that they were all coated in a matching design depicting many gemstones.

At the sound of her order they together rumbled and picked up. Just barely poking out from underneath one could see the swaying tail and unsteady feet of a purple dragon.

"Right away, Rarity," Spike said, his response displaying a willing spirit but a strength under heavy load.

Back and forth the unbalanced luggage wobbled as a claw came up and felt around the messy jumble. Each further reach; each greater grasp which went deeper into the pile; only threw off his already precarious balance more and more. Soon the innocent ponies near the evershifting deathtrap began to watch with leery eyes at what could possibly be their own unfortunate pre-vacation doom if a collapse were to happen.

When the tips of his trembling claw disappeared into the darkest crevice of the baggage jungle, licking at what he desired to grab, his heels at last slid past the point of no return. There was a ruffled creaking sound as the tower of travel bag terror started to teeter backwards. Anypony who happened to be watching flinched in anticipation of the oncoming crash.

Which never came. Just as everything started to topple over they instead merely fell into the waiting arms and chest of James. Spike twisted his neck to look at what had halted the disaster.

Carefully securing the caught pile, the man told the dragon cordially, "Don't worry. I got the bags. Get the lady her parasol."

"Hey, thanks!" Slipping out from under his previous burden, Spike easily reached into the center of the luggage and withdrew a long-handled, frilly-edged, bulbous, and ridiculously sumptuous violet parasol. He wielded it like it was his born mission, whipping it open and naturally standing in the perfect spot to block the maximum amount of sunshine from reaching the mare he adored.

"Thank you, Spike," Rarity inattentively commended him.

Then, effortlessly and without an acknowledging word for what had just nearly happened, her own magic reached into the luggage pile. From the unknowable depths of her travel supplies she drew out a compact. Popping it open in front of her face, she jerked herself about in order to search for any possible damage to her precious appearance.

"It would be absolutely ruinous to my complexion if I got even the slightest amount of color before I had the chance to tan proper," she said, still paying no attention to anypony but herself. "Don't you think?"

"Of course, Rarity," the infatuated dragon replied automatically.

A few paces away, the man finished setting down the mountain of luggage. From behind the still churning veil of his partially sidetracked thoughts he almost inaudibly mumbled in memory, "Whatever pleases you..."

Elsewhere in the crowd, Twilight was not nearly in the same ready shape for the trip as some of her friends were. True, her general excitement for what lay ahead could not be denied, and anytime she had met with one of her friends in the past week they had all been eagerly talking non-stop about their island getaway. But the threats to friendship which were posed by all of the tiny fault lines the unicorn had recently uncovered had only grown and grown in her mind.

And it wasn't as if a few differences between friends was an absolutely horrendous, unimaginable, world-shattering thing; such disagreements or troubles happen from time to time between ponies who are even the best of friends. Such imperfections in a friendship were normal. With time, care, attention, respect, and effort, friends can work together to sorts those things out. The awful difficulty here, the sinister and seditious problem that was batting away at her worries, was that nopony seemed willing to take the first step and speak up about their dividing issues with the friend who was bothering them!

Twilight would have never noticed the rocky ground that Applejack and Rainbow Dash stood on if the farm pony hadn't mentioned it herself. Several times since it had first come up the unicorn had made sure to keenly observe how the two interacted, and there had been no doubt about it: Rainbow Dash's competitive edge had been coming out more frequently than ever and, as Applejack was the pegasus's rival of choice, she had been bearing the brunt of it. The wear and tear was frighteningly visible on the farm pony's patience.

Less troubling was James' one-sided conflict with Rarity. Thankfully the man had gone and asked for summer clothes; hopefully that took some pressure off of the problem. Maybe it would allow the vacation to provide them with the serene lull they needed to resolve everything.

Twilight also made a special note to herself: the man had honored his promise even when it had been personally difficult for him to have done so. In other words, she should never forget that he was a goodhearted and trustworthy individual at his core, and he meant well. There were just some things, particularly with regards to himself, that he took so seriously. Maybe in some circumstances it might have given him a certain useful strength of character but here she really felt like it was holding him back. Any pain in his friendship with Rarity was only on his side. HE had declared himself a risky and inadequate friend for the dressmaker, but there was no way that Rarity saw him like that.

None of that compared to the greatest nightmare building in Twilight's mind: the unsolvable conundrum involving man and pink pony. In that particularly painful puzzle there was no apparent way forward! Pinkie Pie would not open up directly to him because of some surprising loss of courage or confidence; odd for so unflappable a pony, but not unthinkable. James on the other hoof would not open up directly to her because... because... why? "He's not genuine," Pinkie Pie had lamented. And really, that's what he himself had admitted, wasn't it? He "didn't get" Pinkie Pie.

Weeks. Weeks he had spent in Ponyville, giving time on each of his days to one of the six pony friends. And in that special and ordinary way which friendship worked its magic, there had been the steady strengthening of fellowship; the cementing of bonds between him and each of them. Something inside of him, different parts of himself for each different pony he had befriended, had reached out to them all. A connection to each of the pony friends had been opened by a variety of unique elements that existed within him.

Twilight herself had received some of his deeply personal and unguarded side, as well as his love of grander thoughts on the universe. With Rainbow Dash the formidably frank side of companionship came out; a brazen friendship, unabashedly carrying each other through fun and games, or scraps and bruises; enjoying the simple act of company through 'chilling,' as it were in the vernacular. Applejack had his integrity, commitment, and sense of hard, honest work; she was a pony he would never find difficulty speaking to in any circumstances. Fluttershy drew out his softest compassion and admiration; there was a funny way in which he positively looked up to her, worshiping her strength through adversity. Even the man's currently troubled friendship with Rarity still intimately involved some of his true inner pony: he was so concerned with treating her generosity correctly. In a different way from Fluttershy she commanded a great respect in him. She had his sense of noble fairness, such as how one should treat a giving friend.

But what part of him did Pinkie Pie get?

Nothing?

Was that it? He had found nothing inside of himself for her? Had he no genuine pieces of his person to give to the party pony?

Were they just incompatible?

Oy. What was a third wheel friend to do? All of those unbalanced friendships involved Twilight's dear friends but none of them involved her personally. The best outcome was for them to mend the wounds in their friendships themselves. She could help them along, and as a worried friend she certainly SHOULD help them along, but what if she went too far? Attempting to solve their issues COMPLETELY for them was folly; a recipe for disaster. More importantly, some serious involvement of themselves was unequivocally needed or otherwise they wouldn't learn the lessons they required to form better friendships with each other.

Maybe she could talk to Rainbow Dash? Tell her boisterous friend about how Applejack feels? No... that would be a move against Applejack's trust. The farm pony had already honestly promised Twilight that she would speak up for herself if Rainbow Dash's intruding incitements became too much to bear, and she had insisted that she would be fine to endure the situation until the pegasus's competitiveness returned to more normal levels.

Would it be too much to divulge James' feelings to Rarity and ask that she approach him? Again, a bad course of action; even if that route sounded like a smart solution it didn't feel wise. Twilight had been honored and humbled by how the man had very frankly shared his feelings on the matter with her; she knew him well enough to appreciate that kind of trust. It would be wrong to take what he had shared with her and further share it to others without his request or permission. And he still had intentions to try and lift things to a better place with the dressmaker, even if Twilight disagreed with his planned manner of doing so.

Once more, the real fear took hold regarding the chasm between James and Pinkie Pie. Both of them the unicorn had already talked to on a deep and personal level, both of them had failed to carry forward in opening up towards each other, and now, without a bridge between them to facilitate some sort heartfelt interaction, both of them seemed miserably content to stay drifting separately.

Could Twilight be that bridge which they needed, at least until they could connect on their own? How? Pinkie was the one who always so intuitively knew how to find the friendship inside of others, no matter the hurdles. But the pink pony hadn't yet succeeded with the man.

Twilight sighed. Hopefully the peace provided by this lucky vacation would be enough to help Rainbow Dash, Applejack, and Rarity find their own ways to rebalanced friendships. The purple unicorn needed to fully dedicate herself to the careful lighting of the way for the divided man and pink pony. With any luck the island trip would assist there, too.

Since her last effort had been speaking to James about the matter, it felt like it was time to try Pinkie Pie again. A quick visual search, even with all the noise of the colorful crowd, located her pink friend just shy of the gangway which connected the pier and the cruise ship.

Pinkie Pie was nestled amidst the most eager of the clustered travelers; the group who breathlessly held themselves up against the gangway, waiting to board. Hardly anything had the power to hide the conspicuous pony though. The overstuffed twin saddlebags she was hauling squirmed and squished with each bounce as she repeatedly leapt in place. On her back was an extra bag which looked twice as cumbersome as the others, and it barely contained whatever small circus it held within. That extra haul rattled and roared as it popped off her back at the peak of each jump only to crash onto her again after she landed. If the rolling noise of her shifting luggage wasn't enough, her screechy voice rose above all others present, weaving a loud and winding speech with her galloping tongue. She was EXCITED to begin the trip.

Her thirst to board was so unstoppable that it was doubtful that the shippony who guarded the gangway, himself waiting for the signal to allow passage, would have ever been able to hold her back. If Pinkie Pie decided to rocket up the ramp without warning then he probably would have been turned into quick roadkill.

After taking one large, centering breath, Twilight gently filtered her way through the crowd towards her friend, leveraging a constant stream of courteous requests. "Excuse me. Pardon me. Excuse me, please." She passed through without a single attention-drawing misstep and eventually came up immediately behind the springy pink pony.

"Pinkie," she hailed her friend, light in tone but not without undisguised concerned.

With perfect ease Pinkie Pie rotated around to face the unicorn, the action not throwing off her repetitive bouncing for even a moment. "Ahhh! Hi, smart friend!" she giddily returned in greeting.

Her joy flowed out so freely. Her eyes stretched wide, her smile went even wider, and she ran countless glances between friend in front and the boat behind. All the while she invited elatedly, "Look! Look at this boat, Twilight! It's such a friendly friend boat, and it's gonna be so full of friends and everything!"

"Pinkie," the undeterred Twilight pressed on, "how do you feel this morning?"

"I'm super great!" the other pony shouted back, beaming. "I feel like the friendliest friend who ever friended a friend! This trip is going to be friendtastic!"

"Oh, uh... that's... that's good, Pinkie. I'm glad you feel so... optimistic." The unicorn cleared her throat, mostly in an attempt to give herself a small bit of room before continuing. "So... I'd like to talk to you for a little bit, uh, if I could, about... James."

There was an awkward clop as the pink pony's stationary leap came down on one of her hoofs at a crooked angle. The bag on her back gave a rowdy, shuffling noise as it moved slightly off center, and she herself nearly spilled over because of the shifting weight. However, the single misstep was the only hint of trouble. The correction of her jostled load and the resumption of her incessant bouncing was all but instantaneous.

"Uh-huh," she merely acknowledged, still chipper.

"Right... so...," Twilight sluggishly tried to get herself going, hampered by the subtly disconcerting off-ness of the moment. "Last time we spoke about this I advised you to talk clearly and directly to James about the, uh... troubles you feel like you're having with him. And, more recently... he tells me that he approached you about it. Is that right?"

There was a faint yet thick delay. "Uh-huh," she duplicated her prior response, merry tone and all.

"Well? That was your opportunity. How did it go?" the unsettled unicorn inquired.

This time the pause was intrusive and heavy. The passing seconds were filled with only the pink pony's unreadable stare and the continued thumps of her jumps.

"Uh-huh," she finally chirped again, clean and clear as her previous replies.

"Pinkie!" Twilight's voice hardened, trying not to let the sour frustration spoil her intentions.

The resistant pink pony pulled again towards some completely different place, "The boat, Twilight! Look at the friendly boat!"

"Yes, it's a very nice boat!" spat the unicorn harshly, "But forget about it for just a minute, please!" These irksome oddities of her friend were no incidental side effects of a short attention span. They were diversions. She tried to hold the conversation on course with her tone of seriousness, delicately working not to cross the line into outright interrogation. "James says that when he spoke to you, you didn't mention much of anything to him. Certainly it sounds like you didn't tell him any of the things that you told me. Is that true?"

There were more pops and springs from Pinkie Pie as the pony continued moving like a piston. But, when she finally did answer, the change in her sound was so imperceptibly tiny as to be deafeningly enormous. She gave an invisibly hollow, "Uh-huh..."

"Why, Pinkie?" Twilight wheezed out in vexation. The forlorn shake she gave her head dusted her mane sadly across the side of her neck. "It's not like he's... like he's... necessarily trying to... trying to hurt y-" Okay, sentence aborted; what an ugly set of words she had chosen. That was going to have framed everything in a horrendously poor fashion.

She restarted, "He doesn't... understand... what it is that's bothering you." That sounded better, or at least more polite. In counsel she graciously offered, "You can't hold back like that. You need to speak with him honestly."

Stretching open her broad smile the pink pony only giggled, "Hehe, silly Twilight! Honesty is for friends!"

"Wha-?" the unicorn took a swift, stunned step back at the startling statement. "No, Pinkie!" she laid heavy her disagreement, protesting sternly, "Even ponies who aren't friends should still be honest with each other!"

Pinkie Pie landed suddenly, devoid of mirth. This time the spring didn't wind up for another go. The energy fled her as she straighted her tired legs, like air escaping from a deflating balloon. There were no more laughing sparkles in her washed out, blue eyes, and she took on no disguise or distraction when she said, stony and straight, "See? Even you think he's not my friend."

Though Twilight's mouth fell open, there was no gasp. The last of the lingering air that hadn't idly drifted out of her gaping jaws managed to eek out in spurts, "I-! I-! I didn't-! That's not-!"

Anything she could have spoken would have been cut off anyway, for at that exact moment the blare of their boat's foghorn bellowed over every noise on the docks, blasting from pier to pier. The language of the deep roar was understood by all: boarding time!

The pink pony began pounding the dock below her hooves once more, as if nothing had ever happened. Her shriek was like a callback to the foghorn, only shrill and sharp, "AHHHHHHHHHHH! ALL ABOARD THE FRIENDSHIP PARTY!"

The poor shippony at the base of the gangway and the unlucky few vacationing ponies who stood in her way barely knew what hit them when the pink cannonball tore her way past them.

The boat that had been chosen for them hadn't been the largest of the cruise liners present at the Baltimare docks. Some of those boats had been titanic, seaworthy palaces with stories upon stories upon stories of rooms above deck; massive leviathans with more streaming banners than an Equestria Games parade. But those other ships had been floating luxury hotels meant to get out to sea so that their guests could merely bob atop the water like royalty for a week or two before coming back.

The Seabiscuit had a different purpose. Its route was far wider. Sailing to the ports of numerous islands, it made short stops at each so that its passengers might have a small taste of the extensive buffet that was the Carriaggean. The larger ships were tours of the sea but this smaller one was a tour of island culture.

And additionally the ship sometimes bore passengers who weren't really part of the whole tour at all. Now and again it handled passengers who were to be left at a chosen port entirely, if that was their paradise destination.

Not that having a different purpose and being smaller than its monstrously huge cousins kept The Seabiscuit from being a beast of a vessel in its own right. It supported at most probably a good one thousand passengers, and the voyage it sailed on now had the boat near capacity.

After the welcoming foghorn had sounded, a hearty chunk of time had been needed to facilitate the boarding of the eager and crushing crowd, and happy chaos had reigned the whole way. The professional patience of the ship's crew had held strong throughout the ordeal, guiding giddy tourists to their cozy cabins for as long as it took.

Among the tiniest cabins that had been given away were the ones for Twilight and her friends. They hadn't groused about how poorly their accommodations compared to their hotel stay though; after all, their final port would be reached before the first sunset.

But Twilight had hardly even caught sight of any of her companions during all the frenetic confusion; their group had been broken apart in the scramble to board. By the time the unicorn had safely deposited her saddlebags and had returned to ship's deck, the foghorn had already screamed its farewell call to Baltimare and the muscly engines had kicked to life. That was how she found herself on deck amidst the cheering crowd of passengers as the still-snowy city began to shrink away.

Deciding to take a few moments for herself, if only to restore her own equilibrium after all of the anarchy that boarding had entailed, Twilight hooked her forelegs over the starboard railing and looked out at the rolling waters. The warm wind breezed by her, a summer air which constantly flowed along the sea lane due to the diligent work of the weather crew. It was refreshing to feel the wind massaging her face and coursing through her mane; to faintly taste the subtleties of salt that it carried into her mouth, and the distinctly renewing smell it brought to her nose; to feel the living mist splash about in her lungs.

Mmm... That was better. But still... with friendship work waiting to be done, this had yet to feel like a true vacation.

Stepping back from the edge, she began to trot down the busy deck of the ship. Her eyes jumped upon every single one of the many ponies she passed, seeking signs of one particular individual. Where there wasn't any hint of pink she moved on swiftly. And when there was a matching mane, coat, or tail she only had to blink once before she could find some other incongruity which told her 'no' and that she should move on.

Quite fortunately it was only a few minutes before she spotted the unmistakable candy curls of her friend-in-need, and verified the pony's identity with a quick cutie mark check. Pinkie Pie, also already finished with storing her hefty saddlebags, was simply standing about on the deck, grinning while she scanned the vast crowd of unfamiliar ponies who were lounging, chatting, loitering, gazing out at sea, taking the first of their vacation photos, or doing any of a thousand different things to have a relaxing, good time.

More than a little distraught with how their earlier conversation had ended, Twilight dashed up to her friend's side and lowered her head, humbly apologizing, "Hey Pinkie. Listen, I'm really sorry about before."

"Hehehe, everything's great, Twilight!" the pink pony half-attentively replied. She stood like a perched bird jerking her head about while she took in the countless ponies before her. There was something about the way she appeared though; some veil masked over her face.

She suddenly turned towards the unicorn, her mysterious eyes nearly bulging out of her head, and she swept an open hoof out at the crowd while saying, "Look! LOOOOK! Look at all the FRRIIIEEENNNDDS!"

"I, uh... I certainly don't want to dampen your enthusiasm for mingling, or meeting new ponies, Pinkie," Twilight laughed nervously. But quickly she felt the full weight of friendship sink into her; now was not the time for shaky confidence. She picked herself up, breathed, and asserted compassionately, "But... I know that somewhere inside you're really worried about this whole thing with James. Shouldn't we really try and take care of that first?" In a soft voice which emitted such unashamed hope she earnestly invited her ailing friend, "Come on, let's go find him and talk to him together. I promise to be with you the whole time and to help you speak with him. It'll be okay. We can figure this all out."

Pink forelegs snared Twilight's neck, wrapping themselves about the surprised unicorn. Dragging herself up against Twilight, Pinkie Pie delivered a bone-breaking hug. Cheek to cheek with each other, she declared brightly, "Awww! You're such a friend, Twilight!"

What a relief! Progress at last! A calm smile came over the unicorn. Carefully, courteously, and most especially gently, she wedged a hoof between herself and her friend so that they might separate enough to depart together.

"But who has time for THAT?" the pink pony unexpectedly snickered.

She let go of her startled friend, practically throwing herself off. Twilight was left stranded, completely in shock.

In an instant, something intangible changed about Pinkie Pie. Her behaviors still had all of her trademarks; all the pep and zing and noise still behind them. But the strength within them had changed. Something restless and frail was inside.

Her head tilted up, she redirected a hoof into herself, and she announced through bubbling chuckles, "This friendly pony certainly doesn't! Not when there's so many unfriended friends about!" She turned around and reared back enough to spit into both of her forehoofs before she rubbed them together vigorously. "Time for a friend to get to work!"

Before Twilight could raise even the slightest peep of an objection, the pink pony morphed into a pink blur and took off. She zipped over to a nearby group of ponies; a small family of four. The mother sat back against the ship's railing, legs around her lovable filly and colt, and they all flashed the grandest smiles together as the father stood a few paces away while fiddling with a camera.

The attack came like pink lightning out of the blue.

"Hi, I'm Pinkie Pie! I'll take your picture!" the overly zealous pony shouted. Her whirlwind sucked up the stallion, his camera shot free of his hooves and flipped up into the air, and she threw him into his wife and foals. Catching the camera herself, the pink pony hardly even aimed the crooked lens at them before pounding away on the device. The shutter whirred so rapidly that its gagging mechanisms could be heard begging for mercy, and the multiple flashes were like machine gun fire.

Carelessly discarding the camera, Pinkie Pie bolted up to the unpleasantly surprised family while they were still trying to untangle themselves. Haphazardly she assisted them, and all the while she threw herself into their startled faces as her unchained mouth spilled out a fast-paced flood of sprightly words like a broken dam. "It's a pleasure to meet you, friends; how are you today? Friendly weather we're having isn't it? What's your names? Where are you going? Where are you coming from? Here, have some balloons; I blew them up myself just for you cause I'm your friend! I'm from friendly old Ponyville! Oh, maybe we can have a party later! We're going to best friends, I just know it!"

"Woah, woah, woah, woah. Miss. Miss, please!" The father finally recovered enough to defend his family. He snapped his tail to shake free the balloons she had tied to it and then he lightly but firmly pushed the crazy-eyed pony away to leg's length. A patient understanding was within him; he did not swell up with rage despite everything she had done. His weighted words were instead delicately chosen as he said, "Miss... I guess I... APPRECIATE what you are trying to do. But... we're just trying to enjoy our family vacation; just a nice, slow trip for us as a family, together. It doesn't really... HELP us at all when you suddenly come charging over here acting all... all..."

He was a real square-jawed stallion, and it lent him the appearance of stern wisdom. It was easy to imagine him being tough and resolute in the face of his foals having fallen to some childish misstep that required reprimand. However the knowledge was plain upon his face; the knowing that rebukes and guidance were very different things, and there wasn't any doubt that he would temper harsh lessons with loving support. Even with his little ones as young as they were he had already slid so naturally into the role of a wonderful father, intuitively knowing how to dispense the right amount of discipline in measure with love in order to find the best path forward.

So he knew that he needed the perfectly selected word to describe Pinkie Pie's unwanted behavior. Something that did not have the cold aggression of an attack; something that didn't describe an unknowing malice on her part; something which was as soft as it was negative; something which gingerly clued her in to the fact that she had crossed a line, but only in a small way. He thought he had that perfect, gentle, but still not inaccurate word.

"... unfriendly."

Some of history's greatest villains never knew the true, unfathomable depths of their horrific atrocities simply because they had never intended those particular crimes.

Ice slithered its way up and over Pinkie Pie, from hoof, to tail, to mane. In her frozen form she produced a jagged, broken smile. Up and down her stiff neck went, nodding unevenly at the stallion father, barely able to summon the strength to overcome the cold which consumed her. It was hard to spot the tears peeking up out of the corners of her eyes, especially since they came out already as frozen as crystals. In staggered, lifeless breaths she croaked, "I'm sorry. I'll make sure that it NEVER. HAPPENS. AGAIN."

With unbalanced steps her blocky body crept backwards before finally swiveling around. Each clop away was its own battle in the war to escape, her shivering hooves coming down and digging into the deck hard as she desperately clawed her way through her retreat.

Twilight watched in agony. "Pinkie...," she appealed to her friend as the beaten pony passed by.

Without warning the pink pony broke into a gallop, racing away down the long deck, barely dodging crashes with anypony who was in her way. She was still shivering with uncontainable sorrow even as she ran, and she nearly tripped several times as she violently shuddered while she went.

"Pinkie!" The unicorn charged after her friend. However she was flabbergasted to see that she couldn't keep up no matter how hard she pushed herself.

Pinkie Pie pulled further ahead even with her distress slowing her down. Despite a dozen near-accidents in rapid succession holding her back from full speed she frantically built distance. Every metaphorical weight she bore wasn't enough to anchor her down for Twilight to catch.

Before for it became too late, the unicorn lit her horn and flashed away in a burst of light and smoke, reappearing a dozen paces in front of her fleeing friend.

"Pinkie! Stop!"

With legs flailing wildly like a puppy on a waxed floor, Pinkie Pie made a sliding left turn and blitzed through a propped-open pair of double doors into the ship's interior.

Twilight called after her friend another time as she gave chase once more, only to skid to a halt once she crossed inside herself.

It was a common area, built like an atrium four levels tall and covered with a glass roof. The noise and commotion inside was far greater than that out on deck, with a larger crowd of ponies packed into a tighter space. They were much more engaged too, taking in the many shops and amenities offered by the ship and its crew. Generously enough, there were three stations set up which were giving out complementary gifts. Quite unfortunately those gifts just happened to be balloons, cotton candy, and bright pink raincoats.

The unicorn's overwhelmed vision did its best but EVERYWHERE there were now ponies dressed in pink, their bundles of colorful balloons bobbing about and their large, fluffy mounds of pink cotton candy swishing and swaying like puffs of curly hair. It was like searching through a mirror funhouse. She was growing dizzy just looking at it, her addled eyes perceiving pretend Pinkie Pies everywhere.

"Pinkie! PINKIE!"

But predictably no distinctive response rose from the ignorant crowd's clamor.

"If it's going to be a few more hours then I should like to be able to enjoy this view a bit more freely," Rarity moaned. Her magic pulled her silver-rimmed sunglasses off of her eyes and folded them up, leaving them floating next to her. "Even if I do look rather comely in this (in my humble opinion anyway,) I feel like some sort of vagabond, hiding under wraps and behind such darkened glasses. Not very ladylike at all, that's for sure."

She stood besides faithful Spike. Together they rested close to the bow of the ship, taking in the blue ocean vista.

"If you take that off," the dragon gestured at her headscarf, "won't all the salt in the air dry out your mane?"

"It wouldn't be nearly as bad as going for a swim," the pompous pony replied. Her lips bent with thought. "Still... better safe than sorry, perhaps. I know I included the moisture-sealing shampoo with the rest of my essentials..."

"Yeah. It was in the blue tote bag, I think," Spike reminded her, mostly certain. "You want me to go get it?"

"CERULEAN tote bag, Spike," she corrected him, "and 'get it?' Why, you'd bring it here only for us to head back in so I could wash my mane with it anyhow! No, no, it's quite alright. I can handle the task myself." Lighting up with magic, the knot under her chin unfurled and she pulled the headscarf off, her perfect mane emerging from underneath with a lively bounce. Quickly the headscarf folded it up in a precise fashion and then she stored it in the same magic bubble as her sunglasses. Warmly, with a full dose of praise, she sweetly spoke, "Besides, you've earned yourself a break, my dedicated little dragon."

He blushed while scratching the back of his neck. "Eheh... thanks, Rarity."

"Oh, it's my delight, dear," she softly proclaimed. "Enjoy some time for yourself. I'll return in none too long, I think. Ta-ta, Spikey."

Still glowing, and a little overcome with shy embarrassment, he replied, "Okay. Later, Rarity."

Moving along with a refined trot, she departed.

Spike watched her go until she could be seen no more and then he turned back towards the ocean. He wasn't tall enough to peer over the highest rung of the rail so he simply leaned upon one of the lower ones, releasing pleased sighs which fluttered down to join the waves stirred by the ship. There was probably a good number of things on the boat worth seeing but he didn't particularly care to check. At that tranquil moment he felt he didn't desire anything more than what he already had.

For many minutes he stayed in that peaceful state. None of the distracting noises or attention-scattering things emanating from the pony traffic behind him broke through his serene shield. He didn't even flinch in notice when his seagazing was joined by another individual who stepped up beside him and leaned down upon the rail.

It was a minute more before the dragon's infatuated high diminished enough to allow him to realize that he wasn't alone. With a half-turned head, he peeked. "Oh. Hey, James."

"Hey, man. How's it going so far?" James wasn't tired, but it would be hard to fault anypony who presumed that he was. The crooked way his back was bent left only his forearms to hold up all of his lazy weight, and the railing his arms rested on dug into them enough to leave a mark. His voice, too, had an energyless sound; that far off quality that seemed to lengthen the short distance the man and dragon stood apart.

"Great!" Spike was fast to respond, lighting up. His relative youth shined through unobstructed, bright and pure. "We haven't even gotten to the island yet and I'm already glad for this trip! I'm really looking forward to whatever happens next!"

James thought on the gleefully given reply for a few moments before he let it raise an easy smile upon him. "Yeah, I'd say that I am too," he said truthfully. Yet his answer matched only lightly with the dragon's anticipation.

Spike's delight descended into something more modest. "You don't... sound like it," he pointedly observed.

The man rolled his head with a sluggish nod. Almost cagey, he admitted, "I've been thinking a lot about something else this morning. That's why."

The statement felt like an invitation. Or that's how it seemed to the dragon anyway. After a pause, Spike chose to accept. "What's on your mind?"

Even if James hadn't been intentionally setting up the moment, he appeared prepared for it anyway. Immediately he revealed, "I want to make it up to Rarity. I mean... everything she's done for me... I want to make it up to her, and to stop being so indebted to her generosity."

"Oh. Okay...?" the dragon returned inauspiciously. It was an unexpected suggestion. The words sounded good, yet there was something in the way the man presented it that didn't feel good. The inward focus which James gave it didn't seem right.

"She's earned it," the man continued, "and I haven't done enough to keep up with my half of the friendship." He uncomfortably shifted his feet, pressing more of his weight onto the railing, and he sighed, "That's why I've been so relentless in helping with her dresses."

"Oh..." The single syllable sounded soaked in surprise at first, but the tiny gasp somehow changed as it finished coming out. It especially was colored by the drop in Spike's face. Something distraught was there; some distant cousin to disappointment, not as dismal as true despair but at least as discouraged.

James picked up on it quickly, pulling his body up in slight distress.

When the dragon saw that, he slipped into a glum nervousness and explained, "I just thought... that you were doing it, you know..." A shrugging arm came up. "... to be nice."

The man didn't wince. Not that the comment hadn't done damage somewhere; it was just somewhere unseen. He slowly brought himself back down onto the railing, hauling his heavy eyes towards the water.

Spike shrunk down, looking sorrowful and guilt-ridden. "I, uh-"

A dismissing hand came up, reinforced with a friendly shake of a head, brushing away any doubts or fears. No anger or blame was cast.

A short silence passed before James started up again. He mused aloud, burdened with speculative thought, "You yourself stick around her a lot... and offer anything you can give to her, and help her all the time... and that's because you're-" He already knew the friendship he envisioned with Rarity was much different from what the dragon felt for her so he intentionally reined in his words to keep things more neutral. "... Because you're really fond of her, right?"

"I guess, yeah," Spike replied, still working to absorb himself in the deeper meaning of whatever the man was trying to say. "That feels a little different, though. I mean... I definitely don't owe her anything. And I can't ask anything of her." The warmth that rushed to his face was completely unconcealable. It was with happy reserve that he muttered, "I just, uh... really like her, and I want to give her everything that I can."

"Right... Right. I'm not saying that what I feel is the same thing," the man quietly clarified, "just that I think maybe you can kind of get where I'm coming from?"

Again the dragon seemed uncertain. But his efforts towards attention and understanding were plainly obvious.

James sighed, "Maybe that's why I'm coming to you now? I mean... do you have any ideas? Just something I can do?" An unintended emptiness appeared in him. "Something so that she'll know how much I appreciate what she's done for me?"

"I don't know," the little dragon mused weakly, unsure if he was helping. He opened a palm to the man, "It sounds like you really only have to tell her. Just... thank her for everything."

It was a stark, unsatisfying answer.

The man pushed up, staring doubtfully down at his small friend, and he inquired honestly, "If you were me, would just thanking her REALLY be enough for you?"

"Well..." The dragon rocked the hypothetical back and forth in his head, giving sympathetic swings with his tail. At last he responded, "I guess... I'm thanking her all the time anyway because anything she does for me is really more than I could ever ask for. I'm glad just to get the chance to do anything for her at all, really."

"But a simple 'thank you' won't make it all up to her," James gloomily protested.

Spike raised an observant eyebrow. Innocently suspicious, he questioned, "I thought you said you just wanted her to know how much you appreciate-"

The man heaved out a strained, harsh moan, audible enough to surprise and cut off the dragon. Caught in a trap again! And as always, James hadn't intended to sound deceptive with dueling words; it was just like sometimes his mind and heart weren't working together properly, saying one thing but feeling another. He struggled to express himself correctly and openly, forcing out, "I just... I'm not going to feel right if I don't make it up to her somehow."

"Oh...," Spike whispered, greater understanding seeping into him.

But now the words we're echoing about the chambers in James' head: "I'M not going to feel right." Immediately he was reminded of how Twilight had interpreted this whole affair; her opinion as to where the problem was so determinately fixed. If it were her standing against the railing next to him at this moment then he might have been more apt to fight against the notion. With his smaller friend, though...

Dipping his head down with a half-turn towards the dragon, he asked in sullen realization, "You think I'm selfish, don't you?"

"I don't know about that," the dragon responded without hesitation. However he carefully continued on, admitting the reality, "but... I know that Rarity doesn't feel like you owe her anything. Heck, she's glad for all the help you've already given her."

James shivered. "It's not like... not like I'm trying to ignore how Rarity feels about it. I'm really not," he insisted, squeezing his clasped hands together. "It's just that... I'm not a very good friend for her, Spike. I certainly don't feel like it." For a brief moment the selfishness declared itself openly, but it felt so wholesomely justified. "Don't MY feelings matter too?"

"Of course they do!" Spike immediately answered, though it came more from an inability to answer any other way and they both knew it; he would absolutely never tell a friend that their feelings were inconsequential. Unevenly he tried to produce better, clearer, and more honest words, "But I think... maybe, uh... you just... need to find a different way to sort everything out."

The man exuded exhaustion, slinking again deeply onto the railing. "A different way... like?" he openly asked, bearing some futility in his voice.

"I don't know," the little dragon repeated another time, almost muttering in uncomfortable inadequacy. Yet he steeled himself with some inner faith and then optimistically suggested, "Twilight's the one who really studies friendship in depth. Maybe she would know more about-"

The drained way James glared at Spike was itself enough to get the dragon to halt his words.

The little one restarted, "Oh, you already talked to Twilight, huh? I guess... I should've figured..."

Again giving a powerful sigh, the man tried to let any disdain evaporate away. He truly appreciated Twilight's candor; it just hadn't been what he had wanted to hear. Same now with the dragon, though it wasn't right to have brought anything against Spike for having made such an honest suggestion. In consolation James tried to praise him, "More or less, you're just saying a lot of the same things that she did, so... don't discount yourself on the friendship front, okay? You've always been a straight friend to me, from the very beginning. Thanks."

The simple words stopped any self-reproach that had been building up inside the dragon. In fact, he seemed to make a swift turnaround. He stood more firmly, picking up his chest, and his tail flexed into a solid, assured curl. Appreciatively he smiled up at the man.

After letting the silence sink back in, James picked up the conversation fresh, imploring, "I don't know exactly why I feel this way about it, Spike, but it's important to me. Isn't there something really direct that I could physically do for her? Like, she won't take any payment but maybe I could just buy her something nice that she wants? Some jewelry or something?"

"Rarity likes flashy things like that," the dragon acknowledged slowly, bobbing his head. Filled with better confidence because of the man's kind statements, he more fearlessly dove into solution divining. He began rubbing the side of his claw against his chin, and his words steadily grew more solid as he went on, "But really the most important things to her are her friends. If I know Rarity then what she likes best of all is seeing her friends happy, and that's why see gives to her friends so much."

In an instant everything seemed to fall into place for him, clicking in his head and drawing out a wise, friendly smile. He gazed up at the man and encouragingly concluded, "So... if it makes you HAPPY to find some way to make things up to her... then I don't think there's anything wrong with that. But... you don't really have to buy her anything, or even DO anything for her. Except... you know... be happy."

Unhappy, James readjusted his dead weight over the railing. The whole ship could've tipped with it. They say the simple solutions are the best ones, but what would even a million 'thank you's do for Rarity after everything she had done for him? He needed to really DO SOMETHING. They also say, after all, that actions speak louder than words.

"Hey," the dragon perked up enthusiastically, taken by some idea of his own. "This is a vacation and everything. Why don't you just relax and try to enjoy it?" He waved his claws about broadly, as if they could somehow help his explanation, "Not only will Rarity be happy to see you having a good time, but maybe the opportunity to do something extra nice for her will come up anyway! I think you're more likely to find the right moment to do something if you're not so stuck in all that... you know, brooding."

It had been intended as earnestly given, hopeful advice, but the sour side of the man worked to hear it as something else: that if he spent less time selfishly looking inside then maybe he might see what was going on with the ponies around him.

Though... if anything... Spike was faithful to a fault.

"Alright... I guess... I guess I'll try," James uneasily accepted. "Thanks, man."

"Hey, no problem!" Spike returned cordially. It was hard to believe a dragon's fanged smile could appear so friendly and supportive. "Just take it easy, keep your eyes open, and I'm SURE everything'll work out!"

The man gave an exceedingly small, uncommitted nod.

They stood at the railing together for several moments longer before James decided that, with all that he had to think about, it would be unwise to still be around when Rarity returned.

"I'm going to go," he said to his small friend, pointing his thumb behind himself. "Take a walk around the ship or something. Thanks again."

"Alright. See you later!" the dependable dragon replied, having no dark doubts in his head whatsoever.

With one last nod the man walked off, making sure to take a path down the side of the deck which couldn't have crossed with Rarity's return route. Once he had enough distance to be out of Spike's sight he eased up his stride, ambling along with just enough attention to avoid stumbling into any of the other passengers who still littered the deck rather thickly.

He didn't feel like he had found an answer which he liked. Not with Twilight; not with Spike. But... that was two friends now who had pushed him in the same direction. Two distinct, different, trustworthy friends. Could they have been right? Was there some means by which he could just pass above his inadequacies towards Rarity and somehow let them go? It didn't FEEL possible. If she, his friend, supported him and he could never support her in turn... how worthless was he then?

How worthless was he to Rarity that all her wonderful generosity acted like a poison to him?

He could probably have walked the length of the ship several times just thinking about it all. But he didn't get very far before his ears dragged him up and out of his thoughts. He perked up at the sound of his name falling from the sky.

"Oh, hey, Rainbow Dash," he greeted the landing pegasus.

Rainbow Dash brought the rest of her hooves swiftly down onto the polished deck and folded up her wings. Crossing from flight to standing was such second nature to her, which her fast, flawless landing had truly demonstrated given how distracted she looked.

"Have you seen Applejack?" she immediately asked. "I lost her when we boarded."

Fresh pleasure injected itself into the man. "Lost her?" he sarcastically snipped. "Oh no. How's she ever going to survive the boat without you?"

The rainbow-maned pony didn't laugh, though her face certainly gave an unbothered giggle. "Have you seen her?" she requested again, still grinning.

"No. Why are you looking?"

"Bored, I guess." She blew a pipe of dull air out of the side of her mouth. Then, with narrowed eyes and a hoisted hoof, she shared, "I don't know what these lame brains on the island are planning for us (though I'm feeling a little better about everything after seeing the hotel last night,) but I figure I should get some fun in now, just in case. Was hoping I could get AJ in on it."

James nodded. "Personally I am kind of looking forward to it... though... I don't really know why I am." He let out a wish, "Just hopeful, I suppose."

"Well, good luck with that," Rainbow Dash commented whiling giving him an amused squint.

He laughed, "I get that you're a little leery, but you DON'T hope we have a good time?"

"Myehhh...," the pegasus declined to give a direct answer.

"Anyway," she picked up after a short breath, "you don't have any idea where she might be?"

"Applejack? No, sorry." His head tilted, shooting out a twisted, ponderous stare. "Maybe it's just me but it feels like you've been really riding on her hard lately," he mentioned loosely.

"What?" the pony scoffed, her wings giving an offended jitter on her back. "No way. That's just how we get along. We play rough with each other all the time, and I wouldn't have it any other way!"

"Sure, I guess," James accepted. "I mean, I don't hang around enough with you both together to know."

"Trust me," Rainbow Dash assured him smugly, "we go back and forth all the time. There's nothing I could throw at Applejack that she couldn't handle." She polished her hoof on her chest, "Even if I am the more awesome pony."

"Alright, alright," he eased up, smirking.

The cocky pegasus gave a confident lift of her chin, haughtily holding herself up.

But something wary trickled out from behind her pretentious front, slowly drawing her face back down. "Now that you mentioned it though...," she gently let out, "... Applejack has been way more grouchy lately than usual..." Genuine concern mixed in evenly with her stout standing. "I wonder what's up? Hope everything's alright."

"I haven't really noticed much that I'd consider out of the ordinary. Not on my days at the farm," the man said.

At other times James might have been content to leave things at relaying the simple truth. However, the worry which peeked out from behind Rainbow Dash started to stir the lingering encouragement Spike had left inside of him. Adopting a naturally friendly tone, he reached out to her with relaxed and hopeful words, mostly borrowed from his scaly friend, "But hey... vacation. Maybe a few days on a tropical island will be exactly what she needs."

Standing between her own generally stalwart confidence and the good wishes which the man offered, the pegasus instantly felt secure and assuaged. And the little friendship which he had given to her suddenly got her to respond in kind. The singular track which her mind had been stuck on broadened.

Without warning, she looked up at him, grinned, and asked, "So, what about you? You up for anything?"

He weighed it in his mind. These personal troubles of his still had their gnarled hooks in him; they wanted to drag him away to brood upon Rarity or all the fears that still bothered Twilight; tempted him to be somewhere alone to stew. But Spike's faith was still a shield over him, an extra support which backed Poppy's irrepressible love, and they together held back any doubts. The uneasy and dark thoughts surrounded him as they sometimes did, but for once he felt like the scales were loaded favorably on the side of liberation and simple pleasure anyway. For once the burdens didn't bend everything towards a closed mind and safe cowardice.

"Yeah, why not?" he easily accepted. Life entered his legs. He took to taking strong steps down the deck, with Rainbow Dash matching his stride. "What'd you have in mind?"

Clearly she recycled her original plan for Applejack without adjustment for the changed participant. There was no pause at all before she offered, "There's this big pool they have towards the back of the ship! Let's do some laps; see how good of a swimmer you are. You stroke any better than you wall ball, Tailless Wonder?"

"Oh, a swimming contest now?" the man chuckled. A small, sorrowful gloom quickly overtook his answer, and he brought his chin down with a sigh before he humbly denied her, "Sorry, though. I don't have a bathing suit with me. I mean, I know we're going to an island with beaches and everything but I wasn't about to ask Rarity for swimwear on top of everything else; figured I'd just lay on the beach if it came to it."

The pegasus seemed to take the disappointment rather lightheartedly, peering at him sideways, obviously seeing his lengthy statements as only sore excuses and not as straight explanations. "What, you need clothes to SWIM too?" she poked at him, though the side of her which believed him was genuinely struck with wonder.

Eased by her ease, he waved a playful finger about and laughed, "I guarantee you that if I try to get in that pool naked they will throw me out for indecency. Fast."

His comment didn't really connect with her. She scrunched her noise and gave him a peculiar look.

"You REALLY can't think of a reason why?" he asked her curiously.

The mechanisms of her mind gave his question a short, fair chance before, with a small downwards turn of her mouth, she shook her head in a simple 'no.'

James quietly snorted, not at all surprised. It figured, really. Nothing of THAT nature, even remotely, ever seemed to come up in anypony's mind.

The absurdity of their relative ignorance (at least to him) managed to channel a good humor into the man. Quite suddenly his thoughts turned around and he decided, "You know what? Let's do it." He grabbed at the top of the free-flowing summer shorts Rarity had provided him, pulling it out and letting it snap back to his waist. "I'll just wear these. Maybe these dandy things will slow me down in the water, but whatever. They'll dry in the sun."

"Haha, alright!" Rainbow Dash cheered. With a bounce she spread and flapped her wings so as to float off of the deck. Pointing her hoof, she boldly sneered, "You're going to get wrecked!"

"Hey, Skittle-head! If we're going to be racing I want a fair duel. I don't want to see you motorboating around with those wings of yours!" he warned in jest.

"Oh, please!" the pegasus brushed him off, "Wing-assisted strokes are perfectly legal in the pegasi division of the-"

"Pegasi division? And what do I look like to you?"

"The pony whose name nopony remembers cause they got the silver medal!" she triumphantly taunted. Blasting up higher, she soared away towards the rear of the ship while calling back, "Come on! I'll meet you over there!"

He followed the rainbow trail, his pace accelerating. He nimbly stepped around any ponies in front of him and politely moved to the side for any ponies walking against him. He held on to the positive thoughts, pinning them up against his worries. Carefully and quietly he reminded himself, "Vacation. Vacation. Just relax. Relax. Be happy. Be happy."

Chapter 14: Dream

From the perspective of a flat map the island of Isla Equufera only looked like a speck compared to its closest neighbors. The other islands, their larger overhead shapes each peculiar and blotchy, were scattered here and there across the ocean grid like spilled globs of paint. They were mountains which erupted out of the tumbling waves, but Isla Equufera was a hill; a mound; a lone green pebble amongst boulders in a dusty blue quarry; a dot too small to have any shape at all.

But it obviously wasn't quite so small once The Seabiscuit actually closed in; more than just a solitary palm tree growing upon a little bubble of sand. Certainly it was no Pinto Rico, where the impressive, monumental landscape emerging from the ocean might trick the eye into mistaking it for a wide peninsula dangling from a much larger continent; where seeing a bustling port city from the shore added to a burgeoning sense of populous enormity; where the shoreside cliff faces rose like tall towers of fractured masonry above a pit of sharp stones and crashing surf; where shooting up behind shore and sea were peaks so large they penetrated into the thick, low-drifting mist which frequently clouded over stormy island days. Isla Equufera had no such things to lend it a stature so grand as that, but from the deck of a docking boat there were no ponies who would have described it as tiny. It was more... cozy.

The island first appeared slowly mounting the horizon, and it felt like one could see entirely around it, from front shore to back shore. Its most distinctive features were naked and easily spotted. The most immediate sign of civilization was a single structure which sat upon the flattest, calmest beach. It was a building which must have been a part of the resort: five stories tall at its highest point, with terraces descending as it curved. Now and again around the circumference of the island were natural, rugged cliffs built like walls, but nothing so tall and dangerous as to intimidate a daring rock climber; it might have even been nice to have a picnic at the top of one of them, assuming proper fencing was present. Not a single peak grew from the island center to reach up and touch the sky. There were only verdant hills which pushed up in many places, some stretching with all their strength to come to a height matching the resort building's, and between those hills sat comfortably lazy valleys where more indications of settled life were secretly nestled. The open and spacious island was more than a mite of dust, and it was home enough for the ponies who lived there.

Not far from the beach with the single building was the island's only port, the sight of which gradually enlarged and dominated the view from The Seabiscuit as the vessel chugged ever closer. The lowering afternoon sun cast shadows upon the port that made its many shapes effortlessly readable. It was simple thing; a collection of decks, sheds, and other structures, which at only one point attached to a single, long, and thin stone pier.

The pier stretched out into the water, wide enough for less than a dozen ponies to march side by side. Its gray stones were cut clean and rectangular near the top but, around the bottom, the lowered tide revealed a messy pile of rocks which rested in the rolling waves. There were no rails for safety, or seats to set down upon and watch the sea. The only features it had at all were its few spaced out black iron moorings, slightly rusted in uniform yet different ways.

Where the stone pier connected to the shore was a series of wooden decks, many sitting at different heights and having short steps which rose and fell between them. They were together a seaside workspace mounted over the uneven terrain of the shore. Several of them had canopies made of thin panels and bound straw; wooden pavilions to provide sunless spaces. A few of the largest decks had standing structures built upon them. There were some two dozen in total when disregarding size and purpose; some small boathouses low and close to the water, some small warehouses to store and sort shipped goods, and some small windowed dwellings of some indiscernable purpose or another.

Everywhere the boards were shrunk and dry from their lives of breathing the sea air and most hadn't been painted ever, but together they all appeared sturdy and sound. There wasn't the sight or scent of rotted wood amongst the slightly ramshackle constructions, probably because there was enough patches of mismatched wood to suggest regular maintenance. They saw attentive care; anything too aged was replaced. But regardless of that, age was something the many decks, sheds, and buildings had still visibly achieved. There was a certain faded life within them; the many doldrums of day-to-day living had drained away any fresh quality they had once had and sapped them of color.

Two major roads split off from the tiny dock town. A wooden pathway departing from one of the decks turned into a gently winding trail of dry dirt and gravel. It ran down the shore, lit by torches at night, until it finally wound up at the beach resort. A much wider and flatter road sat where the highest deck was linked to the land, and it lead into the depths of the island.

Though the The Seabiscuit had felt dwarfed by its more massive cousins at the Baltimare docks it finally had its turn to be the sea monster at this little port. The cruise liner sailed in as close as it could, an incredibly slow operation to be sure, but eventually it anchored into a safe enough position to drop a lengthy gangway which could reach the pier. And from its heavy load of passengers came down a mere eight: Twilight, Applejack, Rainbow Dash, Pinkie Pie, Rarity, Spike, James, and Fluttershy.

The ship listed just slightly as the tremendous crowds on board packed themselves up against the starboard side. Many just wanted a look at the strange island they had never heard of, snapping photos of it when not committing the sight to memory. Others were more engaged in pondering over what gave the island its particular mystique, and wondering why so few passengers had been allowed to disembark. And a good portion of the watching crowd were simply there to be enthusiastically polite, cheering kind farewells and jubilant wishes for a great vacation at the group of friends who were departing.

After the shaky descent down the gangway, Twilight and her friends found a lone unicorn stallion waiting for them. His mane was a cold cobalt color with a few brighter streaks running through it. The whole mop of hair waved its way backwards down his neck with a teensy bit of a curl, almost carelessly unkempt but at least out of his face. It struck a contrast to his eyes, which were far cleaner and clearer, and in a much brighter shade of blue. There was also a real depth to them; the way the color of his irises changed as they wound about his pupils was like the lit cosmos swirling about an unknown, irresistible dark; a light drawn to discovery. The very glint in them plainly reflected the vast trail of what he had taken in during his lifetime, even though he himself wasn't a pony any older than Twilight or the others. His coat was a dry shade of green and on his flank was a cutie mark which only reinforced the knowledgeable light in his eyes: it looked like a stenciled torch, colored blue similarly to his mane, and its flame casted out a few twinkling stars.

Right away it was apparent that he was slightly nervous to greet them all by himself. He stood well, not overwhelmed by the one-versus-eight encounter and his confidence managed to hold together, but there were a low clacking as one of his jittery forehooves bounced upon the stone pier. He smiled warmly even as his eyes moved with fast glances between each of the friends, trying to get a quick look at them all. There was nothing surreptitious about the way his gaze poked them, moving rapidly from pony to pony; there was just a general reluctance to be caught staring at any particular pony for too long.

Though he definitely held longer looks upon James, Spike, and Twilight. For the man and the dragon, some simple intrigue welled up in his eyes. For Twilight, some particular and unnamed interest appeared, and his unsteady hoof rattled upon the pier all the more noisily.

"Hello!" he managed to greet at last, if not in firm control of his voice then at least still committed to his duty. "So, uh, if you'd like to take a moment, make sure you've got your bags and everything; that's fine! And... whenever you're ready, if you'll just follow me up the pier... then, well, we can meet the others." The thought of getting some backup appealed to him and his demeanor accrued a little more security. "They're all very excited to meet you," he promised.

With nods and thanks the group took a moment to set down their baggage, rest, and organize themselves.

Flicking her magic, Twilight released her saddlebags and set them down, wiggling her barrel to try and undo some of the very minor chafing the strap had caused. The slow sigh she pushed out wasn't one of physical weariness from carrying such light cargo. Her mind needed rest. Sailing over the Carriaggean sea hadn't been the spiritually rejuvenating experience it could have otherwise been. Her hopes were fixed upon the island providing the calm space for peace, and eventually restoration. And not just for herself.

She gave a roaming look around at her group of friends. For the most part their spirits were high, much like one would expect from ponies who had just landed at their vacation destination. Whatever awkward chips and pebbles their horseshoes had caught in recent weeks didn't appear to be bothering them as they all took their own restful moments, observing the island spread before them and sometimes engaging each other with mutually bright chatter.

Even James seemed like he was in a fairly happy place. His single bag sat like a melting blob of ice cream near his feet, and he wore one of his thoughtful looks: one hand hovering about his chin while the other arm wrapped itself across his lower chest. For some moments his interest was taken by the wooden townlet ahead, and in other moments he spoke affably with Spike or Rainbow Dash, trading jovial words about Rarity's excessive luggage or unleashing friendly ribbing of some sort or another.

There was something pleasantly spent about him, too; his standing body slouched with merry exhaustion. It was obvious he hadn't been laying back idly on the boat, and likewise he thankfully hadn't run himself into one of his brooding moods. Whatever he had been up to had eaten some of his energy in a hearty, worthwhile, enjoyable way.

Twilight's experience with him didn't lie to her, though. She only had to look at him to perceive the truth: the man was actively and almost forcefully trying to have a good time, for whatever unknown reason. Though he had already spent good energy just cavorting about the boat (or whatever he had done,) he still expended even more as he relentlessly tried to ignore the most egregious of his worries and focus on anything favorable in the immediate reality before him. Again she prayed for the best possible outcome. Maybe, just maybe, his relatively optimistic efforts might be the key to unlocking the golden opportunities which could make his friendships shine?

The one unmistakable exception to all the eager energy on the pier was Pinkie Pie, as the unicorn had fearfully predicated. She had given her best effort but she hadn't picked up the pink pony's trail on the boat after having lost it. Her search from bow to stern and back hadn't found the faintest hint of an unstoppably cheery party pony on board. No spilled confetti littering the floor, no bundles of balloons strung about overabundantly, no barely identifiable and butchered remains of cake, no long string of smiling and friendly ponies who had been bettered by the best encounter with a friendly stranger which they had ever had; not one of the usual signs that the famous party planner of Ponyville had been present. Pinkie Pie had only turned up again in the minutes immediately before disembarking.

Looking at pink pony again, it was easily observed that once more she had pulled up her covers and displayed no open despair. Despite what had happened on board she now let no obvious doubt or darkness spill from the front she presented. Her stride down the gangway had been unremarkable. Her heavy baggage had hardly squeaked with how plainly she had laid down her steps. She now sat casually on the pier, her still strapped-on saddlebags anchored to the stone and her weighty extra bag dropped besides her without much of a thought. Her head turned this way or that way towards anything which fleetingly caught her dulled interest: a regular inspecting glance at the waiting island stallion who had greeted them, a simple peep down the pier or off towards the resort, a look up at The Seabiscuit and all the ponies draped over the edge still wishing welcome goodbyes. With all the speed of a milk cow chewing cud she swiped her hoof back and forth at the boat's passengers in a return wave before letting her eyes wander again. At one point she even gave a forgettable yawn and gently stretched out some stiffness.

She resembled no more than a tired vacationing pony who had just stepped off of a boat after an exhausting jaunt out at sea.

And that was what was so worrying. The present moment was exactly the kind of time that the usual Pinkie Pie would be ready to erupt with explosive excitement. She'd be bouncing off the walls (if there were any on the pier,) firing her party cannon at random (assuming it was indeed somewhere in that bloated bag of hers,) and letting her mouth gallop away free of any restraints her fun-loving brain would ever dare to place upon it (not that restraint was a quality which anypony natively associated with her.) Now she sat on the pier of their destination, on the very cusp of meeting some brand new ponies... well, that fact alone would have normally driven her blissfully bonkers.

Something had to be done, but for Twilight to try the same approach as she had tried on the boat would surely end no differently. And she couldn't do anything at the moment anyway; not in the open while on the verge of meeting their island hosts.

Fluttershy slumped down, dropping her rear onto the cold stone with a plush plop and silently curling her pink tail around her hooves. Like most of the others, she rested herself even though the light saddlebags she was carrying hadn't really burdened her in the slightest.

Overall she was pleased in a very easy way. A little dent of a smile sat upon her face as she watched the others check themselves over, and readiness perched itself in her blinking eyes as she gave the island a casual glance while she imagined all of the incredible critters who lived there. She shared the anticipation of her friends despite not being of the mood to show it through her withdrawn, wispy voice.

But when there were no eyes upon her, a glum reserve snuck its way inside of her and she leveled an unsafe stare down at the pier's unpolished stone. The unwelcome discomfort lingered, not drifting out through the unnoticeable shuddering of her unspread wings or through the agitated fidgeting of her forehooves. A prickling sensation moved about her body unrestrained, though she did not let it raise any visible clue which could pester the others.

At last she vented some of her insecurity out through an anxious, inaudible moan. Swiping her eyes about to first make sure that nopony was intently watching, she twisted her neck around, quietly flipped open one of her saddlebags, and peeked within. One of her two bags was neatly packed with an assortment of things she could have possibly needed for a variety of predictable and unpredictable animal encounters, but the one she inspected had only her few personal things. Empirically speaking it carried very few items at all: more or less just a few assorted hygiene supplies, themselves covered over with a tenderly folded towel.

But on top of the towel, with nothing else besides or above it, sat the sapphire heart necklace she had picked up two weeks ago. Sitting in her bag it was practically hidden in plain sight. Even with the saddlebag's flap open, the meager contents were so shallowly packed that the sapphire gem caught no serious light and it did not glitter, its silver chain and setting left to grow cold in its loneliness.

Her jaw wobbled skittishly as she reached in and clasped the necklace's chain, pulling it partially out of the bag before stopping. Why had she even brought this thing at all? There wasn't going to be any reason to wear it. Or even any strength to... Really, why had she even bothered wearing it sometimes in Ponyville?

She should have just found the vendor she had bought it from and returned it.

"Hey, Fluttershy! Ready?" Rainbow Dash suddenly inquired from behind the pensive pegasus.

Startled, her neck stiffened and her face shot up. The jerking motion combined with the surprised loosening of her mouth caused the necklace flop into the air momentarily, but the pendent only landed carelessly back inside of her bag, noiselessly denting the towel within. In stumbling haste she brought the flap of her saddlebag back down and sealed it, never once noticing that the commotion had left the chain of the necklace hung over the bag's lip, dangling visibly out even after she had clipped the container shut.

"R-Right. C-Coming...," she replied.

Rainbow Dash spread then snapped her wings once as she arched her back enough to give a satisfying pop in her spine. The rest of the group appeared finished with their short break as well and already the green unicorn stallion was beginning to lead some of them away.

The rainbow-maned pegasus would have been fast to follow along; this pointless waiting had been boring as heck and her own saddlebags hardly needed any care, sorting, or double-checking. She carried little more than some Daring Do reading material, in case of the emergency event of a terrible island experience. However, her path immediately forward was incidentally blocked by Pinkie Pie.

The pink pony was in no rush. Her stuffed saddlebags were strapped on and ready but she was still sluggishly lifting her heavy additional bag up onto her back. When the bloated sack was finally placed it didn't sit right, and the heavy, droopy ends threatened to pull it off her at any moment. Pinkie Pie leaned this way and that way, taking her sweet time to carefully correct the bag's positioning.

It would have been a small thing for Rainbow Dash to have stepped around or floated above the obstacle. But something about the pink pony's lethargic motions, the restlessly sterile way she had picked up her bag and now tried to level it on her back, was utterly arresting.

Pinkie Pie noticed her staring friend while she was still in the middle of steadying her cargo. Displaying an eerie and apologetic smile she took wobbling steps to the side, clearing the path without spilling her unbalanced load.

Slowly starting forwards, Rainbow Dash's body moved on but her head stayed locked on the unusual sight. Her neck twisted rigidly as she passed by, perfectly tracking the bizarrely behaving pink pony with a cautious stare.

"What's up with you?" she finally chose to ask at the last moment. She had gotten so far past that her head was turned back as far as it could go without snapping her neck, and she ground to a halt with a forehoof in mid-lift.

Pinkie Pie only spread larger the corners of her unusual smile, and she moved further aside. The uneven bag on her back faltered and floundered but still didn't fall.

"Right...," the colorful pegasus mumbled. She spun her neck back to its more natural position, planted her hoof down, and continued on.

Fluttershy followed, and after a moment more Pinkie Pie at last had her extra bag seated safely. She dragged her hooves along behind the others, occupying the very rear of the procession.

The group made their way up the pier, lead in front by the island stallion. He was still somewhat antsy: compulsively he peeked behind himself at them, and he most especially stole fast glances at Twilight. However the closer they moved towards the port decks ahead the more he firmed up, even subtly picking up his pace as they neared.

He was nervously absorbed enough in finishing his assigned task that he didn't catch the quiet murmurs of worried disappointment which spread amongst those who followed him as they approached the cluster of unadorned decks, sheds, and huts.

They had gone from a glorious hotel in the heart of a bustling city, to a fine cruise ship that had been more than serviceable even if it hadn't been the undisputed champion of the seas, and now to a small, plain port built from dried out wood and the faintest echoes of life. Each step of their journey had seemed to take them backwards, regressing from the most spectacular vacation splendor to merely being left ashore in some forgettable corner of the world. As if to emphasize the ghostly, remote state of the port, somewhere on one of the dwellings an unsecured shutter clacked against a wooden wall, nudged by a careless wind. For what Twilight had called a 'high class resort,' the first impressions it made were having an extremely hard time keeping up with the rampant desire of imagination.

Twilight bit her tongue and said nothing. When she had first heard of Isla Equufera the manic drive of her own interests had led her mostly towards having researched the island's fascinating history: a little-known, little-visited locale whose prime mystery was the disappearance of its original pony population long ago. She hadn't ever really done anything at all to investigate the details of the much newer resort. Essentially she had just taken the island ponies at their word, accepting without scrutiny the many lauding statements and extolling proclamations that their written communications with her had conveyed. And in hindsight a lot of what they had written had been crafted more like an advertisement than an encyclopedia article.

Oops.

But the trip wasn't a bust yet! There was no reason to lose hope!

They had yet to meet their hosts: the high-minded ponies who had created such an interesting essay prompt for her to begin from; the same ones who selected her extremely well thought out work as the contest winner. Surely such bright ponies knew something about creating a successful resort, even if they hadn't got their port into tip-top shape yet. And, technically, the island retreat wasn't fully finished or even officially opened yet either; it was available only to select clients for promotional trips. Maybe the resort building on the flat beach which had only so far been observed from a distance was at a much more complete stage? Maybe the regiment of rest and relaxation which was presumably planned for Twilight and her friends rose up to the spectacular claims that had been made?

It was entirely possible for looks to be deceiving!

The stone pier widened slightly just as it ended, replaced with three equally wide wooden steps up to a broad and open deck which was effectively the 'lobby' of the tiny port town. Paths shot off of it in many places to many different platforms, running either straight, up, or down, but otherwise there was nothing remarkable about the mostly vacant staging space.

The green stallion bounded up the three steps swiftly. Once at the top he raced ahead of Twilight and her friends. Finally his moment as the center of attention was over.

Trailing behind, the group of friends carried themselves up the steps and onto the deck where they saw a gaggle of ponies waiting for them; a crowd only slightly in number than themselves.

Besides standing together as a group there was little that seemed to unify the island ponies. In every detail they were a wildly diverse collection. From a physical standpoint: palettes of color, every body type, and distinctive traits of ancestry which pointed all over the map. From a more personal standpoint too: they all held themselves up in unique, self-defined ways, and each regarded the arriving guests in their own fashion instead of to the tune of a trained regiment. 'Staff' wasn't a becoming word for the way they had organized themselves. 'Locals' fit better but was still imprecise. Really, they weren't so different from any randomly chosen batch of Ponyville ponies; just a collection of individuals, united by home.

The guiding stallion merged himself into the small, unevenly spaced crowd.

Two ponies were set distinctly in front of the rest, claiming a position of importance. A mare and a stallion side-by-side, they stood uncomfortably close to each other and yet were at perfect ease with their mutually invasive proximity. In fact, it ran even stronger than that: they seemed to unhesitantly reject being anywhere that they couldn't rub up against each other. Surely they were a couple in some fashion or another.

The sire was an earth pony of a crimson color, shaded towards a darker hue but still with a burning tinge. His eyes were very similar but fell much more towards the brighter side of the spectrum, with irises hot enough to virtually glow. From out of the top of his head ran his relatively long mane, a tide of ashen hair that slowly flowed down his neck, great strands rolling over each others as they followed closely to the contours of his neck and upper back. The unstoppable mane even wounds its way around his jutting withers before dying out in tiny, curled licks which resembled miniature flames. His tail was just as long but blasted out less contained, billowing like smoke. He himself wasn't very large at all though. By any measure he wasn't a mountain of a pony but regardless he stood with an identically rigid and powerful bearing to any stone spike of earth. It was a tall quality which gave him great presence in the open light of day but somehow made him into an ominous shadow when darkness floated about. The cutie mark which adorned his flank felt quite natural on him: a crater rim from which poured thick smoke, with cuts of something bright and bubbling hidden under the obscuring clouds of ash.

He wasn't exactly unapproachable, as there was nothing too innately stern about his standing. And his face was more than capable of presenting an eager and soothing smile, as he did not delay in demonstrating for them.

The lady was altogether more inviting however, with an appearance that was as pleasing to look at as it was easy to approach. Thin, happy, carefree eyes offered no remote hint of hostility or danger, showing clearly the sweet wish to be closer to whomever they looked at, and their silver blue shine did half the work of making her so inviting. The shyly golden mane her horn peeked out of began fluffed and curly, a beautiful bouquet of leafy hair sitting upon her head, but it transformed into a smooth, shining waterfall as it streamed down her slender neck. She was slim and limber all over, her incredibly soft pink body pliable in whatever ways were needed to bend in any fashion she wanted without much effort. So too was she in demeanor, seeming so prepared to bend and serve until everything was perfect for whomever she sought to please. There was something so unashamed about her as well, knowing beyond doubt where she stood and fretting not about whom she associated with or what anypony thought of her.

It was the little additions which she bore that cemented her comely appearance. Tied around her loin she wore a long cloth like a skirt; a lava-lava. Smooth, shiny, and silken, its gorgeous floral pattern was dominated by a bright, verdant green upon which lived a rainbow display of flowers, like a painting of an infinite garden. The end hung low over her back half, just above scraping along the wooden deck, and it buried her cutie mark and tail. Only the tips of her tail hair, little whiskers of gentle gold, poked out from under the shimmering cloth. Complementing her choice of attire was a single flower. Tucked in the nook of one of her ears was some kind of geranium in full bloom, with attractive lavender petals spread wholly open.

She was the first to greet Twilight and the others, leaning far enough forward to take a single step with ready energy. The anticipation within her was shared freely through the glimmer of her eyes, the melody of her voice, and the aura her body projected. Only grace and well-practiced manners kept her from exploding in unprofessional glee.

Quickly her gaze jumped between each of them, curious and eager while still searching and discerning. Very swiftly she settled upon Twilight, and she inquired with near complete certainty, "Twilight Sparkle, yes? The student of Princess Celestia?"

Realizing that her lately-harried mindset and her uneven saddlebags didn't lend her the most professional appearance, Twilight's posture stumbled slightly as she hastily tried to respond in greater courtesy, "Yes! Yes, uh, that's me. It's- it's a pleasure to-"

"Oh, no no," the lady unicorn lightly brushed away any worry. With a bending of her knees and a deep lowering of her head, she said, "You're the guests here! It's our pleasure to have and welcome you!"

More she stepped forward, bringing herself a pony's length before the student guest. Her stallion counterpart followed her, sticking tenderly close but still a half-step back to await his turn.

Once again she lowered her face, though very shallowly this time. With a lifted and alert stare that walked across all of the visitors she introduced herself, "I am Venus, and I could not offer you more welcome if I tried."

Inching backwards, color flushed into her face and she leaned on the side her close stallion, rubbing herself completely against him. One of her forehooves shifted and held itself over one of his. Her motions didn't have any of the deliberate softness which characterized her prior words; she was almost vigorous in the way she pressed herself into him. But the steady stallion really didn't seem to mind one bit. He even reciprocated, pushing back with equal force and stroking her body with his own.

The two smiled intimately at each other, and when Venus spoke to introduce him her words seemed distantly caught in his gravity. Never breaking their eyes apart, and with a tone dripping in sweet distraction, she announced, "And this is my dear, delightful, lovely Suvi."

Even through the darkened red of his fur was his captivated blush visible. However he immediately took more firm control of himself. He turned towards the guests, bowed his head respectfully, and more properly introduced himself, "Vesuvius."

Ceasing their affectionate leans into each other, they returned to a form more courteous to (and more conscious of) their freshly-arrived guests.

Vesuvius continued his greeting to them. When he was inclined to he had the ability to put others at ease, with all of his hardened edges resonating a trustworthy calm instead of inciting wary discomfort; being the mountain which guarded the peaceful valley instead of the craggy master which towered over the lowlands. Not shirking politeness in the least he elaborated, "Together we own this small island resort, as well as being the entrusted caretakers of the island itself, by decree of the Island Society of the United Carriaggean. We're very honored to have you here."

He looked intently at Twilight. "We've been hoping to host somepony like you for a long time," he said. Shortly thereafter, his attention snapped back and light remorse drizzled over his face, having caught some error he had made. Glancing over all the guests, he raced to include them, "Ponies like all of you."

Venus quickly picked up after him, relating to the entire group, "We know some things about each of you already, thanks to the very thoughtful and flattering words which your friend was kind enough to share with us." She gave a grinning tilt of her head in acknowledgment of Twilight. "This past week we've been busy taking what we've learned and using it to prepare for your arrival. We want your stay here to be something unique."

At last she broke from her enduring attachment to Vesuvius, taking powerful steps forward without him. Walking past Twilight, she put herself in the midst of the eight friends. Now the focus of the stage between them, the eight could all see each other as they stared into her, and a grandeur filled her as she told them, "We're sure that here..." Her eyes moved from friend to friend, alight with incredible belief. "... on this island..." In circles she turned, looking at each of them and weaving about with absolute control; drawing them in. "... in this very special place..." She stopped her twirls, and her low, gripping voice penetrated each of them. Its mysterious weight sank past any barriers of wondering doubt and brushed against the bells of curiosity. Everyone paid rapt attention to the ringing. "... you're going to have a life-changing experience which you will never forget!"

There were some raised eyebrows; some in awe, some merely impressed, and others lifted with questions.

Leaving her bold claims to settle upon the travelers, Venus began to return to her darling Suvi's side. Each step of her stride still resonated with an assured strength. She sported a devious smile as she went, and she held one eye back towards Twilight and the others.

As she came up upon her counterpart, Vesuvius happily reached his neck out and nuzzled the side of her face warmly, practically kissing her cheek. It was as if the short minute apart had been an extended journey away from which she had finally returned. She was barely surprised by his gesture and immediately mirrored it, indulging in spreading her affection back upon him. Gladly she accepted the delay it caused her in retaking her position.

"Our lives were completely changed by coming here," the stallion spoke to the guests through the caresses he traded with his other half. They finished their fond cuddling, both of them satisfied, and it allowed Venus to turn about so that they could be standing united again. Then Vesuvius highlighted the other patiently waiting island ponies, pointing at them broadly while declaring, "Everypony who has come here has had their lives changed. None have ever been the same."

The troupe of island ponies nodded, or smiled, or spoke small whispers in agreement, or even blushed from the resurgence of triggered memory. All were in tune with the stallion's words.

"You, my friends, have arrived at paradise!" Venus rose her voice high like a herald. Her words were paced exactly, marching out like a practiced speech; these were lines she had long thought on. "This is somewhere we've work hard to craft into a retreat which is unlike anything the rest of Equestria has ever seen. A far away place where the world quiets down and ponies can unearth what dreams are truly made of. Let us show you the way! Let us show that paradise is not just a place... but a state of mind that you too can reach. It is within your heart, waiting for you..."

Vesuvius added, also parading out statements that felt proudly rehearsed and fully committed, "On this island we have discovered something special. Something NEW. Something we want to share with you, and with all ponies of Equestria. I promise you will uncover new ways to connect to others. New doorways that you've never known will open and bring you closer to anypony you care about; closer together than you could ever have believed possible. New depths inside yourselves will be found. Experiences that go beyond anything you've ever imagined!" Steely-eyed, he swore, "You're going to feel things you never once dreamed you could!"

Venus's face lit up, everything about her visage almost brilliant with a heavenly glow, and she invited, "Are you ready? Again... welcome!"

In unison she and Vesuvius gave a deferential bow of their heads, and in a very unpracticed way the several island ponies behind them did the same.

Twilight was suitably impressed, but she glanced around to check with her friends. Everypony seemed to have taken the winding and verbose greeting in slightly different ways but none of them seemed disappointed. At the very least they had been left wondering about just what they will see and do during their time on the island. The earlier vacations their imaginations had created had crumbled under the mysterious hints that had been laid out by their hosts. They all were looking forward to what lay around the next bend, for whatever reasons had gripped them. Even Pinkie Pie, still somewhat dour in her uniquely hidden way, appeared positively affected.

This was not going to be merely a few quiet afternoons on the beach.

Perhaps the theatrics of their hosts had been a little overly grand, with their lofty speeches and their dramatic talk about miraculously changed lives. It was only a vacation at an island resort, after all. But there was something refreshing and relieving about how thoroughly the island ponies took up their own cause. It was unambiguous: these ponies fully intended to accomplish something significant in the next few days. They would give all of themselves for it, pour all of their energy into it, and dedicate themselves wholly to what they were trying to achieve with their small island resort.

That unyielding and high-minded attitude did much to prime Twilight's hope. More than ever, it helped her shut out any doubts and to believe that this trip could be exactly what her friends needed.

"Thank you! I think I speak for everypony when I say that we are feeling most welcome! And very excited!"

The Seabiscuit's foghorn blared, announcing its impending departure.

Chapter 15: Phantasmagoria

The heartswelling sound, the wailing farewell of the boat's foghorn, was a momentary and unifying distraction. Everypony froze in time, turning towards the triumphant noise which had silenced them. Down the pier; the road into the sea; the only gateway to and from the island; there sat the unmoored boat, singing its last goodbye song. Rapt ears listened as the bellow finished thundering through the air, and every eye watched as the heavy engines kicked to life and the great cruise ship began to crawl away upon the waves. Faintly riding under the noisy cover of wind, sea, and whirring metal was the jubilant shouts of the ship's passengers. Their joy carried undiluted over water, and stone, and wood; echoing into memory. Those travelers continued on, towards whatever unknown adventure awaited them.

The mystical draw of the boat faded slowly as it chugged away from the pier. All the silent observers felt their control restored as the power of the mighty sight waned.

Twilight quickly peeked once more at all of her friends. She looked at their faces; at the way they stood; into their eyes if she could manage it. No last minute doubts were there. Nothing on them rejected her own prior declaration of enthusiasm on their behalf. With the boat having departed there was no way back now, but clearly none of them were wishing it had stayed.

The eight travelers and the island hosts all faced each other again, and Twilight spoke. Behind her, her words were backed by the nodding agreements of her friends. "So... where do we begin?"

Venus, leaning tenderly once more into Vesuvius, commented to him in quiet excitement, "So eager to start! Isn't that the best attitude?"

"Mmm," he softly moaned in affirmation, stroking her cheek with his own. "She is Princess Celestia's favored pupil, after all."

But he didn't let himself get too distracted. Staying held close to his dear one, he kindly directed to the guests, "We're glad you feel so ready, but let's not rush. You're here to relax and enjoy the experience, of course. Everything will come in time." Oddly, he turned to look back towards the dense cluster of other island ponies, weighted down his voice with command, and finished, "So let's take things slowly, hm?"

"Yes!" Venus erupted with delight. "Now that you've come all this way, let's just get you settled in first! We'll show you to your rooms at the Passion's Embrace and then, after you've had a moment to rest, we'll all sit down together for a welcoming feast!"

Bright and excited, she swiveled her head about and then ordered the other islanders, "Everypony! Attend to our guests!"

Like a colony of drunken ants the crowd of island ponies haphazardly broke apart, swarming everywhere. There were eight of them, one for each guest, and they sought to collect and carry all of their visitors' many bags. But there was no clean order to the way they went about what should have otherwise been simple acts of servitude. Their break was tremendously chaotic: ponies stopped and started as they cut in front of each other carelessly or tried to dodge collisions through jagged movement. They came forward no more efficiently or quickly than badly merging traffic.

It was a far cry from the professionally trained regiment of bellhops at the Baltimare hotel; those noble service soldiers who had form, grace, and capability. The bellhops had operated like a well-oiled machine effortlessly minting its one-millionth perfect piece, crafting a success so flawless as to be new, without even the smallest pop, start, or fit. By contrast the island ponies bungled around like it was their very first time working together.

Half of the trouble seemed to stem from the fact that they communicated no coordination. It was impossible to discern whatever criteria they had used to determine which of them would assist which guest; if there had even been any criteria at all. But they didn't march forward directly, going for the guest closest to them, which would have made for a quick collection. No, each island pony went for a guest seemingly chosen at random, and thus they all wound up crossing paths and stepping in front of each other as they tried to reach their chosen visitors. Yet, if their choices had in fact been random, at no point had the island ponies spoken to each other about whom they had selected, and additionally no guest was accidentally approached by two ponies at once.

Before Twilight advanced the unicorn stallion who had earlier greeted everypony on the pier. The same nervousness was still present on his face, though now greatly reduced since he had only one pair of eyes watching him instead of eight. He drew in a steadying breath and gave his head a tiny shake, whisking his freely running mane about slightly. Equipping his readiest smile he set about his task.

With an immensely respectful bowing of his body, he said to Twilight, "I'll take your saddlebags. Uh, if you like."

"Oh, sure. Of course," Twilight pleasantly replied.

Suddenly her torso shifted with a fast jerking motion upwards, and she grunted uncomfortably. The strap of her saddlebags had nearly cut up into her belly, rubbing hard as it unexpectedly tightened about her; the accidental result of both unicorns' spells simultaneously trying to undo the bags.

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" the stallion apologized profusely as he dropped his magic in distraught shock. He shrunk back a little, falling headlong into penitence as all his ill confidence came rushing back.

Twilight was able to laugh off the mishap however. "No, it's alright," she assured him, doing her best to silently endure the light burn that the strap's attack had left on her body. With no other magic now getting in her way she simply unbuckled her saddlebags and floated them out before herself. "Here you are."

Very carefully the other pony assumed control of the levitating bags, minding very specifically this time not to interrupt Twilight's magic while doing so. Like autumn leaves the color of the waving aura about the saddlebags steadily changed from her saturated pink to his royal blue. Even after Twilight completely let go there was a long, uncomfortable moment where he was triply cautious to check his magical grip. When he eventually resumed his full task he very delicately handled the bags, bringing them over his own back and strapping them on snugly with exceptional care. He looked quite natural in them, too; the cool blue color of the saddlebags a quaint match with his cobalt mane, and a soft complement to his dry green coat.

However, he stalled out after he had the bags secured. No further offers of service to her were made and neither were there motions made to step away; he only sort of fidgeted on the ready side of retreat, undecided. His mouth trembled slightly with temporary words bounding about inside; wanting to say something more to her but unsure if he could or should deliver whatever waltzed on the end of his reticent tongue.

He made a glance towards Vesuvius, not for any reason that was spelled out clearly on his face. The head stallion did not return the look, his attention greatly focused elsewhere, but just the sight of the stern leader seemed to give the saddlebag-wearing unicorn what he needed to settle his choice.

Politely he said to Twilight, dipping his head down respectfully, "Thank you," and he proceeded to walk away.

"Oh, no, thank you," she responded graciously. There was enough kindness in the words to undo the shame the stallion felt for his earlier mistake. A surer calm fell into his departing steps and a real smile, healthier and happier, claimed his face.

The stallion who approached Fluttershy was far more jumpy than the one who was assisting Twilight. His scrawny tail hid between his legs, and his face dragged along lowly as if a sagging weight was tied to his nose. A paleness coated him; perhaps a result of his extreme worry but maybe it was only the thinness of his natural colors. His tail and mane were as scarcely purple as a faded wine stain; his body was like a weathered clam shell half-buried in sand, with the vibrancy all but beaten out of it; his eyes were so mildly brown that they were almost absent of color entirely. It was surprising how dry and bleached he appeared for his young age. The only thing that made the earth pony stand out at all was his cutie mark: three dim purple silhouettes of a mouse, a coyote, and an ox huddled together in friendship.

Carefully he crept closer to the timid pegasus, full of heart-pounding caution. Fluttershy hardly even noticed him nearing her at first, though it didn't take long for her own wary nature to alert her of him. If playing a porter was his goal then he didn't stop nearly close enough to her to be reasonably effective, and his struggling efforts to speak up didn't do much to close the gap either, whispering out words which were almost intentionally volumeless, "Um... M-Miss Fluttershy? I'll grab your bags for you."

If it weren't for her years of attentive listening to the squeaks of nervous baby chipmunks and the chirps of tiny frightened bugs then she probably wouldn't have heard him. "Oh. Thank you," the pegasus replied simply. She had no intention to upset anypony, especially not one who was only doing his job, so she very carefully released the buckle of her saddlebags and slid them off. When he didn't immediately come to collect them she picked them up herself and held them out for him in as nonthreatening a way as possible.

Painfully he inched forward until he was close enough to reach them. He nervously braced himself for a few moments before he finally managed to stretch his neck forwards and take the saddlebags from her. Only after he withdrew a few steps did he begin to strap them onto himself, and he took the utmost care in doing so, particularly because he needed snail-like speed to overcome his own anxious shaking.

Fluttershy promptly forgot about his nearby presence after having handed off her saddlebags, presuming readily that he would immediately hop to his task of bearing them to her eventual room. That was why she jumped with sudden, flustered fright when he instead stayed and spoke to her again.

"I'm Humble Herd. M-My n-name, I mean," he said timidly, half-remembering to take an awkward, incomplete, and unbalanced bow. The hasty motion caused the loose saddlebags, still not securely strapped on to him yet, to slip up his barrel and towards his neck. Clumsily he floundered about in an effort to slide them back and tighten the strap, and he continued speaking with mounting panic as he did, "I just wanted to i-introduce myself, I g-guess. It's n-nice to- Uh... I mean... thanks for being n-nice enough to l-let me carry- Um..."

The saddlebags finally settled into a proper place. Distracted by the opportunity, he ceased his jabbering and gingerly yanked on the strap, drawing it tight enough to firmly set the bags' position and keep them from being any more trouble. It was a tiny success which gave him a short-lived rush of satisfaction, registering on his face as a brief burst of almost adorable exhilaration.

The high quickly passed though, giving way to a recognition of how foolish he must have appeared. Another realization also suddenly struck him: the horribly bad position he had left himself in to continue his already fractured rambling. He barely squeezed out the most inept, pathetic smile to cover himself and, lacking anything substantial to say, he weakly croaked in conclusion, "Uh... it's nice."

Fluttershy's face turned from her golden yellow to a cherry red as she shrunk back in mortification. To quickly deal with an unknown pony in a capacity that was strictly business wasn't a problem, usually; she could turn over her bags to a service pony for transport without a second thought. But it was something different altogether that this stranger was now calling for genuine, personal interaction. She wasn't at all prepared for that!

"Oh, um, yes... it's... it's nice to meet you," she mumbled back, ducking down slightly and turning her head such that her mane fell over her face.

Humble Herd received the message loud and clear. As much as the wave of pink hair was a simple shield to her it struck him with a sharp thrust like a sword, and his own skittish restlessness came bleeding out all the more profusely. He babbled with excessive unease, "N-Nice to m-meet you too, um... again. I, uh, I w-work with the animals h-here on the island a-and I heard that you, ah, do that kind of stuff, and- uh... so... I just w-wanted to say hi. Um..." He froze.

They traded embarrassed silence, a mute void amid the larger commotion going on about them, and they only ever peeked out from behind their broken composures to check if the other pony had turned away completely yet.

The stallion caved first. "Thanks," he suddenly blurted out again before he whipped around and retreated, stumbling as he went. The chain of the sapphire heart necklace, still dangling out from the sealed flap of one of the bags, jingled as it slid back and forth from his hurried cantor.

Fluttershy furtively glanced out from behind the veil of her mane. When he at last had gone far enough to satisfy her shaky nerves she put out a distraught sigh. That wouldn't have been so bad if she had been more ready for such an encounter but she had been expecting a truly quiet and peaceful vacation; just her, some serene daylight, and the heavenly melody of animal calls that she hoped to discover on the island.

With great effort she tried to push the upsetting experience to the back of her mind.

It was a much bolder pony who came up to Pinkie Pie; almost recklessly intrepid even. A pegasus as navy blue as the sunniest sea - in body, mane, and tail - he moved about with such eager mirth that his wings seemed permanently extended, their magic lift always a faint breath away from tearing him off the ground so that he could soar with excitement. On top his mane was rounded and puffy, and in back his tail was similarly short and stubby; both loose enough still to bob up and down with his jaunty movements. Anticipation leaked out of his every crevice for each step he took, flowing in greater and greater quantities as he closed in on his target. By the time he was in front of Pinkie Pie it would have been impossible to pack any more boiling energy into him; he was on the precipice of overflowing and spilling his unending ardor everywhere. The loosely stacked, candy-colored rings on his flank practically danced all on their own.

"Hey hey!" he poured out his enthusiasm in a peppy hello. "You MUST be Pinkie Pie; no doubt about it! I've been itching and itching to meet ya! Like crawly-things-all-up-in-my-wings itchy!" He was helpless against making a demonstration and his wings briefly beat with a buzz as electric as a horsefly's.

Too engaged to listen for her reply, or even to wait for her permission, he squiggled right up next to her and grasped at the overweight sack resting on her back, remarking belatedly, "Here, I'll just carry this for you."

"Okay. Sure," the pink pony pathetically responded. She tilted lifelessly to the left, leaning enough to cause her corpulent bag to tumble over itself off of her. The mingled miscellanea inside clanged about like cymbals rolling down a rocky hill as the hefty sack crashed into the deck, nearly crushing the pony who had volunteered to carry it. Without being prompted Pinkie Pie also undid the buckle of her stuffed saddlebags and dropped them on the floor, never wiping the statuesque stare off of her face.

The dead response tossed the poor stallion miles off of his spontaneous script. Starving leeches sunk their fangs into him, sucking the boundless energy right out. Now caught in a whirlpool of bewildered wonder he threw around fast glances at the other guest ponies, as if he was missing the other half of an obvious two-piece puzzle, before he confusingly questioned, "Uh... you're... you're Pinkie Pie... right?"

"Yeah." Cold and still as an abandoned gravestone. In winter.

"Oh. Uh. Right." He leapt back into action, not quite as spirited as before, and he donned her heavy saddlebags before using all of his strength to fling her extra, bloated bag up onto his back. His knees buckled a little with the weight, though he was more than capable; it was mostly his now-poisoned exuberance that held him back from otherwise accomplishing tremendous things effortlessly.

The most boggled of stares came out of him, fixated upon the pink pony. Speaking generally he liked encountering unexpected things; it kept life fresh; but Twilight's notations had described a pony weaved from a whole different cloth than this sorry creature before him. The divine preview had lead him to envision a pony who was very much from the other side of the mirror compared to what he saw here; a pony that, unlike the joyless husk he was speaking too, was endlessly filled with more fun than an open crate of fireworks exploding inside of an ice cream cake factory on National Water Balloon Fight Day.

"I, uh... I'm Hulahoof," he greeted reluctantly while his wings balanced the fresh load on his back. "I'm the party master here on the island. I set up all the... stuff... and stuff. For the luaus... and the shindigs... and... stuff. Uh..." His every resting breath was long, to allow her the space to interject, but she never did. He was exceptionally lost. "I heard you like parties?"

"Yeah." Soulless.

"Oh, super-great! I mean, uh, I guess?"

At last finished with leveling the swollen sack so that it sat steady, Hulahoof patted its sides with his wings, feeling out some of the mysteries crammed inside. Distantly hopeful, he offered, "Feels like... you've got a lot of crazy party goodies in here." When that remark failed to produce even the dimmest of sparks within her he finally gave up and dismally drew back. "I, uh... hope you like some of the stuff I've set up for all of you. Parties on the beach, and everything... Gonna be great..."

"Sounds fun," Pinkie Pie droned. Her mouth contorted into a gleamless smile, independent of the rest of her face which didn't follow through.

Shaken, from more than just the load he was bearing, he backed off before finally turning about leaving her alone.

And yet another stallion. He cracked his back once, then rolled his shoulders while realigning his wings so that they sat folded neatly. The other island ponies recklessly moved about in front of him, seeking out the guests whom they wished to serve, nearly crashing into each other as they dispersed poorly. But this pegasus had no intention to go until he was ready. Preparation was key for perfect execution.

His hoof smoothed down his short and slick, fuchsia mane. He picked at the corners of his eyes to scratch away any encrusted mucus, then rapidly blinked to make sure his pea-green peepers were flush with moisture. Twisting his neck left and right, he worked out any stiffness while he simultaneously inspected his body; a search for any visible spots or blemishes tarnishing the fine metallic gold color of his coat. And it was fortunate that he did check himself over: a leftover whiff of cloud had snagged itself on his right flank, blocking his cutie mark. He dusted the cottony dirt away so that the white triple arrow, an emblem of diving force, was once more unobscured. When he thought he felt ready at last he searched himself for a second time, just to be sure, and with more speed. If there was only going to be one chance for a good first impression well then by golly he was going to make the best of it.

At last fully prepared, he was the final one of the islanders to break away from their earlier formless formation. He easily bobbed between all the other ponies on the busy deck, as light on his hooves as he was on his wings. When he came up to the pony he was set to serve she was turned partially aside, her flank towards him. Standing erect, neck up and chin level, he very silently cleared his throat and then began formally, "Pardon me, Miss Rainbow Dash, and welcome to our island. My name is-"

"Yeah, yeah. Here," the busy Rainbow Dash swiftly disregarded him, without ever turning to take a peek. One of her wings tossed her lightweight saddlebags to the floor before him.

"So anyway," she continued her conversation with Applejack, barely thrown off course by the brief encounter, "what do you think? I'm hoping for a little more than some fluffy massage type stuff."

"I don't rightly know, Rainbow," the farm pony responded, jaded. Her voice hovered with inflated sarcasm as she said, "Maybe you could try asking'em what we'll get up to?"

"Maybe," the pegasus rejected, deaf to any complaint coming from her friend. "Not sure I'd get a serious answer, what with the way they're being all mysterious and 'blah blah blah, paradise, bluh bluh bluh, your lives are in our hooves' or whatever."

Giving a groaning sigh, Applejack answered, "Well, it is a vacation. I'm sure they'll give us plenty of nice and quiet things to do."

"Uh, yeah," Rainbow Dash quipped, furrowing her brow in disbelief. "It's a vacation, and that means HAVING FUN."

"Working the orchard is fun," snipped the farm pony. "I like my vacations to be a little more of the relaxing-type persuasion."

One eye roll later the pegasus impatiently observed, "You've been a real balking bronco lately." She snorted rhetorically, "When did you get to be such a pain to deal with?"

It only pulled Applejack into an equally rude and incredulous mood. "You're one to talk!"

Standing behind the farm pony a stallion had been waiting, and waiting, and waiting; further stretching his thinning patience as the seconds ticked by. With the way the two mares had been going back and forth, occasionally chatting and occasionally barking, he had never found the correct moment to insert himself. Their available time wasn't infinite though, and all around them most of the other guests' bags had been taken away already.

Deciding that he had little choice left but to act, the earth pony lightly thumped his chocolate colored hoof upon the wooden boards below. "Excuse me," he carefully announced.

"What? Oh. Here ya are." Unfocused and hasty, Applejack quickly undid her saddlebags. They plunked onto the floor only for the farm pony to shove them back with one of her hind legs, scraping them towards the waiting stallion. Her argument with Rainbow Dash scarcely suffered through it.

The stallion clicked his tongue, not so taken aback as to be insulted but still plainly disappointed. Whatever. Good enough for now.

Shaking his head he retrieved the saddlebags from where they laid, merely holding them in his mouth by the strap instead of bothering to wear them. He abandoned the bickering mares. His tail, long and stained yellow, swept about the dusty dirt on the wooden boards beneath him as he stepped away.

He passed by the dejected, dark gold pegasus who still waited by Rainbow Dash's flank. "Come on," he encouraged his friend to likewise quit any introduction.

"But-"

"No. Come on."

The pegasus stallion leaked a self-disappointed grumble, but he acquiesced. Picking up and putting on Rainbow Dash's saddlebags he followed the other stallion away with a lowered head, muttering to himself in speculation about what he could have done differently.

Something was quite unique about the pony who approached Rarity. He was tall and lean, with a noble arch to his neck, and a snout that stretched a little longer than most other stallions. His stiff mane held itself up proudly, a silver-white crest which followed the firm line of his perfectly curved neck. Beneath the surface of his beautiful black body were well-honed muscled which hugged chiseled bones. It was perhaps in his bright chartreuse stare that most of his power rested; eyes which snatched up whatever they pleased in one moment before having the softest shine of pitiable desire in the next. A dashing looking pony, fine and handsome, if ever there was one.

He stepped towards Rarity, doubtless confidence reverberating from each solid strike of his hooves against the wood. The very air he passed through seemed to fall in line behind him, fawning as it followed after him. Loyally the breeze chased his face up as he lifted his head into the sky, and obediently it fell back down again when he humbled himself in a refined bow.

"The lady Rarity, I presume?" came his smoothly delivered greeting. "It's so hard to for me to say for sure when you're so much more beautiful than your friend's limited description could convey." He was gentlecolt enough to lift up one of her hooves with his own and deliver a formal kiss upon it.

His presentation pressed the exact combination of buttons to trigger Rarity's fancy. "Oh my!" she giggled helplessly, turning her blushing face slightly aside, "You're quite the charmer!"

"Well, my name is Sweet Nothing, but please feel free to call me whatever pleases you most, my beautiful lady." Again he brought himself low with well-practiced genuflection.

Rarity fell that much further into her euphoric pit, with her kiss-blessed hoof over her hopelessly red cheek as she chittered to herself like a schoolfoal.

Dialing up his charisma all the more, Sweet Nothing scooted ever closer to her side and pressed his enchanting aura upon her. "Might I have the undue honor of carrying your baggage?" he tempted her in a quiet, alluring tone.

"Ahahahehehee," the melting unicorn uncontrollably sputtered, wild with a blurry blend of delighted embarrassment. Compulsion conquered her mind, and her horn rushed to do some unnecessary emergency care to her mane; magic's invisible touch stretched, squeezed, and curled away all of the imperceptibly perfect imperfections from her amazing hair. Unable to even break her gaze from the captivating stallion, or to dispel the lavish fantasies filling her head, she inattentively commanded her faithful dragon, "Spike, be a dear and give some of my bags to this... generous hunk of a pony."

Finally having a reason to change his focus off of Rarity, the flirtatious stallion looked beyond his target and noticed a pile of luggage which was neatly sorted and stacked like a tall pyramid. A short, purple and green dragon was still finishing arranging the last bags after hauling them all up the pier.

Carefully Sweet Nothing stepped around the red-faced, starry-eyed unicorn. He made sure to linger a wanting stare upon her as he passed, dragging his eyes behind himself. Briefly he stopped, reached back, and brushed a raised hoof across the air which rested upon her already burning cheek, a few scant hairs away.

The deliciously soft delivery of it... the tickling touch as he moved his caressing wind passed her... it pretty much drove her over the edge. She transformed completely into a delirious, drooling fool, oblivious to everything which was going on about her.

Spike regarded the stallion who approached him with only a small amount of suspicion. The innate jealously was absolutely there but the dragon always worked hard to suppress such feelings whenever he saw Rarity become so infatuated. For one thing: that was her business if she wanted to be charmed by somepony else, and he never accepted the idea that he had the selfish authority to demand otherwise; even if it hurt to watch sometimes. For another thing: her fanciful lovestruck feelings were always transient (or at least so he prayed,) whereas she had time and again admitted her sincere, truly heartfelt appreciation for him. Others passed; he lasted.

And so, with much concentrated faith and a little bit of hopeful goodwill, he was able to put his best foot forward.

"Hey, thanks for the help," he hailed Sweet Nothing earnestly. His body wriggled about like a worm waving from its earthen hole as he peered around the great luggage pile, pointing out different pieces. "I think if you take these tote bags here... and this chest... and maybe this bag with all the yellow diamonds on it, and this thing with the wheels here... well, then I should be able to handle the other seven bags myself. It'll be a pretty even split and we'll be able to haul everything to her room much faster." His claws clasped onto his waist patiently and he nodded, "Sound good?"

"Hrm...," the dark stallion hummed with a grating rumble in his throat. His eyes narrowed, turning into intensely radiant slits against his black face. At first they focused upon the measly dragon before him, but eventually they darted about the lobby deck. Everywhere they took in what was occurring: distracted island ponies who were preoccupied grabbing bags from other guests... visiting ponies who were absorbed in observing the ponies who were helping them... the lady Rarity swooning too hard to have any wits about her...

He moved up next to Spike and bent himself into the luggage pile, hooking about his neck one of the many bags by its straps.

The dragon inched closer, mildly perplexed at Sweet Nothing's behavior. "Uh, excuse me," he politely injected himself, "I don't mean to be rude or anything but that's one of the bags that I'll take. You see, I think it would be easier for-"

Abruptly, absent even the tiniest signal in warning, the stallion swung his hips to the side with all the force of a falling hammer. His flank struck Spike dead on and cast the dragon backwards, the tumbling lizard bouncing as he rolled several feet backwards.

Without pause Sweet Nothing proceeded to secure all of Rarity's baggage: throwing more and more onto his neck until they were clustered like a cumbersome keg below his chin; mounting many on his back with skillful ease; he even wrapped his strong, silvery tail around the handle of the wheeled piece of luggage and towed it behind him. Under the strain of carrying the entirety of the unicorn's excessive supplies his muscles buckled down, but really that only made their powerful, solid, and shapely forms stand out all the more. The burden barely slowed him, and he certainly did not allow himself to reveal even a hint of difficulty in doing his duty.

He strut his way back past Rarity, wielding her luggage dauntlessly. Head tall as a tower, he said confidently as he passed, "Nothing to it, my lady. And if there is anything more you need, don't hesitate to seek me out and ask."

The unicorn, dizzy with delight, swayed where she stood and padded her hot cheek with a sigh; the luckiest mare in the world.

Sweet Nothing smiled to himself complacently, heading to join the rest of the ponies who had already collected their designated baggage. But as he went he caught Vesuvius tracking him.

The master stallion's furled lips just scarcely concealed his grit teeth, his tail curled up and stretched out again and again, and his red irises boiled in the harshness of his stare.

But the sight of the burning pony only poured more cockiness into Sweet Nothing, and he threw that much more defiance and self-assertion into his stride, kicking his hind legs a little towards the island master. Vesuvius did little more than stand there and let the rising steam leak out of his nostrils.

Spike heaved an awful groan, shaking his head to loosen out the echoing soreness caught inside. He stood back up and tried to ignore the ringing in his ears. All about him everypony was carrying on as if nothing had happened. Unbelievable; nopony had seen it! He folded up his arms and gave a silent snarl towards the departing jerk who had knocked him over.

"Excuse me? Mister dragon?"

"Bwuh?" Spike flinched as he turned towards the rather large pegasus mare who had surprised him so, but then his eyes widened merely to take all of her in. Tall maybe didn't go far enough; she was nearly half a head above most other ponies even without accounting for her jungle green mane and the way it protruded up like a jagged paper fan. There was a well-packed thickness to her body too, with her whole shape as bold and bright as a pumpkin, solid with the same heavy girth and skin, and her tail as the thick stem. Her wings as well, feathers sharp and aligned, were detectably broad and grand even as they sat at rest on her back; a real dragon of a pony.

Her aqua eyes towered over him, with her stare lost in something which still processed inside of her head. A clash between expectations and reality dominated her her thoughts as she peered at the dragon. Finally she woke herself up from her wonder and blindly asked, "Ah, do you have bags for me to carry, mister dragon... Spike... sir?"

"Well, all my stuff is packed up with-," Spike began. His eyes drew a sour line towards Sweet Nothing and the stolen cargo which the detestable pony now hauled. "No, I guess not," he grunted, low and with displeasure. Again he folded up his arms.

"Oh," the flustered mare realized. "Then, ah... pardon me." She stepped away as suddenly as she had shown up, leaving the dragon slightly bemused himself.

James stood quietly, his overgrown thoughts flourishing inside. He had listened intently to the poetic speeches by Venus and Vesuvius, amused at first. The vibrancy their words delivered had brought to mind the many commercials for tropical getaways that his memory had permanently absorbed from a childhood which was a little too glued to the television. Still, and maybe it had just been the mood in the air filtering into him, he had started to settle into fully hopeful spirits; maybe this vacation really was going to be something special! But bit by bit something had distracted him as he had watched and listened, siphoning his pleasant thoughts away to leave only the most pensively ponderous ones in control.

The two island owners, and their incredibly... close... relationship; it wouldn't have been so off or jarring to him elsewhere, or back home anyway. Seeing their open, unabashed, and even outright salacious behavior towards each other, especially in the presence of their own fellows AND of their guests... witnessing that had hit him like a slap to his face. It took a few minutes of silent reflection before he had finally realized why it had struck so bluntly: over three months now he had been in Equestria and he had never seen the faintest clue nor even heard the remotest hint of such behavior.

Oh, he had seen ponies in love. Star Glitter and P.V. sprung to mind, though they were only the most recent example. The fresh Equestrian memories were there and readily accessible: a myriad of different young lovers out in the park or strolling downtown, close and comfortable with each other; older couples like the Cakes who worked in perfect partnership, with love and appreciation that expressed itself in the neatest and most ordinary of ways, yet no less powerful in inspiration (such individuals rather reminded him of his own parents, actually;) Pinkie Pie had dragged him to more than a few specially-crafted birthday parties, extremely dear celebrations which had been commissioned by ponies who had wished to shower devotion onto the somepony special who completed their life.

Ponies did fall in love, and they got into it in the most romantically compassionate of ways. He had never asked before, but he was sure Twilight would have told him that love was a force much like magic was, moving through the world with an unknown but benevolent purpose, and capable of its own unbelievable and impossible-defying things. She would probably have meant it sincerely too. He could think of a dictionary's worth of words to bundle up with all that he had seen in pony romance: affection, dedication, courage, admiration, cute, adorable, silly, fun, dear, lovely, pure...

... chaste ...?

Yes. There were harder words that he physically couldn't bring himself to use in association with pony romance. He had never, not even once, caught a whiff of pony relationships possibly going in such a direction. Not in sight, not in rumor, not in jest. Forbidden words: desire... lust... SEX.

Seriously. He had once gotten idly curious enough to pour through the Ponyville Library's card catalogs in a search of any reference to the subject. In what was publicly available there had been no books specifically on it, and so he had pulled all the books that could have even possibly been related to it, tangentially or otherwise. And there had been nothing. No tome had contained a single mention of it! At the time he had been apt to blame his failure on the library's lack of a computer; he had recognized his own fumbling inability to work an old card catalog with any reasonable efficiency. But as hindsight grew clearer, and as more life in Equestria accumulated in him... he had become less and less sure that the omission of sex was something incidental.

Twilight would have been his go-to pony to ask about such a thing, largely because she had a vast breadth of knowledge on EVERYTHING, and her ability to become singlemindedly interested in just about any topic only eased things even more. He had never questioned her about it though. He had come close to asking her outright a few times, again in instances where his curiosity had incidentally peaked. But the absolute absence of even a single reference had been enough to hold him back. Never once had she herself remotely touched, teased, hinted at, or even danced around a vague reference which could have conceivably been misconstrued as possibly being about the subject. Never had anypony done so. And none of the faint allusions he had made to sex, by accidental habit or on purpose as curious tests, had ever triggered an understanding response for her or anypony.

It wasn't that it would have been terribly embarrassing to ask somepony he was comfortable with, like Twilight; he had grown past that phase well before coming to Equestria. And Twilight really did have all the smarts of a dozen college professors combined; there wasn't a doubt that she could handle the subject with grace, if she chose to. It just... would kind have felt inappropriate in those moments of high curiosity to have suddenly shifted the conversation to: "Hey. Let's talk about SEX."

Especially if in the end it somehow turned out that ponies literally had no frame of reference for it; a scenario no doubt possible through some form of magic mumbo jumbo. Maybe this was a universe where storks actually did cut out all the dirty business? (Not that he could bring himself to actually believe that.)

And besides... he sort of didn't want to have a SERIOUS discussion about sex anyway. He hadn't seen a good looking woman for months, and each week it was dawning on him more that he never would see another one agai-

"Mister... James, sir?"

All the worldly sensations about him came rushing back: salty air on his face, stiff wood holding up his feet, and a menagerie of new colors in his eyes.

A unicorn mare had come before him, and was she ever as vivid as a child's crayon box. A coat less than the most brilliant white but more than the most sparkling silver; a mane made from swirls of carnation red, minty green, and icy blue, with a few waves held in place by breezy violet clips; her tail was also decorated, braided into five sequential and colorful bulbs that were split by also violet hair ties; and her eyes were as reflective as stainless steel, polished and perfect. On her ankles she wore several bracelets; simple loops of solid color: a frosty orange, a happy red, a carefree yellow, and yet another violet, the four split evenly between her two front legs; in back there was only one, a lonely gray on her right hind leg. Even her cutie mark was a wheel of rainbow color, the merging stripes almost spinning on their own the more the symbol was stared at, and at the center of the pit of collapsing colors they joined into an infinitely white light. She was anything and everything, and ready for anything and everything.

"Oh, hey, yes, can I help you?" James woke up from his inner thoughts, impulsively dribbling out slapdash words while he collected his wits.

His clumsy return to reality sparked a quiet laugh in her, and she said, "I'm here to help YOU!" The radiant light from her horn started to tentatively lift the single sack which sat by his feet. "May I take your bag, sir?" she cordially requested.

"Yeah, sure. Sorry." He slid just one small step to the side in an unneeded show of surrender, and the unicorn surrounded his bag fully with her magic before hoisting it into the air behind her.

The man gave her a dainty, fast nod of approval before he tried to turn back his mind to whatever road it had been on. The snap back to reality had put him in that forgetful place where everything felt familiar, just dancing outside the bounds of recognition, yet nothing was surely known; a temporary amnesia clouded over with dizzy thoughts. It didn't clear immediately so he had no choice but to feel his way along in blind frustration until he could stumble upon his old trail. Intuition made his eyes drift naturally back towards Venus and Vesuvius.

Something about the way they stood together... pressed closed, virtually on top of each other, yet still trying to get impossibly closer. Trying to force themselves into each others' bodies...

He felt his mind on the very verge of recovery when he noticed that the sense of uncomfortable proximity had never dissipated; he wasn't alone with his thoughts. From the corner of his eye he saw a wedge of lively colors, and the flickering of a still glowing light, like a chest of illuminated gems just outside of his vision. The unicorn mare hadn't moved. Still she stood there, her horn shining as it magically clutched his bag.

Turning his neck so as to look at her from a straighter angle, he was startled by how engrossed her own her eyes were with him. She had that look: leery and inquisitive, focused and distracted, with her vision so dialed in that it blocked out the rest of the world. Up her gaze crawled, its sticky limbs climbing his body with an eager grip for every place it stopped, before it turned around and wandering back down him, exploring the whole way. By just a hair, her mouth was cracked open.

Again James found himself in a place of unusual familiarity. Getting odd looks for ponies wasn't anything new for him; many of the Ponyville ponies also had taken a few wide-eyed moments to visually inspect the only human they would ever see. It had been quite natural and expected, and that behavior had subsided with the more of him that they had seen around their village, as well as with the more comfort he had found in himself being around them.

But that's not what this unicorn's probing stare was. Its character was so much more absorbed, and far less suspicious; so much more imaginative, and far less concealed; so much more audacious, and far less reserved.

The longer her stare lingered about him the more he was reminded not of the Ponyville ponies and their sterile scrutiny of him... but of something else. His memory told him that the look on her face came from the days before Equestria. Those exploring eyes... he had seen the same moving glances whenever he had found himself in a place full of uncommitted individuals; in an era which had been a little more lonely, a little more hormone driven, and a little more surrounded by pretty girls (with only two legs.)

Was she... checking him out?

"... Yes?" the man was slow to interrupt her, almost troubled.

"Oh, um," she finally recognized how overly long she had delayed her departure. At last turning to move away, she dragged her hooves significantly and held her stare upon him for as much extra time as she could. Before breaking from him completely she unexpectedly spoke up, "You're very... interesting."

The statement greeted him with an odd sort of humility. Half of it was coated in apology, not that the physical words spoke to any sorrow for her improper ogling. But the simple sentence also resounded with wishful prediction, and even anticipation.

"I'm Prism, by the way," she added quickly. She spared him no time to respond, walking away immediately with his airborne bag bouncing along after her.

The bizarre event left its mark on the man and he stood idle, witnessing her departure but not particularly watching it. A small buzz of bewilderment caused his extremities to tingle. There didn't feel like a right way to process what had just happened.

He at last turned away, sighed, rubbed his neck, and straightened the thin straps of his shirt which ran over his shoulders. Fiddling with the strings that held his shirt on encouraged him to look down at the design Rarity had made for him. The flowing-camisole-shirt-thing, with all its layered ruffles; the skirt-shorts, like a young girl might wear; and the actually-quite-nice sandals. He looked stupidly ridiculous, and the longer he wore it the more he felt that his regret was catching up to his sense of obligation towards Rarity. Maybe this ugly thing was all that Prism had been gawking at. It was a wonder he hadn't gotten more stares.

It wasn't long before the disorganized island ponies had collected all of the luggage, and they gathered themselves together near a set of steps leading up to another deck. Again they had no particular organization in the way they settled, forming not any clean line or orderly block but rather a messy blob.

Vesuvius still had his judging eyes working over his island ponies' performances, but they largely only cast harsh rays at Sweet Nothing. He never said anything however, nor did he leave Venus's side. He only stood and simmered.

Venus giggled to him softly and then whispered into his ear. Whatever she said mostly smothered the fire within him. His eyes returned to himself, his chin dropped, and tickles of suppressed embarrassment warmed his face. Eventually he nodded his head and then whispered back to her. With another quiet and joyful snicker Venus caressed his neck with her cheek before she pushed a powerful, lingering kiss onto the side of his face.

"Go ahead," she cooed.

Bearing a small smile again, the sturdy stallion ruefully departed her company and went to lead the other islanders. His authoritative voice reigned over them, not gushing out loud and abrasive but flowing strongly with a now controlled and respectful calm. Disorderly crowd that they were, it was with a slow start that they hoofed it up the nearby steps to the next level, heading for a path which ran away from the tiny dock town. Each of them casually marched to their own rhythm under Vesuvius' direction.

The island lady assumed the task of handling the guests by herself, and she merrily called to them, "Now then! If you'll please follow me? We have plenty of space for you all, and I can't wait to show you where you'll be staying! And afterwards it will be such a pleasure to sit down with you together and chat over a nice meal." She took a thankful step towards Twilight and then gestured one of her creamy pink hooves towards the rest of the guests, beckoning them forward. "Your friend's words were very helpful for our preparation, but words are no substitute for the close company of a real pony!"

Turning about she began to move on, following shortly behind Vesuvius and the others. Twilight and her friends, still eager and on board, if overflowing with their own mixed thoughts and speculations, proceeded after their guide.

As they went Venus announced back towards them, "We're quite proud of the Passion's Embrace. It's special to us; Suvi and I. It all began right there, where we eventually built it. And from its humble beginnings there, we hope... we will change the world."

Chapter 16: Winding

A wide wooden walkway spilled onto a path blanketed with sandy dirt, the ends of the boards unevenly cut and their bodies' sore with enough stiffness to creak under even half of a pony's weight. The pathway beyond meandered, mostly following the shoreline, though it was set higher up. It ran atop a long and slumped hill at the bottom of which was a thin beach under tender assault by tiny waves. Often the other side of the path was lined with short cliff faces; natural walls built from rock and clay, decorated with healthy foliage which dribbled down their height. Far down the road, the Passion's Embrace - the central building of the resort (and by a stupendous degree also the largest) - was always visible, except during a few occasions where the wandering path briefly curved inwards enough to hide it. It was only a walk away, or at least a fairly moderate walk away; good enough for many minutes of a friendly stroll.

The crawling stampede of baggage-handling island ponies, Vesuvius among them, hobbled their way discordantly off the groaning boards of the tiny dock town and onto the path. Too wide of a group to fit upon the last wooden walkway all at once, they filtered their way through like gravel down a choked funnel. Once past the thin lane they merely resumed their uncoordinated march towards the resort. Their bubble of a crowd expanded as they went, drifting unconsciously into a spacious formation as wide as the pathway would physically allow, and no two ponies stepped along at exactly the same pace. It was up to the master stallion to keep anypony from anxiously blitzing too far ahead or lazily lagging too far behind.

Hardly any distance behind the sloppy crowd was Twilight and her friends, lead in front by Venus. The island lady stepped off of the wooden walkway first, and then immediately she stood aside. Turning back towards the guests tailing her she encouraged them to move along and follow after the crowd, her words ever vibrant. She deliberately engaged each and every guest who passed her, intently taking in their faces as she kindly delivered to them some simple variations of the same instructions, and every one of her syllables was backed with a happy smile.

Rarity ambled, her recent queenly treatment an anchor which held her in the rear of her group. Her face was flushed because of the dozen different fanciful thoughts she let gallop gaily through her head. Venus read the signs easily and she closed in on the dressmaker with exceptional interest.

"Come along," she urged gently, inviting Rarity forward, "just follow the others. It's not all that far." After the daydreaming unicorn passed her by she immediately moved to keep pace, quickly catching up to the rosy-cheeked pony.

Walking alongside Rarity she lowered herself from a professional tone to a very personal one, and she praised the other unicorn, "And my dear, aren't you a visage of loveliness? Rarity, I believe? I recall that your friend has told us that you sew dresses of an unbelievable quality!"

"Oh, how awfully kind of you to say! Thank you!" Rarity replied. Gracefully she brought her rampant whimsy under control, more or less returning to the proper form of a lady. And like a lady she paid compliment for compliment, "May I just say that your lava-lava is absolutely gorgeous? The silky shine of it is perfect for your complexion. Oh, and that floral pattern! It suits you so wonderfully; it adds a fantastic touch of color while also reflecting this lovely island of yours."

Very pleased, Venus wriggled her back half a little as she walked, lightly swishing about the beautiful cloth she wore. "Thank you, as well! It's no extravagant dress but I've never been one for clothes that are difficult to take off."

"Well, simplicity can be quite a statement, and you pull it off so well! The germanium on your ear is a fabulous addition," Rarity only further commended the island lady's taste. She let out an envious moan, "Oh, why, just seeing it so well modeled on you makes me wish I had a lovely lava-lava of my own! Wherever did you find it? Who makes it?"

Venus gave a dainty chuckle, saying, "I couldn't tell you exactly; not without consulting my dear Suvi. He got it for me, from somewhere far on the other side of Equestria."

"As a gift?" the dressmaker asked, brightly astonished. She hoisted up her nose, tried to peer past the many ponies ahead of her, and looked for Vesuvius as if he would now somehow appear as a dashing gentlecolt instead of as a hardy islander. A trickle of color as red as ripe strawberries pooled into her cheeks; a genuine appreciation for the two partners' romance, though mixed equally with her hesitant opinion of how brazen their displays of affection were. "You're lucky to have a stallion so tasteful. And one who is so... understanding of you," she delivered without betraying her grace.

"He knows how to please," the island lady responded with satisfaction, actually blushing a little herself. Then she laughed, "Though I won't say he wasn't being at least somewhat selfish when he bought it for me, hehe." Her color deepened. "He loves the way I look in it." Briefly she basked in a self-induced glow, cherishing the reminiscences of her dear Vesuvius.

She was swift to return to her intended task however, and she spied the other pony's lightly flushed cheeks eagerly. "So... Rarity," she edged just an inch closer as she walked, and perfectly she pried, "... I know you've only just arrived but; what do you think so far, may I ask?"

"Ah, well," Rarity took great care to balance her honesty with courtesy, "it pains me to admit that I did experience some... doubt at first." She lifted half an eye back towards the decks and pier shrinking behind them. "Your reception location is somewhat... plebeian, shall we say?" Worried that she may have stepped over a line with her diminishing remark she cringed in mild fear.

"I understand," Venus politely nodded. "I think we've managed to accomplish a lot with the few ponies and resources that we have; there's only a few dozen of us after all," she explained, calm but with level pride. "We don't have the limitless budget of a five star resort so we can't quite afford to build a fully staffed grand reception hall while also having a separately functioning dock for all the supplies that come in."

"Forgive me, I didn't mean to imply any indolence on your part. I'm sure you all work very hard to-," Rarity quickly tried to back away from any misunderstanding.

"No, no, it's alright!" the unoffended mare smiled. "I appreciate that you've given your honest opinion!" She lifted her head with a bit of a cocksure turn, saying, "And I like to think that working within our restrictions has given our island a bit of a natural charm; far less artificial than other places. And 'natural' is perfect for what we want this island to be."

Again she crawled in closer to the dressmaker. "I've been to a few of those other grander resorts myself and I confess that there's something appealing to all their flash and pomp; all their spectacles and displays, which are indeed beautiful... on the surface." A fire of confidence lit up in her eyes and she suddenly stressed, "I hope you'll find here the same thing that I eventually learned: beauty isn't only skin deep."

Rarity automatically looked ahead at all of the ponies spaced out before her, easily picking out her tower of luggage and more especially the pony whose back said luggage was piled high upon. She had her own entrenched thoughts about beauty... but... Even just the view of Sweet Nothing's rump, partially obscured by the several ponies in the way... well, talk about spectacles and displays! If the stallions strolling through the streets back at Ponyville had all been as finely sculpted as that then her very windowsill would have been a trap from which she never would have escaped! Such pure handsomeness was criminal!

Once more she grew hot in the face, and she replied unreserved, "Yes, I've already started to see that despite my earlier misgivings there are other... enticing elements to this trip."

"Good! Fantastic!" Venus exclaimed, grinning with satisfaction. She took her own look between Rarity and the pony crowd, and scribbled some pleased notes within her head.

"It's been wonderful to speak with you, Rarity," she said humbly after a short lull, "but if you'll excuse me now?"

The dressmaker nodded, already knee-deep in her fantasies again.

Picking up her pace Venus stamped hoofprints in the forgiving dust of the already well-worn path. She moved ahead of Rarity, passed by the rest of Twilight's friends, but as she took her place in front of the guests she seemed to think twice for a moment. Suddenly she sidestepped over and eased back on her speed. Against the current she slowly drifted, letting those behind her catch up. When she merged into Twilight's group again she synced up right next to the intrigued James.

"Hello," she greeted casually. "James, yes?"

"Mhmm. Pleasure to meet you, Miss Venus." He bowed his torso slightly forward while resting a palm on his chest.

She was obviously endeared by his manners in some fashion, and any sort of negative forecasts she had feared flitted away instantly. "Equally so!" she returned, sunny and chipper. Reading some of the innocent suspicion on his face she formally gave him an unmasked account of her approach, "I hope you'll forgive me my curiosity."

"Ah," he understood. "No problem. I've mostly gotten used to it now." He bounced a shoulder as he answered.

"I'm sure you can imagine our great surprise," Venus went further, "when we read that TWO of the eight guests we would be hosting weren't even ponies at all!"

The man was struck with momentary pause, for the thought actually HADN'T ever occurred to him. He had been drawn too far into other affairs (and his own occasionally ill thoughts) for the past week to have ever allowed his mind to flex around how a vacation resort for ponies would receive him. His own original expectations of this trip had been highly generic, secretly steering his imagination away from more speculative considerations, and certainly his friends' equally general predictions had only further smeared the issue.

"And not only that," the island lady continued, "but two species of quite some uniqueness! What island resort in the Carriaggean has ever hosted a dragon? Or a..." Her mind went blank and she actually suffered an embarrassing loss of composure. "Oh dear, I'm so sorry...," she apologized sincerely for her perceived insult of ignorance.

"Human," he identified himself, effortlessly shrugging off any presumed offense. "It's alright. Easy enough mistake to make. More uncommon than dragons around here."

"'Uncommon?'" she pondered on his word choice briefly, shaking her head. Her encouragement came charging out, "'Exceptional' is more appropriate. Or at least I should hope so!"

The unicorn brought her neck down, her head held low as she put forward in no doubtful promise, "I wish to assure you that we are proud to host you, and are COMMITTED to making your time here no less special than any of your friends. And we've tried not to let your... exceptionalness... stand in our way. We've done our best to prepare for you as we can." Up her face came and, with a look overwhelmed by anticipation, she absorbed herself into him, "But it's never too late for us to learn more, and to do more!"

Not from generosity, not from duty, not from wisdom, not from chance; from something else, an open invitation came out of her, "Please, don't ever be afraid to share with us your innermost thoughts or feelings. The more we share... well, the better we'll be able to satisfy you. Don't hold back anything for our sake."

The statements stood tall, absolutely grounded in a foundation poured from her conviction; invincible against the havoc winds of doubt, insufficiency, or betrayal. By James' sincere estimation she had meant unequivocally everything she had said; full of firm, even sacrificial, commitment. He wondered: if he were to have stripped off her flowery skirt would he have found a cutie mark underneath depicting the island itself? For her this place was more than a business pursuit which depended on high customer marks; she was truly passionate about it. It was part of her, somehow. Part of her own exceptionalness; that unique magic which each and every pony had inside.

"Alright. I'll remember that," he yielded.

Venus adopted a full smile; glad, gracious, and thrilled.

They carried on for several quiet steps before she spoke anew, chuckling, "Interestingly, I think you might wind up being a bit more difficult than the dragon."

He tilted his head away from her, leering back with a questioning eye. "Well... I guess you've at least heard of dragons before," he said, assuming her thoughts, "and have some kind of cultural expectations about them, right or wrong. Spike's not the kind of dragon you're probably thinking of though."

She took his opinion pleasantly, but yet she clarified for him, "Actually... what I meant was: out of all of her friends, Twilight wrote the least about you. By a good margin."

Again there was a forceful vacancy in their conversation as he was struck dumb by her unexpected words. Hard to believe that the Princess's pupil - that studious and scholarly pony - couldn't have expounded on him more thoroughly, especially after all the lengthy conversations they had traded with each other in the past. He felt like he could have conversely given a truckload about her, and he knew for a fact that she had previously written more about lesser things before.

Shortly he recovered, accepting rather weakly, "I suppose that's not a huge surprise... I haven't been around all that long."

"Well I for one," the island lady insisted undeterred and in the most friendly of fashions, "am very excited to explore your mysteries! Too see what possibilities you offer!" Her gaze worked its way into him.

Though some untraceable subtleties left him feeling just faintly put off in an uncertain way, he responded in shy honesty, "I'm kind of excited to be here."

Content, Venus gave the man a welcoming nod, and he returned an equally cordial gesture.

He expected her to immediately move on. Perhaps she would go to chat with one of his friends like she had spoken to himself and Rarity, or maybe she would confer with her fellow islanders, or even just latch onto her cherished Vesuvius again. However, something else entirely appeared under her skin. The churning pace of her legs quickened ever so slightly and she moved mildly out of step with the man, getting ahead only inch by inch. Her chin rested level on the thickening air and her face locked on to nothing in particular ahead of them. The unseen distance, far, far off, stole her eyes.

"Prism is quite a curious pony," she chirped, surprising him with the suddenness of her plain outburst. "Or rather... adventurous, really."

James didn't answer except to peer at the island lady more narrowly.

She looked back at his quietly puzzled stare. "Prism. The pony who has your bag," she elaborated simply, as if that sufficiently explained everything. "She's always seeking to broaden her horizons. I think," she tightened herself with secrecy, like she were trading a sensitive confession, "she's most eager to hear more about you."

Still nothing came from the man except unspoken questions of relevancy.

"Don't be a stranger to her," Venus encouraged, a little more formal than before. "And you can certainly ask her about anything that concerns you. I think she's a perfect pony to tend to your needs... if you have any while here."

She punctuated her remark with an odd jump of her head; almost a complete nod; and a strange twitch of her eye; almost a wink. It was hard to tell exactly what her body had spoken, with how slight and fast the actions were.

Then she merely departed, speeding up into a trot which towed her forward.

Lightly James scratched his arm, just above the elbow. "Hm."

"Pick your head up," Vesuvius gave his firm but friendly command in a low, private tone. "Come on. You don't want to look so bored."

The pegasus with the metallic gold coat blinked his eyes, practically awakening. His neck was limp, so much so that his face floated along above the ground as if he were counting every grain and pebble that he passed. It took a few moments for the head stallion's words to fully penetrate his rousing awareness. Finally he heeded the given advice and lifted his neck back, balancing himself out with conscious attention.

"Sorry, sir," he apologized obediently. The fresh focus which spread throughout him refined his march; a very respectable improvement over the unmindful shambling of before. Though he also deferentially kept his speed matched to that of Vesuvius who was walking alongside him. "Not bored though," the candid pegasus explained himself, with only his eyes turned towards the island master. "I was just caught up in my thoughts."

Vesuvius twisted his neck around to glance at Rainbow Dash for a fleeting moment. The colorful mare, unnoticing of any attention on her, was splitting her time between curious observations about the island and making frustrated faces at her hat-wearing friend. "Thinking about something?" the stallion hinted as he returned his attention to the pegasus next to him.

The other pony was silent for several breaths; a lull of wavering judgment before uncommitted action. He did choose to answer at last, and he spoke considerately even if his tongue unfurled words with the uneven cadence of dynamically evolving thought, "I know that the first time you ever heard anything about her was in that write-up the Princess's pupil did. But... I've known about her before that." Honesty, sprinkled with some amount of pristine reverence, emerged from him. "She's an awesome flyer."

An eyebrow arched up on the crimson pony's face. "... You've never mentioned this before, Nosedive," he indirectly asked for clarification.

"I didn't think it was important," came the direct answer. "I mean... it IS why I volunteered, and nopony contested me, so... it didn't seem worth mentioning." The pegasus shrugged with his mouth.

Slowly a teasing grin came upon Vesuvius. "Oh? So you're a fan, eh?" he needled the other pony with innocuous intent.

"No...," Nosedive denied the allegation cautiously, failing to hide a tremble in his voice awkward enough to hint at a more complicated reality. He did more assertively admit afterwards, "I mean, the respect's there."

Vesuvius said nothing, but the mature playfulness didn't leave his face. If anything it dug in deeper.

"Met her once before, too," the gold pegasus further extended his ever increasing justifications, never quite finding a comfortable place to ground himself. "In Cloudsdale, a long time ago. I mean, no way that she remembers... but I did bump into her." More recent memory took over his eyes, washing them with wonder, and he rambled confidently, "Also, I saw her compete in the Best Young Flyer Competition awhile back; that was really something. Wonderbolts material for sure."

Under the soft stress of the island master's unceasing stare Nosedive tried to conclude, "Anyway... all of that really makes me the best choice. So... not bored. I was just trying to figure out how to best do my job, was all."

At last Vesuvius spoke again, easy in his pride and sure with his support, "You'll do fine."

"Hope so, sir," the pegasus responded simply. "I think I could have performed-"

"Nosedive," Vesuvius called the name as solemnly as the striking of a memorial torch, immediately commanding the pegasus' attention. He lectured with almost fatherly authority, "They've just arrived. There's plenty of time. They'll need that time to settle in, get comfortable, and let the experience work its way into them. Remember your own first experience here. Don't get ahead of yourself, and don't make things more complicated than they need to be." Once more he asserted, "You'll do fine."

"Yes sir." The professional pony marched on, straight as an arrow and not letting his head fall again.

Breaking away from Nosedive, Vesuvius gazed over his other ponies. In no time his stern eyes fell upon one pony in particular, and he muttered with much less sympathy, "Speaking of not getting ahead of oneself..." With fiery clops the island master calmly stormed his way up to Sweet Nothing's side.

The dark pony was sweating from hauling alone the load that was Rarity's packaged, mobile life, but he gave no other signs of stress. His focus was moderately intense yet he wielded his determination with all the natural talent of a born juggler. He demanded his body hold itself up to the task and it certainly didn't dare give him any real grief in that regard; just another opportunity to put his much-loved physique on display. So he walked, baggage and all, moving at a pace that could have easily outstripped the others if he had so chosen to, and self-doubt was a thought never welcome in his mind.

In fact his self-absorption was enough that he didn't even notice Vesuvius until the island master was right upon him.

Stomping alongside Sweet Nothing, Vesuvius demanded in a low, heavy, brutal tone, "What were you doing back there?"

The baggage-burdened stallion almost flinched at the sudden verbal assault, but ultimately kept his cool. None of the steam in his gait disappeared nor was any of the luggage he bore disturbed. Turning his head aside, slightly away from the island master, he gave his chin a smug lift and said, "What? She loved it."

"Maybe," Vesuvius growled doubtfully. "For the moment, anyway. That doesn't mean it was without risk." An angry darkness descended over his eyes. "And I don't think the dragon liked it so much. He's a guest too."

"That's not my problem," Sweet Nothing retorted dismissively, giving the other pony not a glance of respect and keeping his head held arrogantly high. "He's Summer Wind's job."

Fuming, Vesuvius ceased offering what little merciful reserve he had been showing and all of his craggy authority pooled into his voice. He hoarsely whispered, "Listen here, you selfish brat: this island doesn't exist to service you. There's something far too important going on here, so you'll cease your... your..." The invasion of anger looted his vocabulary and he struggled briefly to produce a sufficiently accurate word, until he at last snorted, "... flippancy!"

The further the island master sunk into his fury the more it seemed to amuse Sweet Nothing. "Make me," he dared, producing a contrary grin.

Vesuvius flashed his own teeth, grinding them down while one of his eyes twitched with rage. He was about to blow a gasket.

"You can't get rid of me," the defiant pony only further taunted the island master. "You NEED me."

For a moment it seemed like Vesuvius would burst into flames and spew fire all over the insufferable Sweet Nothing. The way the incensed pony clamped down on himself was like the ominous rumbling gasps before a volcano's eruption. A few of the other ponies who were close enough to witness what was going on all took small, nervous steps away.

But the island master managed not to explode, sparing their fresh guests an unfortunate scene. Bringing himself under control at the last moment he rushed closer to the source of his ire, practically ramming his side into Sweet Nothing's bag-heavy body. Close enough to smother the other (still undaunted) pony he leveled his face against the dark stallion's turned cheek; not room for a column of marching ants between them.

"Don't think you're so untouchable," Vesuvius whispered in grim threat. "We'll find others if we have to."

Sweet Nothing at last brought his face back to look straight into the island master's burning eyes... where he promptly and defiantly snorted into them.

Before Vesuvius could muster an angry response he felt a softness caress his flank. The tender touch moved up his side and along his neck, sprinkling sweetness all the way. Venus appeared next to him, opposite Sweet Nothing, and nuzzled his cheek. "Suvi, dear, don't scowl so much," she said to him, intentionally peaceful and playful.

The change in the fiery stallion was fairly immediate; her cool touch quashed his fury. "Venus-," he began to explain as the hostile glow quickly disappeared from his eyes.

"Shhhh...," she lightly hushed him. She had earlier paid as much attention to all of their ponies as he had. There was nothing he had witnessed that she had not, so she knew quite well what had agitated him without having to be told. Giving him a supportive smile she nodded for him to step back. Obediently he did, slowing down such that he floated a few paces backwards, clearing the space between the island lady and the troublesome pony.

"Sweet Nothing," she addressed him firmly but fairly, serious in her role but polite with her demeanor. "You know better than to be such an obstinate pill. We all need to work together on this."

The dark stallion hardly succumbed to her stern, motherly authority but he did treat her with relatively more respect than her anger prone counterpart. He actually gave her his eyes right off the bat, even if he refused to bow his head. When he spoke he still surrendered nothing, but he at least elected not to twist any knives.

Confidently he insisted, "I'll handle my job as I like." He tossed his nose about at the ponies around them, his tone dipped into unassailable cockiness, and he added, "And I'll do a better job than all the rest of them." Finally, a gruff promise, "You'll see."

Even if the behavior was an improvement it still carried too much insolence for Vesuvius, especially since it had been directed at his dear one. He hardened, his teeth came out again, and he started to stamp forward.

But, predicting him, Venus glanced back and gave her dear one a knowing and faithful look. Again, though with more trouble this time, he obeyed her and withdrew, safely releasing his wrath through hot breaths, unhappy mutterings, and hard strikes against the ground.

The island lady, purposely loud enough for her cherished love to hear, admitted minimally to Sweet Nothing, "Rarity did seem quite charmed by your approach." But she brought back her leaderly firmness, donning an understanding and uncompromising face. "But still, Vesuvius is right. This is too important. So take more care, please?"

The other pony put on a sour frown.

"We appreciate all the support that you've been responsible for, Sweet Nothing. We really do," she assured him with formal honesty. "But we can't take chances with this. We're at a very important threshold. If we absolutely have to... we'll remove you." There was no threat in her; only the serious promise of action. "Am I clear?"

He harrumphed; a meager show of his reluctant acceptance. Still he gave a final, quiet, determined vow in return, "... I'll handle Rarity."

"Very well," she answered.

Sweet Nothing, damage dealt to his earlier self-satisfaction due to the annoying encounter, began to pick up speed and carried himself away at a frustrated pace. He longer worried over getting too far ahead of the others, and he likely would not have responded if either of the island masters had called for him to slow down.

Vesuvius continued to glare at the dark stallion even as the latter pulled away. None of his infrequent blinks wiped away the harshness suffocating his glower, or the unforgiving regret.

Chuckling gently, Venus came alongside her dear one and rubbed herself against him soothingly. "Oh, it'll be alright," she consoled the aggravated pony. "He DOES understand, but he hasn't developed the maturity yet."

Her loving, close presence was an antidote which healed as it always did. The stallion's fire slowly cooled until there was nothing left of it but the ashy bags under his eyes and the slight heat in his breath like lingering smoke. He shut his eyes and softly returned her gesture, stroking fondly the side of her face with his own. Their dive into affectionate actions appeared so utterly natural: they didn't stumble or trip though they walked so closely to one another and with closed eyes, their united stride lost no speed at all, and they were as comfortably synchronized as if they had lived their whole lives joined that way.

"Oh, Suvi... come!" Venus perked up. Eagerness quickly vaulted into her and she invited, "Let's use this moment to speak with Twilight. She's the prize, yes?"

"Mm... alright," he agreed without hesitation, his returning smile filling out even more.

Twilight and her friends still followed a short distance behind the islanders, somewhat quieter than the ponies ahead of them. Mostly individually they enjoyed their pleasant seaside stroll while wondering about what was to come.

The purple unicorn herself noticed immediately the slack pace of the two island hosts and their unmistakable intention to engage with her. They occasionally swapped avid whispers with each other in between poking her with inquisitive peeks. Patiently they waited for their slower speed to bring her closer. When she finally caught up they locked their steps with hers; Venus next to her and Vesuvius just beyond.

Venus didn't wait at all and opened first, rife with lively energy, "Hello, Twilight! It really is wonderful to meet you at last! We've hosted a few different ponies here now but never one as important as you!"

"Yes!" Vesuvius concurred with more level enthusiasm. "Princess Celestia's personal student..." His voice subtly peaked at the end as if asking a question.

"That's very flattering!" Twilight took in their commending remarks with polite reserve. She tried to sincerely downplay herself, "I'm not sure I'm as special as you make me out to be."

The island hosts exchanged a quick glance which passed perturbed thoughts between each other, their faces deflating slightly. Venus turned back to the unicorn guest and probed more deeply, keeping a positive tone, "What exactly do you do for the Princess?"

"Well, from time to time she has special, specific assignments that she gives to me," Twilight explained, unsure of what they were looking for in an answer but happy to try and supply whatever they were seeking regardless, "but my primary task at the moment is to research and study the magic of friendship."

"Magic of friendship?" The island lady looked at her dear one again, the strength in her mood returning swiftly. "That's actually a good start," she beamed as she lightly spoke to him. "Don't you think?"

Vesuvius nodded back to her before focusing again on Twilight. "So," he extrapolated from the guest's words, budding with hopefulness, "the Princess is interested in how ponies... connect with each other, in strong, close, personal ways. It's important enough to her to dedicate you to studying it."

"I guess you could say that," Twilight shrugged. She was glad to see them so engaged with her favorite field of study, but she was a little lost at divining the particulars of their interest. After all, they had selected her essay on friendship as the winning entrant for their writing contest about 'bringing ponies together and changing the world.' They knew already essentially what she was involved in because of her submission; she simply thought that they could been clearer on what specifics they were looking for and why.

But undeterred, and overjoyed as ever when discussing the world's best subject, she brightened and suggested very positively, "I think that the Princess is actually rather well versed in friendship herself, and she has me studying it mostly for my own benefit. But I'd certainly like to think it's also because she understands how essential friendship is to ponies."

"I see," Vesuvius bounced his head as he absorbed her words, "that's a very good thing to hear." But his face paused and the thoughts inside him churned loud enough that Venus could sense them, though the lady held herself back to wait for him to speak first. At last he mentioned, again with wondering inflections, "I hope she's interested enough to follow your progress. I imagine you keep in regular contact with her about the things you discover?"

Twilight easily answered, "Oh yes. I send friendship reports to her to relay my progress. Often my friends help, and sometimes they'll write to her as well!" The steam propelling her leisurely response choked and thinned, though not in any great amount, and she appended, "As for frequency... I write to her only as necessary; whenever something noteworthy has been learned. Fortunately the magic in Spike's fire breath allows him to send and receive her letters directly, so we can conveniently report to her at any time."

The island hosts liked what they heard. The last mantles of their civilly concealed anxiety were cast off, leaving the two glowing in naked happiness. They quickly and gently tapped their heads together, sharing smiles of pleasure, before Venus poured over the guest unicorn, "Oh, Twilight... there couldn't have been a more perfect pony to have come here!"

The lady nudged herself closer. The lids of her eyes peeled back and the great rings of silver blue color within them became like a cool ocean mirror; glistening sprinkles of sunshine on the water surrounding the centered reflection of her guest. Her rosy, sweet voice reached out like warm hands to hold the cheeks of the other pony, and the depth in her tone did not betray her grand intentions.

"You see, we here are in the business of... friendship also," she spoke, a low and veiled power in her words. "This island... this resort we've made here... isn't some business venture to grow a profit out of catering to crowds seeking tropical getaways. We want to do something so much more. We want to touch ponies with a new experience; something to connect them to others in a way their imaginations have never dared to think possible. To show them what powerful... friendships... can truly be weaved between the hearts of ponies."

"That sounds...," Twilight dragged her thoughts out carefully, "... really interesting. And noble." Her smile sprang to life and, still thinking of her essay and her studies, she gushed, "I'm incredibly excited to see what exactly you've done here!"

"Wonderful!" said Venus. Her spiritedness changed back into a simple, joyful radiance. "I'm excited to see what you take from your time here; what 'noteworthy' things you learn."

Vesuvius nuzzled his lady's cheek to share in her bliss, and she was quite ready for him with a giggle and a return caress. As he indulged himself he mentioned offhandedly to Twilight, "I'm glad to learn that you're so interested in something so close to what we are doing."

The unicorn guest tried to acknowledge him with as pleasant a nod as she could manage, however her manners were weakened by a sourceless doubt. She could feel a yappy incongruity licking her hooves. Not wanting to be inattentively rude she avoided giving space to uncomfortable silence and instead cautiously shared her immediate thoughts, "Well... I mean... my studies are what I based my entire essay on, and they're referenced quite frequently in it."

Nothing the hosts did suggested recognition. Either they hadn't heard her or had misinterpreted something she had said.

She clarified in a louder voice, "The... the winning essay I wrote for your contest."

"Oh, yes," Vesuvius pried himself off of Venus very suddenly. "Yes, you wrote of your studies."

A stiffness came into his neck, full and alert, like he was on the lookout for danger. A similar bug bit Venus. All of the leisure with which they had been behaving so comfortably had evaporated.

"You wrote quite extensively," the master stallion abruptly remembered.

"Oh. Actually it... it was one of my shorter ones," Twilight practically apologized, afraid something she had said or done had put them off balance.

"Don' fret yourself over it, dear Twilight," Venus mumbled loudly. She cleared her throat. "Long or short, yours was the top choice."

At that Twilight mostly relaxed, unveiling her general elation again. "I'm really happy that you selected my essay," she told them. "I wrote it for the fun of it; I didn't ever expect it to win!"

"Ah." Venus again traded mysterious thoughts with her dear one through some silent connection between their eyes. He offered only an unsettled, uncertain stillness with his. Finally she turned back to Twilight and asked almost speculatively, "Well... how could we have not chosen it?"

"Yes," Vesuvius suddenly rushed to add on, "as soon as we received your... stunning work... it was clear that you should be the winner."

"Really?" Twilight couldn't hide her proud grin. Her eagerness overflowed and she pressed them zealously, "What about it specifically attracted you?"

Yet again there was a short conference between the eyes of the island hosts.

"There...," Vesuvius laboriously hauled out an answer from his depths, "... there... wasn't any one thing, of course. It was such a... complex and engaging work all over."

"Yes!" agreed Venus, nearly forceful. "It would be quite difficult to... ask us to pick out any one thing."

"Oh," Twilight quietly moaned. She had asked because she only wished to bridge the gap between herself and her hosts. Her hopes flying lower, she tried again more weakly, "Was... there any particular thing I wrote that you really liked?"

Once more another silent message buzzed between the gazes of the sire and lady. This time a certain frustrated alarm rang out on their faces.

"Twilight, dear," Venus began to blurt out, threading cordial manners into her statements with hastened precision, "there's going to be plenty of time to discuss countless things during your stay here. But... unfortunately, for the moment..." She tapped Vesuvius with her side, not in a tender and loving way like before. "... you'll have to excuse us for now. I think we should be getting back to the front."

Her dear one supported her immediately, throat rattling with clumsy vibration, "Ah, yes. It's not far now so... pardon us, please."

"Pleasure talking to you!" the island lady bid a rapid farewell.

"Uh, right... You too...," Twilight wished them in turn, somewhat lost by the unexpected, terminating swing which the conversation had taken. The two ponies were already halfway gone as she spoke. All but dumbfounded the purple unicorn helplessly cocked a baffled eyebrow and watched them go.

Her befuddled stare tracked them as they made for the very front of the procession, and they moved rather determinately at that. However along the way they quite specifically made a stop, coming up on the dry green stallion who bore her own starburst-emblazoned saddlebags. Each one of them took a side around him. They didn't close in on him oppressively but yet their surrounding presence seemed to alarm the trapped pony. His regular stride swiftly started to waver, losing ground to uncertainty, and his worried gaze kept bouncing between them.

They spoke to him. The exact contents of what they were saying they kept concealed with low voices and intentionally distracted faces. One would speak, only turning themselves partway towards him or just merely casting a sideways glance, and afterwards the other would take over and talk with much the same behavior. From her distance the only thing which Twilight could sense of what they said was that they were been incredibly brief and direct.

What wasn't hidden to Twilight at all was the faltering stallion's reactions. Even when he was (mostly) inaudible there was enough wild flapping to his lips to be easily distinguished.

"What?" his mouth motioned in surprise. At the same time a wriggling anxiousness dripped into his steps. After a few more hidden whispers to him he nervously snapped up again and his lips fumbled with, "R-Right now?" At every one of the commanding whispers he responded with similarly choking protests.

In the end he reluctantly nodded to the two island hosts, relinquishing his meek resistance and bowing to their desires. The hosts together took a shared, discrete glance at Twilight before they then moved on, trotting quickly to front of their crowd of ponies. The green unicorn they left behind took his own spit-swallowing peek at Twilight, only to swing his jittering face away when he immediately noticed her staring at him.

Unprepared, he eased up on his steps. With aching slowness he drifted backwards, and all the while he was barely breathing. Whatever air he took in he belted out swiftly with silent words in practice, and he shook his head with how much he disliked every trial statement his mind produced.

It was no surprise to Twilight when, as he neared, he carefully began to line himself up next to her. He never could quite settle his eyes on her through; invisible distractions keep pulling his face away, and the bout of mild panic he battled had his sweat flowing. The perplexed stare she held on him, with brow blasted high in wonder, certainly didn't help him one bit but at that point she couldn't stop herself from gawking curiously.

"Uh, hello again," he managed to greet her fairly spontaneously, still unable to give her his eyes for more than thin moments.

"Hi?" Twilight answered. This was so odd. Why him instead of Venus and Vesuvius?

He clearly understood how innocently suspicious she was and his composure only baked all the more under the heat of her harmless scrutiny. "I, uh... I know this is an awkward time, so soon after you've just arrived and... me just being the pony who's carrying your saddlebags and everything..." The muscles in his throat strained as he again had to force down a wad of nervous saliva. "But... I just wanted to say that, uh... I've been looking forward to meeting you for awhile now because... I, uh... I got a chance to read your submission for the essay contest and..."

Very suddenly a change raced into him. Steady strength pushed out shaky struggle. Whatever poured such power into him even gave him enough reassurance to look straight at Twilight, and he confessed without reserve, "... and it was the most amazing thing I've ever read."

"T-Thank you." It was the incorruptible sincerity with which he spoke that surprised Twilight.

"I really mean it," he gently emphasized, his posture retreating a little. Worry started to trickle out of him again. The unbalanced hesitation in her answer had left him fearful that he had put her off guard.

"Oh. Well..." Quickly she brought herself back to order, pounding flat any wrinkles in her presentation with one relieving breath, and then she replied graciously, "Thank you. Thank you very much."

The calm kindness in her appreciation was identical to that which she had shown him before when he had retrieved her saddlebags; when his stupid, careless haste had lightly burned her by accidentally tightening the strap instead of releasing it. But her forgiveness then had been fast and refreshingly absolving; a purity in her voice that had soothed like a balm. He remembered that grace, recognizing it immediately now, and again it had the same effect on him. Shame, doubt, distress, and everything mettlesome seemed to float away from him and he was able to smile freely.

In turn Twilight was also put at ease, even mostly forgetting the awkward departure of Venus and Vesuvius. She utilized the comfortable moment to indulge her curiosity, questioning him, "Why did you read it? Were you in charge of selecting the winner?"

"No," he shook his head casually. "Just... the opportunity came up. And... I mean..." He shook his head again, though this time with much more gravity; captured by an absolute awe. "... Once I picked it up, I wasn't able to put it down again!"

Once more the sincerity positively pouring from him practically astounded her. She didn't mean to sound ungrateful at the praise but it was hard to shake the echoes of improbability from her reflexive reply of, "Really?"

"Yeah!" he exclaimed enthusiastically, fully ignorant of any incidental doubt she had expressed. "I mean, it was just incredible!" In no time he worked himself into a glorifying frenzy, igniting all the fuel he had saved up over days of keeping his thoughts on her treatise to himself.

"The way you were always able to bring in your anecdotes but still pull in other sources to actually ground them? And how you kept perfectly binding everything back to your argument on the magic of friendship every time, building and building on the central thesis? And, sweet Celestia, your examination and integration of classical works, defying and countering the flaws while still making use of the strengths in the great writings of the legendary thinkers of the past? I mean, you brought in Pulcartes' Meditations on Friendship Philosophy!" With happy pride he trotted out something well kept in his organized store of memory, quoting the more famous work, "'J'ai des amis, donc je suis.'"

The more he effusively raved the more distant every other diversion began to feel to Twilight. Weaknesses and worries withered away, and all the interested lights within her head flicked on. She recalled precisely everything which he spoke about, and little pinpricks of glee pushed through her, from mane to tail, at seeing his blatant familiarity with it all. Yes, he HAD read her essay, no doubt; and obviously he had also devoured at some point a few of her sources as well! The vociferous enthusiasm for such hungry consumption of wisdom was like golden chains wrapped around him, their locked grip trapping him helplessly but yet their delightfully shimmering links making him wealthy nonetheless.

Twilight felt instinctively the presence of a potential bond of friendship. Its strength threw the small space between them, figurative and literal, into immediate perspective.

She took a short glimpse at his cutie mark again: a blue stenciled image which resembled a ceremonial torch, the flame atop spitting out stars instead of embers. A burning wand which when waved could illuminate the heavens for others? Or maybe more of a constant light which ever seeks out the stars, wherever they dwell? The desire for knowledge, or the spread of it? Both?

"Thank you!" she repeated through an unambiguous smile built upon early blooms of laughter. "To be honest I didn't really put an extreme amount of effort into it. I mean, I wasn't disregarding in my efforts; I just saw the contest and thought I might write an entry for fun."

"Are you kidding?" he gave a glad gasp, surprised and impressed all at once. "I've never read anything like it! It's both inspiring and insightful, and valuable for anypony looking to get a fast, deep understanding of the nuances of friendship in modern Equestria!" He calmed somewhat, though he forfeited none of his hoisted admiration. "And really... it's just a darn good read. You never lost me once the whole way through. Honestly I should be thanking you."

"Wow! Thank-" The cheerful mare caught herself in time to halt the additional, unnecessary appreciation she had been about to spout, and she gratefully responded instead, "I mean... I'm so happy to hear that you enjoyed it! Even if it wasn't my intention it's encouraging to hear another pony take so much from one of my works. So, you're very welcome-"

The empty air beyond her abrupt stop puffed out like a hollow, formless word; a sentence tail soaring off of an unnoticed cliff. Her tongue was caught helpless to fill a blank that was obviously meant for a name.

"I'm sorry," he swiftly apologized, his head curling lower in only the faintest echo of his prior weak confidence. "I really should have introduced myself properly earlier. Before it just didn't seem like the right time to-" For whatever reason, he moved past his lament immediately, shaking it out of his head and leaving it behind.

Donning a humble courtesy, his spine and legs stiffened up as he bowed his head. "I'm Gallowayo. It's such a great pleasure to meet you, Twilight Sparkle."

"It's nice to meet you, Gallowayo," she returned, her friendliness liberally shared. After a moment of thought she kindly snickered, "Gallowayo? Like... the astronomer?"

Gallowayo barely buckled under the weight of her amusement. It was only with the scantest change of color in his face that he chuckled back, "He did a lot of other things besides astronomy... but yeah, that's where my name comes from."

"I know, I know," admitted Twilight. Her head teetered back and forth as she enumerated her knowledge of the famous pony, "Contributions to mathematics; MANY contributions to the sciences, including physical AND magical sciences; some significant inventions over the course of his life; a few fundamental philosophical works as well..." With a forgiving grin she excused herself, "I have nothing against him, but I'm more of a fan of Star Swirl the Bearded myself."

"Haha, yeah, Star Swirl is definitely more popular with most ponies, for good reason," the other unicorn laughed. "Great stories resonate a little better than great bibliographies."

Twilight glowed, plain elation having an easy time dancing over her. "You know," she stated after a short pause, "it's not often that I bump into a pony who has read some of Pulcartes' Meditations."

"Well...," Gallowayo rolled his head with the shyest amount of embarrassment, "... when I'm feeling confident I might call myself a renaissance pony... but... really..." Redder humility hit his face. "... I'm more just a student of everything."

"I know what you mean!" she said, lighting up even more. "I definitely have a few big interests but I've never found anything I wasn't thrilled to study!"

"I'll bet!" he immediately recovered, reciprocating her enthusiasm. "You've probably been exposed to all sorts of incredible stuff in the Princess's School for Gifted Unicorns!"

She crowed, "I DID get to study so many amazing things! Being under Princess Celestia's personal guidance has given me more interesting and lucky opportunities than I can count!"

The tidbits about him that had just come to light naturally turned the gears of her curiosity. She flipped the idea around on him, eagerly asking, "So what are you doing out here on Isla Equufera? Is there something here that you're studying?"

"Ah... no...," some of his gusto withered as he replied. Reluctantly he confessed, "I haven't... FORMALLY... studied anything since I was enrolled in a scholarship program at the University of Oxherd."

A brief stillness followed, the silence thickening like a milky sauce. Twilight's potent mind, as it always did, automatically snapped relevant facts together. "Oxherd...," she mumbled. The probable truth suddenly emerged and her mouth dropped open, floored by what she had deduced. "You're... you're a Roans Scholar?! One of the most prestigious scholarships in all of Equestria?"

"Well...," Gallowayo fought back some shame. "I was on that path but then I... I dropped out."

Concern moved in to replace the purple unicorn's awe. "You... failed your courses?" she inquired as gently as she could.

He breathed deeply through his nose a few times, not overly broken by his memories but still having to remind himself that he had already moved past them. "No, it wasn't quite like that," he finally answered. Shrugging a fast hoof he almost ruefully tried to make light of his history, "I wrote poetry when I should have been writing equations, and doodled with spells when I should have been painting scenery, and read fictional histories when I should have been reading political treatises.

"I liked the classes, and what I was studying. Really, I did," he insisted wistfully. "It was just that... the environment wasn't for me, I guess. I wasn't happy." But that last assertion of his felt a little off the mark; too unspecific. He more boldly declared, "I wasn't free."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Twilight offered him with genuine sympathy.

"Eh...," he sighed, trying to comfort her with a display of indifference towards his past. It was what it was.

She accepted his gesture, giving some space for a peace to settle in before she asked again, "So... how did you wind up here, then?"

"My parents," Gallowayo responded simply as he picked up his chin.

When she tilted her confounded head at him he freely elaborated, "You see, after I quit school I was... kind of feeling down in the dumps." He stiffened a little, relentlessly maintaining, "I mean, it was the right decision to leave. I know it was. Just... that didn't stop the dejection and sense of failure from coming on, you know?"

She nodded, familiar.

"Anyway," he continued, "Mom and Dad saw how I was and they decided that a vacation would be the right thing for me; a retreat to relax and recover while I figured out what I was going to do with my life."

"I see," acknowledged Twilight. However her brow became heavy with uncertainty. "But... why here specifically, and not any of the other islands?" she questioned. A sharp realization jabbed her and she raced to extend her query, "How, even? The resort isn't open to the public yet; I had to win the contest to get here!"

"My parents work in the Manehattan financial sector. Profitable consultancy work mostly. They had bumped into Venus and Vesuvius at some kind of large business networking event there. That was awhile before I had dropped out." His head bobbed as he recounted and verified the details mentally.

Twilight turned her eyes forwards. The two island masters were hard see through the thick patch of baggage-bearing ponies between her and them. But to actually glimpse them was unnecessary; her memory served her more than well enough.

The unmarred and starkly defined recollection of Venus firmly walking amongst her and her friends was clear in her head: an island beauty with a golden mane, grown like tropical foliage and flowing like pure waterfalls; a body clothed in the silky garden of a superbly crafted lava-lava; the blooming geranium clutched by the pony's ear, virtually living off of the lady's outpouring energy. Venus's poetic speeches were unsmudged on her memory's pages: a proudly predicted future; magical experiences to change lives and inspirit friendships.

The Vesuvius in her mind towered not like a skyscraper but like a volcano. Grand and hard, not necessarily in body or skin but certainly in thought and presentation. A pony whose very bearing forever cast a shadow, with a power inside that could burst forth in unexpected ways. His was a presence to be admired, respected, and revered, not due to any laws of formality but because his very nature demanded it. And he too had spilled out vibrant words describing unimaginable possibilities, attempting to bring myth to life with his voice.

To cut the formal image of business professionals, they did not. That they could ever be found on the sidewalks of an enterprising city, reams of legal paperwork in their bags and on their backs; or shaking hooves with stiffly dressed businessponies while discussing the uptrends and downswings of some intricate graphs; was a surprising consideration for Twilight. That was a talent they obviously kept hidden under their island appearances.

"I wonder what they were doing at an event like that in Manehattan?" she mused aloud.

Without blinking Gallowayo guessed, not unreasonably, "Fishing for investors, I think."

Stilling looking ahead, Twilight saw the large building which formed the core of the resort loom ever closer; the Passion's Embrace, not far now at all. According to what she knew it had only been constructed recently, and even from the distance she was at it was obvious that it had been built meticulously, to an exacting specificity. Far more resources had been poured into it than the relatively more ramshackle docks.

"Hm... that makes sense, I suppose," she acceded fully to the other pony's theory.

"Yeah."

He returned to his account, "So... whatever pitch they gave my parents... it didn't really interest Mom and Dad at the time. But I guess it made enough of an impression that they remembered it after I dropped out a few months later. They probably figured that I would do better with something a little more secluded, and way less busy than a mainstream resort at the height of tourist season, heh." The serendipity caught up to him for a moment and he warmed, producing an inner shine. "They got in touch with Venus and Vesuvius again and secured me a ticket."

Profoundly he changed, a fresh and distant wind blowing into him, and he spoke not specifically to her anymore but to some hidden agent of destiny possessing the air around him, "Anyway... that's how I came here the first time. And... it changed my perspective on EVERYTHING..."

Twilight stared at him, tasting the mystery which radiated out from him. While Venus and Vesuvius had extolled the life-changing magic of their tropical resort, here before her was a pony who, in that exact moment, seemed to exemplify it.

Shortly the mystique began to fade, and Gallowayo continued normally, "Eventually my trip was up and I left to return home." A tickle inside caused him to snort in amusement. Curling up the corner of his mouth, with an ironic delight he asked the other unicorn, "Can you imagine my parents' surprise when as soon as I got back I told them I was going to come and live here?"

"Really?" she gasped.

"Yeah! That's just what they said!" he laughed at her coincidentally perfect mimicry. "I couldn't stay away though. What Venus and Vesuvius are doing here..." His pause was to allow him to select accurate words, yet he only managed, "... it really is something unbelievable."

"Wow. So you were a guest here just ONCE," the stunned mare had to verify, "and that was enough to convince you to come back and work for them?"

"That's how it went," he confirmed gaily. As an afterthought he threw his nose towards the crowd of island ponies ahead of them and appended, "That's how a lot of us eventually wound up here, actually."

"Oh, so it's a similar story for some of the others?"

"Naturally each story is unique," he told her, "but yes, most of us were guests first."

Impressed by the magnetic pull of the island Twilight gave her eyes another pass over the menagerie of different ponies that had all been collected. They were a diverse group united by their will to leave behind the world and serve the mission which the island hosts had begun here.

Gallowayo noted with pleasant glee how she observed them, and he pointed out sagely, "It really speaks to the significance of what happens here, doesn't it? That we all came back?" Reflecting upon himself, he said, "I know that... once I had that experience... well, I HAD to be here. I think it's the same with the others; we want to see this succeed. Everypony in Equestria should... FEEL what this is like."

"Now you're getting me all excited and curious!" Twilight chortled, charmed with irrepressible interest. "What WHAT is like?"

His energy swiftly surged up and spilled out of him, "Oh Twilight, ever since I first came here I've been writing and writing to try and put it to words, but-!"

Even though only a sliver of Vesuvius' stare was visible; a small crack of his stern eye peeking over his shoulder; it was still enough to be a boulder in the path of the fervid pony, and Gallowayo's zealous outpour ground to an instant halt.

"Ah, well...," he suddenly struggled. Worse, he began to shrink under Twilight's now confused stare. "I-It really is hard to describe," he attempted to cover himself.

Yet slowly a real honesty did blend into his response. He spoke again, his control strengthening as he did so, "I know that Venus and Vesuvius are a little... sublime when they talk about it but... you have to understand that they really are trying to speak from their hearts. It's not an easy thing to explain directly to a new pony.

"But, I mean, you came here to experience it for yourself, right?" he cheered up and rhetorically asked the other unicorn. Adopting a pinch of wit he mused to her, "I guess maybe what I should say is that it's kind of like first studying anything new: you want to ease into the fundamentals to get your hooves wet before you go diving in."

Teased by the cryptic possibilities, but enthralled all the same, Twilight's engorged anticipation responded, "I can't wait!"

Gallowayo smiled. "I really hope that you enjoy your time here, and that you discover what we all have."

Checking ahead he saw that he was still under the scrutiny of Vesuvius' subtle gaze. And beyond, the five stories of the Passion's Embrace were close enough to climb the sky. Staying mostly collected, he started to drift away from his guest.

"Well," he excused himself, "uh... we're almost there now, so I should get back to... you know..." He shook his barrel, jiggling her saddlebags. "Thanks so much for speaking to me."

"No, it was my pleasure!" Twilight countered. To further slather icing on the cake she genially added, "I'm sorry I dominated the conversation with questions."

It amazed him that she had interpreted events that way; he felt that he had let his eagerness drag him into rambling far too much. "It's fine!" he rushed to relieve her. "I mean, I already know a bit about you anyway from reading everything you submitted and-"

By her slightly queer reaction he quickly figured out that he had misstepped into an awkwardly impolite space.

He tried to correct his mistake, "W-What I m-meant to say was, ah, er..." Again his fumbling was apparently broken by the emergence of a worthwhile honesty. "... If you'd be willing, sometime later... I'd love to chat some more, and hear about you straight from the pony's mouth, as it were. You know, instead of just relying on some things you've written..." Sheepishly his smile came out.

"I think I'd like that," she nodded.

The impact on Gallowayo was latent. "... Great!" he suddenly realized, bursting with happiness. "That's great! I'll... uh... there'll be time later, for sure! I can't wait! And, ah... thanks again!"

Bowing his own head repeatedly in endless thanks he began to trot forward. He slowed just once to call back to her, "Oh, and if you ever need anything, come get me! It'll be my pleasure to help!"

"Alright! Thank you!"

What a fantastic encounter! There was no part of Twilight that didn't look forward to speaking with Gallowayo again. It was a shame that she hadn't gotten to talk to Venus and Vesuvius more but they had been right: there was plenty of vacation left for that opportunity. All in all she was feeling particularly pumped for this trip; more than she had been for the weeks before departing!

One, two, three, and four, each of her hooves clopped along what little remaining path there was before the destination, as lightly as bouncing across the air.

It was an incidental look back at the rest of her friends that spoiled her hearty mood, tearing the smile off of her face. They wore a wide mix of different emotions, none of which floated as highly as hers. Rarity at least seemed lost in titillated thought. Something disagreeable brewed between Applejack and Rainbow Dash. Spike, too, tramped along under an obvious weight of discontent. The withdrawn silence that radiated from Fluttershy and Pinkie Pie was respectively pitiable and eerie. James had that musing look which he often wore slid down over his face, only it clutched to him more tightly than she had seen in a long time.

Thankfully they also all bore signs of anticipation. The Passion's Embrace just in front of them demanded their eyes, and they obliged with unmistakable wonder. The shades of quietness that colored each of them were definitively not desires to retreat. So it was only a duller shine that her friends reflected.

Hopefully the excitement she felt now would spread to the rest of them in time. Also hopefully whatever was so unique about this island would touch each of them in a special way, just like the islanders had described, and maybe it would help them set straight everything which was crooked.

Her old lessons didn't escape her though: a good friend doesn't exclusively rely on hope.

Chapter 17: Wonderland

The resort was homelike in the seclusion it flaunted, yet also elegant in the accommodations it offered. Right away it was obvious that this was not a destination for stuffy crowds, whose regular throughput may have provided other resorts with soaring profits but undoubtedly at the cost of quiet peace. This place felt close, and closed; untouchable, and far away from every reminder of Equestria except for the relaxing stillness of home. There were obviously borrowed elements from more popularly known resorts but much effort had been put into turning their lavish excesses around into something suitable for a close-knit community. The true essence of the resort was not a grand seaside hotel scaled down to manage a select few clients, despite its looks. Rather it had the soul of an isolated summer beach house grandly expanded to be a vacation fairground.

The centerpiece of it all; the main attraction of the island; the beacon which had first been visible from far off shore; was the Passion's Embrace itself. Crisp and clear the structure rose up, seemingly fashioned together from enormous carved stones in hues of untarnished white and sun-soaked gray. A monument to proud brightness, it bounced more light than the bleached field of sand which sat before it. Behind it were disappearing depths of greenery, blurring away far into the island's interior. It seemed to guard the only level passage further inland: craggy, steep hills coated with lush plantlife walled everything on its left, and immediately on its right it sat against densely rocky shoals and a heavy embankment, built high to hold the tide at bay on that edge. The very wide building was like a gate separating the free ocean from the island's pulsing heart.

Length ruled as king over the broad structure's dimensions. The two most extreme edges reached from vision's left periphery to the right when seen from far in front. Such breadth made up for its substantially more shallow depth. When seen from the acute angle provided by the trail between the dock and the resort the thinness had been plainly visible. The whole of the building had a slight curve, arched to scarcely cradle the very green and lush gardens planted immediately before it. So slight was the bend that it was difficult to notice from up close or within, but at a greater distance it helped provide a postcard-friendly aesthetic.

Most of the structure reached a full five stories up, but towards the leftmost side it began to terrace down floor by floor, zigzagging until it was only a mere single story in height at the very end. Rooftop gardens could be seen on some of those levels, and each terrace had fine balustrades hugging their edges, surely offering quite a view. Similarly, the building's face was coated with many independent balconies which protruded at every level above ground; vista-ready bulges to let ponies gaze out over the beach, ocean, shoals, or whatever scenery their eyes most loved.

Any rational observer would have labeled the Passion's Embrace a hotel of some form. What other functional amenities it offered could only be discovered within.

The resort was nestled in a sandy island corner. A broad expanse of beach stretched out in front of the main building, reaching all the way down to the pleasantly churning water. The rippled sand stayed warm with the sun's stored heat even late into the tired night, and the soft give of those pillows of sand was just enough to delicately embrace a hoof. All were welcome: room enough for swimmers to cavort in the water before frolicking themselves dry on the shore; space for nappers to sink into the toweled-over sand under the cool cover of an umbrella, or bask in the sun if a tan was desired; open air enough for revelers to play and roughhouse on the loose and shifting ground, or hang further back to dance and sing with others. The beach would have been cramped and littered if it were ever made to support the bloated crowds of a more popular location. But being reserved for so few; being a hidden seclusion for the elect; kept the shorefront perfect and pristine.

Sporadic palm trees dotted the area, their thin trunks holding high endless branches which swayed in eternal welcome. One border of the beach, the one below the green hills which overlooked the trail to the dock, was lined with thick and tall shrubbery: busy bushes bearing small bunches of berries, pin-leafed plants whose branches were wildly populated, and tropical trees shooting up above them. Some of the plants bore leaves which were so long, broad, and heavy that whole streams of water could run down them during rainstorms, and they were so verdant and crisp that one almost expected them to snap when bent, cracking with a spritz of dewy moisture. Other plants had leaves so lean and uncountable that the lively residents concealed underneath could be seen with ease, from birds whistling with song to bugs on patrol. The wall of foliage never presented itself as anything but healthy and alive; constantly moving, whether by the whims of the wind or tickled by the friends within.

The other border of the beach, on the further side, was a much more literal wall: an embankment several feet tall which was built from weighty piles of sand and stone. It was aligned mostly parallel to the building's short edges, being in fact set against the structure's right side, and it ran some ways out into the water, enough to provide the beach with an ever-rolling surf. Just over the height of the embankment could sometimes be seen the splashing debris of waves smashing upon the shoals on the other side.

A few small buildings sat at the back of the beach, nestled in front of the gardens and otherwise all but invisible when compared to the towering building behind them. The cluster of structures were divided into two groups, separated in the center by a retreating path made from sand morphing into dirt between an outline of half-buried wooden beams. It lead to a gently sloping approach that ran up through the small gardens before coming to the doors of the Passion's Embrace itself.

On the left side of the path was a great length of wooden flooring laid in the sand; a fat, young boardwalk with no real height to speak of. Round tables were fixed into it at fairly regular intervals, most of them set nearer the beach. They were low and without seating; each a good spot for half a dozen ponies to rest their drinks or their rumps. Some of them were sheltered by simply constructed pavilions; tiny roofs which had waves of huge green leaves laid down in patterns across their sloped surfaces. Intelligently placed here and there about the boardwalk were three-legged stands, built from thick sticks tied together securely, topped with brass grips that were fit enough to hold flaring torches; for when the late nights stayed young.

The most prominent structure of all on that side was a stage, built up only three feet off the ground, ready to host entertainment for the boardwalk. It had hardly the grandness of an auditorium for mighty orchestras but it could support well the singing rows of ponies that made up a basic choir, or even a sizable band laying down some party noise. Two of the tallest palm trees on the whole island lived on either side of the stage and they were intentionally curved over most of the platform, arcing to meet in the middle yet falling short of their goal. The rest of the top was of much the same design as the pavilions: a sloping roof decorated with a layer of leaves. All in all it did well to blend in with everything around it, appearing basic and quaint, hiding well any functional components that could have been called 'modern.'

A pathway lead around and beyond the stage, and there could be seen some significantly smaller buildings. Several were open shacks, either displaying or offering wares of a tropical nature. A few more of them were closed, their flat walls and doors holding in either supplies or perhaps simple storage spaces. Where that path went after that could not be spied.

On the right side of the walkway towards the Passion's Embrace was an altogether more appetizing set of structures. The grounds behind them offered wide clearance for the crates of fresh ingredients that often came through. A more flea-ridden container, large and easily rolled around on its wheels, sat back there as well; certainly intended to carry old refuse in the opposite direction of the new goods which came in.

One squat building stood out for having a little more stone and sheet metal employed in its construction than most of the others. What wood was used in it was mostly decorative and towards the front; stacked beams for a pleasant, orderly face and faux branches spread cleverly as accents. All the bits of timber shimmered in the sunlight from a generous coating of some fire resistant substance. From the roof a few stovepipe chimneys poked up, topped in their amusingly conical caps. The entire front face of the structure invited curious or hungry guests in with an open window stretching from side to side. From out that window leaked the smell of hundreds of delicious meals past, forever mixing into the scent of whatever was being presently prepared, creating an irresistibly enticing lure.

Nearby was an shack who purpose could be determined solely by the unmissable sign mounted above it: "Drinks!" It hardly was much more than a bar, ten stools long, with three walls and a roof. The back wall was fully stocked with a dizzying array of drinks, all the colorful bottles at a distant appearing almost like the eye-catching glimmer of a rainbow shell. That was to say nothing of whatever selection might have existed below the counter. There was no thirst on all the island that could not be quenched.

And just like with the stage on the other side there was a path leading around the bar and cookhouse. Beyond them were more of those rudimentary and forgettable buildings; small huts whose purposes were likely as straightforward as they were diverse. From there everything ran up to the mounds of rocks and sand which formed the embankment, blocking off the ocean beyond.

At the end of the path which divided the two sides was the rising approach to the hotel's entrance. Steps emerged out of a circular design of stones laid in the ground. The steps themselves had a minimal rise, adding up to barely more than three feet total by the very end. Conversely each individual tread, made from polished and speckled stone, was corpulently wide and gapingly deep. The whole set of long, flat stairs served as no more than an extended ramp up towards the portico and main doors. Because of its low height there was no need for rails on the fringes, and only low-cut flowering shrubs ran the length beyond its edges; the beginnings of the condensed gardens that filled the grounds immediately before the building.

The portico itself was circular in shape, half of it dipping into the building's otherwise solid perimeter. Its floor was made from the same shiny stone as the steps before it. Small recesses in the arched walls around the main doors served as shelves for potted plants. Pots arranged in a line, each sides' plants placed symmetrically, the many flowers had inviting petals of pink, purple, yellow, and most especially red. Smoothed, white columns thick as rain barrels lined the outer half of the circle and held up the extended roof, and on each side of the columns' flared, square bases were embossed depictions of featureless pony heads touching noses, or perhaps pressing even closer with their lips if one were inclined to view it as such.

The double doors which lead inside had the same pony-heads image frosted into the glass which made up much of their top halves; one pony on each door. The rest of the doors were made from a very bleached wood, gentle like the white of the columns, and sanded to be just as smooth. Gold trimmings lined them, tracing around their edges and feeding into the handles; grips which were themselves curved into half-heart shapes.

The islanders and the guests arrived after their long walk from the dock. They crossed the beach, they moved swiftly past the mostly vacant entertainment and food space, and then they came up to the tiny, long steps of the rising approach.

Just as they were about to ascend Vesuvius called out suddenly for them to halt. Clearly it surprised the uncoordinated group of island ponies, who blundered about as they clumsily turned to face him with confounded faces. Some of them who had already gotten a hoof or two up the very first step retreated down with head-sunk embarrassment. Even Venus hadn't anticipated it, and she brought her mouth to his ear to lick curious whispers into it.

The sire responded with equal secrecy, his face faintly gesturing to the garden on the left of the steps. The lady's agreement sprung quickly to life, splashing over her face eagerly, and she whispered back to him gainly. They nodded in accord.

Venus turned to her island ponies and directed them with simple enthusiasm, "Go ahead. We'll meet you inside in just a moment."

Lost somewhat as to what their leaders intended to do, but wise enough to dismiss any improper indulgence by trying to find out, they obeyed and quietly resumed their march.

The jumbling stir of the earlier abrupt stop had incidentally shifted the meek Humble Herd to the front of the group. Fluttershy's plain saddlebags were still not secured to his sand-colored body as snuggly as they could have been, but ultimately they were in no real danger because of the relentless slowness he dragged his hooves up the steps with. As a matter of long-ingrained routine he moved aside as he went, inching towards the edge of the steps and deferentially clearing the path for everypony who had more speed.

Sweet Nothing concealed a glower towards the island masters, momentarily standing about in frustration from having been pointlessly given directions of 'stop' and 'go.' He shouldn't have bothered to have listened at all.

Finally he swiveled about and started up the steps at his own brisk pace. The stamping of his hooves were heedless, though his anger stay relatively contained. He made no honest effort to dodge the others in his way, scraping straight past any of them who failed to avoid him. He passed near enough to the edge that his rolling body shaved the lackluster Humble Herd as he plowed along. He spat in annoyance, "Come on. One side, tenderhoof."

"Oofh!"

The gentler pony was thrown off his balance by the minuscule, unexpected, and unkind strike. Twisting and turning awkwardly sideways, his hind hooves skipped about on the polished stone floor in a failed attempt to regain traction. At last his rear half slipped over the unguarded edge of the steps and fell into the thick brush waiting there, rustling it with a swishy crunch. Laying bent, with forelegs still up on the steps and hind legs below in the broken branches, he groaned sorely for the blow to his chest on the stone corner and the many scratches he felt around his tail.

The dark stallion who had rudely caused the predicament did not stop to help, nor slow down at all. He merely continued his way forward without a glance back, becoming the first to reach the doors and enter the building.

All of the other islanders held themselves up, concerned. Some peeked back with worry that their guests had seen the unfortunate display (they had, but not with enough attention to have seen who had caused it.) Most moved on when one of them hurried forward to help the fallen pony.

The rescuer was the large, bright orange pegasus mare who had earlier intended to assist Spike, though there had been no bags from the dragon for her to have carried. Thus unburdened, she quickly had her legs around the other pony and effortlessly her great wings lifted them both up with a few minor flaps. Depositing him back on the steps she then stuck close to help him regain his footing, like an older child getting their younger sibling to walk again after a bad scrap.

"Are you alright?" she asked.

Despondent from the bruising to both his delicate body and his fragile ego, Humble Herd dropped his meek head and silently voiced back, "No worse than usual I guess... Thank you, Summer Wind."

"It's fine," she warmly told him. One of her wings dusted off some of the leaves still stuck to his rear. With a bit of a disdainful glare up towards the now open doors of the Passion's Embrace she spoke lowly, "Sweet Nothing needs to get over himself. Come on, let's get inside."

Thanking her quietly once more, he let Summer Wind guide him up the steps. He wasn't so injured in body that he couldn't have made it on his own anyway but the blow to his confidence meant he was most appreciative of her help regardless. For her part the impressive strength which her great size gave her would have made it easy to haul him anywhere without breaking a sweat, but she was mindful to not baby him with excessive care and she only stayed close enough to keep him from stumbling.

Vesuvius, like the guests, had only turned an eye towards the disturbance at the wild sounds of off-kilter clops, missing the initial strike by the dark stallion. But he was familiar enough with his ponies that he hardly needed to guess in order to know what had transpired. Silent rage brewed inside. He had half a mind to stomp up through those doors and-

"Oh ho, my, how unfortunate," Venus attempted to laugh off the trouble as cleanly and immediately as possible. She pressed the guests, seizing their focus, "If you could all just follow me this way? We have something we'd like to show you quickly, first." After a moment she realized that she would have to spend some words to grip her dear one's focus as well, and she was struck with a tinkle of amusement since that this had been his idea to begin with. "Come, Suvi."

"... Yes, of course." Her sweet call pulled the fire out of him and he turned away gradually from the ponies disappearing through the doors.

Together they lead Twilight and the others into the garden on the left, over a path of shale stepping stones in the sandy dirt and through a softly winding way of colorfully flowering bushes. Not far in it came to a rectangular space where the ground was laid flat with poured stone. Rows of rounded-topped bricks like tiny fences lined the garden beds surrounding the area, and the abounding vegetation beyond was just tall enough to hide the space from immediate outside view, though it wasn't so bad as to be a jungle. The small area was tight enough for the ten individuals to fit rather comfortably without having to squeeze together.

Towards the back of the plot sat the sole reason for the garden's existence: a squat block of some variety of black limestone, about two feet wide, hardly as thick, and slightly more than a pony tall. It was set in a raised brick base shaped like a crushed star with stubby, flared points. Each of its flat surfaces were sleek and waxy, letting the sun draw unbroken lines of pure light across it. Aside from the faded swirls of white color trapped under its shiny surface and a single, small inscription carved in the center of its front face, the short, black monolith seemed otherwise featureless. No plaque on the base or sign planted anywhere about existed to give hints as to what this monument was dedicated to.

Venus and Vesuvius stood off to one side of it, the island lady wielding a hoof with obvious invitation. All of the guests crushed together to get a closer look at the monolith, particularly seeking a chance to read the stiffly-lettered inscription since there wasn't much else about it to take in. Most of them however only squinted in confusion at the nonsensical text:

WHEFFUDIT QUASNEIGH CORDE PASSWHINIS NEILIBRUM

"Looks like something you might hear Big Mac snort before breakfast when he's got a cold after a late night workin' and an early morning risin'," quipped Applejack, rubbing her chin.

"Applejack, please," Rarity came to the preemptive defense of the island hosts, albeit her own addled reserve wasn't completely hidden, "there's no need to compare it to the ill grumblings of your brother. I'm sure that this... whatever-it-is... is stunningly beautiful when pronounced appropri-"

They all leapt when in a clear voice Twilight recited the line perfectly. Any part of it which had at first been muddied in their heads became incontestably illuminated by her exact and flowing pronunciation. Each word had a forceful air to it, rushing out of her humming lips in a coarse way not unlike the farm pony had suggested; but still too there was a high ring in each sound that touched something old inside, pure like the memory of a bell, much as the seamstress had hoped it would sound.

Her friends all stared at her with startled eyebrows or tilted heads, and the unicorn explained plainly, "It's just Old Equestrian."

"Very good!" Venus was more than pleased to hear the unmarred reading, not to mention impressed with how rapidly Twilight had succeeded in rendering it. She came forward and stood between the group and the cold slab of stone. "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised!" she chuckled, delivering a happy smile to her favored guest.

"As you may... or may not... know," the lady relayed history to them, sweetening her voice with plenty of proud grandeur, "this island was once home to a small civilization of ponies. Long, long ago; before even the days of the princess sisters. Very little is known about these ponies of old. We know they were here because some of the oldest writings from the ponies on neighboring islands mention them and occasionally traces of them can be found buried in the ground here, but who they were, and where they went, and why... well that is a mystery we can only guess at!"

Out of all the guests Twilight was the only one who really rose above polite attentiveness. She lapped up the simple story, even if it was information she already knew from her own prior delvings into the island's history.

Vesuvius, from the sideline, chipped in, "We take great care to treat this island as a historical site. From time to time we have archaeologists come to study things which we've found, or send carefully packaged artifacts off island for study." He elaborated, giving a professional tip to his head, "It's all part of our arrangement with the Island Society of the United Carriaggean. They sanction and support our efforts with the resort; their leasing of the island cheaply is something that makes this whole endeavor even possible with our otherwise limited resources. We, in turn, assist with their research efforts in every way we can, including a sensitivity to the island's history and acting as cautious caretakers of it."

A blunted sternness edged into him. "With that in mind I do have to ask you never to wander off. The resort IS built out of the way of anything historically important but please... we don't want anypony to disturb anything significant accidentally."

Venus, though having full agreement with Vesuvius, didn't seem remotely worried that this collection of guests would turn out to be a troublesome group. Instead she eagerly shared with them, "Although our agreement with the Island Society mandates our support of the research and conservation effort, Suvi and I have actually taken our own very personal interest in the island's history. We believe, based on all that we know of them, that they had something profoundly special here. This resort is, in part, our way of trying to bring back what we as Equestrians lost when they disappeared."

Facing the solitary monolith, she laid a reverent hoof upon it. "This memorial," she said peacefully, "is our little tribute to them: recognizing that they were here first, and what of their wisdom we seek to emulate."

She drew her hoof over to the inscription and traced along it. "It reads: 'With our hearts we pour passion free.'"

Twilight, so enamored by the sense of history that the island hosts had built up, couldn't keep herself from interjecting her own knowledge with blind excitement, "Actually, a more accurate translation would be: 'With our hearts we BLEED passion free.'"

Venus turned about to give the other unicorn an odd but otherwise neutral stare, merely taken somewhat aback by what had been said so unexpectedly.

Vesuvius, on the other hoof, had a coldness slip into him. Tension crept into his legs, and his eyes darkened and narrowed as he peered at the guest pony. Somehow he was offended by her tiny, incidental corruption of their pure tribute.

From the stillness which followed her outburst Twilight easily picked up that she had surprised her hosts. However she was still too engrossed in all the titillating specifics to more broadly notice their very distinct reactions.

Thirsty to lay out all the details, she stepped up next to Venus, tapped her own hoof on the first word of the inscription, and prattled, "This is the key word right here. You see, owing to the peculiarities of Old Equestrian, 'pour' and 'bleed' actually share the same verb! 'Spill' too, in fact! It's context and mood conjugation that determine what exactly it means. Because you're talking about a heart and are using the intensive conjugation, 'bleed' is the accurate translation." At least in her own mind she was being quite helpful, and she revealed, "If you want 'pour' here then you need to specifically use a neutral conjugation, like 'neiffudit.'"

Dropping her hoof back down she turned to smile delightfully at her hosts. That was when she noticed the agitation stirring in Vesuvius.

Twilight's glee immediately came crashing down with a nervous cough, and she averted her eyes with sorry humility. "I guess... uh...," she choked, "... I guess that you'll have to get it reengraved, hehe..."

But Venus shattered the delicate discomfort with a cheerful laugh. There was nothing false in the amusement of her smile. "Haha, well, that should teach us to consult with somepony a little more knowledgeable before we spend on such a thing in the future!"

She whirled about to share the tickling embarrassment of this minor failure with her dear one, and instantly she noticed the grave, stern-jawed shadow that had come over him. But she knew well the pony whom she cherished, understanding intimately the almost shy way in which he sometimes wrapped his childish shame and other uncomfortable losses of composure with an unsightly harshness.

"Oh, Suvi, Suvi," she cooed, ever delightful, as she floated like a butterfly up to him. She brought her body into his, planting one of her hooves between his forelegs as she ran the bridge of her nose back and forth along his neck. "So we made a simple mistake that we'll have to fix," she consoled him, her words both caressing and jolly, "but, dear, it's no reason to get so worked up..."

Her mouth came to his cheek and delivered to him far more than a kiss. Behind her mere touch, under the ordinary smacking sound of puckered lips, she passed to him something raw. From within her mouth, just faintly, her moist tongue came out and lapped once the side of his face, tasting his grouchy anger and pulling the heat of it completely out of him and into her. It filled her own pink cheeks, washing them red, and the shining color of her eyes deepened.

In great privacy she finished with a whisper to him, "... there'll be time for that later."

The fire fast stolen from him, he was immediately much more composed and in his own stony way now fawning of his lady. Much more removed from discontent than before he quietly offered to the language-wary unicorn who had pointed out their error, "Ah... thank you for your... correction, Twilight."

"Oh, it's... it's no problem at all," Twilight carefully replied, somewhat unbalanced. "I'm happy to help..."

"Well, heh... this little memorial is all we wanted to show you," giggled Venus. Even though she was addressing the guests she was still bound close to her Vesuvius, hot in the face and helplessly locked in some fantasy thought with him. "Please think about it, and keep it in mind during your stay here."

Taking a few steps to the side towards the path that had all come in from, and practically dragging her dear one along with her, she further instructed, "Reflect on it for a minute or two if you like. When you're ready, come along! We'll meet you just inside so you can be shown your rooms!"

Vesuvius only managed to get in a minimal, silent nod towards the guests before his beloved Venus pulled him away with excited force, chittering in his ear all the way. The allure in her whispers doubtlessly caught hold of him. No concern for the rudeness of their haste came into his face; only a thrilled blush whose redness outshined his natural crimson.

Together they left.

All of the guests stood where they were, not reflecting on ponies past as had been suggested to them but instead staring at the presently departing ponies who weaved back along the plot's entrance.

"Weird...," Spike noted, almost more as an open call to check if the others felt the same way.

"Well," Applejack hauled her words out like a heavy basketload of apples, deliberately steady in speed and carefully balanced, "they sure are an awful... friendly pair... With each other most especially. Never taking their... hooves off'a each other..."

"It's... nice?" was Fluttershy's feebly-made attempt to politely compliment the lascivious behavior.

"Now let's not... be so judgmental," Rarity tempered her friends' reactions, though again she was herself obviously suffering from the same reserve. "We... hardly know them. Their shamelessness- (er, no, perhaps a different word...) Their... their ... b-boldness? Their excessive boldness may be just an unusual little quirk they share and enjoy in their relationship. It's not our place, especially as guests, to trample on their... er... enthusiasm for each other."

Standing behind all of them James could scarcely believe it. Not the behaviors of Venus and Vesuvius, which he had always found unreservedly and disturbingly physical for ponies; his astonishment came from seeing that the others had taken any special notice of it at all! This was, for him, the first anypony had EVER even acknowledged of such primal affection. This was actual confirmation that they were not oblivious to the apparent lust in the lover ponies' audacious conduct. Perhaps larger, it was confirmation that such behaviors were not a complete unknown to ponykind. Though... by the tip-toeing sound of his friends' voices they were quite obviously sweating with reluctance as they deliberate dodged their way about the topic.

He couldn't miss this chance. Perhaps it wouldn't be the most prudent experiment; far from well-planned out and also ill-advised by most measures; but he HAD to test it just to see how they would react. He had to know.

Raising his voice to ensure that he caught the ears of every last one of his companions he floated out a select thought very casually, as if he were doing no more than observing the weather: "They're banging."

No reaction came at first. Most of them continued to stare at the plot's entrance though the two hosts had already become mere moving shadows beyond the bushes, ascending the small rise to the building's doors.

Only Twilight responded, and she was also far from stirred by any dramatic wind. Half-turning towards him her ears perked up with general confusion. Feeling as if she hadn't heard him properly she plainly asked for clarification, "They're what?"

Maybe it was just that subtle tension built up from so long of never addressing that particular topic. Maybe it was just the mischievous devil in him taking a cackling turn at the wheel after a week of being choked out by serious brooding and bottled emotions. Maybe it was just that endless worry which comes at the beginning of a poorly-chosen effort and then compels one to dig deeper and deeper as if they could escape by reaching the other end. Whatever the reason, his spigot turned and he couldn't help himself from pouring everything out, line after line, like a little miscreant:

"They're banging. You know... Screwing. Porking. Boinking. Scoring. Plowing. Shagging. Rutting. Getting some. Going wild. Nailing it. Jumping bones. Knocking boots; or clopping hooves, as the case may be. Getting nasty. Getting freaky. Playing locksmith. Rocking and rolling. Draining the snake. Plugging the hole. Getting it on. Rolling in the hay, which actually sounds rather appropriate. Going to pound town. Breaking in the bed. Dancing under the sheets. Doing the old in and out. Getting down and dirty. Sticking it to each other. Getting horizontal, if that's how it still mechanically works with ponies. Gathering some biblical knowledge. Hitting a few home runs. Doing the real victory lap. Digging for the treasure. Honoring the ancestors. Taking after your parents. Making the grandparents proud. Practicing for the repopulation effort. Doing their part to save the species. Planting seeds in the garden. Tasting the forbidden fruit. Completing the circle of life. Riding that train to the end of the line. Sweating it up with a workout for two. Having a picnic with a sausage, a basket, and a blanket. Checking if the equipment still works. Firing up the emergency lube factory. Naturally decreasing the coefficient of friction. Following the oldest assembly instructions. Taking nightly excursions to the bone zone. Making trades on the early morning fluids exchange. Partaking in a little afternoon delight. Doing... d-doing the... over-under boogie-woogie...?"

It was a disastrous set of dominoes tumbling in a chaotic line. Every thought that spilled out of his head was followed by another set of wily words screaming for attention, each more desperately aching to be spoken than the prior, until finally his steam sputtered out very suddenly. There's only so much dust that can be pulled from a bone-dry well. He was a little torn inside, having enjoyed his romp so badly while at the same time knowing immediately that he had somehow crossed a terrible line.

But the experiment yielded results. There was no doubt in his mind: they recognized exactly what he had been talking about. Sure, it had taken awhile; he had traveled some depths into his tirade before there was any sign of change in them. It had taken them much longer than any human would have needed to latch on to his carpet bombing of clues. But still, one by one, somewhere along the line each of them had the uncomfortable light of realization flare up inside.

They shuffled their hooves around to handle their sinking weights. Their tails cowered beneath their bodies. Their eyes turned awkwardly away from him. Their ears lost life and went limp though they were still helplessly tuned to his train wreck of a speech. And, oh, the blushing especially! Every last drop of their blood was pumped into their faces; ripe tomatoes about to explode from the uneasy pressure of embarrassment.

Really he might had achieved the same reaction if he had just wordlessly dropped his pants and stared dancing for no reason save an improbable onset of spontaneous insanity.

It truly surprised him that Pinkie Pie's reaction was exactly the same as all of the others. Not that he had expected her to have some sort of secret sexual side or anything like that. It was only that, from all which he had observed, she had always seemed impervious to being flustered. But... apparently not? There was something about her a little bit more comprehensible than he had previously guessed.

As the silence ate up the passing seconds his own miserable regret grew in power. He hadn't liked wedging boulders into their hooves and making them feel so unbalanced; honestly he hadn't! Certainly there had been some hidden thrill in the sheer deviance of his act, but they were still his friends and the harm he had caused them, even if not malicious, he knew now had been more than ignorable teasing.

What a stupid thing to have done without having consulted somepony in private about it first.

Losing his puckish standing, he capped his remarks weakly, "That was just... just my observation... of them..."

Twilight, hopelessly lost in exasperation and all but slain by mortification, fought hoof and nail to summon up whatever strength was left in her which hadn't been frightened away. She gasped repeatedly as she expressed, "T-T-T-That's n-n-none o-of our b-business!" The emotion pouring out of her was some impossible mix of shock, anger, sorrow, confusion, and suffocating anxiety. Still, she was the only one amongst the ponies and dragon who even had enough collected will to respond.

However all her exposure to the man had taught her well; quite quickly it occurred to her that this was probably the result of an unanticipated cultural disconnect. Her forgiving, understanding side joined the fray, expanding the great war between her already jumbled mash of feelings.

Stretching every last straw that held her together she strained as she tried educate him without destroying the last of her already shattered composure, "W-W-What t-two ponies d-do in p-p-private i-is their own b-business and isn't t-to b-be d-discussed in a-a-any capacity b-by other p-ponies. E-e-e-ever! T-The m-most i-intimate details of a m-marriage a-are not-"

One particular word of hers tripped him up solely because it blasted so violently counter to his deep intuition. It was just something his gut had read into the island hosts' relationship. Admittingly he had no hard evidence for his belief but it seemed so incredibly real to him that he couldn't let his opinion go unvoiced, even if it would stir the pot more to say it.

"I don't think," he honestly contended, trying to keep himself humble, "that they're actually married."

"W-W-W-W-W-W-W-W-What!" Twilight exploded. Her meltdown was fast and furious. Everypony else was also rocked from a tidal wave of embarrassment.

"H-H-H-How... I-I-I-I-If t-t-t-they a-a-a-are e-e-e-e-engaging i-i-in... T-T-T-T-Then... i-i-it i-i-is... E-EXCEEDINGLY U-UNLIKELY t-t-that t-t-they're n-n-not..." The educated unicorn's stammering became insurmountable; an uncontrollable spasm in her vocal chords that took good, understandable sounds and beat them apart into shapeless pieces.

She at last had to stop completely when her voice had degenerated into a petty gurgling, overwhelmed and broken by the incomprehensible insanity spoken by the man. Standing frozen, jaw unhinged, a wide and empty look upon her face, there was inside the unicorn somewhere the swirling sound of a flushing toilet; a purging of the rejected refuse which had rapidly cluttered up in her head, dumped and smushed together from surprise and panic. The mental scrubbing she forced herself to undergo sucked the nauseating slime down to somewhere forgotten and left the bowl her mind largely bleached fresh.

When she came back she was still very discombobulated but at least the reboot had restored enough of her wits to allow her to talk again. Her throat firmed up, she swung her head back and forth, a hoof came down solidly onto the stone ground, and she declared conclusively, "NO. No, no, no, no! We ARE NOT talking about this! We are - NEVER - going to talk about this! It is GROSSLY INAPPROPRIATE!"

Without any words or motions all of the others seemed to agree. In the dead stillness that followed Twilight's sworn resolution not one of the others peeked a diverted eye back up at James. Not a sideways or lowered head came back to center on him, each of their faces remaining pointed towards the ground while swelled red with color.

One by one they started to turn away without saying anything, walking off with subtly shaking steps, along the path to join Venus and Vesuvius again. Their unsignaled exits were dry of any real rudeness, not done at all in an attempt to snub or fling about disdain. It was only that the uncomfortable thickness in the air had become so suffocating. They had to escape it, for their own sakes.

The ten ton anvil of awkwardness that had crashed down amongst them had been stupendously unimaginable. Nopony in Equestria had ever uttered words so overt about that subject. But somehow against all predictions, real and imagined, possible and impossible, this man had spouted the culturally unthinkable. Once that inconceivable line had been crossed they had been left high and dry in a situation unfathomable. The only action their unready, injured minds could possibly accept was to walk away and pretend it had never happened.

James sighed and rapped his fingertips upon his forehead a few times as his friends silently proceeded to slip out before him.

Stupid.

Sure, the irreverent rant would have only been the start of some pointless verbal jockeying with his old friends; harmless and carefree slinging of mostly meaningless words about the world's oldest subject. But these were not his old friends, and that they would have been comfortable with the same level of shameless prattling was not something he should have taken for granted. Especially since his months of exposure to Equestria had already had him guessing that it was a sensitive topic not often discussed by ponies in the open. To have made his friends feel so perturbed just to sate a little of his natural curiosity, especially when a quiet and honest aside with Twilight was all he would have otherwise needed? The regretful label he applied to himself at that moment was: 'despicable.'

If there was any mercy he could allow himself, it came from the fact that he had obviously vastly underestimated how sensitive a topic it was. Seriously. He remembered that there had been some tremendous doubts in the ponies' hearts when they had seen him for the very first time and he had KILLED ANOTHER MAN before their eyes, but they had afterwards still made a noble effort to get past it and befriend him. Here he had let loose with only some filthy-mouthed skulduggery and yet that alone had rendered them senseless, fleeing the scene!

One side of himself was not overly worried with what had happened; they were kind, they were forgiving, and they understood friendship. Apologies to them for his rudeness were in order, as well as education on cultural mores for himself if he could politely manage to coax it out of Twilight.

But yet another side of him was slightly worried that his choice to expose a central piece of his humanity to them had left a permanent mark. Maybe now they would always see him as some kind of boorish sex freak.

Twilight lingered the longest of all of them, actually managing to give the man an occasional glare; ones which didn't want to be angry, distraught, judgmental, bitter, harsh, or any of those nasty things, but which also had to try so hard to avoid them. Getting to know him had always been an experience fraught with surprises but never in the thousand years of Celestia would she have guessed that he would have unleashed something so crazy. At last, after the others had gone, she began herself to turn away, saying nothing.

"I'm sorry about that," James was fast to offer, wanting to ensure he got his first apology out before the opportunity was lost. Outwardly he was more sincere than remorseful.

The unicorn stopped and tried to say something to him, but it was still too soon for her and she fumbled. A few non-words croaked out quietly from her bitten lip. In the end she only nodded her head once in acceptance before she continued to move on.

Stung by how the usually wordy pony now had nothing to say he quickly dashed up to her side and followed along with her slow gait. "I mean it. I really am," he assured her.

"It's... fine," she worked hard to verbally bring out her forgiveness. "But... now you know, so... never again, and end of discussion!"

"Right. Okay. Just-" His pleading was appropriately cautious. He wanted to give her an unambiguous account of himself, actually learn something about pony culture from her if he could, and all the while not again trample over her sensibilities.

"No! Topic closed!" Twilight snapped at him.

"I'm not trying to really bring it up again," insisted James softly, causing the unicorn to shoot him a dim, doubtful, scrutinizing glance. He bowed his head low and added, "I'm just... You have to understand my incredible surprise, is all."

She was almost gruesomely flabbergasted. "Surprise?" she scoffed.

"Well, yeah." The man reasoned delicately, "I mean, you and I have had some pretty serious discussions about stuff like warfare, and violence, and killing, and you've always handled yourself pretty well. So... while I always figured that this was a subject not often spoken about... it's still sort of stunning to me how much you lock up at the mention of a little sex."

Twilight involuntarily slammed to a stop, coming to a halt just before the rising steps in front of the Passion's Embrace. All the hairs running along her spine shot up, her tail whipped out and stiffened, and her eyes all but bulged out of her head. "A LITTLE S-S-S-S-S-S-S-S-S-S-S-S-," she wheezed endlessly, hissing like a snake. The tip of her tongue poked out of her forcefully clenched teeth, desperate to hold in the scandalous word.

Whoops. "Sorry," he apologized again, quietly.

"T-This is s-something COMPLETELY D-DIFFERENT!" she asserted loudly, all the while fighting to bring herself back under control.

"That's just the thing," James tried to explain to her. "It isn't really for me. Back home, a couple of good friends talking about se- erm... talking about 'it'... well, that's really sort of a very casual thing. No big deal for anypony involved."

"That's-!" Twilight gagged. In parsing all the implications of his revelation something particular about it struck her, though she was loathe to own up to it. Struggling with every syllable, her eyes twitching with disbelief at herself, and her jaw grinding through the motions painfully, she told him, "That's... admittingly... fas-...-cinating..."

She immediately straightened up and maintained her very Equestrian line of thinking, coming out strongly, "B-B-But! But only so much as it is also crude, uncivilized, unbecoming, disrespectable, distasteful, and... and... repulsively vulgar."

Once more she started walking, climbing the steps with the man following at her tail. Pushing out all compromise she instructed him, "Here that kind of... language is strictly unacceptable. So don't do it again, please? 'It' is the immeasurably private business of only the two in-love ponies who are involved. Aside from that ponies don't ever talk about 'it.'"

"Why?" he asked.

They came to another stop, midway up the steps.

She turned to face him, impossibly incredulous. "What do you mean, 'why?' They don't!" Her frustration quickly leveled out. She understood how unyielding she was being given that she was speaking to somepony who, extremely literally, had a different worldview. Calming some, she still did not shy away from her position. "They just don't."

James' hands came up in surrender. "Alright," he said, "I'm sorry. I got it. Not a word, ever again. Promise."

Twilight nodded hesitantly a few times, eyes jumping between the man and the polished stone below her hooves. The 'thank you' was implied; the restless pony was otherwise too beaten from handling the whole ordeal to give it to him proper. Taking a heavy breath she slowly turned back around and proceeded on, up the steps.

James waited behind, alone. His palm slapped against his thigh dismally a few times. "Yup," he sighed to himself, "puritan ponies. It figures. Guess that means I'm going to have only myself to share... me with."

He grunted another sigh, casting his eyes down towards the shrubs to his right.

It was almost as if distraction itself leapt out from the bushes at him. He blinked, all his recent thoughts scurrying away as he leaned forward to inspect what he saw. Some of the brush was disturbed, with torn leaves and bent or broken branches; very unorderly compared to the healthy plants around it. And within the mess he spotted a silvery gleam.

Kneeling down he reached his hand into the wounded bush, pushing aside rustled leaves and thread-hanging twigs. Grasping, he felt his grip squeeze around some loose, cold metal. He stood and pulled out his find.

Dangling from his hand was a beautiful necklace: a silver chain which jingled quietly as it swung back and forth, and below it was held a gorgeously blue sapphire in the shape of a heart.

Author's Note

James' excessive speech is loosely inspired by, of all things, the play Cyrano de Bergerac.

Chapter 18: Within

The lobby of the Passion's Embrace extended the trend of merging commercial vacation with personal retreat.

It was a nearly cube-shaped room with a ceiling raised high enough to consume the second floor, and its depth almost assuredly reached through the whole building. There were four corridors that served as exits to elsewhere inside and they were dispersed evenly: two on each side, with one on each level.

The wealthy grandeur of the Baltimare hotel was not (and financially speaking could not be) present, but all the same there was an effort to be almost as enchanting. The chandelier above wasn't a ballet of crystal droplets or a massive airborne crown wrought from gold, but it was large, pretty, and decorative; carved from local wood and holding aloft many vibrant flowers. A central stairway emerged from the tiled, speckled floor and rose away from the entrance, connecting up to a gallery that ran high all the way around the room. The staircase was bold with its size and placement, and the carving of the twirled banisters was very finely done, but otherwise the ascent was only a functional piece that was little adorned.

Paintings hung on the walls of both levels, done in many different artistic styles, and they breathed most of the color and culture into the lobby space. But despite the effort at stylistic diversity there was a plain lack of variety: all of them captured some equivalent expression of ponies bonding closely, and every piece was quite obviously done as an experiment by the same local artist, having subtle qualities that fast became stale to the eyes. Everywhere else in the room that didn't have such artistic touches was merely plain white stone.

There was no need for the guests to check in, nor even a desk for them to do so at! Instead the crowd of baggage handlers, STILL not able to stand in a formation with any shapely order, waited for them near the base of the stairs. The island hosts held center stage. Venus remained red with tenderness, her eyes often kissing the mute and glowing Vesuvius, though she put forward a collected effort to keep her focus on more immediate tasks.

The seven guests were themselves gathered silently, most of them not yet finished with dusting under their mental rugs the disquieting previous outburst of their eighth friend. Their attentions swarmed about rapidly, eating up whatever distractions the room presented them with. Little note seemed to be made of this evasive behavior by the islanders, perhaps distracted themselves, or maybe they presumed that the guests were overwhelmed and taking in the experience.

James walked in through the propped open double doors, last to arrive. He was looking down at his hand, itself busy shuffling about in one of his pockets. When he finished ruffling about he withdrew his hand and patted the bulge on his thigh with a gentle slap of security.

His attention returning, he reached and stood besides his friends, bearing a grin which was politely sheepish; half-mannerly for the islanders and half-penitent for his companions.

Any glances his friends gave him were still exceptionally fast and mildly unnerved, but again there was no real coldness on their part. He was sort of just an unsettling elephant squashed between them at present.

"Right then!" Venus announced with pleasure. An enthusiastic but absentminded brand of haste pervaded her. "The dining room is on the first floor, to your right," she pointed to the hall on her left, barely pausing as she continued to race through her directions, "just through there. Before we share a meal though, our ponies will guide you to your individual rooms. Please follow whichever pony has your bags." Hurried, she forgot entirely about Spike's bags being swiped by the wrong pony. "Take some time to explore your rooms, rest from your travels, and so forth. We'll have somepony come and get you when it's time for dinner."

With a bow to her guests, a rapidly blurted goodbye, and a nod to the baggage-bearing ponies, she was away. Her Vesuvius was dragged along with her while he tried to get out his own fast farewell. They left in the direction of the dining room, though whether they were on their way specifically there was unknown. Again they were speaking to each other softly, hidden delights buried in their whispers, and they walked so squeezed together as to be one pony.

Each islander turned their eyes to their respective guest, not all with the same light; some invitation here and there, some withdrawn reserve elsewhere. Twilight and her friends obediently stepped forward to follow, and with that the many concierges all turned and began to climb the central stairs.

The only outlier was Spike. Scratching his chin and wobbling his mouth in uncertainty he kept trading his glances about. He would look at the ascending Sweet Nothing, heavy with jostling luggage as the pony carried himself up the steps with ease. Then he would look at the waiting Summer Wind, the pegasus more and more lowering her head forward with a gaze that requested he follow.

At last the large pony had to actually come before the undecided dragon and direct him, "Mister Spike? I know you gave me nothing to carry but... you're to follow me."

"Oh, I know," he hiccuped. "I mean... I figured as much."

By the way he hesitated and stared it became clear to Summer Wind that he wasn't actually confused as much as he was troubled. "Is... is something wrong, sir?" she asked.

"It's just," he pointed up the steps at the rest of the climbing group, wincing a little since he felt like a burden, "that guy has all my stuff. I put my things with Rarity's, to make it easier to carry." A flash of the dark stallion snatching everything came back and the dragon drooped from sour annoyance.

"Hm? Oh." Once the pegasus noticed her charge was fingering Sweet Nothing everything linked up in her head; no doubt more problems springing from that troublesome pony. She followed her immediate instinct. "I'm sorry about him, sir," she couldn't help herself from groaning her apology.

"What? You didn't do anything," Spike said, momentarily hit by some actual confusion. He then staunchly insisted to her, "You shouldn't have to apologize for him."

"I-..."

Although it was a simple gesture by the dragon it still caught Summer Wind rather unexpectedly. Between breaths her recoiling surprise turned over into an impressed smile.

"Thank you. For your understanding," she accepted.

"It's no problem," he replied, so casual as to not realize how his niceness had touched her.

However his actual concern was not yet addressed, and he squirmed slightly. "But..."

Any thoughts inside the pegasus of fulfilling stiff responsibilities morphed entirely into an easygoing wish to show kindness and respect where it was due. Much more relaxed now, she bent down so that she might not tower over the small dragon so terribly. A gentle glow about her face, she kindly offered, "How about this? Let me show you to your room first, and then I'll go with you and help you retrieve your things from your friend's room?"

Problem solved, Spike lit up. "Oh! Okay, sure!" A genuinely fun and carefree nobility danced into him, and he threw an open claw forward towards the stairs. "Lead on, please," he happily requested.

"Hehe. Right this way."

Trotting along quickly, less to catch up to those ahead than to avoid falling too far behind, she climbed the stairway with the dragon in tow. An enormous pony by all standards, she could take leaps and bounds up the steps with her natural gait, no wings needed. It was only halfway up the flight that the worried thought entered her about the dragon's much smaller stature. The stairway's mimicry of grandness meant that it had some fairly tall steps; leaps which could present a struggle for the little guy since each rise was practically half his total height. Perhaps she should have offered to carry him up?

She peeked back.

Size didn't disrupt Spike in the slightest; not his nor the stair's. He followed her closely and easily. The peppy energy powering his feet let him bounce from step to step, popping his way up without strain or distraction.

Summer Wind grinned in delight, and carried on up without a word.

When the island ponies reached the top of the stairs they split apart. Gallowayo, Nosedive, and the one who held Applejack's saddlebags in his teeth turned left; Sweet Nothing, Hulahoof, Prism, and Humble Herd went right.

Twilight and her friends stalled for a moment, partially startled at this unpredicted and unexplained separation. Slowly they picked up their hooves to follow their designated ponies again, and with shrugging goodbyes they traded impromptu glances or whispers of farewell. They split as implicitly directed.

Not long after, catching up with robust speed, Summer Wind whipped left at the top and the stairs and Spike naturally followed, evening out the two groups as they progressively drifted apart.

Though the originally large group had been divided into two halves the guests felt squeezed together more tightly walking around the thin gallery. In Twilight's group there was an awkwardly cold silence that came upon things, driven mostly by Rainbow Dash and Applejack quietly harrumphing at each other. They had been unfortunately pushed side by side between the vice of the wall and rail, and neither of them seemed content to let the other pass ahead even if it would create breathing space; obstinance whether from pride or spite. If their battle was relatively silent now it was only perhaps because James' uncivilized rant had put a tight-lipped damper on their moods, not because the war had cooled.

Modestly holding back her dismay so as to avoid alerting the island ponies, Twilight tried to nonchalantly insert herself between her two not-so-secretly bickering friends. It worked insofar as shoving herself into the tight system essentially forced one of the fighters to fall back so that there would be room. It was Applejack who relented, grousing hoarsely to herself, and yet NOT about the purple pony either.

It bothered Twilight that her two friends still hadn't resolved their differences despite the farm pony's earlier promise. She had sworn that if trouble between them worsened then she would come forward and discuss it openly with the pegasus. That seemingly hadn't happened yet, so did Applejack still believe she was courteously enduring some of Rainbow Dash's excess personality? Or had she lost sight of her intentions amidst all the frustration? There was still hope that the quiet serenity of this vacation could produce solutions, and the unicorn would have been on top of assisting with that if there wasn't a more pressing matter in her mind.

Speaking of that most pressing matter... there would be a chunk of time before dinner... Maybe also... in this window of time right NOW... she could perhaps request-

The island ponies lead them through an arched opening and into a white corridor which stretched all the way through the left side of the building. It half-resembled a standard hotel hall: closed doors to guest rooms lined the corridor, staggered on either side so that no one door faced another, and a rosy carpet shot down the center unbroken from one end to the other. But like the lobby the hallway tried to achieve some unique form of artsy ambiance, again with questionable success. Across from every door was a short stone stand holding a vase of savory-smelling flowers or displaying a piece of rounded pottery, and behind that decor hung more of those repetitive paintings of lover ponies. Down at the far, far end of the hall was the exit onto one of the terraces, the doorway out appearing from there as only a minuscule box of light.

What interrupted Twilight's spontaneous plan was that immediately inside the hall, right next to the arched opening they had come in through, was another open doorway. No sooner had they started into the hall did the already halved group halve again! Gallowayo and Nosedive turned and slipped into the new doorway while the chocolate-colored earth stallion continued forward. Summer Wind went straight as well, closing the freshly cleared space quickly.

Again the guests shared a delayed moment of skeptical thought at this unexpected breaking before they merely surrendered to doing what was expected of them.

Twilight and Rainbow Dash followed their ponies, discovering that the new doorway lead into a tall stairwell. Steps ran both up and down, built of evenly sized climbs with landings every half-story, and by looking over the spiral banisters one could see that any of the five floors could be reached. Naturally the ponies leading them were ascending.

Applejack and Spike trailed their ponies straight ahead, giving sideways glances back at the doorway through which their friends had disappeared. The farm pony sighed with tired relief at finally having a reprieve from her persistent thorn, though she wasn't without notice that things seemed to have gotten awfully sparse pony-wise. Spike, also juggling some perplexity at the diminishing number of nearby friends, gave her an ignorant shrug.

Over on the other side of the building the same scenario played out. The other group of islanders and friends had entered a mostly identical hallway; instead of an open terrace at the extreme end there was the numbered door to a room. Once inside the corridor, some of the leading ponies also broke off to enter an immediate stairwell. In this case Sweet Nothing, Hulahoof, and Humble Herd all went to climb to a higher floor, with Rarity, Pinkie Pie, and Fluttershy following them after a short exchange of peculiar pauses.

It left James alone in the second floor hall with Prism; a development which actually caused him to break to a stop. He kept a long stare upon the doorway his friends had left through, and one of his eyebrows sat unsettled. It probably only FELT weirder than it was that they had all vanished so suddenly.

True to the advice Venus had given, Prism seemed particularly excited for this solitary opportunity. Instead of continuing to lead on or otherwise encouraging him not to delay she simply stayed there waiting without a word, his bag still caught by her magic and floating besides her.

Before the man even turned around he was able to sense her lingering presence. Her many colors made for a sort of inescapable flare whose tendrils of vibrant light could reach around his turned back and seize him, all powered by a brimming kind of eagerness which was hard for him to understand.

As soon as he did face her again she pounced, saying enthusiastically, "Your room is nearby! Just this way, sir!" She went to lead, but all the speed she had used before in order to keep pace with the group was now entirely absent.

"'James' is fine, thanks," the man offered. "'Sir' sounds a little weird to me, depending on who it comes from."

He very actively endeavored to slow himself down so that he might keep obediently behind her but her speed was lagging so horribly. Tiny step after tiny step, it was like she was snatching the remaining moments and stretching them further and further, as far as she could take them. Eventually the unnatural crawl was too much for him to handle and he wound up succumbing to walking alongside her. Even then the trudge was brutal.

"Oh, of course!" she accepted his instruction, alight with such glee at his giving her a more personal permission. It shined through her somewhat flimsy shade of professionalism.

She inched along, more of her attention dedicated to looking him over and smiling at him than to the hotel task which was hers to complete; almost to the exclusion of watching where she was going. When she nearly tripped once she scarcely seemed to notice her mistake, correcting herself with continued fixation on him.

But the man held some doubt. Rather than risk being sidetracked towards wherever her private, distracted interests might lead he decided instead to probe her first.

"So what was with that?" he swiftly came out asking. Driving a thumb over his shoulder he pointed right at the stairs, and he wiggled his wrist about chaotically. "That... 'divide and conquer' and thing?"

"Hm?" No mistaken interpretation appeared upon Prism's face, nor recoil at what could have been taken as an accusation. She only gave herself a plain moment of thought before responding. "There'll be plenty of time to spend together with your friends while you are here," she assured him, "so, to each, a small amount of personal space, if they should need it."

"Ah." Though, what wasn't personal about having individual rooms even if they were clustered together on the same floor?

James decided to ask, "Are there any other guests here in this hall? Or am I going to be all alone?"

Her answer was immediate, though also fully ignorant of the first of his two questions.

"You don't have to be alone if you don't want to be," she said. Maybe she was just leaning in a little too much... but it almost seemed like she had edged closer to him.

"What?" he coughed in surprise, also clothed as a request for clarification.

"There's going to be many things to do," she told him, enthused. "Some activities which we've planned for you all..." The different scheduled affairs danced through her mind, and she grinned to herself. "... And also some free time that you can spend how you wish...," she grew hopefully quiet, "... and with whom you wish."

Suddenly she snapped up and skipped ahead. One of the doors on the right had grabbed her and pulled her in. His room, undoubtedly.

The door itself felt much larger than it needed to be; two ponies walking abreast could fit through with ease. Tall, the peak of the curved top very nearly reached the ceiling. No visible hinges; it probably (and logically) opened inwards. No knob or handle either, though that was often typical of pony door designs. It was composed of thick, sturdy, bleached wood, and adorned only with a designation and a hardy lock. A thin plate of gold was stamped barely above a pony's eye height, shaped in the now-familiar design of two pony heads nose-to-nose, and upon it the room number was etched in a loose and loopy script.

The man looked over his shoulder at how much ground they had traversed with their mind-numbing hobbling. His assigned chamber wasn't far into the hall at all; only a few doors down from the lobby doorway and the stairwell. By far the distance was greater to reach the other end of the hall.

He grunted to himself and let his idle eyes look about. Across from his door the chosen space-filler was an unremarkable pot of bluestar flowers. The painting on the wall behind them drew his notice however.

Brightly colored but done entirely with large blotches which consequently fuzzed all the details, it depicted two ponies laying close together on their backs in rest. Hooves on each other, they reclined under the shade of an interesting tree whose crown grew quite tall and thin. The fruits hanging from the branches were not particularly numerous nor identifiable due to the image's sloppy style, but each one was made from red and yellow splotches weaved together, and they were all somewhat lopsided and bulbous towards the bottom.

While he silently explored, Prism brought her hoof up and gently fiddled with the lock on the door. Not in any specific way, though. There wasn't even much to fiddle with! No keyhole or lever, or any other obvious way to engage with the device.

Circular and large, bigger than her hoof in fact, the lock was embedded in the right side of the door. The whole of it was milled from a metal which had a matte finish, leaving it with an old appearance, though one of unbreaking strength. From its more extruded outer rim it fell in towards the center. Within that central divot was an opening which left some of the deadbolt mechanism visible, and the bolt itself seemed incredibly stout; a railroad spike stuck inside the door.

It seemed by her brief inspection that the pony was only checking to be sure that it had been left unlocked. Upon seeing it so she happily and swiftly pulled her hoof away.

She looked back at her charge, and once again she waited patiently until his wandering focus came back to her. Once she was sure that he was watching, her magic embraced the knobless door and pushed it open. After it drifted inwards enough to clear the way, she twisted her neck towards the entrance in an inviting gesture.

"Your room, James."

He thanked her with a nod and crossed the threshold.

Again the room's design made clear the islanders attempt for a specifically-defined aesthetic. It at least assumed unabashedly the same general form of a hotel room: bed, dresser, bathroom, closet, and so forth, all with fairly typical placement. The room's scale was slightly greater; not quite equal to the suite in Baltimare but much more spacious than a usual two bed chamber at any other hotel; remarkable considering it was a room for one.

Somehow though it tried so hard not to evoke the commercialized feel of a hotel. It made itself almost out to be a personal study; some place of familiar privacy which was intimate with comfort. The make of the furniture did not have the dry gleam of standardization; no banal repetitiveness which would have come from a factory floor. Every piece stood out in its own personalized way. And the far wall where windows should have been expected was instead blocked by a gray curtain that hung ceiling to floor, from beyond which sunlight was pouring forth. What glow broke through the veil which guarded the balcony illuminated the room with cheery ease. At night, light was instead provided by a few sconces which dotted the room; fashioned in the same kissing-ponies mold and meant to hold heavy, powerful candles. Even more light could be had from a lamp on the nightstand, shaped like an enormous bead and controlled by a rotating dimmer switch which allowed brightness of any desired level.

There were a few more little touches that blatantly or discretely tried to yank the room away from pure, reusable business. Instead of a small table with a chair or two, suitable for a hurried breakfast, there was a full desk; an honest-to-goodness sit-down-and-get-some-work-done desk. It was even readily equipped with papers, envelopes, quills, ink, and more. No less than four of the hotel's ubiquitous paintings were present. The bathroom didn't feel like an extra closet with functional washroom fixtures crammed in; to step inside gave a sense of being slightly dwarfed, like the space was intended for somepony unusually large or perhaps even two ponies together. Across from the bed, set in a thin frame which was secured unwaveringly to the wall, was a massive mirror that towered from floor to ceiling, nearly four feet wide; almost creepy with the sense of self-voyeurism it represented.

James wandered towards the center of the room, taking it in as he went. For what was only supposed to be a place for him to sleep... it WAS nice. His suite in Baltimare had been impressive for bluntly superficial reasons, but why he should find this space MORE impressive wasn't really obvious to him. Something about the balance of it? Not overly extravagant or regal, which was a state of class he simply couldn't get used to. Not foreign like the Ponyville Library occasionally felt (though by benefit of time, and the making of friendly memories, that sensation had slowly been diminishing.) Not sterile like a bland hotel chamber cleaned and reset after every stay. It had just enough of that familiar lived-in feel; that old scent of memory which he could have mistaken for dreams of his own recall; to take on a personal aura. It simply breathed a homelike peace.

How pleased he was came off in how he stood, more than readable enough for Prism to lift her beaded tail with elation and take a few steps in after him. She was so intently fixed on the man that her magic sloppily discarded his bag on the dresser's edge, and it nearly dropped to the floor and spilled its contents.

"So, what do you think?" she eagerly questioned him.

"I like it," he nodded. "It's going to be hard to drag me out to the beach when I can just relax here."

"I'm glad you approve!" she crowed. Then, vigorously, "If there is anything you feel is missing, or anything at all you need to make your room more comfortable, please just let me know!"

"Thank you. I will."

The man gestured in gratitude towards her and then visually explored the room again. The flood of brightness pouring out from around the curtain at the back called to him.

Intuitively he knew what lay pass the faintly swaying cloth but regardless he wondered what exactly the view beyond the veil looked like. His curious steps lead him forward until he reached the curtain and he laid a careful hand around one end, gripping it tightly enough to feel the velvet slide between his fingers. It was somewhat coarser than might be expected but still fine to the touch, and quite warm from resting in the sun's heat. At last he drew in a breath and evenly pulled the curtain aside.

Automatically his other hand shaded his eyes as the full love of the sun beat past him, washing the room with immaculate glory. Hand remaining raised he walked out onto the balcony.

The stone protrusion didn't have dimensions much wider or deeper than a typical car, poking out only a small amount and with slightly more space available to pace side-to-side. Still, there was enough room to share the provided vista with a guest or two, whether standing up or relaxing on borrowed chairs. Stocky, stone bars supported the rounded railing, hoisted to the right height for a pony but otherwise a little too short for him. He hardly felt unsafe though, being sure of his balance and in addition only one story up. Bending forward steeply, he leaned on the rail and looked out.

The front gardens were immediately below him, green where not blooming with vivid colors. Beyond, at the sand's dying edge, the small cookhouse and drink stand still rested, waiting peacefully to be of use. The further white shore rippled its way down to the churning water, and then serene swirls flourished beyond, all the way to the forever blue horizon where sea kissed sky. Warmth filled it all and greeted his vision; the late day sun was only beginning to paint the view with sleepier colors.

Stupendous. Outright stupendous.

Everything felt so good. Right there... wrapped in the mellow island breeze... caressed by the burgeoning evening heat... it became unbelievably clear to him how much a vacation was exactly what the doctor ordered. In all his work to reorganize his LIFE in Ponyville he had seemingly forgotten that LIFE itself was sometimes a chore which had to be escaped from. For brief periods at least.

James sucked in one last soothing breath on the balcony, holding it for a perfect moment before he released it to the wind, which carried his air to sea. Content, he eased around and stepped back inside.

Some surprise nicked him when he saw Prism still standing within the room, unmoved from her few paces in at the door. It wasn't a big shock; she had a colorful presence whose coming and going seemed hard to ignore. The jolt mostly came from having unthinkingly assumed she would have left after her guiding task had been completed.

But no real worry crept into him either because of her continued presence. While her behaviors he still regarded as unusual at best, they had generally become at least less off-putting with each shared moment.

When his eyes acknowledged her without any dismissal or rejection she took it as an invitation. Thrilled, she penetrated further into the room and asked unhesitantly, like a youth scrambling through the pages of a story to devour it, "Where are you from?"

"Somewhere far, far away from here," came the man's somewhat idle answer.

It wasn't his intent to sound so unobliging of her but her chosen question was one he had no particular interest in fully answering, and more so he was still quite mired in some of his own thoughts. There was enough rumination in him to anchor his manners down below an honestly respectable level.

He wandered over to the bed, taking a soft seat down on the green hoofspun quilt which was folded over the end. He sat such that he could face the pony as he chose, or gaze elsewhere if he needed.

His shallow rudeness certainly didn't seem to damper Prism's spirit at all. She pressed in. "Ooh. What's it like?"

"A little same, a little different," he quietly compared his home to Equestria. "Not always in the ways you expect."

For another time her eyes were all over the man, scanning him. Her crawling probe moved up his leg and torso; her drooling indulgence plodded its way down his body.

"And... what are humans like?" she asked in a deepening voice.

Venus had given James fair warning of this pony's curiosity, and once more it seemed true that the island host hadn't been wrong. Prism was so mesmerized, absorbing him in sight, sound, and smell; every sense open to taking him in. Yet he found that he couldn't separate her inquisitive desires from the... stronger, pursuing behaviors... his native biology was familiar with, and it rubbed against him in an uncomfortable way.

However... Twilight had been uncompromisingly firm about pony sexuality; if 'sexuality' was even a valid term with how restricted it apparently was. If that was so then whatever he was seeing in Prism was clearly some kind of social mistranslation; some eccentricity on her part that tingled his mature human senses in a false positive way. Hadn't all of his friends earlier noted that the island hosts' conduct had been UNUSUAL in its lusty affection but yet NONE of them had assumed anything truly salacious? It took them a terribly long time to even dip into such thoughts during his everlasting airhorn of euphemisms.

One thing that he knew ponies and people shared beyond all truth was diversity. It wasn't extreme to think that, of ALL the ponies in ALL of Equestria, there existed a small few for whom the very idea of love got them excited in some kind of physically flamboyant way. Or, additionally, that there existed a pony like the one who was before him. One who it seemed suffered from a full-bodied worldly curiosity for the exotic.

And honestly... with only the exception of the awkward shadows surrounding her... the unconstrained attention she had been affording him didn't feel all that bad. Actually he felt his enjoyment inch slowly higher as he thought about it.

The past few months in Ponyville had mostly been rehabilitation through regular good old times with close friends. Only now and again had he gotten serious interactions with ponies extending outside of his circle; the Cutie Mark Crusaders, Princess Celestia, Poppy, and the like; most others saw expected neighborliness and no more. No doubt Twilight would have probably graded extending himself to new ponies in friendship as a positive development, and she would have recommended that he pursue such while he worked at creating a new life in Equestria.

So, as long as Prism was so fascinated by him, and so eager to give him free reign to approach her unabashedly as himself... was there a reason NOT to test this for friendship?

"Humans? Kind of like ponies," his busy mind spared some time to answer her question. It was hard to resist conjuring up related images, the bubbles of memory puffing out like smoke tooting from a chimney: the madness of the Ponyville market, the days sweating on the farm with the Apple family, the camaraderie with his rainbow-maned amigo, the shelves and shelves of library books tended to by an insightful and delightful nerd (and resident pal of a dragon,) the 'war' and peace at Hamestown and Heartwood, the beautiful and bouncing filly who was inescapably full of so much adoring love...

"A little same...," he repeated tenderly, raising a palm.

More thoughts stormed into his head. Memories of a dissimilar kind; some of the struggles great and small he had seen so far in this new land. And not the least of those memories was his recent witness of Twilight's complete mental meltdown at the merest pinprick of sex.

His other palm came up and he repeated, now in confession, "... A little different..."

And with those passing remembrances floating about in his brain his inner conscience delivered him a scolding thwack on the back of his head. Letting go of some natural inhibitions and seclusive reluctance for the sake of exploration was most probably a good thing... but... maybe... JUST MAYBE... he should get his damn priorities straight? Perhaps he should not so quickly and selfishly ignore the ponies - the FRIENDS - who had been so dedicated to him; the ones that he already had obligations to?

Twilight had clarified just how much of a contemptible assault on their sensibilities he had unleashed, and it skewered him with guilt. He could have avoided crossing the line; enough hints had been there; so it was on him to do right and fix things.

Though, if he was being honest with himself, he really would have preferred to procrastinate with the help of his present pony company. His stupid ass had such a tough time with the bitter pills of apology.

Again his conscience fought back against diversion, this time donning a disguise familiar and beloved. His mind's eye showed him Poppy, so brokenhearted and distraught at his choices. But underneath she still had her faithful smile, knowing without a shred of doubt that he was in his heart better than that.

One of the man's resting hands patted his right-front pocket, feeling the stony bulge within. There were things that he had to do. And if Poppy weren't enough inspiration then he could always draw more kindness from another pony whom he deeply admired.

Very well.

There would be time for Prism; plenty of time. Just not time right now. Lessons in friendship called his name.

"You're," the rhythm of James' voice abruptly changed, "supposed to come and get me when it's time for dinner, right?"

The new sound coming from him caused an unfounded guilt to snag the unicorn's face by surprise, dragging it down with the rest of her shrinking body. Slightly panicked, she replied, "Y-Yes..." Then quickly conciliatory, she pleaded, "I... If... if, sir, I've overstayed my welcome-"

"Oh, no, no. It's not that," he rushed out, pushing off the bed. Shaking free of his mental shackles he tried affirmatively to bring out his better side, pouring it into his posture, tone, and understanding. He worked to assuage her, "I'd really love to chat with you for a bit when there's time but... well, there's just some other things on my mind right now. So all I meant with my question was: I don't think I'm going to be in my room when you come back around."

"Oh...?" As suddenly as her painful shame had earlier appeared it was drained out and replaced with general confusion. She stood up fully again, staring at him.

In searching for an explanation to give her he realized something, and he reached out to her with an open hand and a simple, beckoning smile, saying, "Actually I could use your help."

The opportunity for service before her, any slight disarray remaining died in the face of wonder, and she listened intently.

He spoke, "I need some directions."

Sweet Nothing, even heavy with Rarity's luggage, lead the way up the stairs. Though he marched forwards he kept quite an attentive eye backwards on his chosen mare whenever he could, and not overly outpacing her was the sole reason he hadn't already blitzed up the steps to be rid of his compatriots Humble Herd and Hulahoof. Carefully he played his speed, moving slow enough so that Rarity would not lose him yet with just enough haste that she had to chase him a little to keep up, which she gladly did.

The energy of the four remaining ponies was altogether different; repressed and ill.

Humble Herd plodded up the stairs on the outer extreme, his face mostly locked to the steps beneath him. Anytime he picked up his gaze to look back he saw Fluttershy following some distance behind him, several steps further down than she needed to be. Even with that wide space, when circumstances slowed him by any amount then she took immediate, wincing notice and slowed down herself. Perhaps her walk was driven by pity, only making a token effort to keep up with him...

The most obvious thing he noted about her was that she spared nothing to keep her own eyes averted. Obviously she didn't find him fit to TOUCH with her gaze. The awful churning in his stomach would have sped him up to create an even safer space between them but he wasn't able to go any faster; Sweet Nothing was not far ahead of him. He rather desperately hoped not to have another engagement with the black stallion, as he still felt the ache caused by the earlier blow to his chest. From both sides nervous frustration plucked at his fears like a harp playing an off-tune melody.

Hulahoof was all smiles, as he always tried to be. With a steady stream of clippity-clops his rubber hooves bounced him up the stairs. It was an easygoing ascent with a perfectly regular rhythm: strike, leap, momentary floating, and drop to strike again; step after rising step, one at a time all the way, trading diagonal hoof pairs for each landing. Not even the bloated weight of Pinkie Pie's evershifting sack on his back pulled his cheerful skipping down.

But, of course, his buoyant appearance was in part a dedicated cover. He was actually quite focused on pouring his inner personality out as hard as he could. Every peek back at Pinkie Pie showed to him only a soul-sapped pony who didn't seem to really care whether she followed him or not. That sight was a more encumbering weight than all of the stuffed bags which he hauled.

The whole lot of them skipped by the third floor, but at the fourth floor Humble Herd and Hulahoof both broke off, exiting the stairwell. Achingly slow, though each for different reasons, Fluttershy and Pinkie Pie followed them. Sweet Nothing, very content to have the dead weight distractions finally out of his mane, selected a new, perfect pace for himself which allowed Rarity to inch slightly closer to him as they continued on up the stairs.

The fourth floor hallway resembled the second floor closely. For instance the paintings and plants selected for display were obviously both the same and different. A single major change from the second floor's design stood out: a common area, for relaxation or pleasurable company, located immediately next to the stairwell and above where the lobby was positioned on the lower floors. It had dense, shaggy carpeting, several cushy seats (including four love seats,) some small tables, and a connection out to a moderately sized balcony in front. Through that lounge the hallway on the other side of the building could be seen, all the way down to the terrace.

Upon emerging from the stairwell Hulahoof stopped at the very first door on the opposite wall. The wholly numb Pinkie Pie followed up, closing the distance with slower and slower clops, speed decaying like a drifting vehicle coasting to a stop.

Humble Herd and Fluttershy however continued down the hall pass them. Both appeared miserably uncomfortable now that they only had each other for company, not to mention fearfully worried at having lost all potential allies should something risky occur, like needing to actual speak to one another. Too nervous to talk, and lacking other ponies to set a steady walking pace, their movements became erratic. Either one of them would secretly dread that they were going too fast or too slow and change speed, which in turn caused the other to dread the same and respond reciprocally and oppositely; a ludicrous, uneven, irregular, stuttering dance down the hall in silence.

The moments which ticked by in front of Pinkie's room were equally silent.

Hulahoof stood to the side, throwing inviting glances towards the door while working different brands of smiles across his face. None of the grins he tried on had any apparent effect on the dead stare of the pink pony, who only held still with her unchanging face of stone.

"Why don't YOU open it?" the blue pegasus at last suggested, still hopefully enthusiastic. "Go ahead! It's not locked." He shivered in anticipation.

Even the sunny sound of his voice took some time to finally sink through Pinkie Pie's consuming cloud cover, and at last she rushed forward with all the blazing speed of a turtle. The four steps she needed to take in order to be appropriately positioned in front of the door might as well have been four physically impassable minutes.

At last she arrived, barely a pony's length from where she had been standing, and she began to draw up her hoof like a crane throttling to reel in an immense slab of concrete. Finally her hoof stretched out to the door, tapping against it once with the softest of pats, and then she pushed weakly forward with a bit of a lean. No creak, or swish, or sound of any kind accompanied the door's gentle and floating swing open. Never once did the face of the pink pony register as alive.

BANG! WHIZZ! TWEE! WALLOOLOLOLOLOOP-POP!

A cacophony of whistling, whirring, ringing, dinging, clapping, slapping, and trilling toots sang as a snowstorm of navy blue and pretty pink confetti exploded out of the open doorway, shot forth from some kind of carefully rigged party trap. Crumbs of paper fluttered about, a few extra streamers jumped out and twirled through the air, and even a few small balloons drifted free; everything painted in only the same two colors.

"Ta-da! Welcome!" Hulahoof cheered, bouncing at his knees again and again.

Plenty of the falling confetti settled into the placid Pinkie Pie's mane as she stood there without having flinched at the noisy ambush. Due to their color the pink sprinkles partially camouflaged with her hair, thus she was left with an apparent case of gigantic blue dandruff. After the balloons came to rest on the ceiling and the last of the party paper collapsed to stillness on the floor she finally inched her head a few degrees towards the other pony. The subtle motion knocked loose only a small few of her new hair accessories.

"Yay," she grunted neutrally.

The smile stayed on Hulahoof's face, though the spirit behind it was slowly being strangled. His knee-bobbing died a drawn out, agonized death.

"Okay!" he eventually said, still forcefully bright. "So... this is your room. Head on in!" His guiding hoof pointed inside. "I hope you don't mind but I snazzed it up a bit."

Plodding pointlessly Pinkie Pie followed his direction, moving glumly in with her guidepony at her tail.

The room in most ways was naturally identical to James'. The few considerations that had been present for the man because of his size and shape had of course been retracted; a shorter chair at the desk, and so forth. She was also given a pink quilt for her bed instead of a green one.

What made her room ultimately unique was the aforementioned additions by Hulahoof. Bows of streamers were strung high along the walls, circling the room. Shorter individual ones hung from the ceiling in whatever places the blue pony had capriciously chosen to tack them. Small cut-outs of silly faces and frivolous things were taped over the paintings on the walls to make remixed, more ridiculous works. And, by Celestia, the balloons! Pink and blue, any that weren't floating free on the ceiling were tied all about: on the handle of every drawer of the desk and dresser; some on each of the four stumpy bedposts; more tied around the back of the desk chair; even more on every sconce! Not enough balloons to be a ball pit on the ceiling but enough to make the space feel a little crowded.

One last decoration stood out for being unmistakably made by hoof with some painstaking amount of effort. Hung above the bed's headboard was a string of paper letters, each one cut with extremely smooth precision into showy shapes with uniquely flashy curves. Every letter was tied where it needed to be in order to hold the whole message together using ribbons wound in bows like on a gift. The eye-catching advertisement, on two lines, screamed out joyfully:

WELCOME
PINKIE PIE

Much like the party trap that had peppered Pinkie Pie, every decoration in the room came in only two colors: a deep navy blue and a preciously peppy pink, and they were always mixed. Every set of balloons had at least two; one of each color. The cut-out amendments to the paintings were the same; solid shape additions of only those two colors. Likewise every letter of the sign above the headboard was pink and the ribbons binding them were blue. All the streamers that circled the room near the ceiling were done in twos, both colors wrapped and twisted intimately together.

Hulahoof stayed near the open door and began to finally set down the heavy haul which he had carried all the way from the dock, dropping his load against the wall. Whatever mind-boggling menagerie was in Pinkie's large, extra bag made a zoo of noises; thunder which sounded like iron ball bearings rolling over crinkly tin foil while pressing against something squishy and squeaky, growling a dimming laugh towards silence as it all settled into place. Her burdensome, overstuffed saddlebags also rustled and popped when they landed, before their upright shapes melted a little and they came to rest.

Feeling a million pounds lighter the pegasus arched his back, spaced his legs wide, and stretched up his stiff and now slightly misshapen wings. He pushed himself out, every limb reaching and expanding as much as they could, before he very suddenly whipped back like a rubber band, wobbling in place for a moment. Just like that he was all limber and loose again.

Eager to see what his extra attention to her room had earned him, he looked over at Pinkie Pie.

The pink pony still snailed forward, pathetically pacing her way inwards, neglecting to utilize her uninterested eyes. And she crawled. And she plodded. And finally she reached the center of the room, just besides the end of the bed. And then she sat, still facing away from the door and Hulahoof, her rear half-dropping onto her poofy tail with a flat splat.

For awhile he watched her, never failing to be hopeful that she might pipe up at any moment. And he watched. And he hoped. Still. It took a slow minute before he accepted that maybe he would have to encourage her.

"So... what do you think?" he tried, relatively jolly.

"It's good," she answered without a vibrant syllable, and likewise without ever having actually looked about the room.

"Oh. Mega-great. I'm glad." He waited again but she didn't add anything. So he tried once more, "Like the balloons? 'Balloo' them up myself! (Get it?)"

"Nice touch."

"Thanks!"

He waited.

Still.

... It was kind of like speaking to a broken mirror. A broken mirror that was also upside down AND backwards (however that worked.) And maybe also possessed by ghosts. Extremely, extremely boring ghosts.

Optimistically he tried again, "Do you need anything?"

"No."

At last his pleasant despair peeked through once more, just faintly leaking out of the cracks in his personality. He more quietly remarked, unsteady as he did, "Uh... I'll... I'll come get you when it's time for dinner...?"

"Okay."

"Right-o, then..." He began to turn away, wobbling awkwardly like he was trying to sweep his disappointment under his wings. "See you later," he called weakly.

"Bye." At no point had she even looked back at him.

Hulahoof exited into the hallway, drawing the door quietly closed behind him.

The strings of a balloon couple which had originally escaped from his earlier sprung trap were hanging immediately in front of him, and their entwined twisting tickled his nose. One of his hooves came up and twiddled the twirled strings while he stood wondering about what had happened. In that room was NOT the pony he had read about at all!

After a dreary moment he looked up at the two balloons, one as beautifully blue as him and the other a pretty shade of pink, and he watched the happy way in which they bobbed and danced together. He listened to how, as they kept playfully bopping into each other, their bumping noises sounded like rubbery giggles.

He sighed an uneasy sigh; an action extra uncomfortable for him as he seemed so incredibly unpracticed with the motion.

Grabbing the strings of those two balloons in his teeth he walked away.

Inside her room, Pinkie sat. And sat. And sat. Even without a pony watching over her she still was motionless; practically unblinking even. Not one thought was given to unpacking her things. Never a whim was felt to explore her room. No ounce of will whispered to her in any way; not to stretch, not to stand, not to laugh, not to sing, not to eat, not to feel.

And why should she? There really wasn't much use for an unfriendly pony, after all.

Perfectly preserved, the entire room came to a standstill.

At some point a knock came to her door, struck with a precise gentleness.

The timeless Pinkie Pie, ignorant of how much or how little the clock had moved, at last got up. She was resigned to zombie-ing her way through the upcoming dinner. Dragging herself there, the knock repeated several times before she managed to limp the door open.

"Hey, Pinkie. Good, you're here," Twilight very tenderly greeted. "Sorry if I'm surprising you. Rather than explore my own room I just asked Gallowayo for directions to the rest of you." In tiny amounts she reflected a recent distress, saying, "I mean, I would have LIKED to have stayed and chatted with him but..." It passed instantly, and her heart reached out to her friend. "... I'm worried, Pinkie."

Compared to Hulahoof it was much harder for the pink pony to withdraw her entire being from the powerful pleas of her close friend, and in trying to fend off her inner emotions she suffered a fast fit of twitches and tics, like knitting needles pricking her on the inside.

Still, she was after her bout able to regain her lifeless form and declare without emotion, "I'm fine, Twilight." She turned around, perhaps only luckily forgetting that the door was open, and she shambled back to the center of the room before she again plopped her butt onto the floor.

"Pinkie..."

Twilight stepped inside, coming up behind her friend and taking a seat of her own.

"Nopony's going to believe that you're alright," she painfully told the wounded pony. "You haven't been yourself, and it's only been getting worse. I mean, look at this room." Her magic swished some of the ceiling-hung streamers like a blowing breeze and slapped a few of the tied down balloons about. "Normally you'd be ecstatic to have been given a room like this but... you're sitting here sorrier than I EVER remember seeing you."

Pinkie Pie merely repeated herself. "I'm fine," twitch, "Twilight."

Softly Twilight gave a lamenting heave. Her concerned and stressed thoughts worked themselves into overdrive, trying hard to divine the best path forward, and she slouched a little.

Memories came to her, she straightened up, and she recalled aloud, "When he first arrived in Equestria James would always tell me that too."

The mention of the man's name made the pink pony jerk her neck in another impromptu spasm.

Resolved, the unicorn continued regardless, "Anytime I'd ask him how he was he'd say, 'I'm fine, I'm fine.' But he wasn't. He wasn't AT ALL, Pinkie. Do you remember what he was like?"

The pink pony's spine ever so faintly started to curl, and her head dipped down more slowly than could be imagined. It was a motion mired in sluggishness; not one of her spasms of denial at all.

"Do you?" Twilight beseeched her friend to remember.

"... He...," Pinkie Pie's whisper almost didn't come out, "... he almost never SMILE smiled. Then... he started to learn how to do it for all of you, at least a little bit. But never for-... never for-..."

"Pinkie..."

"... Then...," she came back louder but weaker, "SHE made him really smile, without even trying... I saw it... The biggest... most magical... most laughing... most loving... most life-filled... most FRIENDLY smile..."

Twilight paid close attention, noticing from behind that her friend began to twitch and shudder again. Only... it seemed that this time... the jerking movements were quite different in nature than before; much more soft and subtle.

And that's when the unicorn heard low sniffling and suppressed huffing. Quiet, forlorn gasps of grievous sorrow tried to escape out of the pink pony while she desperately worked to hold them in. Tears.

"Pinkie?" Twilight called, with raising alarm.

"Gotta go now!" Pinkie Pie wheezed. Failing at all control, the words tumbled out in a single lightning lump.

Somehow, even with one of her forelegs welded over her watering eyes, the slippery pony managed to dart around Twilight and dash for the still open door. Blue and pink confetti scattered in a trail behind her.

"PINKIE! WAIT!"

Blind, Pinkie Pie scrambled along on heedless instinct alone. She rushed into the hallway, sliding over the party trap refuse still on the floor and nearly tripping head over hooves as she stumbled onto the carpet which ran the length of the hall. Barely on balance she swiveled around and charged towards the stairwell.

But she hardly got three steps there.

"OOOF!"

"Ow! Hey!"

Feeling herself stopped, along with the thumping and ringing pain on her skull from the blow that had halted her, Pinkie Pie pulled away her salty, soaked leg. She was buried practically half-a-pony deep into Rainbow Dash.

The annoyed pegasus stretched her now-sore neck and unfurled her wings, partially crumpled in the crash. She winced a little with the kinks that panged her as she moved, but she didn't fully extract herself from her partially tangled position.

Instead, she looked over her panicked, pink friend and quite clearly picked out the flight that had consumed her. Planting a hoof on Pinkie's chest Rainbow Dash pushed the other pony backwards to separate themselves apart.

"Yeeeaaaaaahhhhhhhhh," the pegasus droned while shaking her head, "No. You're not going anywhere."

"After what happened on the boat," Twilight sympathetically explained from the open doorway of Pinkie's room, "I asked Rainbow Dash for her help. I went to get her just before coming to see you."

"You don't think I haven't noticed how you've been such a lame-legged buffalo lately, have you?" Rainbow Dash remarked, squinting at her pink friend. With a tilting-up of her nose she nearly boasted, "Come on, I'm Loyalty. Obviously I know when my friends are upset."

"Pinkie," Twilight approached from behind, pleading, "we ARE your friends. And we're trying to help. Please?"

Still faintly trembling, with baby buds of tears continuing to crawl out of the corners of her eyes, Pinkie Pie looked between the two ponies who had surrounded her. Then she peeked once longingly at the stairwell beyond Rainbow Dash.

"Oh no," the pegasus caught sight of the pink pony's wish. She pressed her hoof more firmly upon her friend's chest. "You're going to stay right here and tell us all about what's been bothering you," she ordered.

The crossed-eyed Pinkie gazed down at the hoof prodding her. In her right state of mind there no doubt would have been a million means to get around the obstacle blocking her. Yet she felt trapped there. Somewhere she was still cognizant enough to understand how barely she was functioning. Ultimately... she relented.

"Alright, let's get some privacy. Back into your room, come on," directed Rainbow Dash, changing where her hoof was pointing.

The dead strength in Pinkie Pie's neck failed and her face fell towards the floor. The biggest curl of her mane drew sad little waves on the ground as she sullenly turned and plodded back, heading into her room.

Twilight took a big, long breath. "Thanks, Rainbow Dash," she whispered to the pegasus.

"Well, we still have to figure this out," Rainbow Dash warned.

"We will," the unicorn confidently asserted.

Together they walked towards the door, following their broken friend.

As they went, a moment of incidental thought spurred Twilight to ask the colorful pegasus, "I didn't see your guidepony when I went to get you. What happened to him?"

"Who?" croaked Rainbow Dash in utter confusion.

Chapter 19: Doors

The door to Spike's second floor room easily gave way to Summer Wind's push, swinging briskly open.

"After you," she was quite pleased to invite.

"Oh, thank you," came the dragon's upbeat reply.

As they had no baggage to lug inside they both strut carefree into the room, Spike before his much bulkier attendant.

But at only a few paces in, the dragon's steps crawled and stuttered, shortly thereafter stopping completely. Reflexively his small glances tried to absorb the room but they couldn't compete against one solitary item that was overwhelming him. Something astounding. Something stupendous. Something triumphant.

The mundane details of his room weren't much different from any other hotel chamber and so were hardly of note to him. Likewise any peculiar absences or deviations weren't terribly suspicious, partly because he hadn't seen other rooms at the Passion's Embrace to compare his too. No desk or chair had been provided to him, and his dresser was unusually squashed widthwise. The differences were there to cede space to the marvel that had snagged his stupefied attention.

His bed was MASSIVE. Easily larger than the kingliest of king sizes in all measurable dimensions. The snooze-beast comprised a good portion of the whole room. Its enormity could comfortably support a family of four, with their pets, grandma, and the kitchen sink to boot. Even with other furniture having been removed and reduced the room felt dangerously close to being overcrowded because of that one gargantuan item.

Without a doubt the mattress had been custom designed; there was no standard one in the world which could have possibly served the duty. Visible stitches showed it had been sewn together from several bedsheets, and its bumpy shape and rippled surface hinted at an inside stuffed with a desperately soft mix of cushy cotton, stacks of straw, and a heaping filling of feathers. No ordinary bed frame could hold the bloated sack so it merely sat upon a large hunk of wood with raised margins around the top.

Such an assorted, improvised construction didn't render the slumber-frankenstein a grotesque mutant though. No, no... it was glorious! Perhaps its irregular design DID mean that it lacked the playful bounce of something with springs. Perhaps it couldn't offer the stony stiffness of a cave floor that a more rigid mattress would (such hardness making a choice resting ground for a dragon's back, of course.) But all that was no concern. This bed instead crowned itself almighty in a wondrously different way: the compressible stuffing was a thick fluid, not able to sink so deep as to drown somepony but boasting more than enough absorbent give to leave the sleeper floating on air.

Spike tottered towards the bed, nearly dazed and with his jaw hanging. Up came his claws and, having to put them high just to reach, he reverently laid them upon the mattress. In and out and around, he felt the crunchy squishiness of it, and gradually his mouth was won over into a smile. Bit by bit the corners flared up until finally his whole face was separated into two pieces by a sharp-toothed grin.

"Hahaha, woah!" he exclaimed. First packing his body into a little ball he then sprung up onto the bed. The mattress yielded to him on the first try, with his legs plummeting into it. Everywhere else it puffed out because of the shock wave which ran through it. Laughing and leaping about, remolding the bed's shape with each bounce, the dragon shouted, "I could sleep in a different spot every night and still wouldn't be finished by the time we left!"

Although she waited patiently Summer Wind still snickered at the sight. This scene was not what she had imagined.

"I'm glad you like it," she said to him.

"Why do we get such huge beds?" the dragon asked, still bounding around on his.

"Oh. Only yours-... I mean, the others have the usual beds. We had to put this together especially for-... for you...," the large pegasus tripped over her own explanation, caught seemingly unprepared in some fashion.

Spike's jumps came to halt and he took a moment to steady himself against the last wobbles of the mattress.

"What do you mean?" The question was scribbled all over his face.

Ungracefully, with her eyes searching the back of her head and her hooves rubbing each other in discomfort, she expressed erratically, "Well, you see... we, uh, read that you were a young DRAGON and... I mean, I guess we... we didn't take the 'young' part seriously enough." From somewhere unspoken a streak of disappointment wormed into her. "It didn't say specifically that you'd be so small..."

Her unintentional strike pierced him. Oh, the facts of her report all made literal sense; it was the dismal skew she had put upon it that had left him wounded and irked.

Overly defensive he fired back, protesting his insult and injury, "Hey! I'm not... I'm not THAT young!"

"Oh, I'm sorry!" She rushed to correct her misstep, trying to dress her appearance in the correct formality for her assigned station. But she wasn't rapid or thorough enough to cover all of her unmistakable doubt. In a discouraged, low moan she mused, "You just... really look like such a... baby dragon..."

After hearing those words, whatever insult Spike felt transformed and contorted into a desperation to protect dignity. He threw and waved his arms about, childishly upset, and complained, "W-Well I'm not a baby! Twilight was practically a little foal when I was hatched and that was years and years ago!"

"I'm sorry!" Summer Wind doubled down on her apology. This time she managed a fully repentant bow, and she afterwards locked tight into a straight-faced, attentive standing; the picture of a consummate professional.

But the dragon remained disconcerted, certain that any sincerity she held was still somehow muddied by the front she had erected for his sake. The judgment he perceived teased and mocked him right through her polite face.

"I'm g-grown up and mature!" he tried so hard to paper over his insecurity with indignant anger, but his efforts were pathetically failing and overly soaked in pleading urgency. "I shop for groceries, a-and arrange the library books, and w-work occasional odd jobs around Ponyville, and everything! A-All by myself!"

But though she didn't doubt his assertions in any fashion his fumbling presentation clearly hadn't convinced her the way he had wanted it to.

Hitting the very peak of his fraying frustration he panicked and thoughtlessly grabbed the first stupid thing that came into his mind. He reconfigured a recent memory into an ill-advised effort at proving adulthood.

With the loudest and most misplaced confidence he could find within, he declared, "I'm old enough to... to know... to know what 'rolling in the hay' is!"

No he wasn't. He really wasn't old enough to know. He had guesses about what it was, sure. Or more accurately: guesses AT guesses. But he really wasn't old enough at all. There was only enough cultural awareness in him to recognize the mysterious subject as a topic that wasn't ever spoken of openly, and therefore was critically embarrassing to speak of or hear about.

So he was immediately swallowed by regret when he heard his own words, and doubly so when he saw her reaction. Both his claws clamped over his idiot mouth. He couldn't be sure that she had actually understood his borrowed language but obviously she was taken aback nonetheless.

"W-W-What I m-meant to s-s-say w-was, ah... um...," Spike attempted to backtrack, raising a single claw up in defiance of his earlier self. "Um... you see... I... er..."

The incomplete, stalling phrases only continued to sputter out of him. There wasn't any reasonable excuse he'd ever be able to come up with to cover his hasty blunder. Embarrassment ate him up, both of his frills and his tail drooped, and his lifted arm weakened as well, crumbling down.

Summer Wind meanwhile wasn't truly perturbed. Yes the dragon's outburst had been more than a little unusual and far less than expected. It had been a mild shock to have heard it thrown out so suddenly, to say the least. But mostly she felt more amused than disturbed; a state that grew only increasingly truer the more he failed to defend himself with his rambled, fragmentary statements.

Perhaps such unpredictable surprises were his gift. First he had existed as only written words, and subsequently as an image in her mind of a muscular dragon larger than her own great size and also naturally physically rambunctious. Then he had actually appeared and had been nowhere near what she had anticipated; a baby, hardly as big as a foal, if that. But later, in the lobby, he had demonstrated an impressively uncommon amount of maturity; nothing of baby at all. And now he had become this priceless, tail-twisted goofball before her; something in between the two extremes, with a personality different and older than what she would have guessed but yet behaviors still stained here and there with foal-like missteps and insecurities. What a ride back and forth.

Actually... thinking on it... his adorable fumbling here really reminded her of Humble Herd when that pony was thrown off balance. In a pleasant way. It was rather endearing.

Regardless, the pegasus understood now that he was older than he appeared but in the end was still a young one. Too young. That basic fact made everything for her awkward, easy, and disappointing all at once. Presumably she would have to continue with her given assignment ANYWAY, albeit in a reduced fashion.

"Mister Spike," she cleaned up her presentation completely, scrubbing away any rudeness major or minor, actual or imagined. "I'm very sorry. I didn't mean to-"

"Hey! You know what?" the dragon interjected, sporting a false and sheepish smile. He quite earnestly hoped to move past the lamentable episode as swiftly as possible. Giving the back of his head a clumsy scratching he instructed, "Forget I said anything!"

Leaping down off the bed he further zoomed away from his self-induced quagmire, blathering quickly, "Uh, and, so, we haven't actually been properly introduced yet! I'm Spike." Naturally he understood that she knew some things about him already because of Twilight, but that hardly mattered to his escape. Out came a quivering claw, flustered but ready to formally mark the occasion.

"Ah." She was happy to let the ridiculous ordeal pass under the bridge; it would at least keep her innermost concerns buried until she had the time to process them. Hoof met claw for a shake.

"I'm Summer Wind. It's really very nice to meet you."

"Same here."

Already Spike appeared to relax some. The tumbling in his stomach began swiftly calming, and a friendly, casual curiosity sprouted up anew over his face.

"So... you... do service and stuff around here?" the dragon asked.

"Oh, well," Summer Wind waddled along uncomfortably, "we all sort of... contribute with that. It depends." Before he could present her with any follow-up she eased into a more personal and natural answer, "Really, I mostly manage the weather over the island. I mean, I'm not the only pony who does that but that's my primary responsibility."

"Weather, huh?" He passed his eyes over her again.

Tall, and endowed with a well-honed thickness that ran the whole length of her orange body, she was a real pony built from unscratchable stone. Even her green tail had a solid and sturdy form, hardy with power from root to tip, like an ancient tree coated in moss. As an obvious fact larger pegasi had larger wings to match, but her mammoth fans were jet engines. And right there on her flank the same mighty story was written: two restless clouds which were slightly gray from the unspent energy built up inside, their rolls rounded and firm like flexed iron muscles.

"Wow," he chirped. "You must whip up quite a thunderstorm."

She smiled, "I do pretty well with the heavy weather; not that we often need it. But when we do get the chance I really throw all I've got into it." For a moment she became unchained, tearing across the sky without limits even though she still stood there in the room. "I love the rush," she emphasized, ripping the sentence out from the greatest depths of her core. "Being caught in the hurricane, the winds screaming against you, so much water pouring over you that you can't tell if it's sweat or rain. And you ride the storm; just go with it until you can't go anymore!"

Was she a single pony or a whole crew of weatherponies crammed into one? "Sounds intense," the dragon commented, mirroring some of her merrier attitude.

It was Summer Wind's turn to be somewhat embarrassed, though far less so than he had been. Mostly she teetered her head about and rolled her eyes at herself. Try as she might she couldn't completely subdue her grin.

"Intense is how I get my satisfaction," she was able to remark plainly. Yet cracks of remorse appeared. "Usually. When I can."

Off she shook her reflective thoughts, immediately shelving them. What a deplorable time to slip into her personal affairs. She reasserted her professional side.

"Sorry," she said, lowering her head formally, "I didn't mean to be going on about myself like that."

"Hey, that's not a problem," Spike dismissed. His everyday disregard was unfailingly polite, and he was even just a hair contrite that he had made her feel the need to apologize at all. Automatically he justified, "We're here to relax and have a good time, and I guess also make friends and everything, right?"

Again she was touched by the very pure and thoughtful way which he had expressed himself: ordinarily normal and extraordinarily considerate. What a little giver.

When Venus had first approached Summer Wind regarding the coming visit of the Princess's pupil and had asked the burly pegasus to... handle the dragon... it had honestly seemed like an incredibly daunting and undesirable task, in more ways than one. In all her life she had probably never been more imprisoned by reluctance. She had accepted the responsibility anyway but only for Venus's sake, not having known how in Equestria she would deal with a dragon or even if she could. Yet far less openly, in her secretest insides, she had recognized that there existed a tiny, unmentionable hope: maybe a dragon could be for her what most ponies couldn't; paralyzing as such a thought had been.

But how she felt about it all NOW... well... His manners and personality had erased so much of the old trepidatious doubt, but likewise his age had snuffed out the faint, hopeful gleam. It was actually kind of a shame that this particular dragon WASN'T a little bit older.

All that aside, there was a job to be done here. Once more she felt inspired to reward his simple goodness with proper respect and due assistance.

"And have an amazing time you will!" she answered him with uplifted promise. A half-turn towards the door, raring to go, and with her whole body she invited, "But right now... don't we have to head to your friend's room to recover your bags?"

"Oh! Right!" popped Spike. He was somewhat aghast at himself, rubbing his chin at the rueful realization of how caught up in embarrassments and pleasantries he had been getting. "I had almost completely forgotten about Rarity, and my stuff."

"Well, I can lead you right to her room," Summer Wind was proud to offer. Her delighted eyes gestured away. "If you please...?"

"Certainly!" he agreed, adopting a bit of fun pomp. He bowed, one claw to his belly and the other opened towards the door. "After you."

The door to Applejack's second floor room rapidly gave way to her guidepony's push, swinging carelessly open.

But the leading pony didn't wait for her to enter first. He proceeded inside immediately himself, already halfway in by the time the swinging door clacked against the wall.

Applejack, following several steps behind him, wasn't phased. 'Follow your pony,' had been the earlier instructions and she was of the honest mind to comply to the letter, scarcely thinking about it at all.

By the time she entered he had already finished abandoning her saddlebags, dropping them out of his mouth and onto the floor only a few paces inside. His task complete he instantly turned around and began to leave.

"There you go. I'll be back to get you for dinner," he quickly reminded her as the two ponies crossed in opposite directions. He slowed not at all, nor even served her a glance.

"Thank you kindly," Applejack gave right back, bored and weary. She matched him for manners, not reducing speed or looking to him in any fashion. She merely carried on into her room. The last she caught of him was only the sound of the door closing behind her after he left.

Her room matched James' very closely. Perhaps the only difference of any significance whatsoever was that it was located on the back face of the building instead of the front. Therefore there was no powerful sunlight pouring in from under the curtain that blocked her balcony; simply a dim, gray light that left everything feeling like a blunt, fading evening. What view the curtain guarded was unknown.

And the farmpony really didn't care to find out. Moreover, she also ignored the giant wall mirror, the bathroom, her own saddlebags on the floor, and just about everything else. Instead she opted to shoot straight for the bed.

A standard bed at the Passion's Embrace was surprisingly big, a king size at least, dotted with four posts at the corners. Maybe they were even larger than the 'royal' beds from the fancy Baltimare hotel, but then again the smaller surroundings here might have created an illusion of hugeness (or vice versa back on the mainland.) The mattresses were a little pudgy on their sides and didn't flex with perfect firmness, but their tendency to smoothly balance any weight put upon them left quite a comfortable impression. Mostly the bed frames were made from a wood with a darkened grain, and they were reinforced with rounded braces of sturdy iron colored like old copper; overall capable of resisting fairly forceful loads. The headboards were tall but the hoofboards were very short, not rising above the mattress and so not blocking the view of the enormous wall mirror. Each board had curved tops that in their very centers were adorned with a carved design of the usual nose-nuzzling ponies.

All of the guests' beds save Spike's had been given a hoofspun quilt in case of colder nights, made from thick linen and laid folded upon the end of the mattress. They weren't decadent with embroidery; just two shades of color in a repeated grid of concentric squares. As a personal touch each guest had received different colors; Applejack's was orange and red.

Not that most of those details came to Applejack's attention either. Only an exhausted love for the bed before her was on her mind.

She tossed her hat aside, managing to ring it perfectly upon the wooden pony heads decorating the hoofboard. Trudging over to the bed she belly flopped onto it, burying herself into the pillow whose soft kiss back all but ate her face. The mattress shook a little from the blow, the rigid frame shuddered less so, and after a moment her weight settled into the bed's gentle embrace. Into the pillow she heaved a groan but by passing through the tender, pleasing softness the sound was reduced far below the threshold of brutal agitation.

She shouldn't have been this worn down, especially after the long boat ride where she had actually managed to successfully escape her wearisome friend. Ohhh... that prickly, rainbow-headed, barn pest of a pony! What a vacation this had started out as! Things would be as happy as a weekend hoedown when that pony's scrappy attitude finally blew over and everything went back to normal.

Before long she turned over onto her back, seeking a more comfortable position now that she had expelled some of her immediate frustration. She groaned again, weaker than before despite not choking on the pillow this time. After several more moments she shifted again, pushing herself up the bed by a small amount so that the pillow massaged her lower neck.

At last a more complete relaxation started to melt into her, and she finally took the time to throw her resting eyes about the room. Here and there things appeared mostly as she had guessed they would, a few elements struck her as different but otherwise no great surprise, and overall she imagined that she could catch some mighty slumber in the room. Not bad at all.

Her inspection came to a halt when she noticed one particular, peculiar thing. It was the lone item that stood out uniquely amongst everything else. Certainly it didn't feel like it was part of the standard room accoutrements.

Nearby, next to the lamp on the nightstand, was an apple.

Sitting herself up some more she scooched over on the bed to take a closer look. Hmm... good shine, a little small, didn't sit rightly because it was mildly misshapen (probably from hanging poorly in the apple tree,) and there was a tiny proto-bruise that would've been hard for most ponies to spot... Summed up: not a superior apple but a decent enough one anyway. It appeared fresh, at least; probably placed there on the nightstand earlier that very day. Did the chocolate stallion leave it there for her?

She reached out and rolled it onto her hoof. Placing her other hoof behind her head she laid back down and peered over the apple for another time. Despite it being ostensibly a closer look her second examination was more fleeting. Then she hummed a shrug and took a bite.

The juice inside played a flavor game between being sweet and tart. Could have stood to be a bit more juicy but it wasn't underwhelming that regard. And there was quite a satisfying amount of crunch.

She took another happy bite. Obviously it wasn't the greatest apple... but not bad. Not bad at all.

Back out in the hallway the pony who had guided Applejack to her room had never hesitated to continue on his way. After shutting her door he had immediately begun to walk down the hall in the direction of the lobby. He had taken an incredibly easygoing pace for his return trip; far easier than the way there. His hooves nudged along in minor steps while he swung his head about, looking from door, to door, to plant, to wall, to painting, to door, and then some.

He stopped upon noticing that a vase of flowers was off-center on its pedestal. He took some extra moments to nudge it back into place, and then a few moments more to make sure that it was perfectly aligned before he continued on his way. But he only stopped again shortly afterwards to straighten a painting on the wall, balancing it left, then right, then left again until it was finally level. After admiring his correction he moved on, and then stopped again. There was an unsightly bump in the central carpet; some squeezed up mound which had been caused by a pony trotting too carelessly and sliding the long rug about. Pressing his weight down on both sides of the blemish he stretched the carpet and leveled it out once more. That wasn't sufficient enough for him though and he trodded up and down the area slightly to make sure that the whole thing was flawlessly flat. When he was at last finished he carried on.

Emerging in the lobby he started to make his way around the gallery back towards the central staircase.

Cut into the front face of the building's second floor was a set of large, open windows, and beyond them a shadow flitted about. Then, breezing in with a current of unsettled worry, Nosedive swooped through one of them. He landed inside and, despite being caught up in haste, noticed the other stallion swiftly.

"Hey! Tilly!" the pegasus called at the other pony. He started to gallop around the gallery after his friend. "Plotts! Hey!"

Till, the chocolate-colored stallion, acknowledged with a glance and a tip of his head but he otherwise didn't stop or even rein back on his already slow speed.

"Hey!" It barely took Nosedive a cheetah's sprint to race around the gallery and catch up, and he braked into a walking pace that matched the other pony's. "Hey... Tilly."

"Yeah?" Till uttered with all the plainness of everyday conversation.

"Done already?" the pegasus remarked. Even knowing his mellow friend as well as he did he was astounded, yet more than concerned as well. However he couldn't hide the fact that he wasn't terribly troubled by sympathy; his own vexing issues were bleeding into his demeanor.

"You seem to be done already too," the earth stallion shrugged.

Nosedive's neck went limp and he flung his head down in discouragement. He murmured his short story, "Just got her to the room and was throwing down her bags in the corner when the purple one - the Princess's pony - showed up at the door. They ran off like that, before I even knew what happened. Before I even had the chance to say anything." More he crumpled, sighing through shattered confidence. "She didn't even give me a second look... Pff, who am I kidding; didn't even give me a FIRST look!"

"It's no big deal, Dive. Buck up," Till casually advised.

They reached the stairs and began descending together.

"No big deal?" coughed the pegasus, starting a slow sink into anxious depths. "Plotts, I don't think she even knows my name!"

"Take it easy."

Witnessing his friend's nonchalance and control, the exasperated Nosedive fired off, "How are you so calm about this? You introduce yourself to yours? Even talk to her?"

"Nah."

"Well... well... WHY?" the imbalanced pony demanded to know. Of their mission; of Till's absolute comfort with his decision; he had to know. "Why?"

The two ponies reached the bottom of the staircase, where the chocolate stallion finally stopped. He turned about to face his friend head on, halting the other pony as well, and then gave the pegasus a jovial slap on the side.

"You've never planted anything before in your life, have you Dive?" Till quipped.

"Like...," the confused Nosedive bemoaned, "... in the ground? How's THAT related?"

The other pony gained a modest but self-assured grin. Resuming his march he turned and walked towards the lobby's right exit, where the dining room was located, and the pegasus followed along behind him.

"When you want to grow a seed it's all about patience," explained Till flatly. "You have to WAIT for the right season to put it in the ground, you have to WAIT for the right times to water it, and you have to WAIT for it to grow."

They walked on for a silent moment more, Nosedive clearly expecting the lesson to continue. When it didn't... "... That means?"

The chocolate stallion chuckled and generously clarified, "Obviously she wasn't in the mood to talk. So I didn't talk to her."

The door to Fluttershy's fourth floor room just managed to give way to Humble Herd's limp push, swinging barely open.

The distressed stallion had stumbled forward all the way to the very end of the fourth floor hall. Unlike the other side of the building where the halls terminated with an opening out onto a rooftop terrace, on this side they came to a simple dead-end wall with a door; an end room.

Humble Herd swallowed the long-building lump in his throat, awash with the dreaded anticipation of having to actually speak to his chosen pony again. Backed not with any courage but more of a panicky haste he stood to one side of the door and tried to gesture towards the entrance, bow, and verbally invite her in all at once. Yet he only wound up making a fool of himself as his shaking coordination failed to tie everything together. His pointing leg faltered limply, and on only three legs his bow fumbled. The near spill he took onto the floor ruined his words since they degraded immediately into garbled, broken gasps.

Thankfully he succeeded in halting his tumble by dropping his lifted hoof back down, but the deep shifting of his weight caused Fluttershy's still loosely fitted saddlebags to fall forward on his body. The strap slid slightly over one of his forelegs, stiffly binding it close to his barrel, and he was thrown for a loop when he tried to move that leg but found it suddenly restricted. Struggling to steady his decaying balance as well as push the fallen bags back up he squirmed in front his confused and embarrassed guest for several uncomfortable moments before he finally, finally was able to restore himself. His awkward, unintentional dance ended with him standing slumped low like his usual dim-witted self, except of course his face had changed from being a faded, unremarkable, dusty peach color to a choking red. It went fittingly with the smile that he butchered.

"Uh... ah... y-your... your room. Miss. Please, um... please go ahead... You can... you can enter. Now."

Fluttershy kept her head low and, as much as she could, her eyes away from him. Slowly rushing past him she replied in a tiny voice, "Um... thank you." She went in and immediately pressed far into her room, even circling partially around the distant side of the bed, all in an attempt to gain as much personal space as she possibly could.

Her focus was far too inwardly directed to allow her observance of her own chamber, but compared to the other's hers was in a way equal AND dissimilar. All the rudimentary furniture was naturally present and in the same condition, save for of course the colors of the quilt she had been given (yellow and pink.) However the room was shaped somewhat differently owing to its position on the extreme edge of the Passion's Embrace. It was squatter, having less depth and more width; consequently the furnishings were segregated to fit, with the bed and nightstand on the right, and most everything else squeezed together on the left. The massive wall mirror, in other rooms found across from the hoofboards of the beds, could not fit in the changed setup and so instead was located to the side of the bed, mounted on the furthest wall and placed in between the central balcony exit and the room's right edge. The bathroom and closet were located on either side of the door but their entrances were parallel to the room's, not on the intruding perpendicular walls. In effect it gave the room a stubby little hall as an entryway.

Humble Herd wandered in after his guest though he dared not leave the safety of the tiny entryway. There he went about trying to undo the strap of her saddlebags, his hoof and teeth alternately clicking against the buckle as he continually bungled the task. It was a sort of negative feedback loop: he couldn't focus on the simple job as he kept helplessly glancing at Fluttershy and fearing the weight of her assuredly negative judgment, and that only damaged his fraught concentration more, thus crippling his ability to function. Finally, more from a stroke of luck than anything else, the tongue of the buckle popped loose and the strap slithered free, allowing him to set the bags down.

"So... here y-you are," he said, choking up a little despite the air not being so terribly stuffy.

"Ah... thank you," the quiet pegasus whispered back. Still she kept her gaze down, half-pretending to inspect her bed.

"W-Well... I, uh... I'm so g-glad to have met, ah... you. And... I'll... I'll go and be back to g-get you. F-For dinner, uh, I mean." Well before he had finished speaking he had begun to retreat, stepping backwards.

"Oh. Thank you."

"Okay. So, ah, I'll... I'll be-" His butt bumped against the door frame because of his unmindful, misaligned withdrawal. Jumping from the shock and scampering to center himself he belted out, "A-Anyway I'll be going! I-If you n-need anything t-then... t-then just ask! I'll, you know, h-help!"

"Um. Thank you."

Without really waiting for her acknowledgment Humble Herd whirled around. The sweating and shaking pony was out of there so fast that it was merely his wind which caught the door and gently pulled it closed. The faint click of the door's latch slotting into place wasn't nearly enough to drown out his flailing hooves beating against the carpet as he galloped away.

Fluttershy sucked in a massive breath. Searching inside for every last wiggle of tension within her body, from tail to hoof to the tip of her mane's curl, she pooled it all together in her lungs and then she let go. The anxious and troubled air streamed out of her lips, so thinly parted that she almost whistled.

She really should have been able to handle that whole situation better. It wasn't like she couldn't deal with other ponies. But something about how Humble Herd had approached her right from the start; something subtle in his performance; had crashed into her many chimes of social anxiety, setting off their discordant, chaotic music. It had almost felt like some specter of desire inside him had been probing the air about her, wanting to break down her walls, though at no point had he ever given a clear voice to such a thing. He had in fact kept his physical distance; had met all polite expectations. Or actually, exceeded them immensely in that regard. But in EMOTIONAL distance she couldn't shake the undefinable feeling that something of him had wanted to try and close the gap. To reach out to her, far beyond the normal rules of mannerly social engagement. And that she just couldn't handle.

Well he probably regretted his wish now. No doubt he hadn't approached her any closer because once he had gotten a good look at how she crumpled under such ordinary pressure he had probably been disgusted. What silent judgments had his head been full of? Harsh ones, certainly; unkind, contemptuous, and probably all justified and accurate. Look at how fast he had shot out of there, anxious to get away!

That was that, though. Why he would have ever fancied a possible closeness to a pony like her she couldn't say, but everything had turned out in the way it inevitably was always going to.

She sighed out her final ailing bits of unease and tried to return to being excited for her vacation on an island teeming with befriendable wildlife.

Her room she spent a few minutes exploring, familiarizing herself with the space. The curtain barring the balcony she drew back to let more light in as well as to sample the view; ahead and below the beautiful ocean stirred on the other side of the stony embankment, the beach to the right glowed with approaching evening light, and most wonderfully of all a lush and lively inland landscape grew to the left. Outside of the bed she didn't care much for most of the furnishings. No disdain for what had been provided; just not charmed, and at least it was entertaining to imagine the ways they could be converted into homes for little critters. The bathroom she found somewhat dainty but more than suitable for her needs, though again it was more fun to think about utilizing the tub as a watery pen for turtles.

Overall it was a quaint room. Very nice. Strange, though, that they had put her all the way up here when any old general room like this would have done fine. Why here? Besides the quilt there wasn't a single personalized touch to the chamber at all!

But the matter didn't long trouble her and she retrieved her saddlebags, tossing them onto her bed. Opening them up she began to sort out the few items she had brought along: a towel, a minimum number of personal products, a greater number of miscellaneous things for possible animal encounters, and then a small few zoological and ecological guides to the Carriaggean. As she laid them out on the bed, organizing them, she couldn't help but faintly sense an odd absence. Something was incorrect with her goods here but it was something that she almost felt unkeen to fully discover.

Enduring that back-of-mind wriggling she finished arranging her items. Once everything was in order on her bed and ready to be put away in their temporary places she decided to start with her toiletries. Intent on making one run she grabbed everything, using her wings to hold excess as necessary, and turned to head into the bathroom.

But a knocking that rang at her door caused her to freeze in place, and a few bottles slipped, plunked, and rolled on the floor.

Too soon. Far too soon. It had only been several minutes and she was NOT ready to deal with Humble Herd again. Already the pit of her stomach felt consumed by a returning, chronic, crippling nervousness, leaving her almost physically unable to answer the door.

The knocking came again. "Hello? Fluttershy?" James called through the wooden barrier.

Fresh energy washed over her and her shrunken body stood itself up fully in an instant. "Oh! Coming!"

Quickly she picked up her spill and returned everything to the bed, mindful about positioning them neatly, and then she trotted for the door. No delay or even a single readying breath was needed to brace herself for such a friend and she opened the door immediately.

"Hey!" the man greeted with a single wave of his hand. He was in a remarkably upbeat mood.

"Oh! Hello, James! It's ever so good to see you!" she poured out with desperate relief, though she winced at her slip up right away. Shooting down her gaze she mumbled, "Not that... we weren't just all together minutes ago."

But he didn't seem to notice anything amiss with her at all. If anything he was happy to see that she had already moved past his earlier transgression of social taboos. It would make delivering the apology she was owed that much easier.

While giving a peek around her he asked eagerly, "This isn't a bad time or anything, is it?"

She perked up. "Oh, no. No, not at all." Then, sensing his next question she preemptively stepped aside, saying, "Come on in."

With a nod of thanks he strode inside, as jolly as a tail-wagging puppy prancing back indoors after a roll in the grass. His eyes rapidly sniffed about her room with the same kind of eager curiosity, picking apart how her chamber compared and contrasted to his. Before long though his firm conviction put away those more frivolous thoughts and took a solid hold of him. Readily he chose the dresser as his ground, and he stood before it showing an unreserved purpose which didn't eclipse his bright demeanor.

"So," he opened to her without hesitating, "the reason I'm here is because I need to apologize."

Fluttershy, after having shut the door, gave the man an uncertain look. She truly didn't recall what he could have been talking about.

"Back in the garden I said some things that... weren't terribly appropriate," he explained. Nothing of insincerity in his voice, no clouded guilt in his gestures; he was very direct, already past acceptance. "I got careless; rude even; and certainly discourteous. And I let my mouth run off in a way I shouldn't have. I get now how very uncomfortable I made everypony." Faith in friendship shined. "I'm really sorry about that."

"Oh." The memory sailed back into her, importing much of its mortifying, awkward cargo. But, though she reddened and tightened up nervously from many of his unmentionable euphemisms echoing in her head, she didn't fall apart. "Yes, it was very... um...," she cautiously put out, but eventually she declined to describe his behavior and moved on.

Just like that she was able to let go. Free, easy, grateful, and adoring, she smiled, "... But... thank you for saying that you're sorry."

Again James gave a nod of thanks, equally grateful for her forgiveness.

"Now...," he spoke. The man stepped back, taking a leaning seat against her dresser. With the serious task settled he let something altogether more fun take over. Knowing his audience, and given that he had just apologized for his own rudeness, he chose to carry forward at least somewhat gingerly. It was hard not to let out a LITTLE of his mischievousness to play though. "... there was one more thing I came up here for."

The pegasus flashed another uncertain look, and she gave an especially wondering turn to her head when she saw him dig his hand into his pocket.

Inside it he squeezed his grip tight, producing a hard crinkling sound. His lips ran back into a smirking grin. Evenly he withdrew what he had seized, pulling it out of his pocket and up into the air besides him where it dangled: the sapphire heart necklace that had been in her saddlebags when she had given them to Humble Herd.

"This is yours, right?" the man teased. He was effortlessly treading upon certainty.

But on Fluttershy's face her pupils retreated a distance back and a red tide marched over her cheeks, flooding the bridge of her nose. She suddenly recalled why earlier her gut hadn't felt terribly eager to search for anything she might have been missing.

Shrinking, with her ashamed face turning away, she murmured, "Y-Y... yes..."

Damn. Okay, better stop with the innocent needling before things went too far (if they hadn't already.) James put an immediate lid on his inner devil.

"Yeah. I thought I saw you wearing it the other day last week," he expressed much more directly. While still holding the chain the man cupped the blue heart with his other hand, looking it over and bending his mind towards trying to genuinely admire the trinket. Or if he could not admire what it looked like, at least admire what it represented. "Plus... this is the one you bought for P.V., right? So he could win over Star Glitter?" Her gift to a stranger, borne entirely by her dedication to the very idea of their romance. Her belief in love.

"Y-Yes...," the cringing pegasus croaked again.

He released the stone from his one hand, surmising, "It must have fallen out of your bags when butterhooves took a tumble back there. What a stroke of luck that I caught sight of it while walking by or it might've been lost forever." Warmly he held it out towards her. "Here you are."

"T-Thank you." She approached his offering at a skewed angle, never quite turning her face towards it. Not even a direct glance when she took the chain in her teeth! Once she had it she made a brisk trot to her bed where she recklessly threw it amongst her organized things, and then for good measure she shifted her saddlebags over it to cover it.

All were timid motions despite their speed, and none of them escaped the man's notice.

"Why'd you keep it?" he carefully asked.

"I don't know...," she said in a low moan. Then, uncomfortably establishing her story, "I couldn't find the vendor to return it to."

"Is that all?" shrugged James. "Hey. All the better." He thought again about what the necklace was; about what she had originally purchased it for, and why. "It's really very beautiful."

Fluttershy still sagged. She uneasily hooked a hoof into the strap of her smothering saddlebags and drew them back scantly; only enough to catch slivers of the silver and blue underneath.

"I probably shouldn't have brought it along on this trip," she sighed underneath a layer of self-directed chastisement. Her leery gaze lingered on the faintly poking out gem, the sterling shine of it still suppressed under her rumpled bag. The sight of it eventually overcame her and she forcefully slapped the saddlebags back over the entire necklace.

In her own soft brand of harshness she lamented, "It's useless. I shouldn't have even kept it at all."

"Why not?" the man inquired, bringing his voice down to match hers in height.

"It's not for me..." A weight pressed down on her. She stayed standing, but she was enduring it. "You know," she hoisted her head up as if to laugh, though nothing but a dejected dribble came out, "it's really kind of... kind of silly... for a pony to buy a romantic gift for themselves..."

He waved his hand against her claim, saying, "But you didn't do that. You bought it for P.V."

"Oh, he didn't need it..."

"Well... it COULD'VE helped him, maybe," James countered without any force. The man then bent forwards and shared his take, dipping into a serious gentleness, "But he decided not to use. He came up to a very hard and dangerous moment and... he DECIDED he had the right stuff within himself already. He just reached deep down inside himself and pulled out something truly courageous."

He sat back up, reflected on it for a moment, and then added with heartfelt veneration, "Just like you do all the time."

Snapping up to glance at him, the pegasus was struck dumb at first. Belief had to fight a hard battle to take hold, so clearly gaining ground only inch by inch. But she did start to smile, able once again to hold her gaze on somepony other than the floor.

"You're always so very kind with your words," she spoke up in rosy praise.

"Hah, no. Hardly," he chuckled. "I mean, given what I came up here to apologize for? What I still need to apologize to the others for?" Swinging his arm he threw out her compliment, but only playfully; affection and gratitude he retained without an ounce of resistance. Yet he centered himself calmly so that he could show his admiration another time: "But... in this case... since I was just saying something honest it made it pretty easy to be kind, I guess."

She gave a short peek back at her bedresting saddlebags. It felt like the unseen necklace underneath radiated so much less threat now. Easier and easier came her breaths.

"And hey!" the man bounced off the dresser, "Seeing your necklace inspired me! It made me remember that I have one of my own now and I grabbed it out of my bag just before coming to see you." His contented hand patted his other pocket, drawing attention to the fact that it was as stuffed as his first pocket had been. Only a little shamelessly indulgent, he made a show of reaching in and producing the item therein: the Drypony medallion Poppy had presented him with as a parting gift.

Proudly he held it up above his head, stretched the thin vine-string wide, and let the trinket down to hang around his neck. Two of his fingers carefully adjusted the pendant, which unaided would have fallen between his shirt and his chest. He centered it, planting it intentionally over his top so that it could stay visible, and he chuckled once more from witnessing the hungry darkness which the red crystal blossom spouted because of his lack of magic.

"Not quite as charming as yours," he quipped, "but I'm going to rock it as best as I can anyway."

"Hehe," twittered Fluttershy. She unchained her happiness, glowing with it now, and said, "I think it's VERY charming. After all, it was given to you by a pony who really loves you, and that makes it very special."

"Sure," James grinned and nodded in agreement, "that's why I'm going to wear it." He worked himself into a silly pose, holding out the pendant with one hand and the base of his shirt with the other. Laughing, he honestly disclosed, "I mean, besides that there's no other good reason to! It doesn't go at all with Rarity's dumb ensemble here. But I can't look any worse, so why not?"

At first he didn't understand the pony's surprised reaction; he couldn't correctly read the reason behind her contorted, narrowed face. Only when he caught her studying his clothes did his misstep become apparent.

He fumbled for cover, rambling falsely, "Haha! I mean, of course, myself... only me. I don't look great, alone. And... these clothes by Rarity... are the only thing that... you know... are good." His hand grasped and rattled the medallion, "And... what shamelessness to think I know enough to add to her... creation. I mean, I'm a clothes-idiot; I wouldn't know what goes well with her setup at all. Um..."

He coughed; a worthless action to clear his unobstructed throat. Hastily he slammed into an abrupt conclusion, "So, yeah, right, I'm wearing it anyway. Because... Poppy."

The unsure pegasus was left blinking before she finally uttered, "Are-"

"Yeah, fine, thanks, anyway," the man scrambled to move on.

He rushed towards the bed where he reached over the short hoofboard and shuffled her saddlebags aside. Half-sitting between the hoofboard and the mattress end he pointed at the waiting necklace and questioned, "Why don't you wear yours?"

"Oh...," Fluttershy swallowed, attacked again by her nervousness. With hardly any thought she dismissed, "No... it... it wasn't given to me by anypony special..." Then softer, downcast, "It doesn't mean anything..."

"Nah," James encouraged. He leaned closer, his presence raising and capturing her eyes. "It means a lot that you showed faith in it to help P.V. That's what you put into it; that's more important than who did or didn't give it to you. In the end it's going to mean whatever you want to make it mean."

Using a single finger he hooked the necklace's chain and steadily dragged it along the surface of the bed, having some fun with winding it around the pony's other lingering items. When he reached the edge he lifted it up and gently swung the sapphire heart back and forth before her.

"So don't let anything about it bother you," he said. "No doubt in my mind that it'll look great on you. Go ahead; put it on. Then I won't be the only pony around here wearing some neck bling." Securing his hold on the chain he opened it up with both hands and jiggled it once, inviting her in.

"And," he added with goofy seriousness, "if anypony DARES to question you about why you're wearing it... then you can just point at me, flip your mane, and scoff, 'Well if HE gets to wear THAT then why can't I wear mine?'"

Faint signs of acceptance appeared: the blush on Fluttershy's face warmed to a happier, less sullen red; her wings moved to sit more comfortably, hovering in a less cagey position that wasn't so ready for fleeing flight; and the unbending of her knees let her unwinding tail fall fully down without touching the ground. But she continued to hold back, saying nothing.

Again he jiggled the necklace as an invitation. When reluctance still held her back he shuffled an inch closer and ducked in towards her. A secretive silliness oozed out of him as he delayed and delayed until he finally whispered, "Tell everypony you totally got it from a handsome prince who's so rich he wears a second crown over his crown."

At that she snickered, having an ounce of contained laughter for the funny thought. But it was enough to wipe out the last upright resistances of hesitation and doubt, clearing room for her smile. Buttressed by sturdy hope she tenderly yielded her neck forward for him, and he planted the necklace on her like laying the final cherry on a cake.

"Looking good," the man assured her, flipping a thumb up.

Fluttershy fiddled with the pendent that now rested against her, prodding it with her hoof carefully. She peered once past James and over her bed, to the giant mirror on the wall. There she saw herself, an unremarkable, weak-willed pony who wasn't much at all to look at. But on the center of her chest stood out the blue heart, shimmering to the beat of her own heart underneath.

"Thank you...," she said.

He shrugged.

"So... anyway...," the man picked up after a breathing moment, "... I still have to apologize to the others for my buffoonery earlier but... I just realized that I never asked Prism where the other rooms are. Do you mind if I hang here until dinner?"

"Oh, no, not at all," she was pleased to respond. He would be wonderful company while she put away her things. And more significantly he could serve as a nice buffer whenever Humble Herd eventually returned.

The door to Rarity's fifth floor room courteously gave way to Sweet Nothing's push, swinging cordially open.

He had taken her all the way up to the top floor of the Passion's Embrace and had then guided her far down to the very end of the hall. Her room was another end room; the one immediately above Fluttershy's.

To one side of the open doorway he brought himself, sturdy with undented poise despite all the luggage he had carried such a long way. Between his grace and the runs of sparkling sweat marching down him, a heat poured into the face of his trailing mare.

"Your chamber. After you, my lovely lady." Encumbered, he STILL bowed flawlessly.

Giggling erratically Rarity attempted to enter her room.

Before she had gotten even a hoof past the door Sweet Nothing very precisely gave her a verbal tickle, "Oh! I hope it won't bother you but I took the liberty of dressing up your room somewhat."

The mare, her eyes at first turned back to listen to him, flung her face forward to behold her chamber.

Though it had the same size, shape, and layout of the room only a floor below, it was much, much more colorful. It was positively flooded with fragrant rainbows; arrangements of radiant flowers floating in a pageantry of colorful vases! A few sat in a line at the foot of the bed; several fine examples of beautiful blossoms were banded together on the dresser; a parade of them ran around the walls of the room, their petals bright banners waved high; and even more bouquets were tied to the sconces that hung on the walls! Every last flower was of a finer variety; the kind whose appearance was sometimes hard to remember because the far-reaching scent filled the body's senses so fully; transcendental flavors that entered through the nose but could somehow be tasted and touched.

"Oh my goodness gracious..."

The stunned unicorn took sightless steps in, blinded by the forest of brilliant flowers. The crowds of petaled spectators cheered her on with their maelstrom of savory scents. Sniffing deeper and deeper her nose was pulled from here to there about the room. But it wasn't just the sensuous buffet firing up her mind. There was something more...

She recognized these different flowers! All could be found in many places the world over but these weren't the run-of-the-mill versions. Certain distinct iterations were so famously tied to the specific regions in which they were specially grown; elegant flowers for the discerning lady or gentlecolt, identifiable from nuanced traits readable only by a pony of impeccable taste. And she spotted them all immediately: Fillydelphia azaleas, Manehattan lilacs, San Palomino lilies... but most especially present, prominent, and numerous of all were the Saddle Arabian flowers. Roses, jasmines, alyssum, and more, all from that fabled land! These couldn't have all been grown here! And to gather them all would have taken quite some doing!

After a timeless delirium chasing all of the unique, sweet smells she found herself besides the bed with its accompanying white and violet quilt. Shivering with each exhale she finally turned around to look back.

Sweet Nothing had predictably followed her inside, carrying all her luggage in with him. He was now in front of the wall which partitioned off the bathroom and was laying down his cargo, and already he had much of it unloaded. What's more, what was dropped was expertly sorted; arranged without error by weight, size, and sturdiness.

Oh, but with his body so unobstructed by baggage now could she ever get a good look him! He was not slumped over with soreness, nor slowed by crick or cramp anywhere inside. The only sign of his entire labor at all was the rolling sweat which traced majestic, glistening lines down his fine form. As he organized the final bags to be set down; shuffling to drop them off his back, lifting them to place them here or there as appropriate; his muscles moved to a choreographed dance. His body was a ballet and Rarity was the enraptured audience.

And he knew it.

The statuesque stallion took his sweet time to get the last few bits of luggage down and placed. Every step, every turn, every nudge, every twist; he made it a show. And after he finally completed his job he made sure to give a few good stretching poses as an encore.

"There you are, my beautiful pony," he said to the staring unicorn, indicating her stacked baggage. "And... what do you think of your room?"

She didn't break her eyes from him. "It's... quite gorgeous. A... spectacular display, really..."

"Mm. I'm pleased that you're pleased."

Confidently he dared to take a few steps closer, and he lowered himself near the floor in a display of subservience. "I will gladly be your PERSONAL attendant here during your stay," he informed her. "If there is anything you should ever need; anything at all; then only whisper the word and I will see it done. I am at your beck and call."

The blushing mare melted. "Oooh, most generous of you, kind sir," she warbled in a daze.

"Most lucky of me to be able to satisfy a pony of such magnificent grace and charm, darling beauty." Sweet Nothing stood up and approached her, drawing the distance closed like one might draw a final curtain before retiring to the nocturnal embrace of another. He came before her, genuflected again, and once more raised her hoof to sanctify it with one of his kisses.

Rarity wobbled back and forth, and the reply she tried to produce was mostly senseless words buttered up with rabid giggling.

Releasing her, the dark stallion started to make his way towards the door to leave, moving in backwards steps while keeping his head bowed and never turning away from her.

But as he neared the mini-hall formed by the protruding closet and bathroom he stopped. Cunning and prepared, he mentioned precisely, "Perhaps... before I go... you should inspect your closet?"

The unicorn came to her senses, raised to suspicion by his odd suggestion but not otherwise suspicious of his unknown motive. From the outside the closet appeared plenty spacious enough to hold the few dresses she had brought along for possible social occasions of various degrees in elegance (and also the few extra emergency dresses she had additionally packed.) Of course she supposed there was no harm in checking; maybe it was smaller on the inside, or lacked extra hangers, or some other such nuisance.

Moving closer, a light jumped from her horn to the twin folding doors of the closet and she pulled them apart. But the shine of magic fell away as quickly as it had appeared, and she gasped.

The closet was already occupied by a few dresses. Her magic returned and the glowing light slowly trembled as it took them all out one at a time. One. Two. Three. Four. Her awe had control of them, floating them along so that they encircled her, and her mesmerized gaze dreamily watched each pass by as they drifted in loops around her.

One was the deepest, most heavenly blue, weaved from a soft fabric as warmly lit as the night sky, and it was covered in glittering stars; with it came a tempting veil which would accentuate the eyes. Another gown had many falling folds rendered in glorious purple, with golden trimmings that worked their way into a decorative saddle-like shape on the back, and more along the neck that mimicked the shape of reins but were encrusted with jewels. The last two dresses were equally elite. All were of wealthy cloth that was fabulously rich in color, stitched and knitted together in a unique, olden, foreign way. Again her particular skill set and knowledge left her the ability to pick out the specifics, and she understood beyond doubt... these outfits were AUTHENTIC! Unbelievable!

"Why... are these here?" she asked, so absorbed in looking them over.

"They're yours," Sweet Nothing informed her while taking pride in himself.

Muddled, and yet still fixed on the dresses, Rarity remarked in confusion, "We're... being supplied with gowns for our stay...?"

"No, no. They're YOURS," the stallion repeated clearly. He came forward again, abandoning his exit. "They're a gift. Something to show how honored I am to witness your marvelous beauty."

The whirling dresses came to a stop.

"Come again?" the unicorn whispered in the dead stillness.

Out of his wide grin he reiterated, "They're yours. Forever."

"B-B-But...," she wheezed in exhilaration. The dresses returned to life and flurried about in front of her, and every prick of thrill she felt inside just thinking about claiming them was equally matched by appalled disbelief at this impossible fantasy. "... B-But these... t-these are Saddle Arabian ORIGINALS!" she exclaimed. "H-How...? Each one ALONE must cost more than an entire week's stay at a resort like this!"

A buzz moved through the stallion, from mane to tail. Perfect!

"They're nothing the resort has done," he made absolutely sure to clarify. "I acquired them for you myself. As I said: a gift. A gift, from ME to you."

The open-jawed mare still couldn't scrounge up the wits to believe it.

Seeing her like that, having anticipated it, and savoring the chance it gave him to elaborate, Sweet Nothing hoisted himself up grandly. He stood tall like regal robes had been cast over him and it was beneath him to let them be soiled by the floor, and his head was drawn down like a heavy crown was upon him.

"My family originally comes from Saddle Arabia, and we still have connections to Saddle Arabian royalty," he eagerly revealed, barely burying his bragging. "After I received word of your coming I sent a letter back home asking for some of the finest gowns they could gather, and of course they supplied me immediately with the only very best." Again he bowed, "And they're yours now."

For another time the tornado of dresses calmed as Rarity's focus was stolen away, this time by the luxuriously handsome stallion. Saddle Arabia? Yes, of course! She saw it in him now as clearly as the brilliance of the centerpiece jewel in Princess Celestia's crown! Those lean, long legs... that lengthier snout which was supernaturally fair... the tantalizing curve of his neck and mane... the shapely and trim arch of his whole body... He gave off a flavor so enticing and exotic! Oh, and it was only the accent on an evening dress that he was also so appreciably wealthy!

She started to drunkenly stagger to the side, with the dresses she was magically carrying swaying about as badly as she was. Coming alongside her bed she felt a natural gravity pulling her towards it; the soft mattress calling out to her and letting her know it would catch her weight were her fainting feelings to overcome her. However, too weak-kneed to climb up, she threw her back aside the side of the bed instead. Her neck went limp, and her head fell back and crashed with a poof onto the mattress.

Up above, her new outfits continued their groggy bouncing about. With every swish across or twirl around they descended, coming down lower and lower. When they reached so low that their dangling skirts swept across her nose she at last let them down in guided drifts, falling over like bedsheets, one at a time. Around came her forelegs and she squeezed tight, hugging her precious, precious new clothes as desperately as a foal would hug their teddy bear. She rocked her body back and forth, snuggling the gifts from the hunky pony, and her cheeks puffed out as her giddy delight forced its way past her lips.

"Teeheeheehehehehahahahohohohoheeeee!"

The dark stallion feigned departure, starting to walk to the door. But once near it; once in position; he made his next move.

"My lady...," he called out, stopping in his tracks again. "... I... really shouldn't be asking this. It's... it's much too improper... but... I'm helpless in the face of your beauty..." As much as he could he forced himself to blush, and he turned about and took precisely timid steps back towards her. "If... if it isn't too much to ask of you," he approached her with all the humility of a weasel, "might I be blessed with... seeing what you look like in one of those dresses?"

So much blood rushed into Rarity's face that she felt herself go numb. She even thought she had turned deaf, hearing only the heavy pounding of her heart. It cracked like a hoof striking against wood.

"Knock, knock."

The stallion jumped at the interruption, and the unicorn as well once she realized what was going on, scattering the dresses into the air in her startled panic (though they fortunately landed safely on the bed, undamaged.) They both turned in surprise to face the unanticipated voice and the accompanying sound of a hoof tapping against the door. It had been left open all this time, and now standing there was a large pegasus and a diminutive dragon.

"Summer Wind! What are you-," Sweet Nothing hissed, harsh and hoarse. But he caught himself and reined in his growl immediately. Formality overwriting him, stance, tone, and all, he restarted, "I mean... how unexpected to see you. Shouldn't you be showing YOUR guest to their room?"

The recent tumble of Humble Herd still fresh in her mind, the pegasus practically delighted in the veiled, justified antagonism she could display towards the dark stallion. Served him right.

"Oh, I did already." An hidden outline of smugness wrapped her words. She entered the chamber, strutting as she came. "But you see... SOMEPONY accidentally took the wrong bags with them back at the dock. So... we had to come up here to retrieve Mister Spike's things. You understand, of course."

Sweet Nothing glared. "I see," he smoldered. "That was my mistake." He walked over towards the stacked luggage, dealing out constrained stomps the whole way, and he made the rapid suggestion, "Perhaps you'd like to collect his things quickly then, and be on your way?"

Summer Wind smirked, secretly enough to keep it away from the guests but not so hidden that her fellow islander couldn't detect it. Defying the stallion's wish she used her hoof to signal Spike that it was okay to enter.

Gladly the dragon did, ambling in while gawking at the garden that had apparently been set up in the room.

"Hey, Rarity!" he waved, chipper as he ever was despite being taken aback by the overabundance of flowers. "Nice room!"

"Oh, Spike, isn't it?" His familiar and friendly presence grounded her, bringing her back to form. Most of her whims and thoughts regarding the dark stallion breezed out of her mind, largely because now she had someone around that she knew definitely how to crow to. And she enjoyed every moment of sharing her prizes: "Look at them all! Aren't they grand? They're from all over Equestria! Oh, and these dresses! Aren't they just fabulous? Saddle Arabian originals! Oh, can you believe it? Why, if anypony had ever asked me if they'd see me in a genuine Saddle Arabian made dress I'd have laughed at the notion; not any old pony can get their hooves on one of these, you know! But now I have four! FOUR! I'm going to be the chicest pony in all of Ponyville for seasons to come!"

"Yeah, wow! That's awesome, Rarity!" the dragon agreed. The dresses hardly mattered though; her happiness was his happiness, and he fully believed anyway that she could make any gown the greatest at a gala. "The only thing my room had was a gigantic bed, but I'm not complaining."

While they continued to indulge each other's respective personalities, Summer Wind set about her task. The walk up to the fifth floor had given Spike the time to describe to her his two bags, and so she began to search over the luggage pile Sweet Nothing had made. Not before, of course, she gave the stallion a devilish grin.

Unable to work on his target with the little lizard in his way the angry pony joined the busy pegasus, furiously murmuring to her, "What do you think you're doing?"

"My JOB." At that same moment she found one of the target bags, a simple sack heavy with gems, and she demonstrated her point by slotting it around her neck. Then she sneered back at him, "What are YOU doing?" She passed her eyes over the elaborate floral displays he had set up in the room, as well as the dresses Rarity was still gushing over, and she shook her head in disgust. "You're a real piece of work, you know that?"

Not one to take such an insult lying down he stabbed her in response, grimly uttering, "Envy hardly becomes you."

"Please. As if," she snorted, revolted. Despite that however, a reticent shiver rolled through her.

Sweet Nothing only grunted his disagreement.

It took just a moment longer for Summer Wind to locate the second bag, which she promptly threw around herself as well. Even that second weight was nothing for her massive neck.

"Mister Spike," she called politely for the dragon, "are these the ones?"

"Hm? Oh, yeah. That's them," Spike courteously heeded her with his full attention, taking a minimal moment to break from Rarity, which only slightly surprised the latter.

"There; you have his things," the dark stallion spat under his breath. "Get a move on."

The pegasus looked between the charitable dragon that she was more than happy to serve and the disgruntled pony who was wishing her away with every fiber of his being. Hm...

"Mister Spike," she spoke up again, with words half-directed at her awful coworker. "I'll carry these back down to your room for you. Feel free to stay up here. In fact, I insist! It will make it easy to find you when it's time for dinner."

It seemed like that was the dragon's plan anyway, but regardless he showed genuine appreciation. "Sure. Thanks!"

The dark stallion was left fuming. He had a sharp dagger-stare which he pitted against Summer Wind's cheeky shield of a smile.

But the pegasus wasn't finished causing problems for him. She suddenly drooped her strong neck, and the two bags jostled each other as she 'struggled.' The pony happily groaned, "Ugh, these are pretty heavy. I don't know that I'll be able to haul them all the way downstairs. Do you mind lending me a hoof, Sweet Nothing?"

"You-!"

"THANKS!" She flung one of the bags over his neck just as her near-scream drew the momentary notice of the guests.

"We'll be on our way now," the tricky pegasus swiftly assured them. "Take it easy, and one of us will be back to get you for dinner." She bowed, as professional as can be for somepony cackling on the inside, and then she immediately left the room.

The two guests bought her story completely and returned to conversing with each other about their excitement for the days ahead.

Grinding his teeth at the departed pony, Sweet Nothing looked once more at the unicorn he had been denied and how she wasted herself babbling to the dragon. His marvelousness had been forgotten completely. Bah. This was not the end.

He heaved out one hot breath, spent a moment fixing all the issues with his presentation that his anger had induced, and then cleared his throat loudly so he could cast his farewell. "Miss Rarity, I-"

"Woah," Spike gasped, pointing past the mare to the closed balcony curtain, "you probably get a heck of a view up here on the top floor!"

"Oh dear, Spike, you're right!" Rarity was equally enthralled. "There's so much in here already that I hardly thought about it! Let's take a peek, shall we?"

As they went off to drink in the island vista Sweet Nothing grumbled indiscernibly to himself. BAH! Fine, that was it for now.

He wouldn't let his head drop. This was only the beginning; there were going to be other opportunities. His wrathful dignity intact he marched out of the room, being as careless as he could with the bag around his neck. As he left he stopped himself short of slamming the door.

Chapter 20: Shut

Behind the locked door of Pinkie Pie's room, with caring Twilight at her side and focused Rainbow Dash sitting further away watchfully leering, the distraught pony's counseling session began.

There was nowhere left to run and hide, and nothing to be gained by burying her troubles more, so Pinkie Pie timidly opened herself up before her friends. She shared again her own side of the tale of unrequited friendship, riding her emotions up and down as she went. Sometimes she was low, speaking frighteningly soft but with plain conveyance; a sad show of strength on her part. At other times she fell into moods of fearful horror. Her voice occasionally rose to desperate heights, as if she needed to urgently plead with her friends for them to accept her story, and she blubbered and gasped often whenever she touched upon the many most terrible things she felt she had been through. Over the course of her bloodletting she came around to every hurt: sorrow, grief, pity, and despair; all of them cobbled together in a randomly erratic and almost goofy way like only she could possibly deliver.

Mostly her story matched the one that she had related to Twilight weeks ago. It was the sad tale of a pony who had started out with so much gleeful hope for a new friendship but had been passively beaten back again and again; a pony whose happy resolve had been chipped away at such an unnoticed pace that she had become covered over in hairline cracks by the time the final tiny blow had shattered her into dust. Her descent had started with the man's implicit rejection of the very first party she had organized for him, and from then on none of her efforts had ever moved forward anything between her and him. Every time she had tried to take a single step ahead she had somehow fallen two backwards.

And, as she repeatedly made clear through many little interjections which she poked into her rambling tale, it wasn't that the man had ever been shamelessly nasty, outwardly awful, or openly cruel. He hadn't ever been a monument to rudeness who had carelessly swung around blunt disrespect, or a mean-spirited foe who had aggressively rebuffed her friendship efforts with uncalled-for harshness. No, he had always conducted himself with a full politeness of a deferring sort. When working with her at Sugar Cube Corner he had done everything he had been asked to do without any real complaint. When helping her host parties he had bowed to her commands without any backtalk. Whenever she had asked anything of him he had given no lively resistance.

No LIVELY resistance. No life. That had been the problem. To her he hadn't ever opened up and shared himself as alive.

For all the personal interactions where he had been nice, and polite, and respectable, they had felt like a veneer to smooth over all the hours which he 'had' to spend with her to fulfill his weekly schedule. It had felt like a mockery of character, worn in order to meet his social obligations only. Nothing genuine had come out to match the true offerings of her own that she had given him. Doubtless it would have been absolutely heartbreaking to the friend-loving pink pony if the man were to have come straight out and honestly said that he wasn't going to have been her friend. But in a backwards way that wouldn't have been nearly as hurtful to her.

At least such a denial from him would have been genuine.

That was how Pinkie Pie tried to express her inner pain to her friends, albeit of course in her own bizarre and devastated way. The indelible marks of her zany, circus-like reality were able to press themselves into her explanation even though she was suffering through sadness. It was all part of the lens through which she viewed those things that were most important to her.

"A-And... and he... he never sings! NEVER, EVER sings! Not once!" she wheezed, chattering her teeth in sorrow and sucking the snot back up her nose. "I've tried to teach him so many songs and he never sings them! The most he'll do is sort of quietly hum the words or play along when singing in groups, but he NEVER sings from his heart!" The insanity of it tore her world apart. "HE. NEVER. SINGS. Or... not for me anyway..."

Twilight had a hoof around her forlorn friend's shoulder, patting the pouting pony tenderly, and she consoled, "Pinkie, I know you said he told you once that he likes to sing... but I don't think ANY of us have heard him sing. So maybe it's just not something he shares with other ponies? I don't think you should make it your big determinant for friendship."

Pinkie Pie shuddered because she knew she had a deeper meaning in mind, and her unicorn friend hadn't grasped it. But she also understood how much of a very confused distance lay between the essence of what she wanted to say and what had actually come out of her mouth.

"No, Twilight...," she moaned, "... there's real music inside everypony. There's a special sound that only plays when their heart is open and free. If you find just the right song... then you can get anypony to sing along."

In her head she could count up all of her many, many friends, from nearest and dearest to the most casual of friendly, one-time acquaintances. She could count them like the hairs of her mane, and she had memorized the pure, undiluted, unique sound each and every one of them could make. So beautiful...

She hummed sadly, "And if they're really singing it... really really really truly singing it... then you can hear it. You can always hear it. You can hear that special something that's really inside them."

The unicorn choked through hesitation while trying to get her words out, "Pinkie... I... I don't... understand what... what you're-...?"

The pink pony couldn't bring her unhappy face up to meet Twilight's, and her scratchy throat felt unwilling to try explaining everything all over again. Oh, but it was so clear in her own head!

After the months of failing to connect with the man she had almost wanted to believe that maybe breaking through to him wasn't even actually possible. Maybe PEOPLE, unlike ponies, just didn't have that indescribable magic sound inside; that imperceptibly pure light which came out once they were ready to share themselves freely. True that it had seemed like he had shared at least something a little special with almost all of her friends but maybe that had been an illusion. Maybe she hadn't actually failed as a friend. Maybe he simply couldn't succeed as one.

But then she had seen him with Poppy.

After Twilight's first round of advice at the library Pinkie Pie had gone for a stroll with her head held high, freshly optimistic that things would have worked out in the end. If Twilight had believed that she and the man could have scrubbed away all the obstacles blocking their potential friendship then who would she have been to have doubted her smarty-smart friend? But having caught sight of the man and his little Drypony laughing together had trampled all over her merry cake. Then only a few days later he had brought the filly along with him to Sugar Cube Corner for his weekly Pinkie day and she had used the opportunity to push them together so that she might have observed them up close, and that experience had splattered her cake all over the floor into a thousand messy crumbs.

When baking with a pink pony he had followed every instruction dispassionately. When baking with a small Drypony every little step had been a celebration.

All that happiness inside of him which she had never seen before... happiness which her deranged hope had almost wanted to make her believe hadn't existed... happiness which for months she had failed to summon... there it was. Plain as vanilla ice cream, there it was. Drawing it out of him had not only been possible, it had been BEAUTIFUL. Amazing! Incredible! THAT was what he looked like as a true friend. THAT was what he sounded like as a true friend. THAT was how wonderful his song could have been if he had ever chosen to sing it.

And all it had taken to bring out such inner bliss was a filly. An ordinary filly had in a day effortlessly found the friendship which all her months of endeavors, themselves backed by years of friendship experience, had altogether failed to unlock.

Quiet lament sunk its fangs into her, trying to drag her to the floor, and envious fear provoked her into helplessly whispering, "Do you think... do you think he ever sang for Poppy?"

"I don't know? Maybe?" Twilight hiccuped. She still held a hoof around her frightened pink friend yet she felt so separated; almost swept away by confusion. "I'm not sure what difference that makes!"

"The difference is...," Pinkie Pie spoke in a hush, "... if she can do that... then she's a good friend..." Darkness pressed in all around the pony, crushing her shrinking form and collapsing her mane over her face. It squeezed even more silently running tears out of her. "... She's a good friend... and... and I'm not..."

"Okay, okay," interrupted Rainbow Dash at last. She had been sitting rather quietly aside the whole time, attentive with her eyes and ears. Rising up, she marched in front of the pink pony, dismissively rocking her head back and forth while uttering, "Blah blah blah blah blah, NO."

Once in front of her friend, any roughness within her faded into loving and loyal sternness. One of her wings reached out and picked up the fallen pink mane, enabling her to look right into the pair of watery blue eyes.

"You're a good friend, Pinkie," she emphasized. "You're been a good friend for as long as I've known you."

"To you! B-But...," Pinkie Pie again shivered, her own freezing disbelief whipping about her. Her mane couldn't hold itself up; it almost tried to worm its way around the wing which kept it lifted. "But... if he won't sing, and if he won't smile, and if he won't be HIMSELF when I'm around... then I'm NOT a good friend TO HIM!"

Rainbow Dash pointedly shrugged and, exceptionally matter-of-fact in tone, she said, "Well... then maybe you're not his friend?"

The spongy clumps of the pink pony's mane melted right through the wing holding them up, falling and slapping her wet face with a rubbery smack.

Twilight was aghast. "Rainbow!"

"What?" the pegasus shot back with crude innocence. "I'm serious. Maybe she's not." She staked her position out, standing herself somewhere between bold truthfulness and frank disregard.

But she wasn't devoid of compassion, and more to Pinkie Pie than to Twilight she stated, "It's not like that means she CAN'T be his friend."

The blind, pink pony threw her forehooves onto Rainbow Dash and reined herself in, pulling her listless form up against the pegasus. "HOW?" she ached for the secret. A quaking energy ran through her legs and assaulted her friend with a vigorous shaking. "I've tried EVERYTHING!"

Rainbow Dash used her wings as wedges to force a release from the pink pony's grip. All of the recent stories detailing the many overtures of friendship to the man were still fresh in the pegasus' mind, and she managed to keep her sarcasm down to only a flutter as she remarked, "Yeah, you've definitely tried... uh, things, all right."

"You're his friend, Rainbow Dash," Pinkie Pie said, still leaning up against the other pony. "HOW?"

The usual layer of self-assured certainty that so often sheltered the rainbow-maned pony began to peel back slightly, fading as she gave the matter of her friendship with the man a rare amount deep thinking.

"I WASN'T his friend. Not in the beginning," she said at last. "I definitely didn't WANT to be his friend after what we first saw of him." Even the faint remembrance of that violence gave her a defensive shudder, though she held onto her lessons and pushed passed the old fear quickly. "Me and him, though...," she slowly expressed, nodding her head to the regular clicking of the gears which churned inside as she searched for the right way to put it. "... we had to come to an understanding first, and then we were able to be friends."

"That's right," Twilight attempted to piggyback off of Rainbow Dash's start. She remembered well the man's specific confession: he didn't 'get' Pinkie Pie. "You two seem to have a hard time understanding one another," she instructed the pink pony, "but you really have to understand each other in some way if you're going to have a working friendship. So I really think that if, instead of playing all these indirect games, the two of you just sit down and honestly talk it out-"

"Woah, woah, woah," the pegasus jumped in, nearly appalled at the suggestion. "Let's not get carried away, Twilight."

The unicorn's face was conquered by an stunned stillness. "... What?" she flung the unbelieving word out, wet as a soaked rag.

"They've been hanging out at least once a week for months!" Rainbow Dash raised her voice. "If it hasn't happened already then, at this point, I don't think just TALKING is going to do it."

"B-But... honesty... and friendship... and... you...," Twilight sputtered, before she quickly locked onto the biggest obstacle blocking her comprehension, "... you JUST said that you only developed a friendship with him AFTER you two came to an understanding!"

"Yeah, but that doesn't mean we like... called a meeting, and made points of order, and drew up contracts or something," grunted the pegasus, unsympathetic to anypony who couldn't keep up with her marvelous deductions. "I know YOU got to be his friend by yakking away with him until it just suddenly happened. But that wasn't really how it was with me and him. I mean, there was SOME talking... but it mostly wasn't talking."

She turned her head away from the unicorn and scrutinized the distraught pink pony. Pinkie Pie had been jerking her frightened face around at the other two ponies as they had gone back and forth in disagreement, growing increasingly worried with each fighting line they threw about. Every sentence they had exchanged with each other had still somehow turned into a strike against her, slapping her about and beating her deeper and deeper into her despairing hole. The doomed, defeated desperation came out with every one of her broken breaths.

"And," Rainbow Dash shook her head at the pitiable sight, "I don't think just talking is going to work out for them, either. I mean, look at where Pinkie is right now! She's been trying her hardest and she's miserable!"

"Yes!" Twilight groaned sternly. "Because they haven't once spoken to each other OPENLY about how they feel."

"Exactly!" The pegasus smacked a hoof against the floor in affirmation.

"I... you... but... and... huh?" the unicorn babbled, the intellectual wind knocked out of her by the other pony's maze of circular insanity. She gripped her dizzying head to keep the room from spinning.

One wing came out and leveled flat, forming a surface upon which Rainbow Dash's other wing pounded as she repeated her points again one at a time: "Months. Casually hanging out. No friendship. Pinkie Pie miserable." Both wings sprawled out wide behind her and she tossed her head once. "You know, the only reason I'm NOT flying over to his room right this second to kick his teeth in for making Pinkie Pie so upset is because I've gotten to really KNOW him and..."

The first true signs of saddened exasperation appeared in her as she broke her statement to give a heated sigh.

Wings tiredly folding up, she turned her face just a little towards the floor and said in a soft voice, "... and I don't think he's been doing anything that's... not himself. Her too." She pointed a hoof at the absent man. "He's just been being HIM." Her aim swung towards the broken bundle of pink. "And she's just been being... you know... Pinkie Pie. And them being themselves wasn't enough. Look where it got'em."

She returned to boldness and shrugged once, lamenting roughly, "I think if they talked openly to each other about how they actually feel they might wind up going BACKWARDS."

It was more than enough to shove Twilight into a short, open-mouthed silence. She had to shake her head to reacquire her voice, and it could only weakly seek confirmation, "You're saying that... who they are fundamentally... are incompatible?"

The crushed Pinkie Pie had an altogether worse interpretation. In wide-eyed, lip-trembling, broken-hearted dread she squeaked, "I'm... too awful to be his friend...?"

"No, no," Rainbow Dash denied the idea with such head-shaking force that it flung her mane about like a cracking whip. She seized her suffering friend from the front, taking a strong hold with her hooves and bringing her true-hearted eyes close. Full of firm resolve she declared, "Pinkie, you have like... a million friends. Everypony in Ponyville is your friend. And all of their friends are your friends. And even all of their not-friends are your friends! I don't know how you do it! But I guess that's just who you are." Once more one of her wings swept aside the fallen pink mane, pulling the tangled mess out of the other pony's eyes, and one of her hooves wandered down and tapped truthfully on the pink pony's hurting heart. "That's who Pinkie Pie is; you're a friend maker."

The pegasus spent a moment to fold the soggy, tear-soaked mane up and to the side, where it hopefully couldn't fall on Pinkie's face again.

"But...," she sighed, still with a steadfast hold on her friend yet dropping her glance away for a scant second, "... maybe... maybe this guy is the one pony that you can't... you know... Pinkie Pie your way into a friendship with?"

For what seemed like years the washed over eyes of the pink pony stared into her friend's, still leaking little teardrops as she did. She couldn't see anything in the light of Rainbow Dash's gaze that didn't shine as true, genuine, or heartfelt, and in some deeper place she understood that if the pegasus had given the magical, problem-solving answer that she had so longingly wanted then it would have been only a false promise. All the melancholy weights on her started to drag her down and she shrunk, depressed. Depressed, but intact.

"Rainbow Dash," the reserved, thinking Twilight called slowly, "I'm still not sure I follow."

"She's just too much for him, Twilight." For a pegasus who so often openly flaunted her brash, cocky side, even she seemed to be full of a simple and quaint confidence about her assertion.

It made the unicorn stop and think, bringing her mind to step through everything she had done to try and unite her two isolated friends. She had known that no force but her friends themselves would have ever truly bound them in friendship, so she hadn't ever tried to manufacture some sort of false fellowship between them by herself. Always she had endeavored to push them in the direction of opening up to each other; to get them to find the hidden friendship on their own. But from Pinkie Pie she had only heard tales of honest, if sometimes indirect, efforts that had repeatedly failed. The disheartened pink pony had been thrown into dysfunctional disarray, unable to understand why she hadn't successfully reached him. And the man... well... the man had taken his sweet time to even fully open up to Twilight about the issue. Twilight, whom he had always called his friend. When at last he had turned completely truthful he had been fairly unambiguous about how he had chosen to conceal himself from the pink pony; to save himself from the trouble of dealing with her.

Twilight remembered exactly how he had appeared on the street of Ponyville as he had revealed how he just didn't 'get' Pinkie Pie. The crisp image returned to her so clearly now: how visibly frightened the man had been of the other pony's exuberance. How much the pink pony's unstoppable, incomprehensible energy had put him in a place of uncomfortable, silent, controlled distress.

Somehow Pinkie Pie really was too much for him.

Rainbow Dash muttered, "If she really wants to be his friend then I think she's going to have... scale herself back or something." Uncertainty took a preeminent place in her statement.

"Be LESS of herself?" questioned Twilight sceptically.

Popping up, the pink pony squawked in worry, "B-But I want Pinkie Pie to be his friend!"

Twilight, somewhat perplexed, reached and tightened a hug around the other pony. "I'm sorry, Pinkie," she said. "We didn't mean to talk so much like you weren't here-"

"No!" the pink pony shouted in a painful whine. She kept throwing her hooves against herself, pointing inwards. Spouting her fears she rambled, "If Pinkie Pie gets to be his friend by not being Pinkie Pie then is Pinkie Pie even his friend at all?"

"Oh...," the unicorn let out a realizing whisper.

"It's not like that," Rainbow Dash tried to insist. Very obviously she was struggling to pull her thoughts together on the issue, trying to formulate a plan of some sort. But she was a pony who usually preferred to simply go with the flow, and being mired in the minutia had her at an inarticulate loss.

Twilight was rattled. The more she thought about it the more a raw anger creeped in from the cracks, teasing her with increasing viciousness. She had heard both sides of the conflict straight from each of her friends several times now. The pony had always been more earnest, and tearful, and devastated. The man had always been more... uninterested... and aloof... and uncaring. Both had been too frightened to face the situation directly but Pinkie Pie had at least never stopped genuinely trying. But the man... he hadn't ever genuinely STARTED trying, had he? And now Rainbow Dash had suggested that the only way for them to meet halfway was to not go halfway at all! Her pink friend had to be dragged down to his level?

Only minutes earlier Rainbow Dash had whimsically mentioned kicking the man's teeth in for upsetting Pinkie Pie, merely a joke for the pegasus, but now Twilight almost felt like marching up to him and doing it herself. His unfair condition for friendship was to require Pinkie Pie to throttle herself? He would only give up the small little bit of friendship the other pony wanted if she surrendered her spirit? That was his repayment for Pinkie's faithful sacrifices at the altar of friendship? That was how much he appreciated all of her sincere efforts?

Grinding her teeth slightly, the unicorn's comforting hold on the pink pony underwent a defensive turn. Up at the pegasus she looked and then she demanded harshly, "Why does Pinkie Pie have to be the one to change for them to be friends? Why can't James be less... James?"

"Seriously?" Rainbow Dash coughed, giving Twilight an askew eye.

The unicorn couldn't let her jealous hug go, and she snapped back angrily, "It's hardly fair for you to ask Pinkie to be less of the incredible and unique pony she is! After all she's already done? And when he hasn't done much at all?"

"I told you, it's not exactly like that," groaned the pegasus.

"Then what is it 'like,' Rainbow Dash?!" Twilight very nearly snarled. "Because from all I've seen and heard it sounds like you're saying she has to surrender and stop being herself just because... because... James is... is... too STUBBORN to give her a fair chance!"

Pinkie Pie sadly snuggled up to Twilight, who responded by pouring more devoted and defending love into her hug. She had landed squarely on the pony's side.

Resistant, Rainbow Dash asked "Isn't giving her a fair chance what he has already been doing this whole time?"

"What? No!" the unicorn bristled at the suggestion. After all, she had even asked him to broach this whole subject with Pinkie Pie and what had he done? He had barely mentioned it once and then had given up. It had finally become clear to her that all the best wishes she had been holding on to had to be thrown out. "He hasn't been trying to be her friend at all!"

"Sort of, yeah," the pegasus neutrally agreed, but she maintained, "He's still been fair though." Tiny drips of sarcasm leaked out of her as she said, "I mean, he's only shown up once a week every week to spend the whole day with her. And never turned her away or blew her off. And always been nopony but himself every time."

Twilight was quite shocked at the continued and frankly unanticipated opposition from her loyal friend. Rainbow Dash had an especially close camaraderie with Pinkie Pie, so how that pony could be standing up for the man like she was seemed so completely unthinkable.

"He's thoughtlessly spurned every one of Pinkie Pie's efforts to be his friend, without even so much as a 'no, thank you!'" she shouted. "Actually, I'm fairly sure he even resents what she's done!"

"So I guess you're the one who gets to pick and choose who he makes friends with now?" Rainbow Dash thrust her words out, intently making a point with them.

Exasperation tried to pound its way out of the unicorn's body, producing a strained grunt from her as she fought to hold it in. In a heavy effort she challenged her colorful friend, "Why are you being so defensive of him?"

Surprising Twilight, the pegasus gave an answer which was coated in a kind of candid uncertainty. "I guess," she said slowly, "because... maybe I know him in a way that you don't?"

It finally brought a stillness upon the unicorn's boiling anger. Many times before she had noticed how the man had allowed different parts of himself to connect with different ponies. He was like most ponies after all: complex and full of many facets, with not everypony able to learn enough about him to gain a clear picture of the whole. But his special circumstances and his uniqueness made him, compared to others, a pony especially fractured; he gave out his composing elements with much more selective choice than most usually did. Perhaps that was only a temporary state resulting from his emotional wounds? Unbelievably enough it had been only three months since his trans-world experience.

However, for some reason, Twilight was most especially reminded of the man's own words: his strange assertion about how Princess Celestia wasn't a princess to him but something else entirely. And now apparently also such between her, him, and the pegasus. Again she realized she was keeping down a small amount of envy: Rainbow Dash was something to him that she was not.

The agitation ate her up inside but she decided to sit quietly and take it. It was hard to accept the pegasus' argument but maybe it was something that she just had to do. Maybe her friend really did have a better understanding of this aspect of the man, more than she did.

"Look..." Rainbow Dash spoke upon seeing Twilight's surrender. She stepped forwards and sat herself down in front of the other two, collecting all three friends close together. She addressed the troubled Pinkie Pie, "... I want him to be your friend as much as anypony, because I know what a great pony you are. But I'm... you know, not really surprised that he hasn't been responding to you or trying to be your friend. I'm not. You're both very different, and where you're sort of super-charged and go-go all the time, he's really kind of... super slow and low key about a lot of stuff.

"Not about everything, though. Like... that fighting stuff he did before coming to Equestria. And how he lets himself loose against me, joking around and standing up to my challenges even though he'll never beat me. And how he gets really stupidly serious about hero stuff, like preaching about ethics or whatever. And how much more alive he was with Poppy; that surprised even me!" A strip of color welled up on her nose and she turned away to half mumble, "And also, like... I mean... all that crazy... STUFF... he was yammering about in the garden? That was gross and weird, but he was super into it for whatever reason. That's a freaky monkey guy for you."

She was able to shake herself free of the embarrassing memory quickly, and she continued, "Anyway, what I'm trying to say is that he's usually a pretty mellow dude but there is something that's more... life-like inside of him. And maybe THAT'S the side of him you can build an understanding with, Pinkie. But he's just not using that part of him a lot right now.

"And..." She sat herself up in readiness. Usually she disliked dwelling on things of such a personal nature but there was something relevant to all this that she had been observing for a long while now. "I really get the feeling that it's because he's still... searching, you know?"

The other two ponies stared at each other for a moment before Twilight came back and questioned, "Searching?"

"Yeah," Rainbow Dash nodded. Everything felt like it was falling into place for her, with new ideas joining old observations to create retrospectively obvious thoughts. Increasingly assured, she went on, "Like... trying to find out who he IS to Equestria. That's easy for us to do cause we already know who we are, but he doesn't have anything like a cutie mark to discover. He's new here to everything and he's just sort of... trying to grow into it. Like... a pony's first day a flight school. Just... trying to figure out what his life is now. And that means taking it slow. So like, when he's with me and he always just wants to play a game or chill or whatever, I'm like, 'yeah, that's cool.' I'll let him have that."

The pegasus was a pony who LOVED naps, and she loved them even more when she was supposed to have been doing something else. But she also knew unquestionably that she was the greatest thing since the invention of pet turtles, and she could do anything and everything as needed if it really came down to it. That was why she never had a problem lazing about as she liked to do; call it a reward for being so awesome.

However, ever since befriending the man, granting him the same allowance for laziness had NEVER been because she had believed similarly heroic things about him. It had simply always been as clear as the blue sky to her: he had NEEDED it. He had needed a regular sort of hanging out, drifting through afternoons with a friend. And looking back... it was kind of like how he had needed a regular sort of intellectual stimulation, wandering through big thoughts alongside Twilight; had needed a regular sort of physical rhythm, laboring slow, hard, and steady on Applejack's farm; had needed a regular sort of fuzzy cuddling, caring gently for Fluttershy's animals. All his time with her and her friends had been filled with regular things that moved so predictably calmly that he could still REST while living life; while still healing.

"That's why I think that... if you want to reach an understanding with him... it's something YOU'VE got to do, Pinkie Pie," she concluded. "He's gotten along with a few of us cause that's just who he is and that's just what he needs. But right now that's all he'll do, you know? Just get along. We'd probably never get anywhere asking him to step up and... sing with you or whatever. He's not ready. Equestria is still so new that he probably feels like he has so little to hold on to here, so he's not going to risk anything just to try and make friends with a pony he doesn't get along with right off the bat."

Silence seized the room as the pink pony tucked her eyes into her own chest.

"Does that make sense, Pinkie?" Rainbow Dash sought verification, resting a hoof on the other pony's shoulder. "He probably would treating me in the same casual way as you if I didn't reach my understanding with him."

Pinkie Pie never looked up, lingering in a motionless trance for so long that her air became stale. Finally, in a weak murmur she spoke back, "... I guess it does..."

Twilight regretfully felt the same exact way. Her sympathy and pity wanted to grant the man such a generous allowance, but her love towards her pink friend was still outright indignant at how poorly he had handled the whole situation. She also oddly burned at how it seemed like he was going to 'get away with it.'

She made herself clear to Rainbow Dash in a capitulating, reluctant voice, "I don't like it."

"Yeah, I mean, it's not a super great situation or anything," admitted the pegasus. "But that's kind of just the way it is."

To the pink pony she emphasized, "And hey, remember: 'doesn't want to be your friend' is a different thing than 'can't be your friend.' You might have to hold back a little now but, if you get things right, then I know that you can get him to be friends with you. The ACTUAL Pinkie Pie you."

The distraught pony absorbed the thought, owning the silence of the room. Then, on her own, she let go of Twilight and sat straight. Her mane, still tangled in tear-soaked clumps, actually pulled itself upright and into shape with some amount of weary strength. She sniffed once or twice while rubbing any remaining bits of snot away.

"... So what should I do?" she asked her friends. Altogether she was far from well, but the desperation that had rocked every last fiber of her being had at least greatly diminished.

Having no enthusiasm for the reality that Rainbow Dash had laid out, neither hopeful nor bitter, Twilight was bare of suggestions. Or at least she didn't want to be the one to propose what she knew the pegasus would.

"I guess... you should just sort of... back off from him for a little while," Rainbow Dash predictably said. "And I don't mean like, stay out of sight or something. Just... don't be on top of him like it's your day to host him. You can join when he's doing stuff... just don't try to MAKE him do things with you. Or go overboard trying to do things for HIM. When he's around... just try really hard not to get all super-excited-spazzy-explodey. Just take it easy."

It was such a sour pill. Pinkie Pie fumbled with a broken frown.

Attempting to slap everything with a positive spin, the pegasus threw on a healthier, more upbeat air and changed around her approach, saying "You've been trying hard to make friends with him for months. Well, we're ON VACATION now! Take a break! Relax!" She snapped herself around like a acrobatic frog, whirling over to the pink pony's side. One leg she dropped over the other pony's shoulder like a drunken pal, and one of her wings she rolled gently like an ocean wave, casting a kissing breeze over herself and her friend. "Play quietly on the beach, rest and look out at the ocean view, take some naps in the sun; slow yourself down a little and enjoy your time off. I know that's not exactly how you like to be... but it's kinda like how I had to stop being so extra loyal to you guys so I could learn to trust him just a little bit."

Her hooking leg squished Pinkie Pie tighter. "So don't forget about him; just forget him a little bit," she advised squarely. "Don't go all out enjoying your trip; just start to enjoy it a little bit." She swung her free leg out, directing everypony's eyes to the room which surrounded them. "Normally this whole 'going somewhere, meeting somepony' deal would be your thing! So have a little fun with it! Like, look at this great room you-"

Somehow she herself really witnessed the state of the chamber for the very first time. The balloons swarming around like ants; invisible to her before. The streamers racing a circuit around the walls; absent in her memory. The homemade welcome sign which was a billboard above the bed; unlettered to her previously.

"Yeesh." She stuck out her tongue. Incredulously she asked, "Twilight, did MY room look like this?"

"I don't know," the unicorn responded, struck by a similar sense of amnesia. "I was in such a rush to get you that I don't really remember what was in your room."

"... I kinda like it...," Pinkie Pie spoke of her own room. Her voice had a hoarseness like she was really pushing to get herself above dismal whispering.

The tone had such a tiny but unexpected spark of life. It drew happy attention from both of the other ponies instantly.

Rainbow Dash squeezed the pink pony even tighter and rubbed a hoof in her sloppy, pink mane. "You goofball!" she falsely chided.

Twilight threw herself over the pink pony in a delightfully crushing hug, nabbing the pegasus as collateral damage.

Pinkie Pie hardly minded how tightly jammed she was in the middle of the pony sandwich. It was a hug baked just right, really.

"Thanks, everypony...," she was able to say, laced somewhere inside with a hidden giggle.

"Hey, don't mention it," Rainbow Dash spouted. "Just take a deep breath, unwind, and focus on taking it easy for awhile.

"And you know," she tacked on as a final boost of hope, "maybe a vacation is just what that guy needs, too. I know I said he was still searching, but I think Poppy proved he was kind of getting there. (And that whole garden thing definitely shows that he has a crazy side...) Maybe between a little careful calmness from you... and this wacky magic island paradise thing that the ponies here won't shut up about... it will turn him around just enough to get you two understanding each other. They said they were going to bring us all closer together, after all! Who knows what they can get you two to do?"

The pink pony gave a hug right back to each of her dear friends with as much strength as her tired will would loan her, embracing their hopes and borrowing them for herself.

After a recovering minute of holding each other and exchanging warm words or laughs the three ponies finally broke apart. Pinkie Pie picked herself up and shook some of the wet sadness out of her mane, and a minute amount of springiness came back to her tail. Unwelcome sighs continued to invade her breath and blink-inducing droplets of tiny tears continued to poke out from the corners of her eyes, but overall she was in a more peaceful place.

It really was a wonderful room, so full of such grin-worthy party things. But... she wasn't ready yet to enjoy it yet. She took a look instead towards the curtain which was sealing off the balcony.

Making an accurate guess at Pinkie Pie's desire, and to further encourage the pony along, Twilight used her magic to sweep the hanging cloth aside.

Fresh sunlight, sleepy with evening color, gently wandered into the room. The easygoing wind which had been politely waiting on its side of the curtain also took a curious peek in through the new opening, exploring the space with its lightest touch. And Pinkie Pie, flinching at first from the warmth of the light and the tender caress of the cool air, stood still a soft moment before she gave in to a tentative lean towards the free passageway in front of her.

"Remember," Rainbow Dash called to her, "you got friends!"

Thanking them again with a minimal, nodding smile, the pink pony picked up her hooves and went out onto the balcony to spend some decidedly un-Pinkie-like time quietly observing the sunset.

Back in the room the two remaining ponies worked some of the stiffness out of their legs, and wings where applicable.

"Well," Twilight said. She let the word sit lonely for a thoughtful moment as she stretched some more. Eventually she continued, "color me surprised, Rainbow Dash. Despite the fact that I don't fully endorse everything about your outlook, I still have to admit that you certainly dished out... something that I guess approximated wisdom."

"Uh, duh?" the pegasus responded with her usual bluster. Her nose and wings tipped up. "That's why you came to get me to begin with, remember?"

"Right," the unicorn discarded her agreement.

"Come on," the pegasus scoffed at the other pony's almost flippant reply. "If anypony was going to know each of her different friends perfectly enough to have an answer for this mess, it was definitely going to be me of course." Her wings dusted each other off with a show of haughty, but not terribly serious, disdain.

Twilight pushed right back with a grunting smirk before she fell silent to let everything recent in her head catalogue itself. Things hadn't gone the way she had hoped; not initially, not before, and not now. But hope, it seemed, had somehow become all she had left with respect to this dark matter.

"I still dislike how passive we have to be through this," she wiggled her head back and forth minimally, unable to wipe away her worry. "I understand we can't solve everypony's friendship problems completely on our own, so it's bad enough that we have to sit mostly aside while a friend is hurting... but Pinkie herself having to draw back TOO? Having to hold herself back and let everything fall where it will?" She allowed it another moment of hard thought, as if that would change her opinion. But still she complained, "It really gets to me."

Preferring not to dive back into everything all over again, Rainbow Dash searched for a shortcut out of the conversation. She had a flash of Ponyville that popped in her head as loudly as a starter pistol, and she got to spitting it out faster than she could fully evaluate the contents of what she was saying.

"Yeah, well, I guess it's kind of like trying to win the heart of your special somepony," she said, clipping some of the words with dainty slices of awkwardness. Simultaneously while speaking it was dawning on her just what kind of comparison she was making, but it was too late to stop herself. "Normally I'd be all about encouraging Pinkie Pie to go whole hog and do something over-the-top-spectacular to show off what kind of an amazing friend she could be. Kind of like trying to impress, you know, a pony you LIKE like."

A pause came over her. Sometimes in the reveries of night, before full sleep came to her, she still heard the menacing clucks calling for her blood, and felt the vengeful pecks digging into her body. 'Remember your lesson!' the nightmare phantoms of foul fowls always cried at her in their haunting bakaws.

"But sometimes, I guess...," she shared her lesson, buying herself peace of mind, "... it's better to take a step back and wait for the right time to say the right thing."

She looked down and twisted her mouth a little. What a weird time to think about P.V. and Star Glitter.

"Okay? And since when did you start giving DATING advice?" Twilight's eyebrow rocketed up. "You've never even had a special somepony, unless you've been keeping something from the rest of us."

Fastest pony in Ponyville, the pegasus blitzed her emergency defense.

"I haven't! I mean, you're right: I've never had one! I could have a special somepony if I ever wanted! I'm THE Rainbow Dash! Who's going to turn ME down? But I'm too busy for dumb lovey-dovey stuff! Who has time for love when the Wonderbolts are gonna be calling my name? Special somepony? Pfft! I'm too awesome for that!"

Again the unicorn smirked, putting out quite a bit more amusement than before.

"On that fascinating note...," she quipped. She was quite ready to test the waters of another concerning matter, though she wasn't exactly predicting miracles. "... How are things between you and Applejack, by the way?"

Rainbow Dash wholly disliked the question as much as Twilight's last remark.

"Fine," she looked away and grumbled. "Applejack's just a big grouchy idiot and that's all there is to it."

Twilight let loose a prepared sigh, allowing the other pony's comment to pass unchallenged for the time being. Applejack had promised due diligence in resolving the matter diplomatically, and she had to allow her farm pony friend that chance.

Problems, problems everywhere. But it seemed like there was little for a loving friend to do about them except take a step back and wait.

She moved her gaze past the pushed aside curtain, examining her pink friend out the balcony.

The recovering pony stood there with hooves hooked over the rail as she watched the ocean melt into a warm orange glow under the growing evening's light. A laughing, life-loving pony always before, but now so uncharacteristically still.

Listening closely Twilight could hear the breeze sweeping across the front face of the Passion's Embrace, and as it did it picked up an added sound. Something long, and longing, trickled lowly from the lips of the pink pony. It was so low that the wind, even tumbling pleasantly as it was, ran away with almost all of it before it could be heard.

Quietly Pinkie Pie was singing to herself. Something about her chosen song was very stretched out. Whispered notes played out unnecessarily slow, each one forced to fit within the confines of a dragging and dejected, but not yet defeated, structure. Softly she moaned to help equally diminish her bleeding and shore up her courage:

You just smile...
Like a crocodile...
Don't shed a tear...
Your friends are near...

Chapter 21: Charm

The dining room didn't veer away from the rest of the hotel's amateur aesthetic: white stone, more paintings hung about by the same artist, pottery and flowers on display in the corners, an ordinary house carpet laid flat in the center, and so on. Even the long dining table fit in, being of plain wood and covered in a white cloth that lacked all decoration. It hardly would have appeared out of place in an ordinary home save for it's above-average length. Only the place settings produced any image of finery, with the best example being the napkin holders: made of polished silver, and shaped of course to resemble the heart-silhouette of two ponies nuzzling.

Venus and Vesuvius waited to greet their guests. Both ponies were in a calmer mood compared to when they had initially separated from the group: less warm in the face, less physically energized by raw excitement, but no less enthused overall. They were impeccably cleaner as well. Both had quickly washed up recently, and the beautiful mare had also changed into a new lava-lava while applying some fresh perfume. All about them was an aura of lazy, relaxed happiness; something they put into the air as they leaned closely into each other, at joyful rest.

They were quietly shocked when they saw that their arriving guests weren't coming to the dining room individually lead by their specific guides. Applejack came first, and she did appear without any other ponies save for Till who exited into the kitchen without saying a word to her. But after the farm pony came James and Fluttershy together, lead weakly on by a downtrodden Humble Herd who disappeared back into the hallway as quick as he had come. Then came Twilight, Rainbow Dash, and Pinkie Pie, all brought in together by an unusually mellow Hulahoof who nonetheless still smiled with unfailing politeness before he left. Lastly arrived the pair of Rarity and Spike, oddly lead by both Sweet Nothing and Summer Wind. Sweet Nothing attempted to deliver to Rarity a classy introduction to the dining room, but to his great frustration he was cut off by his cohort who only gave a fast and dirty welcome to both guests before she dragged the dark stallion away. The two guides seemed to snip at each other on the way out.

Venus looked at her other half and whispered a worried whine.

"No, it's alright," Vesuvius consoled her softly after allowing himself a moment of thought. "They're all friends and they're freshly arrived. Of course they're choosing to spending time with each other. We should have anticipated this."

"Are you sure?" the mare feared. Her gut accepted his opinion, and she did feel herself being a teensy bit irrational, but she almost couldn't help her worry. "Suppose it's because we haven't made a good enough first impression?"

"We've never had a group this large," he reminded his beloved. "It'll just take a little more time and effort for our own to get close. For now... dinner, yes?"

"... Yes," she acknowledged, hopeful. "You're right."

As the guests gathered they naturally erupted into numerous small conversations among themselves; friends rejoined. Mostly they spoke about either their rooms or more of their predictions for the vacation to come.

But James, bound to his mission to apologize for his earlier blunder in the garden, used the opportunity to make individual appeals for forgiveness. Strengthened by the kind wishes and support from admirable Fluttershy, he found no trouble in sincerely humbling himself before each and every one of them. Each apology was direct and whole: admitting his terrible carelessness, expressing regret for making everypony uncomfortable, and asking for pardon.

And all his friends were fast to accept his apologies, though in part because even vaguely recalling the context of his error made them want to swiftly move on to another topic. Truly they were thankful for his earnestness but to them the whole scandal was a mind-bending, unbelievable, vulgar thing that was best left buried and never spoken of again. And so he moved down the line of quick apologies until he came to the friend he had instinctively saved for last: Pinkie Pie.

The pink pony was the single, nervous exception to his unflappable strength. Not even Fluttershy's blessings helped him. However this time his difficulty WASN'T just because of his usual distaste for handling a stick of dynamite like Pinkie Pie. When he had unleashed his cavalcade of over-the-top sexual euphemisms the pink pony had ACTUALLY been embarrassed. Her red face was something he had never seen before; something that, given her usual self, had been all but impossible to imagine. For a pony so crazy and unpredictable, understanding that such an ordinary and unspoken side of her even existed made her almost HARDER to deal with; humbling and dreadful all at once.

Pinkie Pie felt jittery as soon as he approached. The long conversation in her room between her, Twilight, and Rainbow Dash still weighed on her immensely, and she crushed some of her most natural instincts as per the pegasus' request. It wasn't easy, especially with the battle inside of her between her hope – which so badly wanted to hear him say something friendly – and her grim despair – which told her again and again that he never would.

After Rainbow Dash had received her own apology she had seen the confrontation between man and pink pony coming a mile away, and she made a point of watching closely but not interfering.

Very carefully the man walked up to the nervous pony. Instead of effortlessly flowing into his speech like he had with all of the others there was a noticeable delay. He propped himself up, trying to find a standing that felt defensive enough.

"So, as you've surely noticed by now," he finally opened, "I'm trying to make up for my rudeness earlier in the garden. I said some things that were very off-putting to everypony, and it was terrible and thoughtless of me." Despite his words very physically resembling the same speech he had been repeating to the others, there was something so tentative and different about his presentation. He spoke as if translating himself from a language he was uncomfortable with, or as if she wouldn't understand him without some cautious enunciation. "Anyway, I'm really sorry about how I behaved, and I hope you'll forgive me?"

There was a startling stillness from the pink pony. She did look up at him at least.

"Okay. Sure," she said, very dry. "Thank you."

Again there was a delay on James' part; dead space carved out by prediction's inability and surprise's trepidation.

"Great," he nodded at last. Another pause. Then, unsure as to whether he was feeling a need to reward her reserve or rather simply be spontaneously polite, he bowed to her and added more graciously, "Thank you."

Quickly he turned and stepped away, escaping immediately. Pinkie Pie watched him go, leery as much as she was melancholy.

"Hey," Rainbow Dash wandered up to the pink pony, "See? That wasn't so bad!" She delivered a slap to her friend's back. "A good old apology, and you didn't need any cakes or cards or balloons or anything like that. Just an easy 'thank you' and you're done."

"I... guess...," Pinkie Pie moaned.

Not long after, the hosts invited everypony to take their seats. Venus and Vesuvius themselves sat together at the head of the long table, immeasurably close to each other. Twilight was encouraged by Venus to sit nearby, and eagerly the guest unicorn did, seizing a seat on the corner next to the island lady. Applejack made a wide ring to pass around the still chatting Rainbow Dash and Pinkie Pie, and once she was on the further side of the table she sat down next to Twilight. James went to the same side as well but, still coming down off of his apologies and feeling somewhat contrite, left a safe space between himself and the farm pony. Rarity had gotten herself caught up with complimenting Fluttershy's necklace again (as well as bragging about her new dresses which she unfortunately hadn't had the time to try on yet and, oh drat, she should have worn one for the occasion!) The two ponies floated over to the table and almost absentmindedly took seats next to each other as they stay engaged, with faithful Spike quietly filling in on the other side of the lovely seamstress. They had incidentally placed themselves with one seat open between them and their hosts: the empty space across from Twilight.

"Oh," Rainbow Dash realized, "time to eat. Come on."

She strode up to the empty corner seat between Fluttershy and Vesuvius, but as she was about to sit an uncomfortable tingle jolted through her. It was something about the way everypony in the room still seemed to be waiting so expectantly. She twisted her neck and looked back.

Pinkie Pie's rump was glued to the floor, her frightened tail curled around herself.

Oblivious to any social awkwardness, even with some of the others staring, the pegasus went back and asked her friend, "What's got you, Pinkie?"

The pink pony scarcely made a sound, but her whining eyes clearly craved the seat Rainbow Dash had selected.

Looking again the pegasus noticed that, of the two remaining open seats, the only other one was next to James. The one she herself had first selected was the seat farthest possible from him, diagonally across the table. But it wouldn't have been any trouble for her to abandon her seat for Pinkie Pie and-

Oh no... The open seat next to the man was ALSO unfortunately next to Applejack...

Her grumbling in check, the pegasus whispered loudly, "Come on, Pinkie! Just sit next him! It's only dinner! You can do it!"

"But Rainbow Dash!" the other pony softly cried back. She didn't follow up with any specific complaint but her mind projected a thousand black-and-white films of her helplessly engaging in some vaudeville shenanigans; flinging around sugary desserts, coordinated dances upon the table, and even just throwing her face onto her plate like a pig. How was she expected to sit next to the man for a whole meal AND be in control of her normal emotions? It was just too much, too soon.

The aggravation bubbled its way up through the rainbow-maned pony, though it wasn't her PINK friend that she was angry at per se.

At last she bottled her frustration in her mouth and swallowed it down into her stomach. Stepping aside she raised her voice and offered dully, "Here, Pinkie. Why don't you take this seat-"

With a buzz of lightning the open space between to Vesuvius and Fluttershy was conquered by the silently thankful pony.

Rainbow Dash sighed, spread her wings, and carried herself over the dining table. She came down in the last free seat immediately between Applejack and James, much to the irritation of both herself and the farm pony.

Throwing her head away from her supposed friend, Applejack griped low out of the corner of her mouth, "Oh, what? This an eatin' contest now?"

"You'd lose," the unhappy pegasus bit back.

"SO!" Twilight clapped her hooves together very, very loudly. "What's for dinner?"

"Oh, Mr. Till has prepared us quite a meal!" Venus was proud to share. "As an appetizer we'll have some fried oats and beetroot soup. Our main course will be special sweetened bran cakes, with two sides: boiled carrots, and buttered grass imported directly from the Marengeti Plain." The final dish didn't come to her immediately, and she held up a hoof to hold her place while she remembered. "Ah, yes," it broke through finally, "and for dessert... he was most excited to make us some fresh apple pie!"

James looked away, burying any small trickles of annoyance under a smirk. Presumably in her friendship biographies Twilight had neglected to outline his dietary needs because the described meal didn't carry much appeal. Usually he could stomach a lot of the common foods shared between him and ponies, but this fancy dinner packed an unusually high number of incompatible, or just plain undesirable, dishes.

A half-peek at Spike confirmed that the dragon felt in a similar boat, though he didn't appear terribly vexed overall. He was more pleased than anything to be seated next to Rarity, and a subpar welcome dinner was a gladly-meager trade for the blessing.

Somehow, for different reasons, the man felt quite the same. What was one dinner? He could sip at the soup, pick at the carrots, mop up the apple pie, and be fine. It was a small price, but one well worth it to explore the island. He was getting excited.

Pushing a rolling wave through his fingers and rapping upon the table, he turned back to the hosts and smiled as he remarked, "Sounds delicious."

Despite everything the dinner proceeded rather pleasantly. Till, dressed in a waiter's apron but wearing a chef's hat, wheeled carts of food in and out of the kitchen, and with absolutely quiet professionalism he served each guest one by one. The tranquil environment helped hold any potential embarrassments at bay: little feuding was done by Applejack and Rainbow Dash except for disgruntled glances at each other, Spike and James sampled smaller portions from their plates without a single complaint while presenting themselves as nothing more than politely not-hungry, and there wasn't an awkward peep from any other nervous pony.

Most of the table talk was between Twilight and the hosts. The guest unicorn was eager to drive the discussion along with her many genuinely curious questions about the island's history, recent and distant. The hosts, though keen to share, were quite selective with their words. Through their answers they guided her towards their personal history first. Twilight wasn't discouraged in the slightest, happy enough to follow their lead when she sensed them building towards their own story. In particular they began to reveal a side of themselves that she very easily empathized with, and she grew ever more delighted and impressed with them as the dinner carried on.

Venus and Vesuvius, between each other, shared a fairly diverse amount of knowledge. They had passing familiarity with archaeology and anthropology, in amounts fitting for their assistance to the Island Society's research effort. It also became clear they had doused themselves extensively in botany and ecology, at least so far as was related locally to the Carriaggean islands. Finally they had also exposed themselves to some rudimentary studies of magic, though Twilight curiously noted that it was not in any area like friendship; instead they had poured over beginners' works on charms, psychomancy, and an obscure subfield of enchantments known as trophtheurgy (laypony's terms: 'food magic.') Neither host was an expert in any of their recently adopted fields – they completely admitted to starting their amateur studies only after they had begun work on their island enterprise – but their interest was endearingly earnest, heartfelt, and full.

And they were good students; their studies were almost an extension of their pre-island lives. Both had in the past been formally educated in different areas of sociology; he in demography, family, gender, and such things; she in politics and psychology. Separately they had followed similar paths in their individual histories. Though each had received an education, neither had been particularly devoted to academics and so both had gravitated towards practical applications of their knowledge. Mainly they had lived what they each described as boring existences: traveling around Equestria to do short-lived work that tried to utilize their formal studies.

It had been their initial meeting of each other, and their first trip to Isla Equufera, that had opened a miraculous new path for them.

"... with the job on Pinto Rico for the Island Society finished," Vesuvius brought the island masters' conjoined story towards its climax, "they asked me if I'd be willing to sign on for something extra. They needed supplemental crew for a research trip to THIS island. They didn't really expect my expertise to be of much use; it's hard to say much about an extinct society, after all. But they now knew that I'd be able to work alongside their team without trouble." He shared an embrace with his lovely mare. "To think, the only reason I signed on was because I thought it would be like time off and I was due for a vacation!"

After a happy giggle Venus continued, "It was a friend of mine who pulled me onto the same trip, also as supplemental crew. They figured they could stick the outside help together as partners for the trip, so..." The two had hardly broken their prior hug when Venus initiated another one. "... that was how Suvi and I first met."

"Oh!" Twilight jumped in, as happy as a foal being read their favorite bedtime story. "So it really was the island that brought you two together!"

"Absolutely," acknowledged Vesuvius. "We met boarding the boat, but actually we didn't think too much of each other at first. We certainly got along like any professional coworkers would but... there weren't any big first impressions. Not that I truly remember." He leaned over and gave his love a fun nudge. "... A little lost in herself too much of the time, I thought."

Venus, grinning blissfully, returned the touch with even more heavenly enthusiasm and breathed, "A little too grouchy and foul-mooded, I thought."

"It wasn't until we landed on the island and spent our first night here that we suddenly realized we had something special," the stallion explained.

Both ponies embraced each other with such a happy warmth, and the mere memory of that one night heated their bodies. Their energy filled the room.

"That first day was just some tedious work," Venus recalled. She couldn't pry her gaze away from her stallion in order to speak directly at her guests, and eventually she settled on closing her eyes and resting her head against his neck so that she might have the concentration to continue. "We mostly helped set up a camp, talked with the researchers, followed along as they went on their first quick foray about the island interior, and so on. It was that evening which I remember the best.

"That wonderful night the whole camp gathered to eat before we all settled into our tents to sleep. It wasn't much of a meal; I've seen pig troughs filled with tastier things than the rations we brought along. But I used what we could find around the island to make our supper a little more flavorful. Then, finally, we retired." One of her hooves, stilling holding the stallion, wandered about and stroked his back. "As partners Suvi and I shared a tent. The camp was set right on THIS VERY BEACH where we've now built the Passion's Embrace... and..." She grew too red to continue her thought, holding him tightly.

Her pleased stallion continued for her, "But we didn't get much sleep that night. We laid down apart but... then... the feeling just suddenly came over us... like magic."

He brought his nose down to touch hers, and their heads came up together; a heart built from nuzzling ponies.

Several of the guests swooned over the tale of fated romance; or at least those did who hadn't already checked out of the conversation because of all the earlier boring talk about culture, plants, and travel. The way the hosts had told their story had sounded so magically spectacular: her; him; a destined trip; a night alone together; and (presumably) the sudden call of true love having driven them into an embrace... and one, special, magical kiss.

Fluttershy in particular was quite moved. Rubbing the sapphire heart hanging from her neck she mentioned, "That's such a beautiful story. What a wonderful way to fall in love, finding each other like that."

Vesuvius, still with his eyes upon his mare, replied, "Love, yes. And so much more. We spent the rest of that trip inseparable from each other."

"We hardly left our tent," Venus's giggle floated out of her. "I honestly don't remember much after that first night. I have such a dazed memory of the experience. I can only recall the days passing like a sunny storm, every moment filled with such a perfect feeling of..." The thoughtful delay seemed to come from her vocabulary simply lacking a proper enough word. "... release."

"So," Twilight wondered, "how did you go from falling in love to starting up a resort?" She was already an avid fan of them, and there was literally nothing about them that she did not want to hear more of. "It's a huge leap from the kind of work you two used to do."

"After our experience, every last piece of our old lives became irrelevant to us," said Vesuvius. "What only mattered was our future. We agreed: what happened to us on this island wasn't normal love. We KNEW we had to share what we had discovered with the rest of Equestria. All ponies should feel what we felt. But HOW could we spread our special message? We weren't so sure other ponies would understand."

Her hoof still over her necklace, Fluttershy mused, "I think all ponies understand love. At least in some way." Weakness crept into her. Her hoof fell off the sapphire heart, her eyes drifted down to her plate, and she treaded barely above silence, "Or at least all ponies wish to feel it."

"Love is universal, but," the host stallion quickly expanded his position, "this is something different. Something special. Something more."

"So you've said," Twilight pushed her hardly touched plate aside so that she could lean forward over the table, "but what exactly do you mean by that?"

Venus patted some reassuring taps on one of Twilight's hooves. Smoothly she took over for her lovely stallion, and she promised, "You shall see. It's something special about this place. And like we told you: we believe its tied to the ponies of old who lived here once; their legacy, perhaps."

Swift, sudden, remorseless, and very immediately, she pushed to move on, "You were asking about them, yes?"

"Oh, right," Twilight remembered, taking a moment to roll with the conversation's sudden shift into the past. "I was asking what you've been able to learn about them since being here; before we got sidetracked with how you two met. (That was a fantastic story, by the way! Thank you!)"

Vesuvius nodded. "Insofar as the ponies who used to dwell on this island... it's hard to say much of anything with any certainty. There's little left behind."

"Yes," Twilight responded, "you had mentioned in the garden something about how it was all still a mystery. But is there really so little?"

"Oh yes," the stallion heaved a big nod. "There's jungle, which buries dirt, which buries dust, which buries only scraps. They didn't just vanish one day and leave everything behind, but nor did they go quietly enough to leave an expected record of evidence. No ruins of homes; not even an intact wall. No written records. Just bits and fragments of little things spread around in disordered chaos."

Puzzled, Twilight commented, "That's hard to believe! There's no signs of other ponies ever having lived here in the interim, right? Time will wash away a lot of things but it shouldn't be so thorough."

"Most of what we do know still only comes from writings found in old archives on the nearby islands," Venus said. "Some more-complete records from the ancient natives of THOSE islands happen to mention the inhabitants here. But even so, such records don't often talk about this island."

"It turns out the ponies here were particularly reclusive," lamented Vesuvius, dipping his head sadly. The whole subject had him distraught. "Despite a thriving trade economy which existed for centuries within the Carriaggean there wasn't much mingling between the other islands and this one. There's more than one citation describing trade attempts with this island being met with cold suspicion or crude rebuffs. We don't know why they would isolate themselves like that. Perhaps such foolishness contributed to their disappearance."

"Fascinating," Twilight uttered, vacuuming up the knowledge.

Venus, speaking steadily, shared, "There's one account that I remember reading where a ship from Galloloupe was passing near the island and spotted an unconscious mare adrift on some flotsam. They saved her from drowning and discovered she had come from here; out on a small boat when she had gotten caught some rough waters, perhaps. But the sailors didn't want to risk an encounter with the islanders just to return an unconscious pony so they took her back with them to their home and helped her recover there." She prefaced the rest of her words with a look of helplessness. "Even from her they never learned much. She was a withdrawn pony who spoke little and wanted little. She befriended nopony, hid away in the home they gave her, and never said a thing about this old island; not even about wanting to go back or not. For the most part she lived alone and secluded from all the other ponies on Galloloupe until the end of her days."

"Do you have any copies of these records?" asked Twilight. "I'd be thrilled to read through some of them myself while we're here."

Slightly surprised by the guest unicorn's sudden initiative, Venus threw an undecided glance to her beloved. He in return gave an uncertain stare right back, bouncing his brow once. The risks seemed to jump back and forth between them until the stallion finally surrendered a harmless shrug.

"Yes, we... keep copies around for study," Venus turned back to Twilight. "You're... more than welcome to read them, but... there-... there'll be time for that later."

"That's right," Vesuvius leapt in. "You're here to relax, enjoy, and share with us!"

Rarity innocently snickered, "I do think Twilight would find reading up on history to be rather relaxing and enjoyable."

For half-a-moment a dark glare blasted out of Vesuvius at the seamstress. He shook it off quickly and then sat up straight to refresh how presentable he appeared.

"There'll be time later," Venus reiterated. Her inviting warmth easily counterbalanced any uncomfortable heat from her stallion. "For now," she suggested, "we want you to indulge in us, and our hospitality. And to that end we have a schedule prepared for tomorrow."

James had been drifting in and out of listening, but at the host's comment he looked up.

"A schedule, sure," the man said. He thought for a moment about Prism. "How busy a schedule, though? Like, are we going to have some free time? You know, to do anything that interests us individually?"

"Well, yes," the island lady replied. "It's part of the experience we cater here. Everything is designed to give you all a chance to mingle and get closer with others. Over time we'll give you more and more space to do as you like; we just want to start with some things to encourage you along."

Vesuvius chimed in, "The experience we want you to have here is all to help you... FEEL a special connection to others. And it starts with some simple being-together."

Twilight took a fast look over her companions, the shaky imbalances in their friendships still clear in her head. A hopeful grin came upon her.

"That sounds exciting. So what's on schedule?"

"Nothing too formal," Venus assured everypony. But the anticipation got to her and she couldn't suppress her energy. She leaned again closer to Vesuvius, and great pleasure overtook her bright face as she told the guests, "In the morning there'll be some time on the beach with everypony, for swimming, sunbathing, and games; whatever you like. After lunch we'll take you on a tour, including some of the island interior, which should be fun if you're interested in the history, or in our little farm that we have here. There'll be some time for rest after that. And as evening closes in you'll be able to experience a special treat: we'll go to see the bell moths. Immediately after we'll come out to the front of the Passion's Embrace and finish the night with a big party; food, song, dance. It's going to be grand."

"Party?" Pinkie Pie perked up, having been unusually quiet the whole time.

Rainbow Dash too awoke from having her head in the clouds, saying, "Party? And snoozing on the beach, and games? Huh, this is actually starting to sound pretty good."

Something different triggered Fluttershy, and her awed eyes glistened.

"Bell moths? You have... bell moths on the island?"

Quite happy, Venus replied, "Oh, yes. And tomorrow night is the start of their mating season. It's quite a spectacle."

Beautiful dreams snagged the shy pony's heart and flew all the way to heaven with it, leaving her breathless.

Around the table more agreement spread through the remaining guests.

Happy to see all of their accepting and ready faces, Twilight nodded to the hosts and affirmed, "We can't wait."

"Good," Vesuvius smiled. "Then let's finish our dinner, and that will be all for tonight. Feel free to return to your rooms and rest, or perhaps spend some time in the lounges or the garden terraces. And if there's anything you need... I believe you are all getting acquainted with somepony who can help you?"

There was hardly a race to answer his question, but nopony at least vocally disagreed. A few did respond positively.

"Excellent," the stallion said.

Yet suddenly his eyes changed under the cover of a single, realizing blink, and his smile dropped.

"And a reminder," he solidly emphasized, "please do not wander off, or even leave the building at night. We'd hate for you to find-... ah, well, again: this island is a historical site, and we'd like to have nothing disturbed accidentally."

Endless was the rushing rumble of the surf on the shore, even after the sun had set and the waves could be seen only by their sparkling reflections of starlight and moonlight. For some ponies the back and forth of the slow sound was a rocking lullaby whose song drifted over the Passion's Embrace. But for others it was a restless noise; a grinding that gnawed upon the sand ceaselessly; itchy and irritating.

Summer Wind had her forelegs resting over the balustrade of the third floor garden terrace. She was slumped upon the rail, her wings not neatly folded but dully hanging down. Out towards the ocean her eyes hung, though scarcely they bothered to see anything, and the rising sound of the churning water wandered its way up only to drill into her twitching ears.

Spike was on her mind. Days of trepidation over her coming responsibility and then suddenly he had arrived and it had turned out to be the best and worse of everything! He was a sweetheart; a charming little lizard with a faithful, adorable, and generous attitude; and he was far from flawless in such a perfectly inspiring way. But he also wasn't grown, lacking a ready maturity. Most especially of all he was without a large body and satisfying stamina. Everything she had feared: absent. And everything she had secretly wished for: missing.

It wasn't possible for her to follow through with her assigned role in the plan anymore. She would have to tell Venus and Vesuvius as such (not that they probably hadn't already guessed the same the very instant they had laid eyes on the dragon.) Deep within her there was a single throb of a quiet, empty ache. So much frightening but exciting buildup and then in the end, like always, she just couldn't reach fulfillment. Nothing had changed.

She shivered in the warm night.

"AHEM."

The clearing cough was so overly intentional as to be obnoxious. The large pegasus hadn't even finished disengaging from the balustrade and turning around before she tossed her groan into the air, "What do you want, Sweet Nothing?"

Surely he had sought her out for the sake of vengeance. Some plan to vent his anger at her for her earlier interference? But against her expectations he was very much his normal, assured self: affable if selfish, excessive with confidence, and sporting a cocky grin. No glimmer of harshness or hostility. The worst threat about him was merely the sly half-turn away he held his head at, never quite giving her the full respect of his face.

But as he spoke it wiped away any doubts about her initial guess as to his motive.

"Oh, what's wrong?" he openly faked sympathy. "Not spending time snuggling up to your big, mighty dragon?"

Summer Wind turned back around and replanted a single leg on the rail.

"Shut up," she grumped.

The dark stallion smiled, "That's a callous attitude even for how cruel you were earlier."

"Shut up," she said again, drawing upon her weariness. Her weight pressed forward, depending on the rail to hold her up, and her free hoof lent her temple a tired rubbing.

Sweet Nothing approached closer, and he stopped an even step behind her left, his face still half-turned away. The large pegasus moaned louder at his nearby presence and paid his indirect gaze with one of her own, but nothing she did persuaded him to leave.

"So," he eventually spoke right through his smug grin, "I seem to be free tonight. Due to certain interruptions, which I'm sure you remember."

His scarcely masked implications hooked her right through her nose and yanked her appalled face towards him.

"You'd be free anyway!" she chastised him, coming out hard against his egocentric attitude. "It's only the FIRST NIGHT!"

Now that he had her full attention he stepped completely up besides her, though he continued to deny her fair access to his face. Placing his own hoof onto the railing for balance, he casually lifted his other hoof and inspected it. Necessary or not he cleaned it against his chest.

"You've always had trouble recognizing great things, Summer Wind. I had her eating out of my hoof."

"So? What does that matter?" the offended pegasus lambasted him again. "We're not supposed to do anything the first night! It's too soon!"

"Says who?" He was positively oozing smarm.

"Don't pretend like you don't know how this works!"

Dropping his hoof and indignantly throwing up his nose, Sweet Nothing remarked, "I think it's hardly fair that Venus and Vesuvius are allowed to spend their every night having fun together but WE'RE asked to wait." He snorted before grimly whispering to himself, "Insulting. Degrading. That won't do."

"WE," the large pegasus reminded him harshly, "are supposed to be available for our guests." Most of her brimming abrasiveness came from merely expelling her own frustrations. After all, the stallion already knew all of these details. But she was like a chained, hungry dog having only one bone to chew. And chew she did. "We need to ease them into it. Slowly, and all at the same time! They're friends; they'll be talking to each other."

"Hmph. Good. All the more reason I should have had her tonight," he asserted. "Rarity will have only praises to sing, I assure you."

Summer Wind threw her gaze away from him with a foul grunt. As ever, his surly self-aggrandizing and unfriendly habit of forsaking cooperation was something that was supremely difficult to endure. She gave her wings a preemptive stretching out, strongly considering a late night flight through the clouds. There was hardly any good reason to stick around and put up with him.

The dark stallion noticed her teetering on the edge of a decision, and he at last turned more fully towards her.

"Well, anyway," he said, "all my careful plans for the night have been ruined, as already mentioned. Thanks for that, by the way."

She still limbered her wings. "I'm NOT sorry."

Deep under a hoarse breath he gave a crass mumble, "Maybe you should be..."

But quickly he snapped up with a bright, if less than sincere, smile. Edging himself closer to her, he slid his rail-top hoof next to the leg she had draped over the balustrade and tapped her faintly.

"I just thought that," he invited her, bringing back his greedy grin, "as long as my night is free now ANYWAY... I might be a little magnanimous and give you the chance to make it up to me."

Again it was like piercing the pegasus' nose with a hook and reeling her back towards him with a despicable pull. One incredulous glance at his hoof, sitting so close to her leg that she could feel the pale tickle of its presence, and then she hoisted her almost dumbfounded stare at his eager, shrewd, conceited smile.

"What?"

"Come on, Summer Wind," Sweet Nothing seemed to taunt her. "Why spend the night alone?"

"Our guests are here now! You're Rarity's!"

"And she's not available tonight."

"So?!"

The large pegasus had to take a breath, not finding the appropriate words with which to fill the gaps in her flabbergasted thoughts. His disdain for the island masters she knew well, but that he would so brazenly defy their plan was something inconceivable, even for him. Eventually she just turned aside and tried to throw her focus off of him.

"It doesn't matter anyway," she dismissed. "We haven't opened our passion. And since Venus and Vesuvius have already retired for the night it's too late to seek special permission from them. So... even IF I wanted to... we couldn't."

So astoundingly full of himself the dark stallion revealed a secret, "I keep my own stock."

"You..." Just what he had said took several moments to wriggle its way into her mind. Again she was shocked, her face drawn automatically towards him. "... you steal from the supply?"

"Steal," he scoffed. Over the rail he spat bitter anger, hoping somehow that the air currents might whip it around and carry it straight to the island masters' window. "What about all their talk of changing the world? Of sharing new ways for ponies to love each other? Awfully selfish of them to horde it all, and dole it out as they see fit. It's not theirs; it's all of ours, isn't it? If one of us knows how to use it well then we have the RIGHT to use it."

Though his unexpected and unfaithful revelation had somehow done a blow to her strength Summer Wind still protested, "We let them decide because-... because... it's hard to gather a lot of it! We're still working on learning how to-... well, you know about all that. And Venus and Vesuvius are only trying to play things as carefully as they can! A lot of ponies wouldn't immediately understand what we're-"

"Oh, hush." He leaned in close to the large pegasus, sweeping his enmity towards the hosts away to some hidden place, and he spoke softly, "We could go right now. Think of it. Think of the FEELING. The SATISFACTION. Come on. You know, I still find you quite alluring despite your attitude."

Her opinion of the self-centered stallion hadn't turned around at all, not an inch, but yet she still sensed a subtle weakness inside herself that didn't feel right for what her powerful body should have been capable off. The idea of fawning over him remained laughable when it wasn't disgusting, but still she felt assaulted by a hesitant shiver. Was she disquieted by the fact that, with his secret shared, his offer had suddenly become so much more REAL? So much more actually POSSIBLE?

"We shouldn't," she shored herself up and maintained, "because-... Well... Venus and Vesuvius are in charge for a reason. I can't believe you stole some! We'd just be wasting the supply. No, we-"

"Hmmm," he wickedly smiled, "so if I'm listening correctly... you're not going to tattle on me then?"

The dark stallion took a step away specifically so that he could strike a bold stance, pushing out his chest and giving a mighty twist to his neck. His muscles were carved from stone, shaped heroically and clamped onto him like fine armor, and the energy they radiated was endless and intense. He wasn't exactly her size, being slightly smaller, but he was so tightly woven as to be a match for her in any show of strength.

"Come on, Summer Wind," he continued to encourage, precisely aiming his words, "I'm the only pony on this whole island who can keep up with you and give you what you want."

The pegasus paused, for a very brief moment unable to even make a sound.

Yet... this was still Sweet Nothing she was dealing with.

"No," she informed him, having to work a little extra to bring out her confidence. "We're not supposed to." Just in case, she rotated her face away to keep his body out of view.

From under his cool cover the stallion's anger reared itself. His hooves scraped against the stone floor as his stance hardened, and his teeth clenched down in a snarl. But quickly he buried his rage again.

"Fine!" he allowed only a harsh tone out, the rest of him under steady control. Carefully maneuvering his voice he reproached her, "I thought I would be generous but have it your way. I'll just be all the more refreshed and ready for Rarity when her time comes."

As he pivoted away from her he studied her body language. Gone was the ungrateful resistance she sometimes put up to hinder him; the antagonism she often reveled in flinging at him. Though she had her head turned away there was such a tension in her neck; she was constantly reeling herself aside, resisting the tug back towards him. He noted how her hind hooves creeped up and down, never resting in place as she mildly rubbed her rear legs together.

Oh, she was only wishing she didn't need him. But she was fooling herself.

Beginning to walk off, he added in as a final barb, "Enjoy the baby dragon."

A terrible shiver ran through Summer Wind again.

Her whole life she had been satisfied with herself: soaring through storms like there was never going to be a better tomorrow; pushing herself until she sweat so badly that she was the rain; being everything her cutie mark had told her she was. It was only after having come to this island that this great empty pit of dissatisfaction had appeared; voids which nuisance ponies like him could exploit. Only after being on this island had she become a mare who was ACTUALLY UNHAPPY to have discovered a gentlecolt DRAGON set to be hers who wasn't fully grown.

But she was still better than needing Sweet Nothing!

Steeling herself she let go of enough resistance for her neck to crane back, granting herself one peek.

Despite the apparent intentions of the stallion moments earlier he hadn't fully gone. His cocksure departure had been a noisy show, clopping loudly as he had walked towards the open doorway which lead back into the Passion's Embrace. But rather than having faded inside he instead stood waiting in front of the open passageway.

Summer Wind gave a cynical snort, launching her face away from him again.

The dark stallion stood stiff in an inflamed stillness, showing no sign of how furious he was at her continued rejection. It was about more than getting what he wanted now.

"Or maybe you'll go back to Humble Herd?" he suddenly called over to her, digging the knife in. And for good measure, "You know, I heard he CRIED through the whole thing. Tell me... is it true?"

The wicked words had their own power to draw up the dark, disappointing memories. It had taken her some time to get to know the reserved Humble Herd but in the end she had determined he had a beautiful soul. It was only later that she had found out intimately... he had a less-than-sufficient body.

But never would she give this... this... cold-hearted son of a dam the pleasure of an answer to his callous jab. Her sharp wings shot up. The only pleasure she wanted to give him was a drop from five stories into the ocean.

Yet she stopped herself, instead looking out over the water. Each curling wave which slammed down on the shore was like the knock of a new idea upon her door. That abominable stallion was an unrepentant jerk... but... maybe she could still get what she wanted AND stick it to him at the same time.

She whirled about so brashly that even Sweet Nothing was surprised by the devilish grin she wore. Now intently refusing to pay him the full attention of her face she ambled a few steps forward.

"Tell you what, Sweet Nothing: I'll be with you tonight... if..." She drilled deep. "IF... tomorrow you apologize to Humble Herd for the way you treated him today."

The offense spilled out of dark stallion, "You must be joking!"

"Fine!" she smugly turned her back to him. Once again she returned to the rail and hung her forelegs over it. With an upturned nose she spat, "I thought I would be generous but have it your way."

Unseen by him she smiled when she heard his hooves pound the stone beneath him.

"What a ridiculous idea!" Sweet Nothing fumed at her. "As if that wet rag is owed an apology for getting in MY way! What possesses you to think that my time can even be compared in value to HIS? Measly, garbage, waste of a pony!"

"Well," she answered smugly, "if he's not such a big deal then why would you have any trouble apologizing?"

"You lousy mare..." The fire seeped through his grinding teeth.

Summer Wind spread her wings broad, giving a good two flaps to prime them. "Enjoy your night alone," she warned him.

"Alright!" he capitulated angrily, barking. "What do I care? He can have his worthless apology if it makes you happy."

"Hmph. Thanks." Amazing how she could still offer him gratitude with an ounce of sincerity despite the circumstances.

Sweet Nothing, vengeful at her turnabout, stomped off. But not before he very venomously reminded her, "Just be in my room shortly. No games."

"Yeah, yeah. Give me a few minutes. I'll be there."

Folding up her wings she rested herself upon the balustrade once more. While she waited she went through several big breaths, all as deep as sighs. Just once she checked behind herself; the dark stallion had made no plays and had finally left. Regardless, she slumped further down upon the rail. It would be better if she let the nausea pass before going in to see him. What a sickening pony.

Chapter 22: Glow

Twilight smushed her face into her pillow, rubbing back and forth as she clutched the bag of fluff with her hooves. The harder she pressed the more gently her awareness of the waking world returned, filtering in as a mellow whistle instead of a clamoring orchestra.

The door to her room thumped with another round of knocks; unfortunate confirmation that the first set of thuds which had disturbed her hadn't been phantom noises conjured by her dissipating dream.

"Hello? Twilight? Wake-up call!" Gallowayo's voice punctured the door. "Are you up?"

Rolling over in her bed the unicorn rubbed her eyes open and accepted the morning light. Its diffuse glow filled the room softly, washing in from under the curtain which blocked her balcony. Her room was on the backside of the Passion's Embrace, meaning she always caught the sunrise but never the sunset.

Her horn peeled back her covers and she sat up, heavily wiping her eyes again while she yawned. Her mane was in disarray, the purple hairs springing and bending at every possible angle, and her tail was likewise crooked and frayed. The night hadn't been filled with vacation-worthy sleep but maybe that was to have been expected for an initial effort somewhere so new.

She scooted out of her bed, lowering her hooves to the floor with a cautious blindness as if she might miss her target. Standing at last, her body rocked until her sense of balance caught up with her and she blinked rapidly to wink away her final threads of sleepiness.

"Twilight?" More knocking. "Sorry if I'm being any trouble, but I can't go until I'm sure you're up."

Awake, Twilight began to make for the door but she halted after just one step.

An unorderly stack of books rested on her night stand. They were loaners from Gallowayo; several more tomes from him sat upon the dresser. He had pre-supplied her room with a few of his favorites, mostly scholarly works on philosophy but also a poetry collection and some books on the Carriaggean Islands. Because last evening she had been so swift out the door in order to see Rainbow Dash and Pinkie Pie, she hadn't found the chance to have divulged to her guide that she was already familiar with half of the books that he had supplied. But it wasn't a big deal since the other half were all new to her, and the very fact that he had personally selected reading material for her was a touching gesture regardless.

Last night while in bed she had grabbed a few of the most interesting ones and hoofed through the pages leisurely. Those chosen books were now the uneven tower on the night stand; apparently she had been too tired to have put them away neatly after she had finished. Now that her clearer mind saw the pile she had left behind she felt like a slob.

Quickly her horn picked up the borrowed books and rearranged them, thickest on bottom to thinnest on top, with bindings flush. There; that was a much better show of appreciation.

Twilight went to the door, and her magic unlocked and opened it.

Gallowayo set his knocking-ready hoof down, just slightly ill-prepared for the door's retreat.

"Oh, you are up! Good morning," he greeted.

"Good morning, Gallowayo," she answered, bearing what was a very much dazy morning smile.

Seeing such simple but warm light from her, especially surrounded by all of the charming tatters she still had in her mane and tail, as well as the adorable laziness in her meager squint, put the stallion on a shy defense.

"I, uh... I hope I wasn't a bother," he said, ducking his eyes occasionally. "Did you sleep alright?"

"Fine, I think," Twilight politely nodded. "I'll admit it wasn't perfect, but that's probably just because it's a new environment, and one very different from what I'm used to."

"Oh?"

Her memory recreated every little nightly sensation that she knew so well from home, coating her with the restful serenity that she was used to, and she explained, "Canterlot and Ponyville both have things that go on at night, but for the most part they are places that SLEEP. Everything gets quiet, and cool, and gentle."

Her eyes popped open wide as the cozy blanket of memory unfurled and thrust her back into her mildly ragged present.

"But here? Here it stays kind of hot the whole time, and there's a salty moisture that lingers in the air, and all through the night there was this pounding noise... I think I just wasn't ready for all that."

Gallowayo leaned his head back and cast a glance towards the ceiling. Hesitantly he spoke, "Pounding? Well... your room IS right below Venus and Vesuvius' suite, I guess."

"What?" She probably hadn't heard him correctly. "I meant... the ocean. The waves beating on the shore all night."

"Oh... OH!" he shrunk in embarrassment. "O-Of course. I'm sorry. I didn't, um..."

"I guess it really fades to the ears so that you don't even hear it after awhile, huh?" laughed Twilight. "Not yet for me, though. What were you talking about?"

"It, ah...," he choked, constructing his response like he was laying down the tracks as the train was coming, "... they-... Venus and Vesuvius... stay up late, a lot of nights... so they-... they might make some noise... in the room above you; if you hear something, that-... that's what that is." He had a tenuous grip on his frowning smile.

"... Oh. Alright," she accepted.

Odd advice – she didn't recall having heard any disturbances from above – but she didn't let the unusualness of the moment bother her. Her guide had put forward many good efforts for which she felt appreciative: his greeting yesterday, how he had carried her bags, his praise of her essay, the books he had loaned her, this very wake-up call, and now even his silly bit of informative counsel. Her friendliness bloomed fully on her thankful face.

And like had happened several times before Gallowayo mirrored her amicable energy right back at her, his presentation flipping like a coin. His nervous side crashed down, and his confidence turned up.

"So!" he projected a bold front. "This is your wake-up call. In thirty minutes a light breakfast will be served in the dining area for you and your friends, and then in another thirty minutes it'll be out to the beach for some fun."

"Ah, right! Great! Thank you very much," the mare replied.

Automatically her mind set to work building an impromptu schedule for maximum efficiency. Thirty minutes to get ready; no problem. A half-turn aside let her peer back into her room as well as into the bathroom. She'd need towels, her brush from her bags-

"Will you be able to find your way to the dining room again?" Gallowayo kindly interrupted her runaway thoughts. He hadn't seemed to have read her inattentive disregard as anything rude. "Or should I return in thirty minutes?"

"Oh, I think I'll be fine. Thank you," she mustered an apologetic answer between handling her divergent thoughts. She also tried to give him more attention, compensating for her mistaken rudeness.

Content, he further asked, "Anything else you need then? Or shall I be off?"

"Mmm... no. I think that's all."

"Right. Then I'll see you later!"

After an equal goodbye from Twilight, the island pony backed away from the door and pivoted so he could head down the hall.

"Or...," Twilight's own surprised voice suddenly popped up.

Many items moved through her mind but one had unexpectedly stampeded through, roaring for attention. She heeded the call, and her ordinary morning concerns she let drop.

"... actually... Gallowayo: question."

"Yes?" he said as he turned back towards the doorway.

There were no variations of her query to consider, but she let the question quietly bake in her mouth for a bit anyway before she uttered, "... How much do you know of Isla Equufera's history?"

"Not terribly much," admitted the stallion without a fuss, "though I'm told there isn't much to know right now to begin with. It's Venus and Vesuvius who REALLY dig into that. Any questions, you might want to ask them."

"I already asked them plenty at dinner last night," Twilight explained.

"Oh." He stumbled somewhat into his old nervousness. "Then... why ask me-...?"

"I was just wondering what you knew," she said plainly. Her curiosity still suffered the open wounds of incomplete knowledge, but it seemed sadly that he couldn't help mend them.

Or he couldn't help directly and immediately, anyway. Perhaps, though...

Gripped by intrigue she appealed to him, "Are you not particularly interested in the history?"

"History is a fine subject, I guess," Gallowayo responded, returning to his braver self, "and this island's history in particular I imagine must be pretty interesting. It's just..."

There wasn't a doubt that he knew what he felt, only difficult doubts in how he wanted to say it.

Slowly he related, "... Since I've been here... I've really been more focused on... philosophical studies, and... creative expressions, and the like. You know... deep thoughts and... seeking ways to define the unquantifiable and to describe the unqualifiable. Less of the empirical studies."

Twilight understood him clearly, and actually found his reasoning quite engaging.

"I see!" her enthusiasm flashed brightly. "So you've been throwing yourself into more artistic studies?"

"Yeah," he affirmed. "Several different things: music, poetry, performance, painting..."

Her ears focused on him but his words pushed her eyes past him, and they spied the framed artwork that hung on the wall opposite her door. It depicted some manner of blackened void, and floating in the darkness was a portal of sorts. Warm and red it was roughly in the shape of a heart, though it looked like it had a stem growing from the top? Through the portal were faded and indistinct vistas of the island itself. Reaching over the gap of washed-out scenery from either side were two ponies whose loud colors made them pop, obviously the main subjects of the painting. They appeared as if seen from a high angle, and their outstretched hooves clasped together in the very center.

"Painting?" she wondered aloud. "Then... are the pieces hanging around here yours?"

"Oh, heh... yeah. All of them," Gallowayo rubbed the back of his neck. Not really mortified but with more than a little queasy glee he defended himself, "Venus and Vesuvius, they-... they flatter me by hanging them everywhere; they really like them. But, actually, they're just experimental stuff."

He grew thoughtfully serious, and his eyes lifted away from Twilight before turning inwards.

"I've been immersing myself into these pursuits since I've arrived. Trying to... CAPTURE... the feelings I've experienced, if that makes any sense." His awareness woke up to his guest again. "Some things are just hard to express with regular words, you know?"

"That makes perfect sense to me," she told him, delighted to listen to another student's unique take on everything, especially the mysterious and special experience that the island supposedly unlocked.

"It does? Oh, phenomenal!"

Relief bandaged any bites of insecurity that still bothered him, and he spoke hopefully towards her, "I'm really looking forward to hearing what you think about everything a bit later on." A different kind of embarrassment stung him for just a moment; one welcomed and shyly excited. "A-After you've been able to... s-share the full experience with me."

Twilight twisted a glance at the misplaced familiarity that briefly crawled all over the other pony. It almost felt like he might have suddenly spouted an endless chain of vulgar euphemisms. It was a stupid and outrageous thing to forecast, and she didn't know where the sensation of potential indecency had come from. Quickly she rattled her head to slap a proper mood into her brain.

"Well, I'm looking forward to everything too!" she confirmed for him, though in a hidden way also for herself. "I want to learn and see everything I can while I'm here! There's so much that tickles my fancy already, and it has to be quite a place if everypony that comes here eventually chooses to stay!"

"I'm so glad to hear it!" Gallowayo nearly gasped. "I really think that if you approach it with an open mind then you'll come around to why everything we have here is so amazing!"

A fresh idea came to her because of his assertion, and Twilight floated out the optimistic suggestion, "Maybe, then... you might be able to help me along with that?"

A different idea from hers sparked to life in the other pony's head, but he dared not utter the shyest peep of it. Besides, she had been quite obviously setting herself to elaborate something further, not to solicit his desires.

She explained, "I'm really interested in uncovering some of the history of this island, as a starting point at least, and Venus told me that she keeps copies of all the old historical records which relate to this place. Do you know where I could find those records?"

"... I do...," the stallion suddenly became wary of answering, jarred from his previous train of thought. "Are you, uh..."

"I have permission to review them already," she immediately tried to assuage him. "Venus just thought I might want to dive into it later on, but I don't see why I couldn't start right now! A morning on the beach is nice and everything, but honestly I'd rather not go swimming when there's something so much more productive that I could be doing!"

Every word further she delivered about her prospective morning added another layer of excitement to her. Just the mere thought of reading archived copies of papers which were hundreds of years old was enough to throw her into a thrilled fever.

Actually, it was kind of cute how it worked her up. Some would have saw it as an odd thing to get so enthusiastic about, but for a pony like Gallowayo the intersection of 'odd' and 'perfect' sat in exactly such a place.

He blushed.

However, the rushing of his blood wasn't enough to wash clean his worried mind. He recovered just enough so that he could ask, treading carefully, "You... don't want to spend time on the beach with everypony? With your... friends and-..." His final addition was almost too quiet to be heard, "... and with me?"

The confession woke Twilight up to something she knew in her heart she was too-conveniently forgetting about: her friends.

When their friendships got shaky they sometimes produced so much turbulence! Of course, it was normal for even the BEST of friends have rough patches. What was abnormally grueling here was that the sum total of these recent disturbances were creeping out of the darkness all at once; a terrible tornado of friendship troubles only because of the combined force of its one thousand individually-mischievous gusts! And so far the wearisome issues had remained a truly complex problem with no obvious or surefire solution.

Something that made her especially uneasy about the whole thing was the fact that James seemed very close to the center of it all. Logical in some senses: he was the newest element; the agent who had upset the established order and therefore had forced a rebalance. But it was also a dangerous thought: she didn't want to veer into believing that if she 'fixed' him then everything would 'go back to normal.' He was more than some wonky device that had to be troubleshooted! He was her FRIEND, no less valuable than the rest of them. To reduce him to simply 'the cause' would be a terrible slide backwards after all the painstaking effort it had already taken to have first broken real ground in friendship with him.

She didn't doubt that he had his part to play in everything that had gone wrong, but he wasn't the only wrong pony here, and likewise he would have to be part of making everything right. The man was a friend in need, just like her other friends. And what he needed was love and true friendship in order to overcome the current difficulties as well as his own personal issues.

That went for all of her friends in one way or another. Pinkie Pie, Rarity, Applejack and Rainbow Dash... Thank goodness Fluttershy at least was perfectly healthy and happy!

The unclad truth showcased itself before her: any idle wishes she had for a completely disconnected vacation were moot, as Gallowayo had been right to coincidentally point out. This wasn't the time to abandon her friends in favor of taking up new studies.

Yet without some definitive plan to act immediately on behalf of her faltering friends... how could she be anything but idle? But she had to at least stick around in order to keep an eye on everypony, should an opportune moment appear to do some good. Additionally the schedule that had been outlined for them by the islanders was there SPECIFICALLY so that everypony could begin to get into the groove of the mysterious experience which the island supposedly hosted. It would have shown poor appreciation if she were to have hid from it by disappearing into the pages of old records buried in some dusty chamber.

"O-Of course I'm not suggesting that I give up this nice vacation in order to study!" she wobbled in correcting her course. Playing the best spontaneous dealmaker she could she assembled a rapid alternative, "I just... don't think I'd enjoy swimming or playing on the beach as much as I would enjoy picking through this place's history. So... I thought maybe... I could do some studying while ON the beach. That is, sitting out in the sun while everypony else mingles around me. I-It wouldn't... REALLY be like I was excluding myself. A-And of course I wouldn't be close enough to the w-water to put your documents at risk, heh!"

Her effort was so dismally slapdash that even her barely masked frown tried to run off of her face in disgust, pulling her head to the side. She wasn't exactly fooling herself though; her spontaneous plan would have still basically isolated her from everypony. And Gallowayo had certainly seemed unhappy with the thought of her locking herself out of the whole island affair.

"And if-...," she took a chance with throwing him a line, "... if you haven't read any of the records yourself... and, I mean, if you're interested... I-... well, I wouldn't mind having a partner to look over them with me. Two heads are better than one."

Her bomb of a proposal had to fall from the sky before it finally burst and obliterated the stallion's dumbfounded stare.

"Oh-... OH! Oh, yes, of course! I-, I would-, I would love to!" It hardly seemed like he knew what to say, or what to do, or where to go. Everything spilled out of him in a ramble, "I'll-, I'll go ahead a grab a whole stack of papers, everything I can, and-, and... see you down there on the beach after breakfast!"

"Sounds great!" smiled Twilight, cooled by relief. Anticipation brought its tingling touch upon her also. The new plan really DID sound like a fun way to spend the morning.

"Okay! I-..." Gallowayo had been rendered positively ecstatic, near speechlessly so, by the whole affair. "... Ah... See-, see you later, then!"

"Okay! Until later!"

The stallion dashed away down the hall. His jubilant hooves clattered so loudly that even after he shot into the stairwell their clops could be heard vaulting down the steps.

Twilight used her magic to softly shut her room door. In the rush to question Gallowayo she had lost all of whatever-it-was she had been mentally organizing to prepare herself before she had to depart for breakfast. She'd have to get started again. But what a trifling thing to repeat.

Stepping about her room, pondering her readiness anew, she hummed a jumping melody out loud.

Lead together by a select few of their guides, namely Sweet Nothing, Nosedive, and Prism, all eight guests marched out the open doors of the Passion's Embrace. Their stomachs full, and their chattering full too, they followed their leads down the long and low steps which served as the building's glamorous approach. On either side of them the gardens passed, and then afterwards also the small shacks, stands, boardwalk, and the big stage.

Spike kept up with Rarity, balancing on his head a heavy bag with a few beach supplies of hers. He of course had glowing eyes for his adored mare but only glowering stares for Sweet Nothing who walked several steps ahead of them.

However, as the group wandered by the boardwalk that sat before the stage, the dragon came to an unexpected stop. So strange of a stop in fact that nopony else noticed he had fallen behind. The rest of his friends and their guides moved on apace, ever-busy amongst themselves as they trampled off the sandy dirt path and onto the beach itself. Spike stood alone, staring at one of the round tables on the boardwalk. Without breaking his gaze he slowly set down Rarity's weighty bag.

Summer Wind sat at the table, a cold and lonesome breakfast before her on a polished wooden plate. One of her hooves poked at the food purposelessly, and the other hoof held her glum face up by the cheek. There was a weak floppiness to her green mane, drooping to one side instead standing up like it was charged with electricity, and the sagging skin under her eyes had the weight of iron stones.

Such blatant contrast with how she had appeared only yesterday had been enough to have stopped Spike in his tracks. It was an oddity seeing a pony so big and strong suddenly appear so small and weak. Perhaps the explanation was as mundane as her not being a morning pony, but what an awfully nice morning for somepony to be looking so dreary.

The dragon crossed over the path and onto the boardwalk, leaving Rarity's bag behind.

"Hey! Morning, Summer Wind!" he unintentionally surprised her.

"Spike!"

She snapped awake solely at the sound of his voice, unable to see him at first. To actually confirm that he was there required a slight lean to one side so that the table no longer blocked his small frame. So unexpected was his appearance that even after catching sight of the friendly, waving dragon she still languished in a spell of doubt. However there was nothing about her weary face that hinted at him being either wanted or unwanted.

"Uh, sorry I... didn't wake you like I was supposed to," she said finally, groaning at herself. Her head wobbled from side to side after she gave a punitive, stirring slap to her cheek. "Just... ugh..."

"Oh, hey, no problem!" he assured her. Her crumpled posture and the weak crawl of her voice put some extra speed to his words. "Looks like I got up on time anyway, heh."

"Ah. Good."

Still she drifted along in a sort of weighty, tired funk. Some gloomy darkness had a cloud over her where there should have been a glow.

"Hey...," Spike made an uncertain approach. He had a single claw raised, pointing it up as if he were injecting himself thoughtfully into something that maybe wasn't his business. And he worried, "... is... everything alright?"

"What?"

There was more energy in that one word than all her prior mumblings combined, but it was still like she was straining to overcome her dour lethargy.

"There's-... there's no problem at all, Spi-"

Suddenly Summer Wind's own fumbling had her fed up. It wasn't just the shaking, stop-and-go blathering of her voice either; something in her body wouldn't quit being feeble and rickety. It had become so bad that out of pure reflexive impulse she had clamped her hooves onto the table to hold herself steady.

With all her might she brought her body to a hard stop, freezing everything. Then she sat up stiff, straightened and folded her wings behind her, and ejected every uncomfortable thing from her mind.

Seeming fresh, firm, and in control, she started anew, "Mister Spike, you don't have to-"

"I appreciate the 'mister,'" the dragon interrupted, a little flustered but mostly amused, "and anytime else I might get used to that, but right now... it really sounds kind of, like, too formal?"

His comment created a short space where she merely gawked in silence and he countered with a pensive stare back.

Finally she responded, once more restarting herself, "Miste-... ahem, Spike. There's no trouble. Just a late night, followed by a late morning. I'm still having my breakfast."

Yet, Spike noted, it certainly didn't look like she had been eating. And no wonder: her food had lost any fresh shine, and it was starting to grow rotten with loose grains of sand collected from the lightly drifting wind.

"I just sort of saw you sitting here alone when I came out," the dragon explained himself. A nervous tic nipped at him just above his tail and he reached back to rub away at it, hoping to quell it. But he didn't stop for the shaky disturbance, and his voice continued to emerge secure as he plowed along, "You didn't look that happy, so... I thought I'd make sure, is all."

Summer Wind blinked.

"'Make sure'... that I'm happy?"

"That you're alright," he casually clarified.

A shiver touched the pony. She turned her head aside, briefly looking over the beach.

Everywhere was bright with white sand basking in the warmth of the morning sun, and the crowd of guests and islanders tramped mirthfully with high steps to avoid digging long into the fresh heat. But as her gaze came back to herself she saw everything around her masked in a chilly shadow. The table, her breakfast, the stage, her otherwise-vibrant orange body; during morning the sun reigned from the other side of the Passion's Embrace, and the enormous shadow the building cast drowned her.

"Spike... have you-..."

Only in spurts could she look directly at him. To even speak about her innermost feelings she had to really grab hold of some lofty hope and pull herself up out of a reticent muck, and yet even so above she was heavily mired in restraint.

"... have you... ever, you know, done something that-... that you REALLY wanted to do, cause there was a part of it that you-... that you liked; that-... that you enjoyed a lot... o-or maybe e-even... k-kind of n-needed? And... I mean, you also thought that you had good reasons for doing it too... but-... but you-..."

The biggest bubble yet got caught in her throat, and it took a blind, frightful sort of courage to eventually push it out. But riding out after it came a sound so faintly wounded by despair.

"... I mean, you still kind of knew beforehoof that... you'd be disgusted with yourself for doing it? ... A-And you did anyway?"

Despite the difficulty in following her wandering words the dragon had gotten the gist of her question, though likely he wouldn't have had an easier time answering even if it had been delivered more coherently.

"... I... guess so?" he shrugged. Some memories of the past came to the fore, none of which he would have been pleased to share. Rather than dredge up embarrassing tales about himself he instead chose to offer her a vague summary of what had been learned afterwards, saying, "Maybe those times are just... sort of like the mistakes that we NEED to make, at least once?"

"Mistake...?" Summer Wind's eyes faded as she reflected inwards. "... Yeah... maybe..."

"I know in my case," Spike carried on, hoping a little more effort might make things better, "it was good that I had some friends around whenever something like that happened. They always help me figure everything out. And they never hold anything against me, or refuse to forgive me. Uh, as long as I can admit to my mistakes."

Her head held low, the pony gave a soft hum which was dry of contentment.

The dragon didn't pry further. But it was incredibly uncomfortable to watch her sit in that shadow. Even if he wanted to take no extra risks, it still wasn't right to do absolutely nothing.

"So... Summer Wind," he spoke up, layering a wish over his words, "are you going to have some fun on the beach with us?"

The pegasus' eyes burst open and she stared at him; him and his simple, shining, inviting smile.

"There's... no reason anymore... for- for me to...," the words fumbled out of her, trailing off as they did.

"What? What does that mean?"

"Well, I was supposed-... ah... But you're too young-..."

"SPIKE!"

The piercing call made both of them jump.

Rarity was heading towards them, having turned around after advancing onto the beach. Even with her eyes hidden behind a sporty pair of sunglasses it wasn't difficult to see how annoyed she was. She came to a stop just shy of the boardwalk.

"Spike, dearie," she chastised, "it's all well and good if you wish to stop for a chat, but please pass the bag off to somepony else BEFORE you do. Or at the very least TELL somepony that you'll be a minute instead of just disappearing without a word."

"O-Oh... I'm sorry, Rarity."

The dragon hung his head in shame, and his tail slumped down with a limp thud onto the wood.

Demanding still, some friendliness pooled by into Rarity's voice.

"I know," she quickly forgave him, "but I trusted you with that bag because I absolutely NEEDED it. After all, my towel is in it, and I can't just go sitting on the bare sand, now can I? My goodness, do you realize what a disaster that would be for my tail? Why, I'd need the rest of this vacation just to comb out every last messy grain!"

"R-Right, Rarity. I'm sorry," Spike apologized again. "I'll go get it right now-"

But he looked back to where he had left the bag only to discover that he had already lost his job to more eager competition.

Sweet Nothing had retrieved it, mounting the bag on his back. Towards the beach he wandered, prancing with a wide-enough curve that he shaved close to Rarity and the others. He dealt Spike a fast smirk, and to Summer Wind he leered a smug eye, but then he turned lastly to Rarity. For her he wore a polite and loyal face, adoring in every way.

But from Summer Wind's angle she saw the embers of his desire spritzing out from under the mask. The reveal to her almost felt intentional. He wanted his prior night's prize to know that he considered his next conquest a victory of more worth.

Passing by the unicorn, Sweet Nothing crooned honeyed words at her, "Your bag, my lady. I'll carry it for you."

"Ooooh, thank you," she cooed back, her knees wiggling.

The dark stallion began to make his way back across the sand, and his backside was a sight that Rarity had to strain to pull her smitten eyes away from.

"... Ah! Ah, yes," she awoke. "Marvelous view. O-Of t-the ocean."

Such was the lingering hypnotic power of the stallion's fine behind that she couldn't even feel the plump redness of her own flushed face. Nor did she seem to detect at all the fuming of her faithful dragon. Thin strings of angry smoke literally wormed out his nostrils.

"Well," she excused herself, turning to chase the siren's call, "that's taken care of, then. Feel free to finish at your leisure with your friend here, Spike. I'll see you down by the hunk—er, t-the water! Yes, the water! I'll see you down by THE WATER when you're done."

She left as well, her head copying the swings of Sweet Nothing's mesmerizing tail.

Spike groaned so hard that noise which passed over his reptilian vocal chords became a snarl. One claw he raised high so that he might take his frustration out on the air with a brutal slash, and one foot also so that he could deliver a frustrated pound to the boardwalk below. But swiftly the loud growl morphed into a whimper of self-disappointment, his falling claw rendered more of a sad slap against the wind than a slash, and his foot gave the boards only a tender and sorrowful tap. From head to tail his spine adopted a curl of defeat, and he started a slow, dejected trudge after his lovely mare.

But he wasn't so distraught as to have lost his manners completely.

"Hope you feel better, Summer Wind," he mentioned genuinely, if downcast.

"Spike."

"Hm?"

When he looked back at her he saw that she was staring out towards the beach; at Sweet Nothing and Rarity. Then she spared the dragon a studying look, observing most especially the heartbroken slump that had taken over his body.

"Spike... I'll, uh, finish my breakfast and... be right over, okay? Some time on the beach sounds like fun."

"Oh, that's great!" he said. His posture received a sudden push back up. "I'll see you over there."

She waved a short farewell and then he left after returning the gesture. There was enough lightness in his steps that his feet didn't terribly sink into the sand when he crossed off the boardwalk.

Summer Wind glanced down at her dry, plastic-looking food, the serving having long since adopted an unappetizing chill. Both her hooves she mounted on either side the plate, holding herself up from falling into the unwanted meal. Whatever strength she gave to her muzzle wasn't enough to actually get her to descend for a bite.

In hardly any time at all her hooves suddenly cupped the whole plate and lifted it up. Without a care she flung it like a frisbee towards the gardens, and as it spun it launched a spray of tasteless food about before it crashed somewhere in the bushes.

Out came her great wings, strong and purposed, and a single, powerful puff of them brought her up and above the boardwalk. She glided easily away from the morning shadow of the Passion's Embrace and over the sunny beach.

Flapping lazily, Rainbow Dash hovered over the sand as she thought about how to entertain her morning.

Certainly she didn't feel like napping. It had actually been a decent night's sleep, all things considered. Somepony had left a bunch of Wonderbolts merchandise and memorabilia in her room for some reason? Whatever. Anything good amongst the pile she had already owned, and everything else had seemed like Carriaggean knockoffs. Still, it had made her chamber somewhat more homely.

The ocean was available for a salty swim, but she had already splashed some laps in the pool on the boat just yesterday. Had utterly dominated her human friend in the process, too. Swimming didn't really call out to her at the moment.

Unfortunately it seemed like nopony else had any ideas different from those two. Everywhere she looked she saw ponies gearing up to either laze atop the sand or fight the waves. What a waste of a perfectly good beach. If anything was going to happen then it looked like she would need to be the big hero and start it up.

Thank Celestia at least one of the island ponies had thought ahead to drag out an extra load of beach-appropriate supplies, including the fun stuff. It all laid in a jumbled but organized pile. More useful items like towels, umbrellas, and coolers began on the left, and down the line more exciting items appeared: beach balls, buckets, sand shovels, and the like.

Drifting close she pored over the goods, and what immediately stood out to her were two tall posts which were laid partially crossed in the sand. Next to them was a long, thin net that had been not-so-neatly folded up before it had been hauled out and dumped there in a tangle. Never landing, the pegasus searched under the mess and was pumped to find an adequate ball.

Perfect!

"Excuse me, Miss Rainbow Dash? But are you perhaps interested in-"

Oh. It was that guy. The one with diving arrows for a cutie mark.

"Hey, bud," Rainbow Dash wasted no time stealing his assistance, asking, "could you untangle this thing and set it up for me? I got to fish for some players."

"Of course! Certainly!" replied Nosedive. He tried to squeeze himself in, "And I'd be more than happy to join-"

"Yeah, thanks for the help!"

She had already floated up and away by the time her distant gratitude fell down to him. The words trailed just behind the volleyball she had tossed down first. Back to the net it returned, landing with a plop.

A little height gave the pegasus a suitable view to survey the beach, investigating everypony available for potential candidates. There were her friends of course, and the three islanders that had lead them out to the beach. It also looked like most of the other guides were now present, some having beaten the guests there and others having arrived shortly afterwards, and there was also a smattering of extra, unknown islanders enjoying the morning with them to boot. The island masters, Venus and Vesuvius, weren't present though.

A sizable enough crowd to easily get some teams assembled! Yet there was one go-to pony that came to Rainbow Dash's mind first. It really felt like it had been a tragic forever since she and Applejack had done something FUN together, even disregarding the sour apple that the farm pony was sometimes.

Calm, serene, and unaware, Applejack was stretching out the corners of the towel she had just laid down. There was an idle-mindedness to each pull; she had every intention of relaxing her way through her vacation and already she had put her head in that restful place. Nearby she had planted an unopened umbrella in the sand, just in case the sun became too unfriendly.

First circling overhead like a vulture, Rainbow Dash breezed down in a confident swoop and bobbed up to her orange friend.

"Hey, Applejack! I bet-"

"Goin' swimmin'," the farm pony flatly declined, stamping out the response with a hasty boredom. She abandoned her nearly-complete job on the towel. Her hat she tossed away instantly, nailing a perfect ringer on the top of her umbrella, and then she pushed herself around the hovering pegasus. Waiting for nothing she trotted right into the waves as if she were walking to the mainland.

Rainbow Dash barely watched her go and then grunted. It figured; why had she bothered to give her friend a chance?

Flapping herself back up to an observational height she took another look about. Who were better choices?

James sat down on a towel he had borrowed from the resort, not having taken the careful time to have lain it nicely. He really only intended to sit there and enjoy the combination of sun and ocean for a little while anyway. It had been quite a few years since he had last been to a shore for the purpose of relaxation.

Around him he saw the others mostly seeking the same kind of leisure, in their own ways. Twilight had set herself down under the shade of a big umbrella and on top of an even bigger blanket, not some measly towel. One of the island stallions – paler green with very cobalt hair – had joined her, and he had brought along reams of paper; some in stacks, some in folders, some very crisp and old, and even a few tomes too. Elsewhere Rarity had sprawled herself over a towel in order to sunbathe. It almost appeared as if she had Spike, a very dark islander, and some huge, orange pegasus all attending to her. The man couldn't really tell why they were all clustered together. A bit further over was Fluttershy, though the ocean apparently didn't hold much interest for her. She was practically facing back towards the resort, trying hard to pick out signs of animal life in the bushes and trees surrounding the beach. Also she hadn't worn that pretty necklace of hers, but that didn't surprise him since she had probably figured that time on the beach wasn't appropriate for such a thing.

Yet James had brought his necklace. Just because. He yanked the vine to pull the medallion portion out from the loose confines of Rarity's bizarre summer-top. As ever the ruby-like crystals screamed with darkness because he didn't have a magic bone in his body. For a little while he left his gaze upon it, fiddling occasionally while he thought of Poppy...

... And of all the things that made LIVING better than mere existence...

The distinctive, ashy sound of sand being kicked through brought him back to the world. His still lowered eyes caught the legs of his visitor: lean, a coat of shining silver, several bracelets in an assortment of diverse colors...

"Ah, hey, uh," he nearly paused to allow his memory to work up her name but the answer leapt to him in the nick of time, "Prism."

The pony smiled comfortably. During his wake-up call he had seemed slightly groggy so that encounter hadn't lasted very long at all, and before that yesterday she had only gotten her name out once. That there had been enough of an impression for him to have remembered was a wonderful thing!

Her horn had a shining halo, white with brilliant color, and her humming magic carried a large but light beach bag through the air behind her.

"Good morning again! Do you mind if I set down here?"

"Oh, no, not at all," the man invited, gesturing to the sand besides him.

She accepted with a pleasant dip of a her body, a pony curtsey of sorts, and then she deposited her bag in the sand. A towel burning with her magic danced out, flattened itself in the air, and laid down for her. When she sat she curled her five-segment tail around her rump, using tiny tugs of her magic to make sure that the care she had taken in tying and braiding it had held. With her bag on the opposite side from the man there was nothing between guide and guest but an arm's length of sand.

Prism took no interest in the movements of the shore; not the lapping of the surf or the activities of the other ponies. She didn't pay any mind to the horizon still faintly colored with the last of the retreating dawnlight, or to other ponies' ambient conversations which vied for dominance with the chatter of the waves. As soon as she had sat down she had her head turned aside and her eyes awarded to the the man. She was bright, she was hopeful, she was open, and she hardly waited before engaging him.

"I hope everything went well with your... friend." The final word she tested quite carefully.

"What?" James questioned.

"Last evening. You asked me how to get to her room?" the pony reminded him. She pointed a quick glance at Fluttershy. "You were in quite an excited rush to find her."

"Ah," his uncertainty dispelled in an instant. "I just needed to return something to her, and to apologize."

"Apologize?"

"Earlier I opened my stupid mouth and said some stuff without thinking," he tried to breeze past any uncomfortably detailed explanation. "So, yeah. Actually I needed to apologize to everypony since they all heard it. I just went to her first because..." He brightened as he moved on to something which he didn't need to shadow. "... she's a really kind friend, and I knew I'd feel stronger when saying sorry to everypony else if I had her support first."

"Oh, that's why!" Prism said, soothed with odd, cheerful relief by the details. "It sounds like everything worked out then?"

"It did," the man acknowledged, showing it with a happy nod of his head.

"That's very good; I'm glad!" For a moment she reflected his joy back at him, but it softened when she decided to shyly admit, "I was... a little worried that you were more interested in-... well, that you were just being polite while dismissing me."

James twinged. He was especially sensitive now to his accidental or intentional messages because of the whole kerfuffle yesterday.

Alarmed by her confession he fell over himself to assure her, "Sorry about that! I didn't mean to give that impression!"

But the colorful pony had no trouble restoring herself, and she smiled, "No, I understand now!"

"Alright. Good, good," his sigh blended with a laugh.

After all, if he hadn't been so pressed to have fixed his mistakes then he wouldn't have minded spending some time with Prism yesterday. Hopefully he would have enjoyed it even. She had so far been incredibly receptive and open to him, eagerly so, and of course that made sense if she had been assigned to be some sort of concierge to him. But... the way she had been presenting herself felt beyond mere duty; somehow she wanted to be genuinely closer to him, and it wasn't like how any PONY had approached him before.

Though there hadn't been much of being approached by different ponies at all, come to think of it. Twilight and him, in their mutual ignorance, had formed a plan to handle his depression that had been composed exclusively of a step one: trade time between a handful of recently-made friends. And so the last few months in Ponyville had gone. It was a situation which was never going to change if he didn't take a chance to devise a step two.

"I mean, this is a vacation and everything," he was slow to speak up, almost walking like a sun-blinded man, "and I don't mind meeting new ponies. Like, that would be a fun way to relax and take it easy. I just couldn't yesterday cause... I had to take care of my friends first."

It was a disjointed addendum which nonetheless greatly pleased the pony. Her tail lifted and unwound from around her, it gave her towel a delighted pat as it came down again, and her glad cheeks took over her face as she revealed a small grin.

She made no reply other than that, and everything fell into a quiet peace which lasted through the breaking of a dozen waves before the stillness was stirred by the faint, electric buzz of moving magic. Prism's horn reached into her beach bag and found a bottle of sunscreen. A loud pop came from the cap flipping open while she floated the bottle up, but then she suddenly turned towards the man.

Bobbing the item a bit closer to him she asked, "Do you need some?"

James stared at the creamy orange bottle, amused by what was quite obviously a cartoonish depiction of an unready Princess Celestia being hastily covered over with a privacy sheet by a pair of pegasus maids. Hindsight informed him that he should have looked for sunscreen himself when he had grabbed a towel.

"Yes, please." He held out his palm.

The pony hid a frown thin with disappointment at seeing his open hand. Nonetheless pleasant, her magic flipped the bottle over and gave it a squeeze.

Thanking her, the man immediately shared the silken bounty between both his hands before he started coating his shoulders. One at a time he lifted the spaghetti straps of Rarity's top to get under them, however even having to get around the stupid shirt-thing at all made him too self-conscious of its very existence.

True that in some sense he wasn't a fashioned-minded enough person to care about what it looked like. Nor was he terribly worried about how others saw it; most ponies were silently polite enough to write off its ugliness as a foreigner's quirk. There wasn't even anything to be gained in disavowing it now: he'd already worn it in the open and it was the only apparel he had which wouldn't leave him sweating to death. But STILL he felt uncomfortably conspicuous in it, like the only child at a busy table who couldn't eat his dinner without getting it all over his face.

Well, he had a good excuse to be free of it now! From the bottom he lifted it up to peel it off. Poppy's medallion nearly came off with it, getting tangled up in the shirt as he pulled. He had to untwist the items before he was able to rip himself free of his ugly prison, and the inside-out top dangled from his fingertips by the straps before he dumped it onto his towel.

Automatically his hand grabbed the necklace next, seizing the medallion portion. As long as he was undressing his chest he was going to pull it off also. But once his mind caught up with what he was physically doing he jerked to a halt.

The necklace was a special gift. He didn't care about the stylishness of a heartfelt, generous gift!

Taking his hand away he left it on.

With a sigh almost born from immense relief the liberated man got himself back on track, checking his hands for sunscreen. There was still a good amount left, so he raised up one arm in order to start coating it. But no sooner had he clapped his hand around his bicep did he freeze, feeling consciously naked. He peeked to the side.

Prism had taken keen notice that he had removed his top. Her eyes were stuck on him, so thoroughly that everything else about her had stopped. Even the floating sunscreen bottle looked about to dangle free from her magic and drop. There was plenty of cool red in her multi-colored mane, but some of it now seemed to mix into the silver of her snout.

The sand shifted underneath her towel, introducing a lean into her. She tilted more and more towards him, perhaps so frozen that she was about to topple over. But it wasn't so. Her magic took firmer control of the sunscreen bottle in hopeful readiness, and one of her hooves picked itself up, trembling as it longed to reach out to him.

"Would you like some help covering your back?" she asked.

More she pushed towards him. The bottle started to tip over, ready to squeeze out sunscreen onto her hoof.

But he countered with a very sudden lean away.

"I-I'm alright," he blurted in an awful rush. To prove it he angled himself away from her and stretched a hand to his lower back, rubbing away. He heard her hum a helpless noise, and then there was the grainy shuffle of the sand as she pulled away from him and sat straight again. Meanwhile he kept himself turned aside and raced to get his back covered despite the thinning amount of sunscreen on his hands.

He had plenty of flexibility and reach with his arms; certainly more than enough to avoid such close, physical assistance by an unearthly creature like her. It would've been an awkward task anyway, with those hooves? It was easier for everypony if he just handled himself.

Handled himself in this matter, that is. With respect to the sunscreen.

Nopony could blame him for turning her down: he had plenty of desire to try and get acquainted with her but of course there were limits. Rubdowns from animal strangers were a bridge too far. And if she made similar approaches in the future – offers he found overly ripe with discomfort – then all he had to do was wade through them politely.

Just like how he had always handled Pinkie Pie and her unwanted zaniness.

Though... his miserable abilities of communication again... He hadn't shown his most polite face to Prism, had he? In fact his hasty rejection of her offer already stung him as a little cruel now. There was nothing wrong with a small amount of friendly assistance; he just didn't need any.

It-...

It was probably hard for a pony to really reach around and get their own backs? Their legs weren't built for that. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad... if he...

James twisted back towards her, his turn measured in slow steps.

"Do YOU need any help-"

The unicorn wasn't using her hooves at all, of course. Her horn commanded the sunscreen to spread itself over her, with ease reaching every last out-of-the-way spot.

"Hm?" She blinked with curiosity at his unfinished proposal.

"N-Nothing," he shied an inch away from her.

Her chest made the shrinking motion of a sigh though no sound came out, and she resumed working her magic.

For his part James behaved nearly the same, trying to return to coating himself. But unable to remember where he had left off he belatedly realized his hands had run too dry to continue anyway.

Choking down an ounce of surrender, but also finding enough absurdity to nearly snicker over the situation, he held a palm back out towards Prism.

"More, please?"

Cheerful again, she obliged.

In relative silence they individually finished protecting themselves from the incidental wrath of Princess Celestia, their only real exchanges during that time being the sharing of the sunscreen bottle. A quiet stillness reigned afterwards also: James with his averted eyes on the ocean or sand, and Prism with her swinging eyes often on him.

It wasn't bad company; not in the man's opinion anyway. It was simply... well... Just what does someone say to the charmed girl sitting next them when that girl is a-...?

So ridiculous how difficult it felt for him to start a casual dialogue with a stranger just because they were a-...

Bleh!

In order to jettison some of his asinine aggravation in a safe way he picked up his discarded top, squeezing and twisting it discreetly.

Prism surprised him by opening the conversation first, commenting, "That's a very interesting-looking piece of clothing."

"Heh... Not the words I'd use," the man found his reply easily, chuckling as he draped the rag over a knee, "but... it's the only thing I have that's suitable for such hot weather."

"Suitable?" Her fetching face wasn't used to hosting such contradictions. "If you're too warm shouldn't you just wear nothing at all?"

Her horn lit up. James didn't realize what she was doing until he felt the innocent tug on his skirt-shorts. Her magic had a loose hold on them, pulling only in demonstration of her suggestion, without any real threat to actually remove them.

Though her harmless intention didn't seem to stop her from leaning in for a closer look anyway.

"No!" the startled man grabbed his waistband, yanking it up higher than it needed to be.

His panicky jump startled her in turn, and she let go with her own guilty flinch backwards.

"Y-You see," James labored to explain in the most succinct way possible, "where I come from you-... you always wear at least one piece of clothing. Always!" But that assertion wasn't absolutely true! He worried she was going to ask intrusive questions if he left it sounding so oppressively unconditional. He weakly finished, "U-Unless you have some specific, good reason not to wear anything at all."

Lightly he pulled at the bottom of his ridiculous skirt-shorts to drag them back down to a more comfortable position, biting his tongue to keep any unnecessary self-rebukes from airing. What a dumb thing to have made a scene over. At least Prism only looked surprised, and not offended by his overreaction to her innocuous curiosity.

And the pony did only have an unhurt, thoughtful veil upon her face. She mulled over his unusual custom for a moment before she put forward the honest question, "Isn't being cool and comfortable a good reason?"

"I'm more comfortable with the pants on," he was overwhelmingly certain.

Taking in his answer and thinking on the matter some more only gave her a newer, more treacherous thought, "Technically you'd still be wearing that necklace if took your pants-"

"No, that's different!" the man objected, this time trying hard to hold in his sudden desperation.

Overeager to move on to something else – ANYTHING else – he crumpled the shirt into a ball and gave it a careless toss aside. It landed in the sand, almost out of reach.

"Forget the clothes," he told the listening pony. "I wear'em because they're the only thing I've got, not because I'm attached to them. They're just some crazy thing Rarity put together for me that would deal better with this heat since I didn't have any summer clothes, so they're more hers then mine."

At first the changing landscape of her face showed understanding, but then it suddenly didn't, and then just as quickly it did again. She oscillated several times. Whenever she reviewed his rambling in her head she discovered a new interpretation, his unclear objective and misapplied stresses having set down no obvious path.

"So these are made by... your dressmaker friend?" she finally asked.

"Yeah. So... I just leave her to do her thing and don't pretend to understand her supposed 'genius.' Whatever makes her happy and keeps me clothed," James shrugged.

"I've worn many kinds of apparel," the pony remarked, "but this one is definitely something... strange. If you don't mind my saying."

"No, I agree. Though it's also not her best work, for sure."

"Maybe I'm just not looking at it right; I haven't kept up with fashions while I've been out here, after all," Prism hardly lamented her loss, "but that necklace doesn't even match with-"

"Oh, it's not part of the ensemble," the man leapt to distinguish between Rarity's work and his valuable treasure. He tapped the darkened medallion, saying, "Rarity didn't put THIS together. This is something else."

Immediately the pony noticed the way he looked down at his necklace; the way he touched it with reverence. She had seen such tenderness before.

Her voice retreated into a removed hush, and she guessed, "A gift? From a special somepony?"

"From somepony special...," he distorted the echo, missing her clue. But his own interpretation instantly became the truth in his mind.

"Yeah," he smiled, "from a special squirt I met who really reminded me how special it is to be alive. And to keep living. And to keep loving."

A very happy understanding brushed away all of the unease which had covered the pony, and she exclaimed, "How adorable! And wonderful, too! You wear it to remind yourself of them? It sounds like you really value the relationships you build with other ponies, and give a lot in order to make them very, very special."

She sidled an inch closer to him as she bent down to get a closer look at his necklace, eventually raising an inquisitive hoof towards it.

Proud, the man held the medallion out for her. As her hoof drew in the crystals responded to her bodily magic, a brighter glow appearing and swirling with the darkness. She barely flinched from it, taken more by quaint intrigue, and after a moment more she sat back up satisfied. The crystals returned to the color of the man's void.

"So it's something more than a gift, then... A memento!" she said. "I understand that very well!"

Leaning back for balance Prism lifted her forelegs, holding them out to flaunt the many bracelets she wore. She also wiggled one of her hind legs too in order to highlight the single gray bracelet there.

"I was wondering about those," admitted James.

The meager things ponies wore often stuck out in his mind precisely because of the infrequency of pony clothing. In some ways it was also a bit of a conscious trick he had taught himself, because honestly it was hard to tell some ponies apart otherwise, if their coats and manes were similar colors.

"Gifts?" he asked, taking his turn to lean in and inspect her jewelry. Orange, red, yellow, violet, gray; the bracelets were solidly colored but each reflected light with a different kind of shine. They sparkled with feelings, none two the same. And at a count of five she had quite a few of these gifts, but then again why wouldn't such a pretty lady have received so many gifts?

The man shook his head as he pulled away.

"I mean, mementos?"

The memories warmed Prism, visible from cheek to chest.

"Mmm... yes."

"Of home?" the man offered an innocent guess.

"Oh, heh, no. I didn't start collecting them until I came here, to this island." She set down one of her raised legs, falling back into a more comfortable sitting position. The other leg stayed up, and she looked over her memento bracelets fondly. "Each one is to remember one of the pony's who I've made a special connection with while here."

"You've been making a lot of friends," James laughed.

His simple interpretation had her glittering with quiet amusement, but she said only, "More than that."

"So," the man's mouth curled with a ready joke, "what happens if you run out of leg space?"

"I hope it goes that far," her response didn't dally with an ounce of hesitation.

James fidgeted as he sat upright, struck by how seriously she had replied to his jest.

The pony continued, her speech running back and forth between hope and awe, "I hope this all spreads to Equestria; that they can all share what we share here. Then I can go back and collect the whole spectrum of mementos, from the most passionate reds to the softest blues. Each and every pony is so unique and so different. It's almost too incredible to think about... Just the thought of getting to experience them all..."

"I don't understand," the man gently interrupted. "How is making friends here any different from elsewhere?"

The silence that settled over Prism was thoughtfully brief but also unnaturally reserved. When she spoke again there was such an effort to give whatever she could; a battle for honesty to take the highest hill even if it wasn't strategically sound. But at the same time she cleared the field and tried to start fresh.

"I used to be a model, before I came here," she set the stage, reminiscing with clarity. "It required a lot of traveling around to the furthest reaches of Equestria, in order to wear the right outfit in the right place for the right photo shoot to promote the right thing. Just... so many different places to go to, all the time. It was nice work really; I liked it well enough. But what I loved most about the job WAS that it took me so many places. I got to meet so many different ponies, of all colors! I never bothered with how well the job paid since the real reward was all the chances it gave to interact with all the different ponies of Equestria!

"But," her sound changed, descending into something secretive yet wonderful, "for all those ponies I met... I never could have imagined what it was like to REALLY get to know somepony in such-... such an intensely personal way; to EXPERIENCE them. Not until I came here."

"If you traveled a lot," James suggested, "that probably made it hard to build any kind of connection to other ponies, you know? Maybe it was just settling down here that gave you the actual time to let new things grow familiar?"

She found no appeal in his thought, soundly and emotionally rejecting it, "No, no... it's... very FAST and POWERFUL, like nothing you've ever felt!"

Her own outburst startled her, and in forcing a calm upon herself one of her leftover thoughts strayed out in a half-mumble, "... After you've taken a bite..."

The man mostly ignored her fervent objection, short-lived as it had been anyway. The personal history she had divulged had been more interesting to hear, and he was happy not to follow up on talk of 'fast,' 'powerful' feelings with a pony; not when something calm and polite was available.

"So," he asked after she had been allowed a moment to breath, "what brought you here to begin with, then? Did Venus and Vesuvius hire you for some kind of promotional work?"

"Oh, not at all. I came on vacation. The modeling agency I worked for had gotten their hooves on a ticket somehow and I won the raffle."

Retrospective prosperity came upon the pony, and she continued, "Looking back, it was a real stroke of luck that I got the chance to be here. When my time was up I BEGGED Venus to let me stay. I even donated everything I had earned from my modeling job to the resort. Thankfully they decided to keep me."

"Woah," James remarked, "you gave up everything. Even all that 'traveling and meeting ponies' which you liked so much." He thought for a moment. "Would you say it's been worth it?"

"Yes, definitely," she resolved. Again she looked at the bracelets on her legs, "I still want to return to Equestria, but only after Equestria is ready to be a part of what happens here, so I can share it with everypony. I want to see this through."

Unsure of what exactly to think about what she had said he merely opted to comment, "That's some serious dedication."

"I've never been more passionate about something in my life." Her words were firm enough to have been written in stone.

And then she turned the thought around to him, carrying herself and her voice closer as she asked intently, "What makes you passionate?"

He was given no chance to answer the tricky question, cut off by a shout which descended from above.

"Yo! Barrel-a-monkeys!"

"'Sup, Rainbow Brite!" James greeted the flying interruption with plenty of welcome. "What can I do for you?"

Rainbow Dash hung in the air vertically, with her hind legs dangling and her forelegs crossed over her chest. If ever there were a destined champion of all things then she knew it was definitely her. From her mighty pedestal on high she let her glory trickle down, and she tossed the gauntlet at him.

"You got the horseshoes to step up to a round of volleyball?"

"Oh, is that what we're doing now?" The tone he took was familiar; falsely combative and perfect for ribbing his friend.

"That's what I'M doing," the pegasus gave equal banter right back. "You're free to join me if you think you can handle it. So... you in? Or you out?"

In waiting for his answer Rainbow Dash finally noticed Prism's presence, and that the man had been busy just sitting there while chatting her up. The pegasus snickered, "Either way, your butt's gonna leave a mark in the sand."

In a show of theatrical defiance he stood up, crossing his own arms but never losing his agreeable grin.

"Big words for a little pony."

"Alright!" the pegasus pumped her hoof. "Now just a few more players..."

James turned to Prism and gave her a bow full of polite regret.

"Sorry," he told her, "but it looks like I'm being drafted. It's going to be a long vacation though; we'll pick this later?"

"As soon as you'd like," she answered, pleased.

"Blah, blah," Rainbow Dash waved a disregarding hoof, and then she instructed the man, "ask her if she wants to play!"

Rolling his eyes at the blunt pegasus, the man relayed the offer to his guidepony in the form of a shrug. No need to repeat what had been so easily overheard.

Prism calmly nodded, "If you need an extra pony I will. But, if it's otherwise alright..."

Her eyes tapped the man's exposed chest for a moment.

"... I'd enjoy just watching."

Chapter 24: Attachment

Quite a lunch spread was laid out by the islanders, lined up on a long string of tables that had been hauled out and set against the main stage. It was an open-air buffet; a outdoors luncheon with selections not terribly exotic for the locale but thankfully diverse to fit everypony's tastes (including dragons and people.) The event wasn't meant for show or service and therefore no entertainment was provided, nor was seating assigned, nor were leading hosts present. There was only a tall stack of ready plates and the free invitation to dig in. Guest or islander, everypony grabbed a plate, food, and whatever company they wanted to enjoy, and then they all spaced out amongst the little round tables fixed into the boardwalk. The looseness of the occasion was pristinely perfect after the long and sunny morning on the beach.

Rainbow Dash swallowed a heavy scoop of regret and chose to sit with Pinkie Pie and Hulahoof at a table; sort of an implicit apology for having forcefully roped the pink pony into the volleyball game earlier. It didn't feel particularly awesome to have to endure a lunch flanked on both sides by party-crazy ponies, but for friendship's sake she had to be willing to take it. Yet hardly minutes into the experience she realized she had made such a boneheaded, happy mistake.

She LIKED spending time with Pinkie Pie. The pink pony was her dear friend and a real riot most of the time. Why Rainbow Dash had ever imagined lunch with her friend would have been terribly difficult just because some new guy was tagging along... well she didn't know anymore. Once she relaxed the lunch became nothing more or less than another hour of chilling with one of her best friends. Most of her time was spent listening to or laughing at the sillier ponies as they gabbed and giggled over things excitingly mundane or inedibly delicious. Sometimes there was puppet shows put on with the food.

Hulahoof wasn't actually an insufferable pony at his core. He was just another Pinkie Pie; a hyperactive friend for everypony. Best of all: he was engaging and fun, unlike SOME OTHER pony that Rainbow Dash could think of...

The pegasus glanced over her shoulder and across tables busy with lunching ponies, and far on the other side of the boardwalk sat Applejack. The farm pony was with Fluttershy, the two by themselves at a table. Unlike the animated meal exploding all over Rainbow Dash's table, those two simply chewed away in dead silence. They even seemed THANKFUL for each other's boring company. Geez.

Forget that dumb apple farmer.

Returning to the delightful antics of her table she was entirely unaware that watchful glances were also being taken of her.

Nosedive sighed before filling his mouth with another hoofful of food to slowly chew.

"Just give it a rest. You're trying too hard," Till told him.

The chocolate stallion sat across from his depressed friend. Their plates reflected the ponies' contrasts: Nosedive had little left, having already nearly finished his small and monotonous selection after packing it in one huge scoop at a time; Till had a plate spread over with almost excessively large portions but he ate only the smallest bites at a time, always in a very refined and mannerly fashion.

"Funny you should say. You haven't been trying at all," the pegasus' reply splashed out alongside a waterfall of crumbs. Every memory of Till's non-efforts to woo Applejack came to mind, which is to say practically nothing at all came up. Except... "Saw you out in the water while she was swimming. You say ANYTHING? INTRODUCE yourself?"

"Of course not." Casually the chocolate stallion took in another tiny bite of food.

"Of course not," Nosedive parroted, giving his eyes a swirl. "Then what were you doing out there?"

Easy as he pleased the other pony answered plainly, "Just taking a morning swim."

The pegasus leveled a hard stare at his friend, reinforcing it with a doubtful snort.

"Heh," the amused Till decided to expand his answer, "Alright, yeah. I was sticking close just in case a moment appeared. And one didn't. So instead I enjoyed the swim."

Still helpless and hopeless Nosedive pressed, "How do you know, 'one didn't?'"

Perhaps it was time to be serious. The chocolate stallion swallowed down the bits of food in his mouth, taking his mellow humor down with it, and he pushed aside his vastly unfinished plate along with the last of his snickering smile. Into and over the table he leaned, and he pointed a hoof.

"Dive: look," he directed his friend's attention to the table with Applejack and Fluttershy; more specifically highlighted the farm pony herself. "You see that silence? She's with A FRIEND and she wants nothing but a quiet meal. I'm not going to interrupt that. Now, she's been giving off that same solitude since she got here. I GUARENTEE YOU she did NOT go into the water to take a swim, but to get away from something or somepony. So it wouldn't have done me a lick of good to have paddled up to her and flapped my gums like I were an awkward school colt fishing for his first date."

Nosedive studied the two mares for a little bit, understanding the layout of his friend's logic but not at all feeling it in his gut. He sighed again.

"Not talking to her's really going to work, you think?" he moaned, bitterly suspect.

"On who? Mine or yours?"

The grumpy pegasus gave his head a weary shake.

"Either. Or both."

"Heh," Till's smile returned. He scooted his plate back before himself and resumed nibbling on his meal. "My patience will be rewarded," he said. "You'll see. I bet I won't even have to approach her. The right moment will come and then she'll approach me."

"Great," Nosedive accepted with bland enthusiasm. "And Rainbow Dash?"

At no point did the chocolate stallion stop pleasantly picking at his food like a professional, and he meanwhile gazed over at the busy table where Hulahoof and Pinkie Pie were juggling tomatoes between each other. Across his face mulled no deep thoughts or laborious calculations. He only chewed silently behind his closed mouth, and then some more, and then loaded up another small bite, and then chewed even more.

"Come on, Plotts," the pegasus had enough trusty confidence to bring forward a desperate plea, "help me out."

After another minute of unremarkable investigation Till returned his eyes to his friend.

"So... she's some kind of super athlete, flyer extraordinaire, right?" he asked particularly.

Nosedive snapped up, both eager and awed to answer, "Oh yeah. Several awards and records. Superb measurements on speed, control, maneuvering. Outstanding overall ability. Should've seen her play the game before; incredible."

"Well then," Till shrugged, "seems to me that your only trouble IS that you're crowding her. By all rights you probably should be doing great otherwise. I mean, listen to yourself. You GENUINELY ADMIRE her."

The other pony's face flushed, yet he only scantly protested with, "She's impressive."

"Ha, right."

Nosedive snorted, then asked, "And... your recommendation?"

"Back off and wait."

"REALLY?" the pegasus groaned. He jammed his hoof into his forehead, and then thrust it in some more for good measure. "I know that the stuff is magic and everything, but REALLY? Think it'll get her to just swoop into the embrace of a pony whose name she doesn't know? Do NOTHING?"

"No, not nothing."

With a displeased grunt Till again set aside his plate for serious matters. He reached across the table to pull away his friend's self-destructive hoof and then he physically directed the other pony's attention to Rainbow Dash.

"Look at her," he pointed. "Look at that smile; the attention she's showering onto her pink friend there. Now correct me if I'm wrong but, she's spent the whole time here so far hanging out with her friends, right? Didn't she bolt straight out of her room to meet with her friends last night?"

"The Princess's pupil came and got her," Nosedive reminded him.

"Same difference," the other stallion flatly continued. "You see, that's what she wants to do right now: hang out with her friends. You're just getting in the way, Dive. She didn't come all this way to meet new ponies."

He released his friend, falling back to his side of the table. Before he scooted his plate back to proper eating position he resolutely but supportively concluded, "My best advice? Back off, wait, and speak to her when she's ALONE. And I don't mean CORNER HER, no. Don't do that Sweet Nothing thing. Just, when she finally takes the time to get away from everypony and rest, that's your moment. Gently go up to her, give her some pleasantries, tell her just a little bit about what you think of her, and then leave. If she's taking the time to rest then you don't want to overstay your welcome and have her dismiss you. You just want to plant that seed. You can water it later."

Nosedive's eyes lingered on the astounding pegasus and the way she was so obviously and thoroughly engaged with Pinkie Pie; the way she would hoot at the impromptu show at her table; the way every splattered tomato was cause for a cackle of celebration; the way she so WANTED to be there. There, exactly where she was, and not off chitchatting with some Celestia-knows-who she had never met before. Heck, even Hulahoof had gotten more attention out of her just by closing in on his own chosen pony.

"Right, I'll try...," the glum pegasus huffed to his friend, lowering his head. He snaked another hoofful of food into his mouth.

"You know I wouldn't ever deliberately steer you wrong, Dive," Till said, honest and friendly. "I'm just a best friend doing what best friends do: saying what you need to hear."

"Right," the pegasus replied, hardly grateful but hardly dismissive. Again he sighed, but when he looked up his friend was flashing a true smile. A simple sight, but it made all of the oppressive weights pulling on the pegasus ease off just a little bit. A better face emerged from him, and he held a thankful hoof out over the table for Till to slap, which the other pony gladly did.

"Thanks pal," Nosedive said before twisting a teasing eye and quipping, "You don't strike me as a romancer Tilly, that's all."

"Romance? Haha!" the pony's large laugh actually interrupted his proper eating, and he took a moment to compose himself. "Did I try to romance you when we were passionate?" he asked in rhetorical amusement.

"Of course not," the pegasus shook his head as he grinned.

"Of course not, 'of course not,'" laughed Till.

"Venus really thinks you should've though. Probably wants that for Applejack."

"Bah," the chocolate stallion threw a hoof. "You know she's got this perfect image of this whole island in her head, and she tries so hard to make it exactly into what she's seeing. But it's just not like that."

A strange moment of quiet thought came over him, perfectly matching the poise of his pristine eating habits.

"It's actually about respect," he came back and said. "Respecting a pony enough to treat them right. And to, you know... want to make them feel genuinely happy."

"More, Miss Rarity?" Sweet Nothing asked in utter deference. Already he had dragged her empty plate over and scooted it onto his back, ready to whisk it away at her first whisper and retrieve a fresh bounty like a royal servant.

"Oh my," the lady answered tenderly. There were the makings of brutal warfare in her mind; artillery being traded between her impulse to indulge such queenly treatment and her wish to maintain her perfect figure. "I-I'm unsure. H-How much have I had already? A-Are there perhaps lower calorie choices on the buffet?"

"I can select an assortment of delectable treats that I know you'll love...," he said, dancing his voice with masterful control. He leveled himself besides her with sure command, and he bowed. Yet when he rose his eyes had been completely replaced with gems of worry. "... but of course I'm not fit to tell such a refined lady what to eat. I'll take right back anything you don't like."

Spike, resting the side of his face in his claw, quietly grumbled, "Give me a break."

That stallion jerk had been slavering over Rarity all morning like a hungry dragon atop a massive jewel pile. Every second of every minute of every hour it had been, 'Can I get you this, my beautiful lady?' or, 'Would you like that, my darling mare?' More shade? More sunscreen? HOOF RUBS? BACK RUBS?! Gargh! And his every act of sycophantic servitude had been done with the most sickening smile smeared across his stupid snout, like he was just the most modest sweetheart in all of Equestria and NOT the rude saddle-sack of filth who had knocked Spike down on the dock. The dragon would've barfed if his fiery bile wouldn't have ruined everypony's meal.

Maybe worse than the phony stallion's toadying was that Rarity had actually bought into everything he had done. It was SO OBVIOUS that he was insincere in his doting. Every maneuver of his had been forward and bold, sweeping in as the handsome rogue bound by no law. Yet as soon as she had said anything back to him he had shrunk into a little puppy, with a shy face that had struggled to look at her and a humble heart that suddenly hadn't been worthy enough to have kissed the sand her hooves had walked on. Come on, Rarity! He was just the resort eye candy hired to bend to a guest's every whim! Not like Spike himself who always bowed to her commands because-... because-... because he WANTED to.

Just thinking about it had the dragon rumbling another sour hum.

But a knock to his side bounced him out of his thoughts.

He looked over, searching for what had hit him, but Summer Wind still sat next to him pleasantly eating her lunch. She seemed unaware of any disturbances... until in secret she tapped him again, and this time he noticed the subtle movements of her eyes. They kept whipping suggestively between him and the plate that Sweet Nothing was about to steal away with.

"Uh... hey!" Spike spontaneously announced to the table, taking the cue to intervene. He leapt up onto the tabletop, dodged around his own meal, and nabbed the seamstress's plate right off of the dark stallion's half-turned back.

"You don't know what she likes," he insisted, and he held the plate up like a professional waiter while he jabbed his free claw at himself, "but I do. I'LL go get her some more food."

Sweet Nothing was very briefly appalled at the dragon's interference, but before anything too unsavory lunged out of him he simply faced the table again and pressed his tombstone glare in.

"That won't be necessary, SIR," he responded from underneath a cold smile. His jaw then quickly shot out and swiped the plate back, ripping it clean from the dragon's claw. "My job is to serve."

"Well take a break or something," Spike advised, hardly in a generous tone. Again claw snatched plate, yanking it out from between the pony's unprepared teeth.

The hard tink made him wince for just a flash of a second before he countered, stealing the plate back just as swiftly as he had lost it.

"No no, I INSIST."

"I'm a guest. Aren't you supposed to do what I tell you, too?" Again the plate swapped owners.

"I COULDN'T allow it!" Yoink.

"Serve somepony else!" Yoink.

It was finally getting to be too much for the quietly enraged stallion, but he never broke his facade. Instead the fire in his eyes suddenly washed over with an unexpected spritz of dignified water, and he only had to turn a partial glance towards Rarity while very loudly sighing out some resigned and sorrowful disappointment.

"SPIKE!" the offended unicorn intervened immediately. Her voice rocked the table, free of true anger but most definitely coming down with a hammer of matronly authority.

The dragon deflated like a balloon, every breath of fight and every ounce of posture speedily leaking from him. He angled his limp, fallen body towards his beloved pony and in crushed obedience took his verbal lashes.

"This WONDERFUL gentlecolt is simply doing his JOB, and quite finely at that! It is NOT mannerly of you in the least to behave with SUCH DISREGARD for his duties, not to mention how HIGHLY unlike you it is! RETURN the plate to him THIS INSTANT!"

Quiet and meek as a mouse he drifted his arm over to Sweet Nothing, surrendering the plate.

"... Sorry, Rarity...," he mumbled straight from his broken heart.

"Don't apologize to ME!" she emphasized before pointing at the dark stallion.

The added humiliation pumped the grievous pain from Spike's gut up to his face, and it didn't help at all to be confronted by the subtle sneer of victory which was hidden on Sweet Nothing's mug. But as instructed the dragon apologized, giving an unremarkable bow of his head and an unhappy, "Sorry."

"No harm done, sir," the pony answered, wrapped in plastic candor. "I'm in awe of the lady's ability to so easily pick such faithful friends. My, certainly she is charming!" His extra bright smile was hardly directed at the dragon whose apology he was accepting. Indeed, without pause he followed up with Rarity, "I won't keep you waiting for long, my charming lady. Even without a duty to fulfill it would be impossible to stay away from you."

Her face flushed red, and the seamstress nervously fluttered her eyes and rubbed her cheek all while twittering, "Ahaha, my, yes, mmm, the lady awaits! Hehehe."

After a step back, a refined bow, and a blink of a dirty glance at Summer Wind, Sweet Nothing departed for the buffet table with the plate in tow.

Rarity's indulgent eyes gave a long chase before the stallion's magnetic grasp was finally weak enough to release her. Immediately she returned to chastising the dragon, though every swathe of sternness had now been replaced with boggled concern.

"What has gotten into you this morning, Spike? First you slip away without a word, taking my bag with you, just to squeeze in some small talk that couldn't have waited five minutes. And now you've demonstrated such terribly rude insistence on showing up an innocent pony at his own job! What's next? These selfish little shows are very unbecoming of your usually-wholesome character, and what's more, you know you've already learned better than to indulge your greedy side. Is there something we need to discuss, hm?"

The dragon's shoulders stayed slumped throughout the whole awful ordeal, sinking more and more as she kept punching holes in him. When she finished her reprimand he tweaked his lowered head enough to take a short, distant glance at the dark pony who had triggered his ire, and then he also spared a look at Summer Wind who had encouraged him to act. But he elected to make no excuses of them to Rarity at all. He only shook his head for her and started to waddle back towards his seat.

Not uncaring, Rarity fast turned her mood around at the sight of his pitiable walk of shame. She pulled back and clicked her tongue, offering motherly consolation, "Oh, do dry those tears and primp that smile, Spikey-Wikey! This is a vacation! You should be enjoying the amenities, not fetching somepony's food!"

"I could... find you some gems, if you'd like," Summer Wind spoke up. The apologetic offer poured readily from her mouth, itself hanging from her guilt-ridden face. "I know we keep some around here somewhere..."

"No thanks... I'm not very hungry...," the dragon dismissed in a polite, quiet, tired sort of way.

When he reached the edge of the table he held himself back from hopping into his seat. A moment of impromptu melancholy had him. Just five minutes alone was really all he needed.

He turned to Summer Wind and asked, "... Maybe just directions to the bathroom though?"

Immediately she understood his true want, and kindly she pointed him the right way with some swiftly given directions to the bathroom behind the stage. Down he jumped from the table, and away he shambled with a crooked bend in his back.

Rarity hardly watched him go. Lifting herself to sit up straighter she sighed and shook her head.

"He's such an exemplary little dear most of the time. Usually he can handle his gallantry with more aplomb."

She spoke low, yet she was not at all concerned enough to have hidden the remark altogether. Really, it had been honest praise.

"Well, I'm sure he had the right reasons," hinted Summer Wind. Her intent she disguised with a mask of interest in her own plate of food.

"Oh most undoubtedly so," Rarity agreed. Since she naturally considered herself far more knowledgeable in all-things-Spike she openly shared her immense wisdom, "But though his heart is always in the right place his head can lag behind in a field of mistakes. Of course, he more than makes up for it in so many ways. One simply has to get used to counting only his efforts whenever his intentions fall short, and then the gentlecolt he is shines through clearly."

The pegasus nodded along, studying the answer until her turn came.

"Yeah." Fortunately there was no need to tell any outright deceptions, and that left it easy for Summer Wind to guide the conversation exactly where she wanted it to go. "His personality caught me a little off guard. He's got a few more years in him than his size lets on. At least, when he's not being adorable and silly."

"Isn't it the truth!" the seamstress belted out accompanied by a ladylike chuckle. Visibly any small guards she had remaining lowered. "My, the stories I could tell you!"

"Stories, huh? I guess you've kept him around for a long while?" Summer Wind conjectured carefully.

"As long as I've known Twilight. Though 'kept' isn't the choice word. It implies all the wrong things."

The pegasus gave her head a captive twist and asked, "What would be the choice word then?"

Curling her lip in hesitation at first, Rarity quickly let go of restraint and asserted, "I'm uncertain, but what I do know is that I couldn't CHOOSE to retain or discard my Spikey-Wikey! No. Regardless of anything I might wish, he'd of his own will always find some way back to my side, like a cameriere devoted beyond any sense of duty to serve or desire for reward. And that's not so bad, if I do say so myself."

"You really care about that little dragon, huh?" the other pony chuckled, hiding relief.

Simple truth crushed all doubt as she answered, "Oh, I cherish him, dear. Faults and all."

"Right then..."

Summer Wind dared to press her luck. Yet, whatever her intentions, refined grace failed to find its way into her words. They emerged spotty and cagey.

"... Are you and Spike...?"

Rarity twisted her eyes towards the other pony, one little step at a time. If she had any guesses which filled in the unspoken details then she had chosen to be oblivious to them.

"Uh, I mean, not my business I know. Just curious. But...," the pegasus rambled on, bouncing from word to wary word. She decided to try again, thought once more her powerful need to discover the truth didn't grant her any finer elocution. "Is there, you know, uh... anything there... between... the both of you...?"

Again no answer was forthcoming from the seamstress. But the movement of the conversation had an effect on her entire body. Everything, from head and neck to shoulders and legs, seemed to turn askew, unable to hold straight. A defensive urge pushed her to fill the silent space with something—anything—that might stop the stranger from delving further.

"My, what a fanciful thing to suggest, aheh...," she began, then stopped, then started again, "... There's certainly a very strong friendship; that is beyond question. And I must say, for a dragon Spike is most unusually a very friendly fellow. He's little in the way of brigandry; you won't find him intimidating or swindling others for his own gain. No, quite the opposite. When something's wrong or even if he just thinks something is, he's often the first to lend a claw. I think one of his most natural instincts is to help others. And – lady that I am – I do appreciate seeing such generosity in a pony..."

The longer she spoke the more she seemed to go off track; or rather, the more her track seemed to comfortably loop back to Spike's worthy, endearing qualities. She peered up from her spoken thoughts to see that Summer Wind was still attentive but showing no indication of offering any comments of her own. Suddenly changing the subject would have been far too unladylike a maneuver, so there was no choice but to harden up and push on through. The unicorn eased her resistance and let her rampant thoughts pour out, trying to drain the bucket without specifically labeling the contents.

"... And is there ever a lot to be said about how much effort he puts into being a little helper. You don't find many ponies who take such an interest in fashion solely for the sake of another. Why, I may have taught him more about my trade than I ever have to my own sister, and to my recall never has he complained about it."

Another glance up. More silence. So, more poorly filtered thoughts.

"What else can I say, dear? He's charming when he means to be (and sometimes even when he doesn't), and he's oh so unrelentingly faithful; more than he has to be, if I'm being honest. I can always count on having him around to lend a claw. Certainly I see the same faithfulness in any of my most wonderful friendships, but with Spike... If there's ever any dire thing which must be faced – absolutely anything; great or small, happy or sad, important or insignificant – well then, he has a certain... dependable companionship in him to make the experience easier. I couldn't really imagine a moment of my life that wouldn't somehow be improved by having him near..."

Her voice trailed off. So many times had the trail gone round and round in her head – so much had she gotten caught up in her own twisted web of true excuses – that she had completely lost her place. The next remark to come out of her, a spontaneous objection, peeped up so inconsequently.

"... He's quite young. And he's not at all... what I imagined... in my..."

Coughing, the lady Rarity came back.

"Dragon," she abruptly concluded. Then, repeating for emphasis, "In my dragon-, a dragon! In a dragon."

Summer Wind with great relief shrugged, "That still sounds pretty good for such a young guy."

"It is...," the other pony agreed, briefly lapsing back into a stupor. When her concentration again awakened her she had become so misplaced that she looked down and was surprised to find her plate missing. Her memory caught up to her bit by bit, and she wobbled about in her seat as sparkles of red danced lightly on her cheeks, born from both her fading imagination and the realization of her mealtime faux pas.

"I'm sorry. What were we talking about?"

"Spike."

"Ah. What about him?"

"How he's one of those wonderful ponies who defy all your expectations."

"There's no untruth in that," Rarity was able to unequivocally concur.

So the matter was safe and settled, Summer Wind hoped. But a pit in her stomach opened up, gnawing on her hungrily. The mission was to show the Princess's pupil and all of her friends the secrets of the island's magic; to induct them into the truly astounding, breathtaking, nigh-indescribable experience which the island made possible. But as Venus's and Vesuvius' own relationship showed, and as they also personally attested to, the ecstasy of the heart shined just as gloriously as the ecstasy of the body. And of those two glorious things the pegasus knew VERY WELL that the handicapped Sweet Nothing could only provide one.

... The islanders had prepared for their guests based on the notes written by the Princess's pupil, and the notes hadn't mentioned anything of existing romantic relationships. As such, the islanders had merely assumed that they should-...

... But... if Rarity and Spike-... Then maybe-... Maybe she could spare Rarity...

"Well...," the pegasus began to speak, bleeding away her calm despite her best efforts, "... just keep all that stuff you said about Spike in mind... you know, as you're enjoying your vacation here and everything... The beauty of this island is the special, new kind of togetherness it can bring to ponies everywhere, but... I don't know if..." The next words eluded her every attempt to speak them.

"... 'Don't know if' what, dear?" Rarity eventually prompted her.

She shuffled through a unbalanced tango of mumbles, "If-... I mean, Sweet Nothing isn't-... And Spike might-... that is, uh, if-... Though, he is young... and..."

The seamstress peeled her eyes wider and wider with confusion, but no matter how wide she opened them she couldn't see the pegasus' reasons any better.

"Just...," Summer Wind really strained herself to conclude with a coherent finish, "... just... remember that this is a short vacation, but your friends are with you for your long life. Right?"

Muddled, almost to the point of hiding it behind a cloak of indifference, Rarity eventually answered, "... Yes. Quite right."

The pegasus snuck out an invisible sigh before she sunk her face down towards her unfinished food.

This place was paradise. Or it was supposed to be anyway. In her heart she BELIEVED it could be. It could fulfill those needs of hers that she had never known were there until she had felt it for the first time. But she didn't wish anypony the same trouble she had been through so far in chasing it.

She took a melancholy bite of her cold food, picking up a tiny portion and nibbling on it listlessly. Yet her gray chewing fast came to an incomplete finish, the pint-sized wad falling out of her stalled mouth. Something starkly different had snared her eyes and immediately recolored her thoughts.

A short way off from the boardwalk and stage was Humble Herd. A heavy sack was slung over him, hanging on his side, and inside of it were more sacks, almost numberless and each one small but bloated with a specific seed or snack for many different types of critters. The stallion had his whole head crammed into one of the bushes which composed part of the green wall on that side of the beach, running from boardwalk to the long dock trail. His appearance wasn't quite the most perfect impression of an ostrich, though Summer Wind was certain that he was hiding from SOMETHING.

"Excuse me, please," she rapidly offered Rarity. The other pony, boggled, never even had the time to respond before the pegasus broke from the table.

With her wings the pegasus glided over wood and then sand, away from the mellow luncheon and towards the broad line of bushes. Her swift floating brought her up behind the headless pony without so much as a single spoiling sound, though that hadn't been a particular intention of hers. The swish of her hoofs gently kissing the sandy dirt coincided with her friendly, plain, and cautious greeting.

"Hey Humble Herd."

His leaping neck ripped branches out as it came, and his fumbling turnabout thrust his butt back, pounding on the bush while crunching branch and leaves. The whole shrub snarled in surprised anger as the concealed residents within let out chirps and screeches. Fortunately the stallion was quick to pull himself out, recognizing his mistake as swiftly as he recognized his assailant.

"Oh. Summer Wind," he sighed, wriggling his elastic tension out through every limb and breath. "Good morning-, er, aft-afternoon? Uh. What time is it?"

"Afternoon, barely," she got the answer out of the way with immediate but respectful frustration. "It's lunch."

"R-Right. So it is," he frowned a smile. "I mean, we did all, uh, leave the beach especially to have lunch, right? So, t-that makes sense."

"Yes." She was bored. And serious. "So... you're just... skipping it, apparently?"

Humble Herd pinched his body together tight, shuffling his hooves in a constant, tiny dance while he otherwise dodged her eyes.

"Uh, yeah," he mumbled. "I t-thought that I'd get started on my rounds early today, m-maybe. Just-... just do an extra thorough check on everyone." He waggled his hoof at the bush he had recently been buried in. "This one's fine!" he unconvincingly asserted before his eyes registered the damage he had dealt. Fast he pressed his face halfway back through the leaves, injecting apologetic whispers into bush, "I'm s-sorry guys! That was m-my fault! Sorry! I-I'm so sorry!"

Summer Wind shimmied around him so that she could grab his attention, succeeding enough that he extracted himself to look at her directly.

"Really, though? Like, right now?" she asked him, poking him with her obvious and intimate knowledge of his habits and fears.

"Ah, y-yeah," the shaky stallion's crumbling defenses carried on. "I mean, the bell moths begin their m-mating season this evening, and I know Venus and V-Vesuvius want me around for that. L-Like to answer q-questions, when we s-show the g-guests. So I thought m-maybe I should-"

"You normally get your rounds down later in the afternoon and are finished way before evening. You don't need extra time." Though she was using plain reality to flatly shut him down she took much care to be as friendly about it as possible.

"W-W-Well, if a-anything serious were to c-come up, you k-know, then I w-would-"

"Humble Herd."

Her strong call of his name was no chastisement. It was demanding in some way, but wrapped soft. Corrective, forgiving, full of love; it floated over to him. Sliding alongside the agitated pony she angled herself parallel and cast one of her great wings around him. It hugged their bodies together, and faintly against his neck and cheek she shook her head with amused disappointment.

"Humble-Humble-Humble-Humble Humble Herd," she addressed him. Her wing's grip on him secure, she easily turned them both to face the stage and tables, and she pointed a hoof specifically at the table where Fluttershy sat silent with her farm pony friend.

"Have lunch with her!" Summer Wind both ordered and advised the nervous pony in a single statement, delivered happy and desperate in a way that only a dear friend could do.

The stallion's long and shrunken gaze watched the dainty pony eating quietly at her table. And his eyes sank. And more he watched her, losing focus. And his head dipped, sinking his eyes further.

"Egh... No...," he redecided. "I don't think-"

"You gotta do something!" the orange pegasus pleaded. She tightened her tender hold on him and through her wing gave a soft shake.

"Yeah, I should...," he acknowledged guilty as charged, muttering without energy or hesitation. "... But she's not interested in some meager pony like me."

This time Summer Wind rattled him a little more sternly, though she still spoke with wholehearted devotion.

"Come on, that's nonsense. You're a GREAT pony."

"Not many ponies think so..." His whisper itself diminished into a whisper.

"I think so," she thrust her answer into him with all the care and precision of a doctor's needle, and again she firmed up her wing-hug. Then her breath turned hot and she hissed in command, "Just ignore anything nasty that ponies like Sweet Nothing tell you. What does he know?"

Humble Herd tried to pick up his head, but the feeble will powering his muscles couldn't raise it more than an inch.

"I... kind of meant it literally, though," he pointed out. "I've never met many ponies who have said that I'm-"

"No, Humble Herd, no." She was almost reduced to begging, earnestly injured by how he talked about himself. "You're wrong."

For a moment he held stiff without a word, still unable to raise his head. At last he responded with crippled acceptance, "Yeah..."

Yeah. That's exactly what he was: a wrong pony.

But that continued weakness lurking in him couldn't hide from Summer Wind; not at all. Every little dent in him she desired to smooth out. Every little wound she wanted to dress. Every last tiny ache she longed to soothe. To be an exact mirror to him, and what he had always tried to do for her.

Letting go of him she stepped about to face him head on, and with a wing she lifted his chin.

"Aw, come on," she pleaded, hurt but true. "I admit... it does take some time to get past this shadow of a pony that you SEEM to be on the outside. But that pony INSIDE... Humble Herd, you're so special, and sweet, and soft, and caring, and honest... and everything good like that. If other ponies don't take the time to see it then that's their loss. Please believe me when I say that."

"Summer Wind... I-"

Her one wing nudged his wobbling chin to interrupt him, but her other wing came out and ran a calming stroke across his neck.

"Even with the incredible things that this island makes possible," she said, drawing her face in and locking tightly with his eyes, "I'm so glad that I came here just because it has meant that I got to make friends with you. That was worth it by itself."

She breathed soft, and her final words came to her with great, recent familiarity.

"You're a wonderful pony who-... who's really defied all my expectations."

Her unending, sincere praise was just the gift to finally draw a weak smile out of Humble Herd.

But as her wings let go of him his face drooped into a bit of a frown once more, contorted by relentless remorse. Her mention of 'incredible things' on the island quite specifically tortured him. In his mind came back all the upsetting memories of the island's awful magic.

"Summer Wind... I'm really sorry about-... uh, when we-"

He twisted his head back and forth, feeling wrong all over again.

"... I'm sorry that I... you know... that I was so terrible. That I was-... was no good for you."

For all of the faithful encouragement she had poured over him, for all of the positive reinforcement, for all of the undaunted praise... he had in one wimpy and saddened line managed to cut the legs right out from under her efforts. He had brought out the one bad thought that truly defeated her.

As she took a step back her head crumbled identically to his. Her wings folded up, limp, and she barely managed to reply, "N-No... don't-... That-... We BOTH weren't what the other needed... and... we have to accept that and move on. So f-forget it, o-okay?"

Humble Herd sighed, "But I'm not going to be what Fluttershy needs either."

"You don't know that," Summer Wind's strength made a fragile return. The further they ran from their shared terrible memory the more she recovered. "You've barely tried so far."

"I won't be. I mean, before, she didn't even want to look at me," the stallion moaned in resignation. "She didn't really even want anything to do with me..."

"Because she's nervous." The mare came around to the stallion's side again and tried gently to nudge him forward. "She'll be less nervous if you break the ice. Go on. Ask if you can sit with her for lunch."

But rarely could one ask a cat to voluntarily swim.

"Oh, I couldn't! Her friend is there and everything! It'd be so silent and awkward, and they'd stare, and... she really wouldn't want me there anyw-"

"Okay, okay," the pegasus patted her friend tenderly. Placing her cheek right next to his she whispered in quiet, clever comfort, "Then how about this: invite her to do your rounds with you. She takes care of animals, right? It'll keep you both too busy to be nervous, it'll break the ice, AND best of all you'll have the company of all your little friends the whole time. You'll never be strictly alone with her."

Humble Herd looked from orange pegasus to yellow, back and forth for several hoof-biting moments.

"I... d-don't really know... I m-mean... m-maybe?"

"Hey, come on lady-killer," Summer Wind tickled his rib with her knee. "You don't lose anything by asking her. We didn't volunteer like some of the others, but Venus and Vesuvius wouldn't have picked you at all if they didn't have faith in you. And me too. You can do it."

"I-... I-..." He went for another surrendering sigh, but he managed to swallow it before it could run out waving a flag of defeat. "Okay...," the pony relented, putting his broken best into shoring himself up.

Up and down his hooves pumped in place, shifting centimeter by centimeter as if there was always some superior, more gentlepony-like stance eluding him. The bag of bags hanging from his shoulder he pulled up so that it might sit on his slouchy body with a more professional look, though every time he did so it kept sliding back down to a naturally slack position only moments later. His shy tail made a bold effort to get just a few hairs out from between his hind legs. And every second which passed was another spent trying to not wheeze so recklessly through his chattering teeth. At last he had a big enough puddle of bravery stored to claw a single hoof forward.

But before he got any farther Summer Wind's large wing found its way around him again, drawing her into a fast hug. She landed a sincere kiss on his already blood-rich cheek.

"Go get her, tiger," she told him, quiet with fun and infallible with faith.

Her wing freed him, and he freed a happy but mousy smile for her.

It only took him an extra moment to reaffix his courage and then he was off again, albeit of course slowly. Naturally the closer he got to the boardwalk the more the location magnetically repelled him. Forward became skewed, each step going slightly astray as he leaned into his off-center walk, battling the intangible hurricane driving him back. He orbited Fluttershy's table at a distance, like debris tumbling towards a planet but forever missing.

Eventually he had little choice but to creep nearer. If he had kept his awkward amble of avoidance going then he would have bumped right into the stage. Finally he pushed directly towards the table, but his already glacial pace ebbed even more. At every hesitant step he had to swallow a lump in his throat before he could continue, and his head was so tucked into his body he might as well have been a turtle.

He eventually hit a point wherein he could bring himself to take no more steps closer. Every time his hoof cracked off the ground to limp just one more pace nearer he felt himself teeter on the end of a helpless panic. Trying to push another leg forward drilled an uncontrollable sense of danger into his bones.

Fortunately he had gotten to within striking distant. Or... technically so; not too far to hold a conversation, but far enough to have made it a strange case of lobbing loud words at a pony he was supposed to casually speak to. It would have helped him to have stood a half dozen steps closer, if only he could have. Even still he was leaning back, unable to put his face fully forward, and his hooves were turned aside, ready to pop away if an ill word was spoken or even if a baby tomato rolled off a plate too suddenly.

After one last breath that puttered out like a gasp he opened his mouth to greet the mares, but that was about as far as he got. A barren wind carried no sound out of him.

Fluttershy had noticed him only belatedly, very shortly before he had halted. At first she had kept her quiet posture straight, polite enough to have allowed him the time, space, and chance to speak his piece; the same chance which anypony deserved. Inside she had even prayed for this to have been a normal encounter, one which was everyday enough for her to endure. But it took her no time at all to spot the way that he held himself away from her, the way that he seemed ready to depart at a moment's notice, the way that he apparently considered her not even worth greeting... Her mane became her pink shield again as she lowered her face.

Sloshing, rolling, and crushing the fine paste that had been her latest bite of grub, Applejack had curious eyes on the nervous stallion while she chewed away. The mild mouthful lasted long past the appropriate swallowing point but the farm pony, subtly baffled as she was, couldn't pull her attention away from the ridiculous sight of the mouse-in-a-pony's-body having a freakout over approaching the oh-so-threatening Fluttershy. She just stared and chewed. And chewed. And chewed. And stared. And chewed. Slower. Slower. And slower.

And then one last time she wound her jaw, pulling it apart and wheeling it back up like the slow sun marching its whole day across the sky. She finally swallowed.

"Uh...," quite remarkably she was the first pony to shatter the titanic silence, "... something I can do for you?"

For Applejack to have spoken first, or really for her to have even spoken at all, struck at the heart of the stallion's fear. Scarcely his quaking hoof rumbled through the air to maybe-sorta point just a little at the shy pegasus, and his shivering mouth wobbled up and down as it barely squeezed out a nearly senseless sounding call of, "F-F-Flut-t-ters-shy..."

"Uh huh...," the farm pony acknowledged in the most calmly flabbergasted drone of a reply. A few times she glanced between the two ponies hiding from each other, but eventually her eyes shrugged and she leaned around the table towards Fluttershy. "It's for you," she lazily informed her friend.

"Oh... Thank you..." The other pony's tiny puff of breath wouldn't have fanned even the feeblest gust of air.

To start she only twisted her hidden eyes towards Humble Herd, leaving him obscured by her pink waterfall mane. She spoke, but only in microscopic words which she directed inwards, the whispers of reinforcement bouncing off her hair and back to herself.

It was going to be alright. Slowly the moisture in her mouth evaporated. A pleasant 'hello,' and no more certainly. Every ball of sweat pooling into the cracks and corners of her body left a tingling itch. This was going to be an everyday 'how's your lunch,' 'fine, thanks.' That's all. The fresh fullness in her belly started to riot. She had kindly greeted all different kinds of nice pony strangers many times before, and this wasn't any different. She could do this. Ice was consuming her spine, and its every frozen tendril spread out over her wings one feather at a time.

Whatever strange and uncomfortable attraction she had thought was possessing him had to surely have been some product of her faulty imagination; some mistake on her part.

At last the gentle pegasus creaked her head through a tiny turn and tender tilt, letting her mane fall to the side and revealing the stallion.

"Um. Hello," she greeted like a timid rabbit.

Again the rusty gears of his jaws ground themselves silently for several moments before some small peeps of sound managed to escape from the back of his throat.

"H-H-He-Hell-lo, Fl-Fl-Flut-Flutter-ter-sh-sh-sh-sh—" Gulp. "—You. Hi. A-Again."

Applejack had to turn away. Her hat she curved down to shield herself from the scene. Hoo boy.

His fragmented, lackluster response hadn't done Fluttershy any good. He was in far, far worse shape than he had been even only yesterday, and his sharp descent immediately reflected upon her as well. It was a significant battle for her to give him even half her face.

Humble Herd for his part struggled equally. The worse blow came from the mare's obviously extreme boredom with having to put up with him AGAIN.

"Y-Y-Your l-lunch...," his monstrosity of a sentence clawed its way out of him in grotesque slowness, rising with the same vicious slurping, broken moaning, and flailing shambling of the thrice undead, "... is... g-g-good."

His senseless statement confused poor Fluttershy. An anxious blush flamed further across her muzzle as she looked down at her mostly-finished plate of food. All that was left were ant-sized crumbs; apparently enough to have enticed the unusual pony?

"Um... thank you?" she said back to him.

"Oh! Uh," he gasped, aware now that in his chaotic mess of nerves he had failed to peak his voice like a question. He flew into a desperate fit, fumbling to fix his error despite the lateness and really despite its irrelevance to his intended conversation, "I-I-I m-m-mean, is-s y-your lunch g-g-good?"

"Oh. Yes. It is."

She glanced again at her nearly empty plate, the lack of a lunch on it being stupidly obvious in hindsight. The embarrassment already splashing about in her body flooded her more, and her hapless mouth raced to correct her own simple, diminutive, nearly unnoticeable error.

"I-It WAS. Thank you."

But the minor slip-up had done its damage. Her already ramshackle confidence had been wounded so badly that just a mere response to his direct question suddenly felt woefully and shamefully incomplete. Her nervous eyes scrambled about, seeking ANYTHING she might use to vomit more words. Quickly she spied his bag filled with what plainly wasn't pony-grade food, but in her frantic rush she too-hastily turned the question on him, "I-Is yours?"

He caught her glimpsing his bag, and therefore he also caught her mistake. But rather than laugh, or yell, or politely set her straight, he dipped his body in shame, convinced that her error was rooted entirely in his own.

"N-N-N-No, t-th-this isn't my l-l-lun-... I-I'm n-n-not-... I, I, I-... I'm s-s-sorry t-that y-you-..."

While he only continued to spill buckets of unfinished sentences Fluttershy was completely enslaved by her own silent anxiety. All she could do was scrutinize him with one half-turned eye while her cowardice thrashed her, but it was then that she finally caught notice of what exactly his cargo really was.

Everything changed. Warm life pumped out of her heart and through her arteries, melting away frosty frigidness and pushing her up in her seat. Her pink locks pulled themselves fully aside. The drawing of the curtain rapidly drained away the lingering shadows of fear while revealing to her a world so much brighter and busier; one alive with wonderfully furry, scaly, feathery, happy faces that she was far less afraid to confront.

"Are you going to be feeding some animals?" she wondered, scantly aware anymore of the nervousness that had just been binding her seconds ago.

The spark in her surprised Humble Herd, though more deeply than anything he was frightened by its spontaneous appearance. Something MUST have been wrong.

"Y-Y-Y-Ye-Ye-Y-Y-Ye-Y-Ye—" Again he gulped, loudly. "—No."

There was no quicker dagger that could've plunged into Fluttershy's budding hope, and she crumpled back into a meek form.

"I m-mean, t-the a-a-anim-mals don't N-NEED my h-help g-getting fed," the stallion franticly tried to clarify his answer. "T-They do a l-lot to take care of t-themselves. M-Many h-have used the i-i-island as a h-h-home long bef-fore us, and this pl-place was e-empty of ponies for s-so l-l-long that a-a-actually m-many of th-th-them are n-not so c-com-com-comfort-table with us b-b-being a-ar-round. I j-just make s-sure that they're h-happy and s-s-settled, and w-we're not h-hurting them in a-any w-way." Squirming as he squawked, he tried to straighten the way his bag was hanging but of course it just slid back down into a slack, untidy position again after only a fleeting moment of holding tight. "T-This f-food is ext-tra, in c-case they n-need it, or I n-need to e-encourage them, o-or anyt-thing."

"Oh," the shy pegasus realized. The sensible if shakily-given explanation was enough to raise her up once again, though more carefully than before. Now the drips of enthusiasm came in the small splashes of a leaking spout. She asked him, mustering just enough mirthful curiosity to do so, "So, you're like a wildlife warden for the island's animals?"

Humble Herd's empty, wordless mouth took the shape of a 'yes,' but it was his nodding head which got his answer across more clearly.

"Well," Fluttershy pressed with all the softness of freshly laundered linen, "what sort of kind, sweet, cuddly animals are on this island?"

"M-M-Mostly mi-g-gratory avian s-s-species, and in-insects."

"Really?" In some ways unexpected. But intriguing.

He sweated through expanding his response, "Ah, w-well, of c-course t-there are many oth-thers, b-but those t-two are the largest g-groups by f-far. Th-The more n-n-native anim-mals w-who aren't b-bugs a-are l-less n-numerous and a b-bit more re-re-reclus-sive."

"So... I guess the animals here are more feathery and crawly than they are cuddly." The pegasus' remark echoed faintly with wit, and she shared it while bearing what was definitively a tiny, tiny smile.

And as Humble Herd glimpsed the teeny grin he held his terrified breath. But no sudden reversal came over her face. No painful plot twist flipped her into being angry or upset, nor did ANY awful reality follow her simple look of kindness. His mouth opened and the imprisoned air which came out flowed only as a regular, peaceful exhale.

"They're...," he spoke for once at honest ease, even to his own surprise, "... all still sort of cuddly. I mean, if you ask me."

Plainly Fluttershy enjoyed his comment, illuminating gently like the slow-brightening gleam of the sun when clouds drifted on.

Every muscle in the stallion's body tightened at once, and he wobbled on his stiff legs trying to look tall. This was the moment. There wasn't going to be a better chance. He summoned up every last fiber of his flimsy nerves.

"So, uh... if-... if you wanted to, ah..."

A fresh rain of sweat came showering out of his forehead to fight off the embarrassed fire which flared across his face.

"... maybe, you know... if... you wanted to-... to... meet some of the animals..."

Fluttershy raised and planted a hoof on the table, using it to draw herself in closer to him as she listened so intently to his increasingly shrinking voice.

"... I mean, if you-... if you do want to, then-... t-then, ah... y-you c-could-... c-c-could..."

His slung bag rumbled with the heavy vibrations rocking his body, his tail bolted and cowered between his legs, and he welded his eyes shut. His lips curled in over his teeth, reaching into his mouth so deep just to grab the words and yank them out. Say it!

SAY IT!

"... YOU COULD GO AND TALK TO THEM YOURSELF!"

He had blasted it like cannon: sharp, sudden, and short. His failing efforts to speak had continually turned up blank, cranking up his desperation to say anything at all, and what he had wound up with was a shout so backed by his pent-up power it had become an awkward screech.

The true trouble was that he had aborted the invitation to join him. It had gotten halfway up his throat and then he had panicked. Too late to have stopped SOME words from flying, and with no ability to have squelched the vomiting faucet of his nervous energy, he had unthinkingly mutated his invitation into a reckless recommendation.

He chattered his teeth as his eyelids rolled back open, but perhaps he should have left them closed. The sight of a damaged Fluttershy was all that greeted him. She was pulling away again, retreating into herself in guilt as whatever ramshackle bridge had been built between the two ponies collapsed to simultaneous fire, flood, and earthquake.

"I m-m-meant, it's o-okay to t-t-talk to th-them if y-you w-want to...," he tried in whatever vain way he could to put his idiocy in a better context. But though his words had all the speed of correction they no longer had any ounce of vitality, nor were they backed by any imagination of success. "T-They're all pr-pretty f-f-friendly. The a-animals, I m-mean. They're f-friendly. A-Ah, i-if-... i-i-if y-you're nice."

"'If I'm-...?'" the silently distraught pegasus echoed.

But in the split-second it had taken her to start her question her worried mind had reinterpreted the innocent comment as an attack. A blow struck her gut – the 'two' of the stallion's unintentional one-two punch – and it stole any further air from her. She was certain now: he had read her and had rendered absolute, pitiful judgment. He had simply come here to inform her that the island's animals probably would NOT be friends with a pony LIKE HER.

"Oh..." Her head took a final crestfallen drop.

"A-A-A-Anyw-way I j-just w-wanted to t-tell you t-that," Humble Herd rambled, retreating a step with each stutter. "I s-should g-get b-back t-t-t-t-t-to work. B-B-B-B-Bye!"

He scrambled backwards, not quite successful in turning around until he slammed into another table. The shouts of the patrons there finally got him to whip about and then he darted away like a spooked rabbit.

Fluttershy's hoof, still planted on the table edge, went limp and fell off.

Through her pursed lips Applejack gave a loud, long whistle of astonishment.

"Well gosh dang that sure was something," she followed up, straightening her hat. "Poor feller was more knock-kneed than a newborn calf ice-skating." To her spiritually-trampled friend she turned and asked, "You alright, Fluttershy?"

"Mmmhmm," the other pony's throat quietly hummed, plumping the sound onto her empty plate from her fallen nose, the two close enough to touch.

And she wasn't the only one with her face dismally down in a plate. A few tables over Summer Wind was shaking her lowered head and mumbling into her food.

"Oh, Humble Herd..."

"... So after that, no money on us anymore, we just got in line and joined the crowds that had already filled the streets. And I mean FILLED; you have to try and picture thousands of people crammed together between the buildings for this. Anyway, that left us pretty far in back for the whole thing, but it was still a great night. Just all the lights and singing, and the energy of it. Warm friends and cold winds, right up until midnight. Then, dead and tired, we had to find our way BACK out of the city. But that's a whole nother adventure."

Alone at a table with Prism, James concluded yet another story. Ever since they had settled down on the beach after the volleyball game they had been trading personal tales and anecdotes back and forth, though through the hours the mare had increasingly been forgoing her turn in favor of only listening. The stories had continued right into lunch, and the longer-winded the man got the more he found that he wasn't so bothered by such lengthy recountings of his past.

Certainly he had always enjoyed the sound of his of own voice, but in the last few months there had always been an abundance of avoidance regarding deep trawls through his memories. Only now and again had rare bits and pieces been given away when relevant; a tempered reserve he had built up for obvious reasons. The main exception to the rule was Twilight, who was the only pony he had shared such thorough history with for any amount of willing regularity. That had been in part because she had always been such a rapt and eager audience, yet she also had always been chock full of counterpoints, questions, arguments, theories, tangents, tirades, abstractions, references, and infinitely many other contentious or extending comments. And while that entertaining struggle had been a happy element of his friendship with her...

... It was also so nice to just be able to conjure and relive memory while having somepony there who merely sat still and appreciated it.

"That late, after such a long morning and day?" Prism broke her solid attention to make another fascinated remark. "Why not have booked a hotel?"

"First, again, no money," he laughed and threw open his hands. "Second, I cannot impress upon you enough how many people were there. Thousands is NOT an exaggeration. This was a HUGE crowd. And where there's crowds there's money to be made, so on a night like that to rent just one room would've run us up a high-interest loan from the bank!"

"I see!" she smiled. "Then I guess it's good your friend lived so close to the city!"

"Yeah. Though by the time we had gotten back to his place I think the sun had already started coming up." The man's head fell into a pretend torpor. "We were dead for the rest of the day."

Prism rocked excitedly in her seat, as if she were cheering the end of the story like it had been a grand performance. Quite thrilled she exclaimed, "You and your friends! It honestly sounds like you were quite the inseparable explorers together!"

"SOUNDS like, yeah, heh," he corrected the emphasis, "only because you keep asking for me to tell you about them." Easing into a mellow smile he wiped away any fanciful ideas with a wave of his hand, saying casually, "I don't think my old friends and I really got up to anything that was that far out of the ordinary. Well, for where I'm from anyway."

"Oh, but what I meant is," she shared with such genuine excitement, "you're tied so close to them. I traveled near and far across Equestria and met so many interesting ponies, but you cemented friendships with just a few and then took them so many places with you!"

"Well, I wouldn't quite put it like that," James dismissed politely. He shrugged, "It's not as many places as you think. Certainly not nearly as many as you, I'm sure."

She nodded in acceptance but added with faint remorse, "There's still a lot to envy, I think."

"... So the road really did have a whole lot of meetings but never a lot of friendships?"

The pony wiggled uncomfortably, not agreeing with his interpretation but unable to truthfully deny it.

"Sort of," she expressed cautiously. "Never deep friendships, I guess. No friendships with ponies who were willing to join and travel anywhere with me."

"But that's kind of different," objected the man. "I mean, my group, we were friends for a long, long time; since we were young. But even so, we still weren't just up and dropping everything for each other on whims."

"I know," she seemed quite sad to admit, but in an instant her mood whirled around, lighting her up, "but it's really the big reason I am so glad to be here on this island now. This is something so different than before, for me. Closer. And deeper."

The man hummed.

The pony held him in a distant, thoughtful, warm stare as everything ran through her head: past, his and hers; hopeful futures, his and hers. Little amusements prickled at her insides, sparks of delight which peeked out in the pleasant turns of her lips and the slow, easy blinks of her eyes. She lifted herself up an inch to edge slightly around the table towards him, leaning over the tabletop as she came.

"So... James...," Prism opened, speaking with a new but thoroughly inviting tenderness, "... in all your stories I haven't heard you mention this yet. I thought I might ask, if it's alright, but I was just curious..."

She turned aside for a breath, also to herself flashing a smile that had all the coddled delirium of a dream. When she looked back at him he saw in her the sheer depth of her dream, with no wish to wake up.

"Are you... very close to any of your friends?"

Confusion arrested him, and not just from her question's secretive vagueness. The ponies, she meant? No no, among his old friends.

His wary lack of a response forced her to add more, "I mean, obviously you love them all. But what I meant is: ... was there ever one to whom you were..." She chose very special words. "... intimately attached?"

"Oh, a girlfriend?" he awoke with casual candor. With ease he dismissed, "There's been a few over the years, but not amongst my friends."

The pony gave his answer a disturbed glance, and he scratched his head while deciding that his wording had been rather unusual.

"I guess what I mean is that I see tight-knit friends and dates as different beasts. I never dated a friend in that sense. Always kept them separate."

"Ah. So then..." Still she was almost furtive. "... no special pony in your heart?"

"Fortunately not."

Again Prism gawked with undecided discomfort, and again he realized his answer was far too inadequate. He extended it, "That is, there wasn't one when I left home for... uh, Equestria. And there isn't one right now either. Nothing against romance, though; like I said, I tried it a few times."

"Oh, okay. I understand now," the pony nodded, much more pleased. "You hadn't mentioned anything like that at all. I was starting to wonder..."

One of his shoulders shrugged. It had been a natural omission from his tales.

"Dad always taught me you shouldn't share your dating life too openly; looks too much like bragging."

"Hehe, I don't know if I would agree with that," she mulled aloud in delight. The bracelets on her one of her ankles clinked against the table as she rested her leg up on it.

She became altogether more thoughtful in appearance, bending her weight towards the man while studying him in depth, and then she put the sincere question to him, "After everything you did with your friends together, why did you choose to come here alone? To Equestria, I mean."

"That's a whole different thing," James replied wearily. The technical details were laborious to explain, which is why he had avoided the exact specifics so far already. (It was both intriguing and perturbing how so many ponies' intense inward focus on their cutie mark-provided missions left them unworldly and ill-knowledgeable about geography. Even a pony as well-traveled as Prism had readily accepted his implied proposal of being merely a traveler from a far-off land populated not by ponies but entirely by beings like himself, as if whole unheard-of kingdoms and continents existing in the wild was an ordinary thing.)

To explain it to her in a new way that wouldn't provoke uncomfortable questions he merely said, "What's important is that I'm here in Equestria making new friends now."

The simple specifics of his answer struck her very swiftly, piling an enormous amount of happiness upon her. A full smile stretched across her muzzle, electric breath surged out of her, and she said, "And now you've come here to our island with new friends that you've made, and we can show you something even more amazing than just friendship!"

"One step at a time," he held up a hand and chuckled.

Prism went quiet. A train rolled through her mind, quickly followed by two more, and then a whole railroad of pleasurable thoughts chugged, shunted, shot, and whistled everywhere within of her; all silent beyond the border of her face except for the emerging light of a blissful dream.

Her glittering eyes held on him and she produced a sweetened sigh. Across the table she reached her leg, floating it towards him. If she wanted she could have tapped him with it, but instead it dangled just short of him, blocked somehow from going all the way.

"I want to earn your bracelet," she said to him. They were words pulled from a profound place; the most weighty thing he had so far heard her speak since having met her.

James didn't reply, looking only at her reaching leg and the rainbow of colors already hanging from it. He ground his teeth in unreadable thought.

"Will you give me that chance?" she begged humbly. Her legged pushed closer, but still it somehow couldn't reach him on its own.

A thick breath passed out of the man's lips, and he tilted his head to glance fleetingly at some of the other tables. Twilight was studious as ever, and friendly as ever; she was absorbed in sharing some scholarly work with a pony she had only met yesterday. Kind, brave, admirable Fluttershy sat mingling in quiet solace with honest, dependable, hardworking Applejack. Rainbow Dash, too; she was clearly busy being as loyal a companion as ever, and having a lot of fun doing it. And what more words needed to be said about faithful, faithful Spike?

Wonderful friends, all. Friends he had stumbled backwards into meeting. Friends he had made because he had fallen through a portal and then a princess had declared, "These can be your friends, if you'll give them the chance."

The 'chance' indeed. Those ponies' virtues had found the cracks in his resistance, not any doorways of his invitation.

Pinkie Pie was out there too, after all, laughing along with the new friend she had made. That was a pony who had no virtues which could incidentally draw him into friendship. And generous Rarity was owed so much, but for some crazy reason he had not the power to repay her as friendship demanded.

The only friend he had made on his own was Poppy. He idly tapped his medallion with his finger. Her friendship had been something that had been thrown onto him as well. He really was lucky she had tried so hard where he hadn't.

"I guess," he started to speak before he looked back at Prism, "I'll give it a try."

Maybe it was time to finally try making a new friend.

A glorious smile conquered the pony's face, beaming brightly. She withdrew her leg back to herself so that she could rest her chest upon on it, so ready to converse until she had spent every last breath of air on the island. Her warm future couldn't arrive soon enough.

"So...," she asked, wet with curiosity and burning with excitement, "... you said you've dated before? I'd so love to hear another story."

Chapter 25: Sprout

Knowledge. Wit. Focus. A sense of theater, even if only in a petty amount. Such qualities were of great use to anypony whose job was to lead a tour around. Guiding a gaggle of ponies here to there, showing them perfect presentation, and educating them at each stop with just the right amount of hypnotizing information was what made for truly terrific tours.

But they were qualities which Venus and Vesuvius seemed to quite lack in coherent combinations, even between each other. Not to say that they didn't complement each other in some ways.

The island lady did bring plenty of imagination to her role as a tour guide, but it took the form of often speaking about what 'would be' or 'could be' and less of what actually was. She also had a tendency to travel without destination, both in her lead and her lectures. Every fork in her thoughts simply HAD to be taken, no matter where it led or even how complete her current business had been, and sometimes the same behavior bled into choosing the next destination. The tour group could stand in one spot and be taken a dozen places, or could be going to a dozen places and be brought back to the same dreamy thoughts. Every thought and every place seemed linked to the present in ways which were scattered at best and wishfully fictional at worst.

And where the lady brought zeal the island sire instead brought some control. His sense of direction was better honed than that of his mare's; he tended to resolve her worst indecisions, but only after they had gone on too long. Very much he limited himself to whims, often answering her with, "Why not?" or, "If you'd like," instead of recommending, "This way," or, "That way." But if there was one phrase of his that the guests had hammered into them from repetition it was one which he directed specifically at them frequently: "Please don't wander off!" Other than that he did add his own words often enough to the formal presentations, but he had a preference for letting his lady indulge herself and thus favored giving up many of his best speaking chances to her.

In their own heads there was something the island masters loved about what they were sharing, but whatever it was that had attracted them to their island and what they were trying to create on it just didn't proceed sensibly from their presentation. It hardly appeared as if they had rehearsed their tour. Or perhaps they had never discussed a plan at all.

For some of the guests the lackluster state of their efforts wasn't much of problem. For them, politeness on their part or enthusiasm on the guides' part covered the worst of the gaps. Likewise those who lacked a real interest altogether got along just fine on endurance and a healthy amount of silent thoughts. And for ponies who cared more about their company than any tours, there was enough of a crowd to keep them distracted.

But the situation sure drove Twilight bonkers. It was like following a map, but without the map. Like reading a book whose pages had been randomly rearranged. Like watching a play built from the disconnected scenes of ten other plays. Her brain worked meticulously to link all the facts logically, but the sheer amount of arbitrary irrelevance and careless order in them was the makings of eternal suffering.

Not to mention that all the excess nonsense got in the way of her true goal: to delve into the mystery of the original islanders. Venus and Vesuvius were keen to lead the tour all around their resort, digging into everything that had been built since after they had come. But even as official custodians of the island they weren't terribly inclined to showcase anything of its historical interest; anything that came from before them. Only now and again did old history pop up as either a supporting peep or a simple side-thought.

That ancient past even felt more invisible than before. At first arrival, when the guests had disembarked from the boat, the clear evening air had been so vibrantly foggy like that of a heavy dream's, and at that time the island hosts had talked about the past many, many, many times; it, and its influence, and its power, and its magic. But this second day in, with every guest wide awake from the crisp midday air, the things of old were never highlighted, and on tour they weren't even displayed in so much as a museum-like space. The only thing promoted now was a hoped future hung on the skeleton of a modern novelty they were excited to erect.

Little room was left by their great sales pitch for more relevant questions from the knowledge-thirsty unicorn. Without natural openings to make pertinent inquiries she was forced largely to inject herself into the conversation in odd or frustrated ways. And even still, the island masters chimed the same old refrain:

"So do you put on shows which celebrate the culture of the original islanders?"

"Unfortunately we don't really know enough about what they were like in order to do that."

"But, are the performances perhaps at least somewhat based on-"

"There's no writings that they left behind, that we know of."

...

"Were terraced gardens like this common on the island?"

"We don't know."

"But if you examine the ruins left behind then you can at least make some guesses as to-"

"There aren't much in the way of ruins still standing, sadly."

...

"In putting together your whole resort, how much would you say is inspired by the spirit of the island's original inhabitants?"

"Oh, we work hard to dig up all the knowledge we can for the Island Society. We believe the ponies here knew something TRULY SPECIAL, and we want to echo that to all of Equestria! ... But... there's so little we know for certain..."

"But you've been here working on your resort for awhile now. So... how much do you know, do you think?"

"Well, Twilight, you have to understand that there's a lot of work which goes into creating a resort, and we're not even open to the public yet. We have to follow designs of our own wherever we... don't have the documented evidence to draw inspiration from."

The dispirited unicorn never found the chance to discuss the records she and Gallowayo had spent all morning poring over. The island masters were always sailing sunny miles away from the subject, and any mention of it by Twilight would have just been a lengthy and unwelcome storm.

What a dismal tour.

After the showgrounds and front garden had been covered the tour had moved on through nearly every room of the Passion's Embrace itself, or so it felt from all the stairs and walking. It had then at last hit some newness when the guests were led out the back of the big building. Where front had boasted the joys of beach and boardwalk, and the building itself had the amenities of a hotel, the place behind it had been built to meet all other resort needs. There, much smaller buildings of disparate styles were mixed together. Some were quite clearly utility and not meant to catch the eyes or attention of guests, even though they were crowded together with brighter ones who announced themselves openly. The temporary, the grungy, the industrious; together with the permanent, the clean, and the relaxing; mixed in clashing chaos like contrary roommates.

In some ways the jumble was just a 'downtown' only in miniature compared to any big city, and certainly it was also laid out in a less coordinated fashion. It wasn't like a garden planted in dug lines. Instead it seemed that a new structure had been laid down in the first open lot every time a new need or new idea had come forward. Navigating wasn't always a matter of finding the right 'street' (where such a term didn't even make sense anyway, absent any stones in the ground to mark walkways) but of sometimes mazing through trodden paths of dirt that squeezed between the differently-shaped buildings.

Fortunately none of the buildings stood tall, so the great vibrancy of the island interior wasn't hidden while moving about. Such natural lushness had only been hinted at from the beach, peeking around the Passion's Embrace which had blocked the view inwards. Now it was the beach which was vanished behind the building, and the greener world announced itself freely and with great panache. Any space that hadn't been cleared for development belonged to the open jungle, which generously shared all it had without stingy reservation. Branches and leaves bowed and turned their arms open in welcome, trees leaned aside so their neighbors could have cozy room, and vines hung close to their hosts to avoid getting in the way of the plentiful sunlight that streaked unhindered through the loose crowns and down into flowerful places.

No great vistas were readily available though. The island was made of hills and valleys, few terribly tremendous or significantly shallow, and the main resort was quite naturally built in one of the valleys. The Passion's Embrace was a mountain to the west, young hills barely stretched up in front of the shore to the south, and their fatter cousins closed off view of everything else. The only ways out of the resort valley were back to the beach or along the several trails that climbed up the hills or between their plentiful nooks.

Through the bizarre village the tour went along, and predictably enough Venus and Vesuvius stopped by every building which had a large sign mounted on it or was painted in bright colors, regardless of any otherwise completeness. Some lacked modest coverings on their walls, others lacked some walls altogether; some were messy with construction inside, others had a mess constructed in them. Meanwhile the tour ignored any building that was ordinarily dingy, or commonly industrial, or drably plain, or simply just unlabeled, regardless of how whole and functional they were. This strategy raised few flags in most of the guests' minds; the ignored places appeared very uninviting except to anypony with an employed purpose.

Or to anypony with an overly curious mind.

Twilight often had her attention on the many things which went undescribed. While the tour guides happily showed off their sauna (or what was so far built of it at least), she gazed past the steamy pools and out the window, to a dusty shed where stained smocks hung by the door. When the company was presented with the massage parlor (to be fully completed and staffed at some vague point in the future), she paid more mind to the cracks in the construction through which she saw an open-air stand with plenty of glistening bottles lined in a row, sat out to dry next to the big tub they had been washed in. And as everypony was given a glimpse of the miniature fitness center (with intact walls and ceiling, but no equipment, mats, or mirrors!), she gave a glimpse of her own to the window of a nearby building through which she was certain she saw an array of vials filled with colorful liquids and stacks of books with dozens of pages earmarked.

At one point the tour group walked by an odd building with a temporarily permanent construction; ergo Venus and Vesuvius ignored it. Stone pillars were locked into place by heavy wooden supports which also held up overlapping sheets of ribbed metal to serve as walls. The structure had been built over itself again and again to expand more and more as some need for size had grown greater and greater.

The unicorn's walking eyes lingered on it for a long, long time, nearly causing her to crash into Applejack ahead of her. There was no second floor to speak of, with a tabletop-thin roof laid and locked over the rickety walls, and rather than having any ordinary door on its face it had a sectional door which rolled up and into the building like a garage. This feature Twilight picked out easily enough since the triply-wide door was rested open while they passed. It floated below the ceiling of a long hall which ran straight to the back of the structure and had several fat, floor-to-ceiling entryways on either side, without doors or curtains. Her imagination suggested it was probably a good place for storage, particularly of large or cumbersome things which needed several ponies to move them in and out of. Her intelligent guess was best served by a stolen glimpse she caught of one of the inner entryways. Through the rectangular cracks she spied, for just a moment, darkened lines of knotted wood standing side by side; almost certainly the face of a heavy-duty shipping crate.

It all slipped from her mind quickly as Vesuvius burst with another yell that called everypony along. The sheer snap of his voice made her feel almost as if he was tugging at her personally, and the embarrassment lit a small fire under her hooves such that she hurried along, away from the interesting sight.

In time the tour reached a final building – the bathrooms, of all things – and after it had been exhibited Venus and Vesuvius immediately led everypony down one of several paths that wound out the back of the mini-village. Each trail forked off in different ways, finding their own points to pass under the leafy and sunlit boughs of the lazy jungle, yet not one of them was labeled with so much as a sign to signify their ultimate end. The particular path which had been selected curved a little bit more inwards than most of the others, towards the center of the island, but never did the tunnel of trees and vines become more dense or oppressive. The whole way through the guests could peep between tree trunks to watch the rustling greenery wiggle from the tickle of afternoon breezes which came along from somewhere near, and the light winds were sleek enough to weave along at their own leisure.

It only took a few minutes of walking before the long the trail began to dip, shortly thereafter opening up to a bright blue sky. Upon a shallow slope it turned and ran smoothly down into a deeper valley ahead. From the bending path the guests were granted a spectacular view over the whole of the dale, and while it was more vast than a grand amphitheater it was not any mind-bending stretch of infinity. On all sides little hills rose up sharply to only a friendly height, with trees young and old across their faces forever-waving hello in the snoring wind that climbed in and out of the valley. The floor of the happy place gorged itself on fresh sunlight; everything of the jungle had been cleared away to make space for fertile farmland and open orchards.

Applejack admired the scene with a whistle. Seeing the plots of fenced-in land and the ordered rows of trees invoked such a homey feeling, and she unwittingly started to push forward among the group of ponies. She couldn't wait for the feel of soft dirt on her hooves, their tips tingling with an eager sensation like in the moments before stepping into a hot bath.

"Here's a special little piece of paradise!" Venus introduced the crowd to the sight as they all continued to march down the slope. "It's small now, yes – you see that the orchard is quite active while the rest is longing for use – but we're very focused on making sure we get everything perfect before we expand. This, after all, is the HEART of everything!" To herself she giggled, and while descending her worshiping eyes never spared a moment for anything except the valley and her stallion love.

But Applejack had different eyes for everything. Now that it had been pointed out to her she DID quite keenly see the difference between the lively orchard and the abandoned farms. Several ponies were busying about between or above the lines of trees; it wasn't a harvest season yet, but they were quite determined and dedicated in checking root and trunk and branch and fruit regardless. Meanwhile all the rest of the empty fields sat unloved. Dry dirt was rampant with ornery weeds, fences in some places hung together only loosely when they weren't in outright need of repair, and what little buildings lived on the cold land could hardly be called quaint. A specter might have found the corpse homes cozy, or maybe also a crazed mare who couldn't tell the cobwebs from the wispy wires of her own white mane.

The farm pony stretched her uncomfortable mouth in a thoughtful frown.

To cap off Venus's speech Vesuvius called out, gruff and repetitive as always, "I'll remind everypony not to wander off! And especially HERE do not touch anything you aren't given permission to handle!"

"I have a question," Twilight intruded for the hundredth time.

"Well-," the island stallion glowered back at her, ready to pitch his irked stubbornness against her more innocent and curious stubbornness.

But Venus rubbed her calming smile up against him, teasing his tinder-like temper until it hid itself, and he released a heavy breath before he politely passed responsibility away, "The day-to-day management of this valley is overseen by the talented Mr. Till, so if you have any questions about it then you should direct them to-"

"This is about the original islanders," the inquisitive unicorn clarified.

"OF COURSE it is," croaked Vesuvius, shaking his head. He didn't invite her to speak any further. What use, when of course she was going to?

"Was this valley used as farmland by them too?"

He declined to answer, tiredly nodding to his lovely mare.

"The island had been abandoned by ponies for so long," Venus gently raced over the already many-times-reiterated knowledge, "so I'm sure it won't be a surprise to hear that this valley was very overgrown when we first came. It's hard to make any guess at-"

"Yes, but before you could put your own farms and orchards here you had to have carefully cleared out the land to avoid damaging any historical evidence, right?" Twilight's exasperation didn't at all take the form of insult or doubt, but even her friends were rolling their eyes at her obsessive mania. "So, from whatever you did find, surely you could have deduced at least some-"

"Well, Twilight, you see... ah..." the island lady tried to push out her response even without having anything ready to say.

Her stallion, a gripe in his voice and a greater hardness in his steps, reluctantly waded back in, "I think in some ways you may have been happier with a trip to the archives on Pinto Rico. Recall that this is a joint effort between us and the Island Society. We take care of the island and help their research, and of course we do absolutely everything we can to understand it ourselves as best as we are able, but our main purpose is to build and run our resort."

"Yes, that's right," Venus was swift to agree. The escape jolted some happy relief into her, though it didn't cover over any of her earnest remorse. "I'm very sorry we don't have all the many answers you're eagerly looking for, Twilight. Perhaps...," a hope glittered out of her every pore, and she spoke with all the wishes of destiny, "... one day YOU'LL help us to find the buried truths."

"So...," Twilight limped through a final remark, "... you didn't find ANYTHING revealing in the valley?"

"Anything we found," the mare insisted pleasantly, "was delicately dug out of the ground, looked over, and then preserved and packaged for shipment to the Island Society so that they could study it more thoroughly."

"Now then, here we are!" Vesuvius took control before there could come any more troublesome questions. He belted his voice over all the guests. "This way please! We'll take a short break here – water, bathroom if you didn't have your chance before; whatever you need – before we move on to the Pleasure Gardens. And stick together! Don't wander!"

The trail landed at a comfortable spot near the largest and only active orchard; right at a grassless lawn before a small house with a happy face, separated from the trees by an ordinary fence. The house wasn't any permanent home for anypony but merely a quaint place for the orchard ponies to rest between labors. It was the eyes which gave that away; many of the littlest touches of home were absent from the windows: no personally-selected drapes, or potted plants for color, or decor hanging from the interior wall. But the lawn itself was welcoming, pleasant with a few tables for working ponies to lunch at if they didn't want to eat under the cooler shade of the trees, and even some linens waited to dry on a simple clothesline off to the side.

The guests broke into groups and spread themselves about once more, with friends attracting and repelling friends in the same manner as their recently-passed lunch. Rainbow Dash and Pinkie Pie shared yet another table, now missing Hulahoof who had left before the tour as he had said he would. Rarity was a queen, her full entourage ever-following. Prism still accompanied James closely, absolutely needing to reserve a whole table for just herself and the man. Without Gallowayo, Twilight joined Fluttershy and Applejack, and all three mares shared a silence that they appreciated for differing reasons. Humble Herd had vanished long before the tour, no reason given.

Till took Nosedive with him into the house and both stallions emerged not long after with the promised water, bringing it out by the pitcher. Quite visibly Till was in charge; Nosedive did little more then distribute glasses before he was through. He thought to join Rainbow Dash's table as quietly and discreetly as possible, perhaps with a polite excuse about how few tables there were, but there was still a single empty table which would have made his explanation rather conspicuous. He resigned himself to his friend's advice and laid low, almost out of sight, at the empty last table.

One pony at a time Till served the water, table after table. (Sweet Nothing insisted on pouring for Rarity himself and Till obliged, having come to have expected it.) By the time he had finished his whole first round – from island masters, through chatting man and mare, through his lonely friend, and the rest – some thirsty ponies had already finished and needed more water. So around he went again. And again, and again; without a fuss he cycled laps along the tables until he finally went a full circuit without once having to pour a drop of water for anypony.

Satisfied, he left his half-drained pitcher behind on a table that didn't have one. Rather than join Nosedive however he walked aside and stood before the fenced orchard, watching the island ponies there as they casually sweated through their early afternoon.

For a time his mind was serious on his responsibilities over the orchard, losing any focus he had left for potentially thirsty ponies, so the greeting that eventually came over his shoulder did catch him by delightful surprise.

"Pardon me a right moment," Applejack said.

"Hello!" he proudly welcomed her direct attention at last.

From his perspective looking at her, just over the brim of her hat was lonesome Nosedive at his table, a mere apple's toss away. The pegasus hadn't missed her greeting to Till. The chocolate stallion would've batted a mischievous wink at his friend if it had been a more secluded moment.

"How can I help you?"

"Well," the farm pony launched right into it, "had my eye on your lovely little orchard here since we came down the way and, wouldn't you know, some questions done sprung to mind. The horse heads over there said to be asking you any such things." She squeaked an eye at him a little more carefully. "You'd be the highly-spoken-of Mr. Till after all, is that right?"

"That's what most ponies call me," he gave a small nod of his head.

He waited for her to follow up with her first further question, but some nagging thought had gotten stuck in her head. An unrelenting, persnickety, amusing, ticklish piddling of a nagging thought that danced in ever more silly swings the longer it stayed stuck. There was something about him that she had almost certainly noticed in her subconscious at some point, but it was only at that moment that the basest part of her brain had begun to peel the wool from her eyes, and when the unfiltered truth finally came through she had a good laugh on the inside. Her hoof bopped her chin twice and then pointed out at him.

She announced her jolly realization, "You're one of them Till-folk, aint'tcha?"

"And you are, without a doubt, an Apple," the stallion smiled, very thrilled with her recognition. He had not anticipated it at all.

The farm pony roared a laugh, "Well if'n you hadn't figured that one out yet then you're as thick as a hoof callous in harvest season!"

"True; everything your friend wrote about you screamed it. But now that you're right in front of me it couldn't be any more crystal clear!" He again nodded but this time carried farther, going into a full and respectful bow, and he introduced himself with aplomb. "Plottington J. Till. Though, again, Till is plenty good. Charmed to meet you."

"Name's Applejack, as you know," she was herself quite charmed to repay the introduction, not for the least reason because of the excuse it gave her for the usual promotions (which surely Twilight had not rendered appropriately), "manager of Sweet Apple Acres, the pride of Ponyville and the grower and purveyor of the finest apples, apple-related products, and fineries of other delicious and sometimes practical sorts, in all of this here great nation of Equestria. Howd'ya do?"

"Quite well, myself. And you?"

"Never better, I reckon." And immediately she tossed all of her original questions into the back of the wagon, forgetting valley and orchard. A good-humored grin stamped onto her face and she asked him genuinely, "So what's a feller like you doing way out here in the middle of the ocean? Don't y'all Till-folk live on them big plantations dotting the Ol' Commonwealth? The ones what been in your family for generations, if'n I'm remembering correctly?"

"Haha, I know!" his spontaneous laugh came from his gut. "This really seems more like one of the oddball places you'd find an Apple, the way your family fills every corner of Equestria somehow, right?" Easy he moved back into a pleasant sort of conversing. "But yeah, I was born and raised on the family plantation, Montmarillo, like all my dams and sires before me. So I'm definitely one of the rare Tills, heading out elsewhere like I have. I don't know how interesting a story that is, though."

"A mighty compelling one, I might imagine," Applejack said, reminiscing, "I went wandering off once too, 'fore I figured out for certain that home is where I belong. And course that became the story of how I got my cutie mark."

"I don't know if it'll be quite the same for me," the stallion replied. He jiggled his flank, showing off that he had of course already long ago discovered his cutie mark: a diverse but orderly set of tools perfect for gratifying the earth and coaxing the loving best out of it. "I KNOW for sure that I'm going to be here for the long haul. I... do admit to missing my family a bit, though."

"Well shucks, you do what you gotta do, but ain't no reason you can't take a break to go back and see the folks as often as you like," the farm pony consoled him genially. But her next comment snuck back into a removed murmur, "Uh... no reason 'cept travel expenses I guess. Ocean an' all."

Till accepted her encouragement by tipping his head and brushing with his tail with warm appreciation, and then he answered, "Yeah, I haven't been back for a long while. It's hard to find the time. There's a lot to do here; ESPECIALLY managing the orchard. I'm afraid of how many steps backwards it might take if I let my eye off it for too long."

"Heh heh heh," Applejack's chuckle was deep and slow, "I know the feeling. Sometimes ya think the whole farm's gonna come apart if you're not out there caressing every tree like they were your own foals."

"Actually, being the manager, I don't get so involved with the direct work. I mean, that's not the style of farming I learned growing up anyway. The hired hooves always did the sweating."

"Aw, where's the fun in that?" she playfully groused. Her humor didn't fade, but a streak of seriousness came forward as she continued, "How're you supposed to know the land you work on if you ain't getting your hooves dirty on it every day? How're you gonna get the best outta each tree if you don't get to know'em by name? A farm needs plenty of water, but a good some of that has to be your own sweat if you want things to come out all roses and peaches! Or apples, as the case might sometimes be."

He defended himself, also slipping somewhat into teasing, "Well, I'm not entirely useless! I can plow a field or two, and buck a tree here and there! But somepony has to keep the game plan tight in their head, especially with an operation as delicate as this."

Then just a little, with an entertained glint, the stallion squinted at the farm pony.

"You know, you remind me a lot of Mrs. Gold," he quipped suddenly, bringing the conversation through a sharp turn, but the delight he brought out had quite some age to it.

"Auntie Ginger!" exclaimed Applejack. "I guess she DOES live about your way! Or, your family's way rather! You ever have much to do with that spicy slice a' Apple?"

"Oh I never had a problem with her," he said, before a serious fit of chuckles laid siege to him, "but she sure liked to give my dad trouble all the time. She'd show up to many of the local fairs and always beat us out in their baking competitions, with her apple turnovers, and apple biscuits, and apple rhubarb crisp cakes, and apple pudding pie. And at the markets where we'd try to vend OUR apples she'd always show up and set up a much more rickety stall and outsell us by miles. There wasn't a customer who came by and picked ours over hers, especially if it came down to a taste test."

Although he was certainly not absent of love for his father he still grinned mischievously, "It really infuriated my dad; how she always got the better of him. I don't mean any offense but—actually you know her a bit yourself, right?—she's none too humble, in a mostly endearing sort of way. Certainly even as a colt I thought she was getting a kick out of showing Dad up. After all, we were this enormous, productive, wealthy, diverse plantation with a huge manor on our estate; thirty-two rooms, if you don't count all the walk-in closets. And she had this teeny little apple orchard with a rinky-dink golden-brown cabin whose second room is what most other ponies would call 'the attic.'"

Applejack loved each and every single word of Till's story, listening to it and holding her head haughty as if she herself was collecting vigorous and lauding slaps to the back. The tale was mostly unfamiliar to her; her aunt's side of the story was only in her recollection as a faded picture painted in strokes of vagueries drawn one or two at a time during the family reunions over the years. But family was family, far and wide, and the proper triumph of one Apple was the triumph of all Apples.

"Hehe, yeah, she can get a little fierce at friendly competition I remember," the farm pony said, proud as the tallest post in the fence. Friendly she teased the stallion, "Did your old pony do a fool thing and actually try to BEAT an Apple at their own game?"

"Yeah," Till admitted through a smile burdened by absolutely no shame. "I kept trying to tell my dad: 'Let it go. She grows better apples. We got a million other things we grow that she doesn't which make us a success.' But he just wouldn't shut down our struggling apple business and kept trying. Wounded pride or something, I guess."

"A bit of a headstrong fellow, is he? S'fine. A little thickness in the noggin can do you some good if you got to take some lumps to get the job done right," Applejack asserted. Yet still savoring her family victory she declared, "But when you go up against an Apple you gotta remember: however headstrong y'are, we're headSTRONGER!"

"Well... at APPLES, I'll admit." He winked.

The farm pony set free a healthy laugh before she floated gracefully back down into casual conversation.

"So, for real this time: how'd you steer yourself from life on the big plantation to working on the most unheard-of-est island in all the Carriaggean?"

Till seemed to have a million thoughts on the subject swirling around his head, all old and tired and worn through. If there was some preferred version of his personal story then he had never bothered to settle on it.

"Maybe the small disagreements with my dad contributed to how much I stayed away from home," he suggested with vacant purpose. "Mom and Dad, but my dad especially, always talked about how many generations of Tills had lived at Montmarillo, and I love my home with all my heart, but I still pushed them into letting me do more overseeing of our extended markets; you know, sales trips and everything. Anything to get me a little more time away."

The retelling didn't much make him sad, though a certain shadow of regret moved over him. It was thin and wispy, much more drowned out by the shining work of his present self and the eagerness he felt for what he had ahead.

"Anyway," he went on, "that was how I met Venus and Vesuvius. They were out looking for cheap suppliers of fresh food for their venture here, and we just happened to cross paths in Chestnutpeake. I put in a bid, then later they wanted to meet to discuss it further, so I invited them back to Montmarillo so Dad could have his say."

"And that about did it then?" Applejack asked.

"Sort of. Dad was definitely skeptical, and I admit that the pitch those two gave wasn't the most convincing. I mean, in business terms," explained the stallion. "I had a good feeling though, and anyway better to lock ourselves in early than later, right? Dad didn't quite see it that way, but I guess after all my recent clamoring for some independence he finally decided to listen to me for once." A smile both self-satisfied and warm with tickled modesty crept up his face, and he thought through all that had happened between then and now. "But...," he said in thankful quietness, "... his one condition was that I go to check the place out personally first before we commit."

"Ahhh, I read ya. And THAT about did it?"

"Oh, that it did!" Till cheered with an exceptional amount of mirth. Despite his boisterous expression there was some red memory on his face and he couldn't quite look directly at the farm pony. "Once I came here, well, then I knew I wasn't going back. I was going to be a part of this whether my parents approved or not! So I offered myself to Venus and Vesuvius, and they were thrilled to have me."

This time Applejack didn't share his elation, and she fell into concern.

"Ah, shucks," she worried, "things were that bad?"

He returned a queer glance at her until her intended meaning struck him, and he replied, "At home? No—no, no, not really. I mean, my decision was more about HERE than THERE." A hesitation got a hold of him, and through one or two tough efforts he did earnestly try to be silent and let the matter rest, but he couldn't. "I guess I do sort of... mostly only talk to Mom now, but that's all on Dad; goodness knows I try to keep in touch with him even if he doesn't really respond. He was just, uh, a LITTLE upset to receive my letter saying that I wasn't coming back. Mom swears up and down that he's not so much angry as he is brokenhearted, but..."

The stallion had a slow moment of heavy thinking, with hours squeezed together into the span of just a second.

"... my choice to stay wasn't really about them, or home. I swear."

"I ain't questioning ya," the farm pony said calmly. She was still somewhat worried, able to see that underneath his altogether healthy and happy appearance the honest truth played a tiny game with his face.

"Right. Well," he went on, "I still managed to convince them to invest as suppliers, so there's that. But in the meantime, I'm sticking here."

Applejack nodded and nodded again, granted some of her usual plainspoken agreements, and then finally thanked him with a tip of her hat for sharing his story.

"I reckon that puts us on a fairer playing field as far as mutual knowledge goes," she said. "It ALSO explains why that apple you left in my room yesterday wasn't top shelf, heh. Thanks for that also as well, by the way."

"Oh, yeah! No problem," he graciously beamed. "Maybe a little while from now we'll have a better supplier for our apples, hm?"

"Ha! You sure do know how to tickle a pony's fancy! If I knew this was gonna be a sales trip I woulda come more prepared!"

At last the farm pony felt her questions returning; the fresh scent of the orchard wafting over the fence had always keep them from entirely disappearing from her mind.

"So, seeing as I got nothing more than my own charming personality to make a pitch with," her voice darted off towards the trees, "maybe instead of talking apples we can talk about what you got here? I'm mighty curious."

"Certainly," Till agreed, and his mind and attention was given back to his work. He hooked his legs over the fence while inviting the farm pony to do the same, which she swiftly did. He explained, "This little orchard really is the very heart of everything here on the island, though I know it doesn't look it right now. Overseeing it is the biggest, most important responsibility I have here, so for once it's nice to be able to make the decisions I think are right without having to argue with Dad about what's best for everypony."

Applejack regarded the again intrusion of the stallion's father with some short-lived suspicion, but she was too eager to move on and thus let it go. She pressed him, "I'll say it doesn't look like much. More than half the valley is dead as a desert in an extra dry drought! Y'all could be growing so much more here, instead of spending bits on boats to haul fresh produce 'cross the ocean."

Her concerned criticism didn't alarm Till in any fashion, causing no shirk of hidden fears nor haste for bandaging excuses. "That's always been on our mind, and there are plans for it, but we're in sort of a 'first things first' stage still." He pointed at the living orchard.

The farm pony took in the field of trees with more detail now that she was closer than ever before, and she hummed rather unhappily at her discoveries.

Although it was far more green and bustling than the dead fields its many trees still weren't a picture of health. Not all their trunks had rigid muscle fit for holding up branches heavy with fruit. Likewise some had bark that only clung apathetically, or was fallen off elsewhere where it had given up, looking like patchy and diseased skin. Not even the moss cared to take a taste of those particular trees. Across the orchard's crowns the leaves filled the whole spectrum of wet and withering to crunchy and crisp, but the mix changed randomly from tree to tree and sometimes even within the branches of a single tree. Nothing seemed uniform or consistent; not like the great families of strong apple trees back at her farm.

But maybe her judgment was too sudden, since these also weren't apple trees either. Their tops were not nearly bushy enough but instead much trimmer, and they grew taller and into a spike, though their leaves were just as broad and flat. The tighter shape was reinforced by strangling vines which wrapped the branches every which way; the choking vines themselves bore the fruit rather than the branches. With such tightness there was less overall room for fruit to grow, leaving even the healthiest looking trees somewhat lightweight in load.

What fruit was there was not round and red but rather was bumpy and bulbous, particularly near the bottom, like all of their juice had leaked down and fattened them in a lopsided fashion. If the farm pony had to guess, she would have picked the brownish and green ones as the young and unripe fruit. The ripened ones were painted in a range of warm colors which swirled all together. At some places the shades of color went into the deepest, darkest, most dangerous crimsons, but elsewhere they faded right into the most jumping, joyful yellows. No two patterns were identical, giving each individual fruit a small amount of personality, though the ones that were visibly gaunt or maybe even ill blended together in a more indistinguishable way. Their colors took on a repulsive quality that was hard to describe, blurring their already wild gradients under what looked like a slimy coating over their skin.

It seemed like the orchard wasn't going to yield the islanders anything close to a bountiful harvest season. At Sweet Apple Acres the goal was always to build every season up towards a veritable rainfall of apples so dense that afterwards the fields had to be swam through. But the starved supply on this orchard's branches and vines hardly seemed like it would give the island ponies more than a drizzle. And that was IF they managed to save every last fruit they currently had. Some were at that moment already set to fall, with stems no stronger than stretched thread, and for those it definitely wasn't because they were ripe.

"I don't mean to put any doubt on your talents...," Applejack began, and finished. Everything else she thought was unmistakably implied.

"No offense taken; this particular fruit is a challenge to grow, let me tell you," said Till quite truthfully. "So maybe that helps clear up why it's so important that this orchard gets in shape FIRST before we spend resources on anything else."

"What is it you got here, then? These trees don't seem familiar to me at all."

"They shouldn't be. As far as anypony knows this fruit only grows on this island and nowhere else."

"That right?" Applejack spoke, her curiosity reinvigorated compared to her concern for the seemingly sorry orchard.

"Mmhm." Some pride came out of him, some reverence too, and more than a little hidden heat in his cheeks. "It's some truly special stuff, that's for sure."

"Well heck, let's give it a taste and see what all the fuss is about!" the farm pony shouted and hopped the fence. She went right up to the nearest (healthy-looking) tree and rolled her hips like a belt winding energy into an explosive bucking mechanism.

"No, wait!" Till nearly leapt the fence himself.

Applejack did freeze her powerful buck with her legs in mid-lift, catching herself only a sliver of a moment before she was about to tear the roots of the tree right out of the earth. It wasn't only the supreme urgency of Till's request that halted her, either. She had glanced back to him, and in the sea of resting ponies behind him she had very easily caught Vesuvius staring at her. Granny Smith could turn disapproval into a weapon with just her old-mare leers, but the island master had something far more quietly eruptive in him.

"You can't have any," pleaded Till. He more tenderly added on, "Not yet, anyway."

Plopping her hooves down she returned to the fence and rested herself on it again, though she stayed on the far side. Standing side by opposite side the two ponies were mirrors; each up, leaned, and with heads turned to look directly at each other.

"Well why the hay not?" the farm pony curiously complained.

For the first time the stallion's mouth ran in one direction while his eyes seem to run in another, though nothing at all of what he spoke triggered any offense in Applejack's honest sensibilities.

"It's still a delicate situation," he said. "I mean, all this you see here? These trees not so very filled with fruit? We're going to be able to keep maybe... oh, one quarter of the yield or so. We can't afford to be wasting some on taste tests."

She cast an eye back at the orchard, not fully understanding.

"Why? What do you do with the rest?"

"There is no 'the rest.' The rest just... doesn't make it."

It took a moment for the math to sink in, and not from any mental frailty on the farm pony's part.

"You mean to tell me," she gasped in disbelief, "that outta all this here little orchard, three quarters of the harvest is going to up and DIE ON THE VINE?"

"It's stranger than that," Till answered, curling his mouth to the side, "but that about sums it up, yeah. I mean, at least it's better now than it was before." When Applejack gave his statement an agog stare, he filled her in with a twirl of gloomy humor, "Yeah. When I came on board and took over for Venus and Vesuvius only about maybe ONE IN TEN made it."

"No kidding?! What kind of fussy fruit DOESN'T WANT to drop so badly that nearly whole harvests go bad?" But she nodded at him, "Sounds like you HAVE done some mighty fine work if you got those numbers up, even as little as ya have. Sorry if I doubted."

"Oh, thank you!—But personally I think you're not so off the mark with 'fussy.'" All his long vexation over the matter came together and filled him, and he leaned heavier onto the fence. Across the orchard he looked, from tree to tree, taking the farm pony with him through the short, silent journey. It was clear now that he had never at any point been ignorant of the unusual and unwell look of many of the trees, but instead had long been struggling against it. "The biggest thing that helped improve everything," he revealed, "was just changing out some of the working ponies."

"Say what now?"

"Well, I've experimented with a lot of the usual things, but not much of that seems to matter, at least past the point that the trees had everything most trees need to grow healthy and strong. But these here..."

The face he made was unique. Not a scowl, nor a thoughtful stirring, nor a snippy snarl, nor plain bemusement. He shook his head dressed with his one-of-a-kind look.

"... they really ARE quite moody, and sensitive. They just... didn't like some of the ponies, or didn't respond to them well. I found that by permanently pulling out the ponies they seemed to hate and putting longer hours on for the ponies they liked, they started responding better. Though it's still kind of random, and they change their minds frequently and they get picky. I mean, I've known plants that can be a little fussy, to use your word, but some days I swear these trees either want to hug you or scream at you, and they're never sure which."

"Now I've heard some strange tales before," said Applejack, very forthright but also sharing some of his bafflement, "and even seen a remarkable thing or two myself, as so happens when you make a habit of palling around with a princess's pupil. But... you ain't saying these trees are rotting their own fruit just to SPITE ponies they don't take a shine to?"

He shook his head.

"I'm not sure just what to label it as. And ROTTING isn't the only thing. It's not very consistent, what happens. Some do just rot and fall, never having had a chance. But others look so well and then when they drop on the ground they just turn to mush. Others, still, look rancid their whole life in the branch and even fall with ugly flesh, but then you cut them open and they're perfectly fine inside. And that's just the ORDINARY problems. I mean, when I said 'stranger' I really meant it. Some... shrivel and start turning to ASH, like their seeds had spontaneously burst into flames. I've seen a few just swell up to ridiculous proportions before they POP and their unripe juice spills all over the grass. One time... well, one time we knocked a tree to harvest it and when the fruit hit the ground it-... it just shattered like an icicle. The pieces were FROZEN, despite the temperature and constant humidity here."

Each detail brought only more and more confounding rattles to Applejack. She furled her lip; she waggled her hat; she squeezed her one eye while her other peeled open; but no matter what trail of thoughts she followed she always felt she was looping back to the lost place she had started from. There was only one memory in her mind that came anything close to what the stallion had described, though how much that memory applied was not something she could guess at.

"Well good golly, if that ain't a bundle of bad zap apples," she marveled after Till had finished. "I'm no Twilight, but if I had to guess I'd say your little orchard here has a bad case of the old M-A-G-I-C."

"There's really no doubt (for as much as that narrows things down)," Till replied. "However, nopony's been able to figure out just what is doing it, or how, or why. We haven't been able to lure a pony here yet who could make any real sense of it."

The farm pony borrowed some of Twilight's recent frustration in ignorance, groaning, "Them ponies at the Island Society couldn't muster ONE enchanto-pomologist-type pony to puzzle this out? Not that I always trust book-wisdom over the homegrown variety, mind."

The stallion demurred, though not very much hostile or offended, saying, "They're not really... terribly interested in the fruit, I guess we'll say."

But Applejack gasped in doubtful rhetoric, "The preservers of island history and culture are NOT interested in a fruit that ONLY grows on this here island in a valley which Mrs. and Mr. 'Our Island's More Heavenly Than Apple Cream Soda' apparently call," and here her inflections turned into a grim copy of Venus's, "'the HEART of everything!'?"

Her surprise offensive, honest and kind even if it was also rough and sudden, nearly knocked the stallion off the fence. He secured his hold tight, but only to steady himself and not in preparation for verbal combat. Rather, once he was balanced again he came back with a generous amount of candor and repentance.

"The truth is," he said, "the Island Society doesn't really know much about what we're doing here in this valley. Like, I'm sure they know we're growing the fruit and everything, but Venus and Vesuvius manage our liaison with them and those two have been trying to keep this valley low and unmentioned; at least, I guess, until we get a better hold on it."

A moment longer he thought, and then he agreed with them, "And I mean, with trees this weird, maybe it would be a bad idea to ship some seeds off the island for study until we're certain their magic won't do something unexpected? The fruit itself IS very special; incredible even. Everypony gets that. And after they're grown they don't do... anything you don't expect. But these trees... I don't know..."

The farm pony thought to respond, but then merely didn't as she realized she had more to think about than to say. What very bizarre trees! And fair to say caution was not out of place; magic had a way of hiding the hay in the needlestack until the answers you were looking for turned out to have been the questions you should've asked all along!

"Hmm," she hummed away her deeper intrigue for the time being, asking instead with a smirk, "Am I at least going to get to sample your mystery fruit here eventually?"

"Definitely," Till affirmed immediately. "Nopony leaves without getting a taste. Just not right now. And 'corcandeo', by the way."

"Say again?" she peered at him.

"Corcandeo fruit; what we're thinking of calling it, since it has no official name yet and nopony knows what the first islanders called it." The stallion sickened with an ashamed glance, and he cringed while saying, "Venus at first wanted to call them 'heart apples' or 'love pears.' I had to explain to her that they're actually some kind of passionfruit, so apple-or-pear-anything wasn't really so appropriate. I'm hoping the new name sticks; I like it. But then again Gallowayo and I came up with it ourselves, thanks to his working knowledge of Old Equestrian."

"More a' that nonsense?" the farm pony said, recalling the engraved stone in the front garden. "Still, has a ring to it I suppose."

"You think so?"

"Well... it don't quite pop outta your throat like 'apple' does, but..." She winked. "I reckon someponies'll be licking their lips like a legless pony in a pie eating contest at the sound of it someday."

A low whistle came between the two ponies and snagged Till's attention. It was Vesuvius' call, and he was nodding at all the other ponies somewhat impatiently.

"Oh, seems like we're going to be moving on in a few minutes here," Till apologized to Applejack. He unhooked himself from the fence. "I've got to make sure everypony gets any last water they need."

"S'no trouble," the farm pony remarked and vaulted herself back over the fence, joining him on the appropriate side. "But maybe we can pick this up later? Plenty more to be said, I reckon, and I know I'll have more questions. Plus... well... it'd be fun to talk shop with another farmer, even if I am supposed to be on vacation." She had to tilt up the tip of her hat to make room for her big smile.

"I'd absolutely love to," his promise came out with a real weight. He was quick to suggest, "The party later might be a good time. I'll be running the bar and pouring drinks the whole time so... a perfect chance just to sit and chat, I'd say."

Applejack juggled another hearty chuckle in her throat, and she gave him a going-over glance.

"Bartender, eh?" she croaked, still with a laugh distorting her sound. She chucked her head back and forth, "And waiter and orchard manager here. And bellboy and chef back there. You got quite the resumé, Slick."

Till did no more than bow, though with plenty enough flare to indulge her humor. And maybe also in a bit too much of a servile fashion for a pony of his upstanding lineage.

With that they parted, trading very comfortable goodbyes.

The stallion jumped immediately to his assigned task. After recovering and refilling his pitcher he went one last time from table to table, gaily encouraging everypony to have a little more water to drink before continuing the tour, if they were at all even a tiny bit thirsty. In making his final lap, going table to table to table, he took high and hearty steps, not so very much self-satisfied as he was merely generally happy and bright; a pony in tremendously warm spirits.

Some of the trees in the orchard ruffled with the breeze, using the chance to catch a glimpse of the prancing pony, and they raised their vine-heavy branches.

When he had poured his very last drop for the guests he returned to Nosedive's lonely table. Without a word he offered his friend a fresh glass, but the pegasus' original drink had barely been touched as it was and Nosedive declined with a tiny shake of his head. There wasn't much water left in the pitcher anyway so Till just tipped the jug itself back and swallowed the remainder; his first and only drink for that whole respite. Even with the meager amount he had he gave a contented gasp of refreshment after he had finished.

"I'd say you were right," Nosedive mumbled when the empty pitcher had been plinked down. He glanced a pitiable glance at his friend. "Had her eating out of the sole of your hoof."

"You think so?" The remark slid out of Till in a surprised, unready squeak. In one fast shiver he shook out the sunny bewilderment and regained control. "I mean, I hadn't noticed."

His friend regarded the reaction suspiciously, and after a queer stare he picked his head up and asked, "And your plan now?"

"She wants to talk later, so... same as always I suppose."

Nosedive threw his eyebrows up in bitter, envious boredom.

"Good job, Plotts," he said. "Got everything figured out, like usual."

"Nah." It was hardly a cold response, unhurt and unoffended, but the chocolate stallion did roll a gruffness into his cough.

The pegasus dropped his nose again. "Sorry."

"Dive," Till called his friend's nickname, putting it out singularly and strong. Then he simply shook his head in forgiveness.

But the pegasus little changed, and so the chocolate stallion reached out over the table. "You know I invited you here because I've always known you weren't happy on the Commonwealth Weather Crew. You were NEVER satisfied with that kind of stuff, not even when we were colts. Now I know this place hasn't exactly helped your flyer career take off or anything, but... I mean, this... HERE... Here is... BETTER... at least. Right?"

"It's AMAZING," Nosedive immediately responded, speaking in one big breath. But the awe faded fast and he fell right into lethargy again. "I'm not getting anywhere. With ANYTHING." He muttered to himself, "Don't know why I thought she might treat different from a scout or judge."

"Give it time," Till advised yet again. "Relax. Wait. If you really admire her, and you look for the right moment to make her happy, then you'll do fine."

His hoof, still outstretched, wiggled in encouragement of some response. Nosedive noticed, and with his eyes down he took a deep breath, and then again, managing to float them both just above the level of a sigh. He pounded his friend's hoof in appreciation.

"Thanks, Tilly."

As the pegasus sat back up straight he looked at the empty pitcher on the table, and also about at the many glasses wet or dry which littered every table in the area.

"You go on when it's time," he sincerely offered to Till. "I'll put this stuff away for you."

The chocolate stallion grinned and replied, "Not a chance! I got it well in hoof! But... I'll appreciate the help, and the company!"

Meanwhile, the farm pony had returned to Fluttershy and Twilight, and had sat down at their table. But she hadn't quite expected her return to have been greeted with an overly zealous assault by her bookish friend.

"So what did you talk to him about? Did he say anything about the old islanders? Does the orchard here follow an antiquated form of cultivation or have they modified it with modern methods? Don't worry if you think there's terms I won't know; I read extensively on Carriaggean agriculture before the trip, just in case that information was going to come in handy!"

There was clearing of Applejack's throat to get out the surprised lumps, a fixing of her hat which had been jostled out of place by her abrupt jump, and a few blinks to help absorb the crazed look on Twilight's face. Thankfully she had a silent interlude to catch her wits, courtesy of Till who came by and refilled their water before moving on. But once she was settled into her easy self again the farm pony didn't have an honest thing she was unwilling to share with her friend – about the orchard, and the island, and the fruit, and Till. She shared it all, right up until the tour resumed again. And even for a little bit longer afterwards, on their way to the next destination.

Author's Note

Corcandeo is constructed from amateur Latin.

'Cor' = Heart
'Candeo' = To glow white hot; to shine from temperature

I would have put more effort into ensuring a more accurate verb tense and/or conjugation, but I liked the way it sounded with just the raw parts so I left it at that and blamed it on Old Equestrian.

Chapter 26: Buried

The Pleasure Gardens were on the backside of a shallow hill, some distance from the orchard valley. They were deep enough inwards that the rest of the resort could not be seen, surrounded by only more hills and light jungle. Yet those obstructions didn't much matter from within the Gardens themselves; high walls made of trimmed hedges dressed in an innumerable variety of flowers served as a great barrier which enclosed their entirety. Occasionally rock, or terrace step, or mammoth bush helped to seal the Gardens off as well.

There was only one way in or out (for those ponies and guests who were earthbound, anyway): a grand entrance which the tour group was guided straight to. On either side the leafy garden walls met with fat pillars of stones which were deeply entangled in flowered vines, and the two were connected top-to-top by a broad metalwork arch which twisted over them. The arch itself was much more meticulously decorated, so heavily that the dark metal itself was hard to see. Vines wormed through it bearing beautiful flowers—stars of all colors, and buds blossoming so bright they burst like the emerging sun, and cups drowned deep with nectar. Despite the limited space they were all weaved smoothly together, creating a mesh as fine and as dazzling as an evening gown of silk.

Immediately through the entrance was an auditorium-like space which stretched far. The flattened ground rose only in single steps every several strides, ascending away from the entrance. A center aisle of stone bricks was flanked on both sides by rings of stones encircling trees with umbrella-like crowns, and meanwhile a carpet of manicured grass claimed the rest of the floor. The towering garden walls there seemed especially tall; all the rest of the Gardens were concealed, and the great swaths of flowers hanging on the walls were giant portraits and banners in a castle hall. Even lining the area were long plots so wealthy with vibrant blossoms that they were a rainbow sea of petals.

Concentrated near the entrance were low stone benches for anypony who needed to relieve their hooves, which Venus and Vesuvius fast did, sharing a single bench together. Yet they didn't encourage everypony to do the same. With good wishes they instead invited everypony to experience the Gardens as intended: by exploring, in pairs if possible; by getting pleasantly lost in the paradise.

They did elaborate with some friendly warning though: the Gardens could feel like a maze, but they weren't. Rather, the whole thing was built like a palace, with great 'chambers' connected by winding 'corridors.' Each room had a distinct shape, design, or purpose. Everything was open to the air of course, but the privacy of the Gardens had been the island masters' intention, and ponies with wings were discouraged from using them ("Don't wander off!"). If anypony were to fear that they were truly lost, the entrance could always be found by simply flowing downhill.

Finished with their tour, the island masters let the world around them fade away and they fell into each other, amorously giggling, whispering, and nuzzling each other. Meanwhile the rest of the group, guests and island ponies alike, heeded their instructions and broke apart.

Prism was incredibly quick to beg James to follow, almost pulling him along with her enthusiasm alone. Before any of the others had even decided how to split up she had already excitedly led him inwards through one of the starting room's many exits.

The eager mare knew her chosen trail well, hardly restraining her trot as she shaved corner after corner through the hedge-lined halls and pranced swiftly through the florid rooms along the way. Everything passed too quickly for the man to take in; he reasoned that he wasn't being taken along to explore, as had been suggested. She had some specific destination in mind; some ultimate end for him.

He felt helplessly bound to his fate, following her closely step after step and even racing his breath to keep pace with her, as if he had no power to resist. Or maybe no will; to some small surprise within himself, he didn't feel like he minded this turn of events. It wasn't a peace or comfort that kept him curious, as he didn't know her or the island well enough predict anything that was about to happen. In fact there was something odd about Prism that in voiceless places had slowly begun to bother him. But whatever it was it contended with an equally-silent hope buried far inside him, and the covert battle between the two left him consciously aware of neither. And so he drifted on in her energetic wake, lead by her dancing tail.

Their destination announced its approach through her. Each of her steps gained stronger tingles and her breaths shook with bigger delight as it neared. More and more her insatiable speed inched faster, taking her quicker than a pony had any right to go. And then it all came to a fast stop when they exploded into a small garden; one which the man saw as really no different than all the other blurred gardens they had ignored already.

But Prism treated the space as sacred. Her frantic rush had suddenly transformed into humble steps, and her mouth hung open a crack without ever uttering a peep. She strolled through the space quite slowly, knowing it as exactly as one knows their own bedroom, but she regarded nothing there with anything less than the utmost sanctity. Everything was a divine memory. Between her bouts of worship she tenderly smiled at James, mixing his image with whatever she was thinking about.

The man, too unprepared, decided to silently amble about the garden as well and at least take it in.

For the most part it was an open circle with a dirt floor, with most of the walls being composed of heavy shrubbery. One particular hedge was so overgrown with flowers that almost all of its green was eclipsed by the waves of deep oranges and sleeping yellows; a mural from petals. Meanwhile the opposing wall, far taller, was made of natural rock, vine-infested throughout. A lopsided tree sat near that wall, planted on the outside of the circle within a plot outlined by stones. Its broad trunk was quite stable, especially considering how all the leaf-rich branches favored one side. A ridiculous proportion of the crown stretched far out in one direction like a canopy, throwing a pleasant shadow over one corner of the garden and – the man only noticed when he got close – also over a somewhat hidden recess buried in that corner.

The alcove offered some relative privacy if desired, since it was shielded from immediate sight of the garden's two entrances. Otherwise the tight space was mostly like the rest of the garden, with sweet-scented flowers growing on and along the walls. Yet there was one unique thing there.

Directly under the shade of the leaves had been placed a long bench built for laying down upon. The frame was a dark metal, with legs molded in the shapes of pony's hooves, while a flexible wood composed the bulk of it. Its back was short and there was no arms on either side, but one end of it was raised high and reclined. Easily the bench would have supported a sleeping pony or two in space. Were the man to have laid down on it, with his lifted back resting against the raised portion, his legs would have fallen well short of the open end. Thin cushions were strapped over the wood to soften it, though it was questionable how comfortable they were. Besides their sturdiness, as they had of course been crafted to endure the outdoors, they had been worn-in and flattened from use.

But so tucked-away as it was, it was a perfect place for private naps in the afternoon. Or something of that nature.

"This is my favorite spot," Prism spoke up after a time. She had managed to bring her eagerness under better control, though it still poured from her in great spills. A color had come into her silvery cheeks, and she was unable to devote her eyes fully to James, still sharing them warmly with the garden itself.

"In the Gardens or on the island?" the man asked.

"In the world."

Her blush only deepened, and she spent a shy moment looking down and spinning the bracelets on her ankles.

The weighty praise put a brief silence over James. This was a trap; there were no good responses to her. A joke might have proved too sharp or dismissive, and a serious comment would never have matched hers in weight or significance. Not that he even had much to say about the garden anyway. He just didn't see the glory she did. Certainly it was nice and everything, being far more professionally done than so much else of what had been seen on the island so far. But a quiet nap-zone or a sunset of flowers on a wall just weren't the kinds of things which latched on and siphoned the breath out of a person.

"Wow," he eventually said, failing to find any good comment and delivering his one word like an utter idiot.

Realizing she had tangled his tongue she let out a bashful and quiet laugh. But she was also herself quite twisted up with reserve. Something wasn't coming out, and she worked hard to keep it that way.

Rather than offer the man anything more she instead strolled by him with a smile and entered the shaded alcove. Getting out of the sun cooled her, providing some calm and clarity, and she was content to rest herself next to the reclining seat.

James, still in want of something substantial to say, continued to wander about as though he were busy enjoying the scenery, though he tightened his path so that she never went out of view. He couldn't much scrutinize the garden though; he had so little interest in it. Hopefully her unhelpful silence would end and she would have a new prompt for him.

After all, it wasn't like it hadn't been fun so far; chatting with the mare on the beach, and over lunch, and in the valley. There had been all the enthralling engagement of tackling someone new, bogged down by none of the baggage of a recent world-swap or orders from a princess, like when he had first met Twilight and the others. Just the wonderful experience of sitting with someone interesting and talking away with them, free of the world, and also it had felt so delightfully NATURAL, like he was revisiting a place he had been many times before.

Things had moved quickly, too. One thing after the other, faster and faster, racing from topic to topic and place to place, almost out of his control. Until suddenly... he was now alone in a secluded garden with her? No public crowd providing restraining judgment. No witnesses to place a polite check on behavior. Just a garden, a man, and a pretty pony—

—a POLITE pony. POLITE. Yes.

The battle inside him grew loud enough for his mind to hear. On the one hand he felt ordinary and alive, more than he had been in quite awhile. But on the other hand his explanation that he had been 'trying to make a new friend' had grown quite murky from the vantage point he now stood at. Why exactly WAS he here? He didn't comfortably understand where this situation was going, doubted how much ability he really had to steer it anywhere, and certainly the main reason for all his new wariness was because-

"I'd still love to hear about your romances," Prism finally relented to breaking the silence with her cordial request. "You still haven't said all that much about them."

The man continued to pace, dressing it as casually as he could.

"Well... it's like I told you: I just don't talk too much about it with other ponies in general. Nothing personal against you; just how I am. So, I hope I haven't been offending you if I've been sort of dodging it."

"Oh no, it's alright," she rushed to assure him, but even more swiftly she pressed, "and I really wouldn't be annoyed at all! I'd be delighted if you shared!"

"What's got you so interested?" he found the curiosity to ask, guessing, "Are you... maybe looking at doing some dating yourself now that you've settled down from the modeling life?"

"No, no. I couldn't commit myself like that," the pony very assuredly denied. "I'm just very interested now in the ways that ponies connect to each other. The ways they interact, and the kinds of relationships that they build."

Very similar to the high-minded words which Venus and Vesuvius often tossed about, the man thought.

"I'm not a pony though," he reminded her. The comment had popped out, awkward and sounding incorrect just in the way it was said. He tried to smooth it with a tiny, ill-delivered shrug.

Regardless, her eyes sparkled and cast their light over him.

"That what makes you so much more interesting!"

The way she stared had James feeling naked, and immediately his false wandering took on a sweaty urgency. He averted his gaze from her, and kept it that way.

She asked again, and maybe it was only his bothered imagination that made it sound like she was pleading, "Please, I'd really love to hear more about you."

The man worked out a hot sigh and rubbed the back of his neck, his hand sliding with the moisture. What a lucky thing it would have been to have fallen into this exact situation in slightly different, more Earthly circumstances.

"Well... I hardly know what to tell you about it," he said. Forcibly he had to pull down his guard to speak to her, yet he still didn't look at her. "I mean, I've been on plenty of dates, with a few different ponies—er, people. Some went nowhere; some went somewhere, for a little while; some went far. Pretty typical, I guess. Nothing outside the ordinary. Not much to tell, really."

He gave the words their space to sink in, hoping they might have some effect, but he didn't hear any response from Prism positive or negative. And the wait for her dragged on and on, pouring a thickness into the air until he started to choke. Again he rubbed his neck, sweeping off the river washing down it, and his hand shook with a ridiculous nervous tic. Was he being baited to look at her?

Things had gone to such a weird place so suddenly. He felt like he should have seen it coming – should have been more prepared – but apparently he had been ignoring all the warnings. She had been prying him open about this all morning, after all. Weirder still was that he couldn't even think on his feet anymore. It was one thing to have chatted with his old buddies about his relationships, but doing the same thing with this stranger? This PONY stranger? He was moving in different directions, or maybe being pulled, and he wasn't sure which parts of himself were doing the moving and the pulling.

If she had been Twilight he could have just spun things academically, like he were dumping the sociological dossier of human relations on her. But she – her voice – had been begging him to be open and frank. His sensitivity demanded that he spare her virgin pony ears, but at the round table used by the voices of his conscience, one voice in particular was leveraging her words to shout down his sensitivity.

The idea of holding back out of modesty was foolish, it said. He SHOULD make use of the opportunity, it said. Brag to her. IMPRESS her. After all, she was so EASY. And WILLING.

Have some fun. After everything that's happened? You've earned it.

The man took his hand off his wet neck and struck the side of his head.

Was he thirteen again? Christ! Have some common decency! Also? She was a HORSE! A puritan horse, if his wise friend was to be believed!

"Uhh... anyway," he fumbled on, retreating from her unseen and stuffy silence, "obviously I never found anypony—anyONE—to go all the way to marriage with, cause here I am, unclaimed and single. Actually, I don't think I ever really came too close. Only three of my relationships ever got serious, and none of them ever had a chance in retrospect."

"'Serious?'" the pony questioned quite particularly.

"Yeah, you know...," he floundered, but he realized his error immediately. It would be a devastating faux pas (in Equestria) to have elaborated specifically on what he had meant, and he waved his arms about at nothing at all. "Like... we... had hoped to get all the way to tying the knot, and so we... tried to act like a married couple, kind of, maybe... in ways. You know." Oh God! This really shouldn't have been so difficult! "And by that I don't mean that I didn't take any other girlfriends seriously! Just that... those three were the only ones that... got that far. You understand?"

He heard her giggling, though her sound wasn't fully content. If anything there was some nervousness in her voice too.

"So," she asked, "you only dated because you were... looking to fall in love with somepony?"

The man came to an abrupt stop.

"... Isn't everypony?—everyBODY?—no, wait; everypony too. Everypony ESPECIALLY. Like... that's the whole reason... certainly a PONY would go on dates, right?"

Enough surprise had slapped him that without thinking he turned around and shot her a funny glance. And immediately he regretted taking a look.

At some point she had climbed up onto the reclining bench, and boy was she ever reclining! Her top wasn't rested fully against the head but rather she held herself up to keep a better view of the man. However her body had a comfortable twist going down such that her flank was flat against the cushions and her legs were stretched out with one crossed on top of the other. Her belly was visible. She lay as a tempting lady in repose, with room enough to invite another to share the bench with her.

James abandoned his peek with awkward speed, picking at his chin and scratching his chest while looking away.

A silence followed. Maybe his display of inept stupidity had upset her? But he was too exasperated to check and too wooden to even try for a word of apology.

"... I guess?" she halfheartedly answered his question at last.

"Well... why else?"

"I don't know," she said without real commitment. Then her voice really crawled out and over him. "Aren't there OTHER close things that two ponies could share? Does it have to be falling in love?"

"Ah-, do you mean-, well-, I-... uh, of c-course there are. Other things, that is. Of course there are other kinds of relationships. Like... friendships, and stuff." He scratched himself harder. "But, I mean, uh... w-what are you really interested in knowing about?"

Again everything quieted, and again he dared not interrupt the silence with a glance to her. But this time he could almost hear her thinking, though about what he wasn't able to guess.

"I've never worried much about love," Prism began. "Maybe that sounds a little strange." Piece by piece she worked out a puzzle; a puzzle long in assembly yet also so fresh and recent to her. "I traveled far, and I met lots of friendly ponies, and I loved everything I DID. But I never had a single thought about falling in love. Not a thought about... any sort of deep connection or friendship. I'm not surprised that some ponies want to fall in love, if they're not too busy chasing the things their cutie marks have told them to, just like I was. But lately-... lately since coming here I've been thinking... maybe ponies don't think ENOUGH about what ELSE they can be with each other? Not just friends, and not just lovers..."

'Lovers?' Probably by that she had meant 'ponies in love,' like Star Glitter and P.V.

The oddness in her trailing voice softened her just enough to allow the man to take the risk. He looked back at her.

Still she laid in the same way, but she was nonetheless changed completely. The alluring aura about her had given way to something pensive. The restful curves of her body, all positioned the same, had become thoughtful turns which exerted their outsized influence over her whole character.

She met his stare and asked him, "I thought, maybe, you might have something different to share? Some new perspective?"

With her thoughtful change he found her safe enough to approach, and carefully he walked to the alcove. He didn't risk joining her on the garden bench though, and instead sat on the ground with his back rested against the tree.

But he didn't have any better grasp on what it was that she wanted to know from him. Maybe that was because of his own ignorance about ponies though? Twilight had given him an insight on ponies and their feelings on sex (or lack thereof) but she had denied any further conversation. And he had in the past, after all, misjudged and underestimated ponies. Maybe he was assuming too much. Maybe, even with having observed ponies like Star Glitter and P.V., he didn't really understand the gap in pony relationships that fit between strong friendships and ultimate love; one that contained some form of physical intimacy but wasn't something that violated pony standards of decency.

Outspoken now the man admitted, "Okay, uh, different? Different, yeah. I think my perspective probably is. But now that I think about it, maybe I'm just too new to Equestria to know what those differences are? I THINK that's why I keep coming back to asking you about what you really want? I mean, personally, I mostly did keep at dating because someday I wanted to fall in love. But I guess it's true that even with a master plan in place, not every step along the way is motivated by that goal. Sometimes you're driven by more immediate... uh, concerns."

He straightened his back against the bark of the tree.

"So, help me understand," he asked of her, opening a palm. "Teach me something about what motivates ponies. Cause I'm not sure I know."

Prism's head jiggled; an effort to show understanding.

"I don't really know either, to be honest," she carefully admitted. "Like I said, I've never thought about going on dates or being in love."

"But you are trying SOMETHING here, right? Since you came to the island? I mean, that is why you're asking me these things?"

"Yes."

Again she was trying to show an understanding, but again it seemed to elude her. She wanted to answer him plainly, but something was in the way. Something inside her was corked, and unable to come out even though she wanted to share it. As best she could with her restricted ability she tried to explain for him:

"Here we-... well... we spend some time with each other. Two ponies, that is. Close, and quiet, and together. And-," at last she made some kind of breakthrough, though mostly only in solidifying her words, like a jerky and choking engine at least getting up to speed, "-and it's not all that much time; it's goes very quickly. But there's so much more POWER in it than getting to know a pony over weeks and weeks of just talking to them. We don't use words. We share ourselves; share each other completely. We get close; so close; more than most ponies can imagine. More than I'VE ever imagined. Closer through... touching, and holding, and caressing each other..." With one aching push she pierced the wall of ice just enough to crack it, "... and kissing..." But quickly she drew back. "Not out of love, but just to understand each other's warmth. If... that makes any sense to you?"

The man shuffled so much that he felt the bark of the tree scratching into his back.

"Uh, yeah," he said. "That makes plenty of sense."

"It DOES?" she gasped and smiled. For her that answer was absolutely magical.

"Well... yeah." Harder the tree sliced into his exposed shoulders. "I mean, certainly with my relationships there were times for talking, and dinners, and shows, and all that. But afterwards there was, you know..." Someone in his head was shouting for him to use one of his one-thousand-and-one suggestive euphemisms, but he stuck to a tamer truth, "... a time for quiet snuggling."

The pony was endeared to the answer, blushing and softly giggling.

James asked with hesitation, "So... is that common for ponies, do you think? Like, cuddling and snuggling and everything?"

One would be forgiven for assuming the man had repeated his whole tirade of sexual innuendo to her, by the way a redness conquered her face.

"No, not at all," she meekly answered at first, before fast reverting, "I mean I'm sure they're plenty of loving ponies who hug and kiss and hold each other, outside of the island. But I've-... I've never really been in a relationship, so I don't know if-... I mean, I don't think-..."

"Ah, right. Of course," the man released her, and then he suggested, "So I guess that's one of those differences you were looking for. I've never had any trouble with making, you know... cuddling... a part of a relationship."

She stayed a glowing red, but any cold insecurity that had been there melted away under a pleasant warmth.

James, meanwhile, slunk back down in his seat against the tree, easing how much it clipped against his back. He momentarily faded into thought, recalling the storybook love of Star Glitter and P.V., as well as the open fondness Venus and Vesuvius always had displayed towards each other.

With the two ponies of Ponyville it was impossible to deny that there had been a deep and dedicated love. No question: either of them would have died for the other, without taking a heartbeat to have thought their choice over. Even in the crushing depths of their misunderstanding they had found the pure and honest love to have reconciled their troubles. And then? Well, then their expressions had been rather subdued by any objective human measure. Hugs had been strong, with neck against neck and hooves over backs, but the kisses had been fast and simple (though certainly no less sincere than any lusty snogging; maybe even almost more so). When they had nuzzled it had been gentle and soft, just enough to have carried the message of love and no more. And the 'I love you's had always been whispers of power, meant only for each other and nopony else. The only ecstasy those two had needed was being in each others' presence; the magic of love had done the rest, filling the air about them.

Such was not the romance of Venus and Vesuvius. The two island masters had needed spatulas to pry their eyeballs off of each other. Whenever they could have they had buried their faces into each others' bodies, getting drunk on scent and taste. It was like their hooves had been desperate to find forbidden places on each other after years of having failed to do so. More than once the man had felt that they had been a mere hair way from collapsing onto the floor with their tongues throat-deep into each other. But by their other behaviors one thing seemed very clear: the heated passion steaming off of them hadn't been an act meant to flaunt their love. They genuinely hadn't cared that the world had been there watching them.

And that seemed to be the crux of it. More of the incidental moments of romance that James had witnessed by chance in Ponyville had been two ponies acting more like Star Glitter and P.V. than like the island masters. Those two were mold-breakers. They were taking the same magic of love that guided all ponies and pushing it to the raunchiest extremes that their magic-influenceable biology and psychology would allow. They were the rare outliers on the spectrum of pony lust.

And Prism? Prism, he guessed, was just a pony who had found their extremist love fascinating and was out to study it. The same was probably true of all the ponies on the island.

How amusing would it have been if all that those two island masters were up to with their resort was assembling some kind of cuddle-cult to spread their scandalous willingness for public displays of affection? Ha! A pony counterculture! A snuggleable revolution!

That put everything in a sensible perspective for James.

"Hey... James...," Prism intruded into his thoughts. She still glowed.

"Yeah?"

"Would you... maybe-..."

As she picked her face up to look at him, her eyes didn't stop with the rest of her head. They lifted skywards, and her question drew to an early close as she glared up with annoyed confusion.

A pegasus was blitzing through the air, and he knew his destination blindfolded. He slice downwards, curving into the same garden they were in, and he landed with incredible precision. Folding his wings onto his back, Nosedive didn't even have to search for them; he walked right up to the secluded alcove and was unsurprised to find man and mare.

"Hey Prism. Sir." He had a fast, military nod for each of them, and then he spoke exclusively to his fellow islander, "Really sorry Prism. Venus and Vesuvius asked me to come get you. Wanted to talk to you about something."

She frowned, but sat up and got off the bench.

"This isn't great timing," she complained, gentle and without meaningful resistance.

"I know," Nosedive agreed, "but they're anxious and eager and everything. Sorry again."

Prism wasn't the type to shoot the messenger. She thanked the pegasus sincerely, they traded goodbyes, and then he was airborne and on his way. His takeoff was somewhat less refined than his landing.

The mare then sighed to the man, "I'm so sorry, but I have to go for a bit."

"Hey, I understand," James said. He was both distraught and relieved. "I'll... see you later?" Several times his tone drifted between question and statement; between wish and worry.

"Oh, of course! I don't think this will take long. Or I hope not anyway."

She smiled, a secret thought gave short resurgence to her blush, and then she offered him a dreamy, "Goodbye."

"See you later, definitely."

Away the pony turned, and she went with a happy prance. She exited the garden through the same way they had both earlier come in. Her swaying tail followed behind her and disappeared last, its braided bulbs jingling with her jaunty movements, almost like a worm trying to lure in a hungry fish.

The entire way the man watched her go, even getting up off the ground to pace a few tiny steps after her. Once all traces of her had vanished and there was no hint that she would immediately return, he finally was able to take full breaths again. He wheezed and rubbed his eyes, chastising himself for the inept stupidity he had been putting on display. He was older and more mature than THAT!

She was a very nice pony, and it had been plenty of fun to chat with her. He looked forward to sharing some more time with her later. There was plenty of appreciable qualities she had that made her pleasant company.

...

Those legs!

The man raked his hand through his hair hard enough to pull some strands out.

Holy mother of God! He had only been trapped in Equestria for a few months, yet it was now, all of a sudden, that these hopeful whispers of his most primal side had gained a ludicrous amount of strength. Incessantly the voice beseeched him to test how far exactly Prism was willing to go (and more darkly, suggested that maybe she could be taught what she didn't know). He'd have plugged his ears, if it would have worked to quiet things.

It wasn't even like he didn't take care of himself in private often enough. There wasn't any excuse for his fundamental humanity to have returned with such a vengeance. Maybe it was just something about having not even so much as seen ANY woman for all that time, let alone a lady with an irresistible body (and a HUMAN body, thank you very much). After that, now a pony had appeared who FOR THE VERY FIRST TIME had even remotely teased that side of him. Like a starving dog suddenly snapping free of his leash at the faintest smell of food.

Even imagined food! If he was correct then the absolute most Prism would have been interested in was maybe heavy (heavy-ish?) petting.

And smooching. Don't forget she had mentioned smooching.

Shut up!

... Maybe his lonely imagination was just too worked up. It's not like she had come anywhere close to straight up propositioning him or anything. What a pathetic, desperate loon he was to have read so much into her subtle hints. Twilight would have had some stern words for him if he were to have told her about this.

There was no reason for him to consider Prism's fictional offer ANYWAY, given his and her mutual incompatibility. She was a HORSE.

Hey! Remember that ponies are basically people. Learned that lesson already, you know?

Goddammit.

"You don't look so relaxed for being on vacation."

James almost took a startled spill.

"Twilight?" He groaned a sigh, shook his head, and threw his agitation away as swiftly as he could. "I was just sort of thinking about you. A little."

"Oh, really?" By the way his friend lingered neared the entrance she had likely been standing there for at least a good few long moments. She sounded doubtful, not in any harsh way, and she lurched her neck to look around him. Her search of the room was brief, but most particularly she gazed down the exit Prism had left through, opposite to the one she was standing in.

Definitely she had seen something before having spoken up, the man decided.

"Yeah," he threw a pointing finger at the vanished Prism, "you know... cause like, a new pony to try and make friends with..." His voice faded. "... and stuff like that..."

Twilight processed his statement for just a moment before she lit up and nodded positively. Reserve removed, she entered.

James asked, "What brings you here anyway?"

"I was just exploring the Gardens," she said casually. "I passed by and saw you in here with your NEW FRIEND," she grinned with proud delight, "so I moved on. But I hit a dead end quickly and turned around. On the way back I looked in and saw you all alone, so I thought maybe we could chat a bit. Now that our Ponyville schedule has been interrupted, it feels like it's been awhile." Again she ran her eyes over the garden but mainly with disinterested glances, and she brought her voice into a glum spin, "To be honest I don't find the horticulture here all THAT fascinating anyway. I'm not... intruding on anything, right?"

Her explanation was a bomb of relief, exploding loud and swift. Honestly the man was more than happy to entertain any ORDINARY pony whom he already knew.

"Nah," he shook his head and opened himself up with a relaxed stance. "She had to go do something; don't know how long she'll be. Where's yours, though?"

"Mine?"

"Yeah, they gave us all tagalongs," the man was genuinely taken aback that she hadn't noticed. When his meaning still didn't pierce he instead described, "Uh... greenish guy. Kinda blueish mane. You were reading with him all morning on the beach."

"Oh, Gallowayo!" Speaking his name thrust a pleasant sensation into her; something which reflected clearly through her appearance. "He had to go help prepare for that evening party later," she reported with a hair of disappointment. Then the latent observation lashed her like a whip. "They DID give us all companions, didn't they?"

"Well, personal and attentive service, right? It's something their resort has done well. Unlike... uh... some other parts of this place, sorry to say. Not that I'm complaining about a FREE vacation."

"No, I agree," Twilight sighed, dropping her dismal head. "They've put in a lot of effort, but it really feels like they have a long way to go. Some polish is definitely needed." Much came to mind: the shanties at the dock that new arrivals first see, the lackluster decor of the Passion's Embrace, the haphazard construction of the backyard town, and the endless incompleteness that touched almost everything of the resort. "Uh, a LOT of polish, maybe."

"Yeah, they're really disorganized. It's weird what they put their focus on." The man, standing near the beautiful wall of flowers, skipped his fingers across the petals. "Great gardens... fantastic beach... the bedroom was super nice. But," he chuckled, small and with dark humor, "those few things do not a fancy island resort make. Unless they're expecting everypony to just sleep and nap their days away."

The unicorn nodded her general agreement, and then she pointed her thoughts down the path Prism had exited through.

"Don't forget there are some nice ponies here as well," she said.

James hummed and idly tickled the flowers again. He stopped when he realized Twilight had noticed how flustered he was.

His fouler moods were predictable to her at this point so she decided to cut him off before he had a chance to even start murmuring at himself in angry embarrassment. In soothing happiness she told him, "It's great to see you making a friend! If there's anything I endorse fully, it's friendship!"

"Ah, well," he almost excused himself, "I figured I should at least try, right? I mean, outside of my Celestia-dictated friends the only other ponies I've made friends with are little fillies." One of his thumbs rubbed Poppy's medallion. Then he thoughtlessly smirked, laughing, "I'd be getting a boatload of suspicious stares about that if this were back home."

"Why?" The question was so strong it twisted her head.

"—? Cause-" Oh. Right. He limped onwards with a new, safe explanation, "... Because, you know, it'd... it'd been seen as... immature."

"Uh... Right..."

That he was avoiding something was beyond obvious to Twilight, and she had more than enough clues and intelligence to piece together what. (Not that for this specific topic she allowed her curiosity any capacity to delve deeply into WHY.) His reserve was appreciated; thank goodness he had quickly learned to show a proper respect to other ponies with regards to such a forbidden thing.

But Gallowayo's big speech earlier had planted too huge a doubt in her, and she didn't find his restraint as comforting as she would have liked. The idea was in her head now that his silence was perhaps bought by actual cost upon him. And that cost did start to appear in her observations of him: there was something inside his very nature which wanted to be let out, and for the sake of making everypony comfortable he was holding it in.

Which was appropriate to do SOMETIMES. But... maybe Gallowayo had been right about the loneliness, even in company, that comes with keeping something always hidden? A poison distilled from unwanted secrets. What if it had been her who had fallen through the cracks in the universe and had landed on Earth, and then had been told 'there's no magic here, so never again use magic!'? To silently endure that would have been a torturous thing.

Maybe, in the name of friendship, somepony had to be brave enough to wade into restricted, uncomfortable things. At least a little bit. If he couldn't trust a friend to hear him out, who could he?

"J-James," Twilight started, but already her statement was losing cohesion before it even properly began, "I-I-I've been t-thinking... m-maybe-... maybe it would b-b-be alr-right if-f-f-f... uh, j-just a l-little anyw-way, uh... if w-w-we disc-cussed, uh, t-the t-t-topic of-... Well, you k-know, in c-c-controlled c-circums-stances perhaps – and p-p-privacy of course! LOTS of p-privacy – we c-could t-talk about, uh-... A-A-And maybe f-f-first if w-w-we or-rganized a l-list of safety r-rules and prop-per discussion p-procedures, t-then I think w-we c-could, ah-... f-for your b-benefit I c-could... sp-speak with y-you about-" Her own tongue had tangled itself up too much to continue, and she had to loudly swallow to be able to breath again.

"Yeah, hey, so, this resort, right? Weird, eh?" the man wound back the clock suddenly, casting aside her olive branch. If was as if she had never said anything, except for the shaky calm he had laid hastily over his rush. "You weren't getting ANY answers from Venus and Vesuvius back there, huh? It doesn't sound like the resident caretakers do any better with archeology than they do with construction."

Reluctantly the unicorn accepted his change of subject, dejected by her lack of strength. Lately she hadn't been feeling like the greatest friend. At least her thirsty curiosity cushioned her through the changing topics; she found it easy to sit down upon the dirt and settle into a casual mind.

"Yeah...," she breathed, "... it's amazing how little they know. And – I know they're not here to hear this, but I don't mean any offense – I'm way more interested in this island's past than its present." Her usual rumbling groans invaded her voice. "I mean, how do you find NOTHING meaningful while building here? It's a small island and it had a civilization for however many CENTURIES! There MUST be stuff here!"

"Eh," James' mask slowly gave way to his comfortable self, "I'm not sure how surprised I am at the trouble. Venus and Vesuvius don't strike me as the most talented scientists. They seem to be sort of flying by the seats of their... uh, flanks I guess."

"Well, if they're going to be managing a research effort like this then they SHOULD have somepony here who specializes in this kind of work! Gallowayo might be capable of helping but they haven't asked for his assistance at all. He doesn't know anything more than them."

The man hummed then suggested, "You'd think the Island Society would've sent somepony to help them out."

"Ugh, I know! But they didn't, so they MUST trust those two enough to manage everything." At last her frustration burned out and she sunk into a soft despair. "... What I'm really afraid of is that maybe Venus and Vesuvius are simply RIGHT, and there IS NOTHING left behind. What a loss that would be."

Her melancholic funk was no good. The man drummed up his humor, playing it into a nonetheless serious thought.

"I suppose," he offered with a grin, "that if they can't find any answers then it's up to you now, isn't it?"

The words whistled into her ears and became balloons of thought that lifted her head, mostly in slow astonishment.

"I can't just go digging up the island without their permission!" she objected.

"I know. But you can probably throw some magic at the problem or something, right?"

"That's not how magic works, and you know it," Twilight said. But she at least now caught onto his cheekiness and accepted some of the amusement he was providing, turning up her smile.

"Right, right," the man laughed. But he wasn't finished; all his humor had in fact been orbiting a genuine thought. "There should be some kind of magic that lets you look a little bit without disturbing things though. Come on, you got to know some kind of spell to scan the ground. How about right here?" Wide he stepped across the garden room, waving his arms over the flat dirt floor, and again he erupted in jest, "Maybe all the answers just happen to be buried right here!"

It forced a broader smile from the unicorn and she joined him on the dirt, but still she educated him soundly, "There are certainly spells for clairvoyance, clairtouchance, and other extrasensory perceptions, but most of those kinds of detection spells really require you to have at least some partially-defined idea of what you are looking for."

James shrugged, "Makes sense, but I was sort of think more of sonar or something. You know, like... send a vibration into the ground and read what bounces back."

"Sonar?" she scoffed. "What am I, a submarine? That-...—!! That could work!" And the perfect euphoria of an exam-acing student swallowed her right up. "I mean, I wouldn't get any really clear picture of what's there but the shape and consistency of anything buried below would stand out from the dirt easily enough! It would be trivial to pick out disturbances in the pattern!"

Thankful, but moreover proud, she said to the man, "See? You DO have an intuition for magic!"

He was more grateful to have cheered her up than for her compliment. To repay her he flicked a silly salute, but he also chuckled in doubt of his abilities, "Magic: does what you need it to do."

Twilight smirked, not prepared to have a war of friendly praise with him, and then she excitedly took the stage. Around in place she spun a few times to make absolutely sure she was dead center in the circle of dirt. Then swirls of light ran up the grooves of her horn until they joined together in a sparking, purple pinpoint.

"Alright, quiet please!" she announced eagerly, hoisting her blinking horn up. "I'm about to send a pulse!"

Obedient and smiling, James took a step aside to give her space and folded his arms before he held himself like a statue.

Ready, Twilight nodded at him and tightened herself on the ground, pushing her hooves wide before she carefully lowered her head. The light riding her horn left a dazzling little trail as she leveled it down to the dirt, and the nearer it came to the ground the more she inched it closer like moving through a thickening syrup. At last her horn tapped the earth, shaking a few specks of dirt, and she pressed it in slowly enough to bury the twinkling light.

ZZWAP!!

A fast pulse of color blasted from her horn when she pulled the trigger. All was silent for a fraction of a moment as the soundless wave of magic ripped through the earth and echoed back up.

But when her pulse boomeranged back into her it was like a hammer crashing into the tip of her horn, popping her out of the ground. Her head flipped up as far as her neck could stretch, nearly throwing her head over hooves. The leap hadn't been from some involuntarily strike by an outside force, though. She showed no pain or injury; just eyes opened in confused shock.

James was likewise confused, thinking perhaps she was still channeling the spell but sincerely doubting it. He didn't wait long to break his stiffness and he stepped up to the frozen pony.

"... What?" he asked.

"I—...," she slurred the syllable out nice and long, still bug-eyed, "... thought this was just going to be a proof of concept test, but..." Her eyes snapped shut and she whipped her head back and forth, lashing her mane about. Some of her sanity was restored, and she gasped at the man, "... there really IS something buried here!"

"There is?" he was equally dumbfounded by the news.

"There is!" she echoed.

Her amazement started to draw her back into a blind muteness, but ever the thorough experimenter she resisted by summoning up some spontaneous doubt. A fresh light queued up on her horn, she nodded a repeat request for absolute stillness, and plugged herself back into the ground.

ZZWAP!!

And back came the pulse. This time she lingered, horn in the earth, while she exhaustively explored the echo as it moved through her. But it cast her back into the bowels of dizzying perplexity. Weakly her horn disengaged from the earth and her head snuck back up to its level height.

"Uh," she verified for James, "there really is A WHOLE LOT of something buried here."

"Of what?"

"I-... I don't know! I've never really done this before! But there's a... tremendous disruption in the dirt pattern just three or four feet down. Like-... like... many loose things floating, with all the dirt stuffed between them."

Unhelped by her vagueries, the man steered her, "'Loose things' like...?"

Twilight's muttered a half-assembled answer, too inconclusive to hear or understand. The efforts needed for proper deduction had her thoroughly distracted.

So James spoke louder, digging further, "Come on! Large, small; what?"

"Oh, well, uh... it's a big pile, sort of all lumped together," the unicorn tried to allocate to her friend more of her rapid thoughts. "Each item is not that big, but they're not that small either. I'm PRETTY SURE they're all the same kind of thing; I mean, they feel like they're all made of the same stuff, whatever it is, and many of them are similarly shaped. Uh, sort of long and thin, for the most part. Not everything, but most of them. Size varies a little between items. Very smooth too, except for occasional twists and lumps, and what I'm guessing are maybe chips, or cracks, or something."

"That's still too-," the man groaned. But he simply retried, "Okay, so not big and not small, but long... like... what, a tree branch?"

"Sort of, maybe," she considered his suggestion, before she firmly shook her head. "None of the them are quite so long. And I very much doubt they're made of wood, or anything so quickly decomposable. They're not... soft enough, I guess."

She couldn't peel her eyes from the dirt. The sheer difficulty of working out answers from so little was a bit of a straining, almost frustrating, workload. But if anything had her trapped it was her exhilaration for sweet mystery, and she stared at the ground like a wind might come through at any second and dust away just enough dirt to reveal the truth.

"Alright, so, stones or something, right?" the man guessed.

Twilight frowned doubtfully, and then her horn twinkled for a third time. Down she went, zzwap!, a second to breath, and then up she came.

"No. No, I'm almost positive they're not," she said. "Not the way they're shaped. There's a lot of them, but just a few set of shapes between them. Very uniform."

Both friends massaged the riddle in silence for a short while, but the man was the first to break. He shook his head at the silliness of their theoretical archeology by magical deduction, and he wandered a dismissive step away.

"Well, whatever," he ceded his interest. "It's not like what's down there is ACTUALLY some secret of the original islanders."

His submissive doubt stole Twilight's attention in a way that all the lack of answers hadn't been able to.

"What?" he greeted her disappointed stare. He explained, "This whole hillside had to have been cleared to have terraced it for these gardens. When they were filling everything in they probably just buried some junk they didn't need in order to pack the dirt; who knows."

"Hmmmmph..." The unicorn disliked his rationality, and she disliked that she could dislike such a sane answer. Slowly she let the excitement fizzle out of her with a sigh.

"Hey, if you're THAT curious," he needled her in consolation, though he was half-serious, "you can always just rip up the ground with some magic and take a look for yourself."

"I can't do that!" she sternly objected. "I don't have permission!"

"Eh, just put it back when you're done," the man continued to tease. "It's not like a daily patrol is going to sniff out some rooted soil and call in a report on a possible serial dirt agitator."

"Hehe, come on, you know I can't," Twilight smiled, her sourness short-lived.

James eased his playful push, happy to have been of service.

"Well," he shared a pleasant thought, "at the very least now you've got something more to ask Venus and Vesuvius."

"I guess," she accepted. Though plainly she was not overly enthused, already resigned to the ignorance of the hosts. In mulling on her options she decided, "Maybe later. Right now I think I'm going to check out some of the other gardens. See maybe if there's anything buried in some of them. At the very least it'll be more practice using this kind of spell."

The man tipped his head at her, but he hummed in disinterest.

It was loud and clear enough for Twilight.

"I take it that you'll be staying here, then?"

"I should probably wait for Prism, yeah."

She would have been disappointed, given how little time she and her friend had spent catching up. But that he was choosing to stay behind and wait for a pony he was befriending? He had started out as a stranger, then had become a friend in need, and now he was really reaching out on his own to make new friends. What wonderful progress! And it was a clear sign of his recovery! Her face lit up with happiness.

At first.

Her expression had hardly lifted before it began to dim.

As great as it was that he was seeking to build friendships... was he really spending that effort on brand new ponies and NOT on closer ponies who maybe needed the opportunity more? He was open to friendship enough to have very quickly given Prism a chance... and far more of a chance than Pinkie Pie had ever gotten. Maybe, anyway; Twilight WAS biased in the matter. But she couldn't bring herself to believe it was solely a case of something Prism had that Pinkie Pie didn't.

Oh, couldn't he have just been serious and clearheaded enough to have seen the friend staring him right in the face? Pinkie Pie deserved more than his cold shoulder, especially if he could offer a stranger a straight conversation! What did it matter if Rainbow Dash thought he-

The unicorn silently sighed, overwhelmed.

"See you later," she said simply, without a shine.

"Later, Twilight."

The pony walked off, shuffling her hooves in a tired way and shaking the weary thoughts out of her head. She disappeared down the same pathway that Prism had taken.

With some reluctance James watched her go, of course recognizing her drab attitude. This free vacation had not so far worked out at all in her favor; the whole experience was exhausting her rather than resting her. He hoped he had helped, even if her exiting shamble had said that maybe she could have used some more cheer. But he didn't feel the necessary bravery inside to call her back and ask her if anything was seriously wrong.

Really he was bothered more by the fact that, without her around, he had no buffer for whenever Prism was to reappear. In fact he hadn't meant to have said that he was waiting for the other pony; his mouth had flopped open all on its own with the suggestion. He wasn't really even sure if he wanted to wait or not. Or rather, he DID want to wait for her, but didn't know if he SHOULD have wanted it.

He wasn't really trying to make a new friend like he had told Twilight, was he? What would have been Prism's appeal as a friend? Their morning date-thing on the beach ('date-thing?' Christ!) had let him get to know her a little, but by not all that much now that he reviewed it. Really, he had done most of the talking.

Maybe it was just the fawning attention she had shown him. That had been nice. At least she listened, right?

...

And who knew swishing tails could look so sexy?

His hands plowed into his face, palms grinding his cheekbones while his fingertips rubbed trails into his forehead. He spat hot air all over his hands, quaking his lips as he tried to expel every last thought and clear his head.

Dropping his arms and shaking his hands to cast away any incidental spit, he blindly wandered about the garden some more until a sense of tiredness nipped at his legs. He went over to the small alcove and, now that the seat was completely free, sat himself on the bench.

The seat was still faintly warm. It was almost enough to bounce him back up, but he sighed and fast got a hold of himself.

There he briefly rested, sitting upright. It had only been a few short minutes when he noticed he was yet again not quite alone. Up in the sky there was ANOTHER pegasus, this one circling instead of flying straight in, though clearly his garden was her target. After a few more loops she seemed assured and she descended, weaving into a landing position, and the man cheerfully wondered what he was in for. He would count this extra distraction as a relief.

Rainbow Dash made straight for the alcove, though she dawdled with unusual preoccupation. She was fully aware of James' presence – there was no mistake that she had come to see him – but she didn't charge at him with any solid purpose. The everyday-haste that practically defined her wasn't present.

Unbothered and eager for a little engagement, the man shifted himself. In the seat he leaned back, folded one leg up onto his knee, and greeted her with a sly twist of his mouth, "And what trouble are you here to make, Dine-and-Dash?"

The pegasus didn't look at him directly, and the salutation she returned to him showed no fanfare or even casual familiarity. Somehow she needed him, but her presentation showed her to be very much elsewhere.

"Hey James..."

The man, fallen into a peculiar quiet, stared hard at her before he dropped his raised leg and sat up proper. Every silly gremlin and mischievous devil left him.

He re-greeted his friend, "What's up, Rainbow Dash?"

Chapter 27: Encourage

Whereas the pathway dirt of the Gardens was packed hard, her wandering clops were soft and mild. And that was when she wasn't instead floating gingerly over the ground to be even more silent and harmless. Her unrelenting search took her to the gentlest places of each garden: where grass was a brushy carpet fluffing the ground, where flowers bloomed so full and bright they challenged the dreams of imagination, and where every tree crown or full bush was more warm and welcoming than the glowing windows of home in a winter night.

Such was how Fluttershy roamed in her usual meek fashion, poking her nose carefully into each garden she passed as she moved down the thin halls. She tried particularly hard to map it all correctly in her head so that she wouldn't waste time accidentally searching any one location twice. Only a few rare times did the turvy maze get to her and send her backtracking, but she resisted letting those errors spark an urgency in her and always got herself back on course and back to her delicate task.

"Hello?"

Everywhere she went she was alone, but obviously she didn't want to be. Yet by intentional choice she had left the entryway garden without taking along any of her friends for company.

"Is anypony there? I promise I won't hurt you."

Everywhere she came she called out similar words, exploring and hoping for a response from other voices.

Much smaller voices.

"I'm really very nice. I just want to be your friend. Hello?"

The longer her search went on without success the more a melancholy fog clouded her, and her invitations grew seeped in an ever more weary sadness. Though she never gave up. Simply the whole exercise became more and more depressing: there she was wandering beautiful gardens and not one adorable and lovely soul was there to greet her. It was the same distraught feeling which would've overcome anypony who had stumbled upon a marvelous and well-maintained city only to have discovered it completely abandoned.

At one point she did encounter Rarity and her entourage, though they had seemed so incredibly busy that the quiet pegasus had decided not to have bothered them. The very handsome stallion with the dark coat had been quite vocal about something or another, and though his words had been charming Fluttershy couldn't have helped but to have detected some kind of rude frustration buried underneath them all. Probably it had just been her own shy mind projecting upon him and nothing more. After all, Spike and the big orange pegasus had only responded politely, though perhaps somewhat loudly and insistently.

The whole disagreement had been something about how crowded it was, or wasn't?

Fluttershy had moved on without even having announced herself to them. Her accidental eavesdropping on even a small part of their conversation had given her a twinge of shame, and she hadn't wanted to have discretely caught any more. More significantly, she had doubted very much that any animals would have been willing to answer her entreaties while so much noisy chatter had been going on.

In time she came upon yet another garden like so many of those that she had drifted through before: all the same elements but rearranged in an identically different way. Again she pattered around and called out invitations in her tame and subdued voice, saturated as it was with tired sorrow. And again no cheeps answered her and no chitterings replied to her; not even buzzes or chirps from the tiniest of insects came back. It was another garden of depressing silence.

But just before she would have given up and moved on she saw a fat bush in the corner which shuffled, if ever so slightly. Its leaves shivered like they were cold, and faintly bobbing with them were some pretty flowers with cotton-wrapped stems, entirely pink from stalk to petal. The small wiggle was exceedingly brief, but after a halting moment the bush jiggled again, this time with the obvious sound of leaves swishing and stiff branches creaking; something far too conspicuous to be some trick of wind. After that the agitation died down, turning completely into watchful patience.

The pegasus became a staring statue, trying so hard to balance her excitement and trepidation. Overblown eagerness was natural after such a long and fruitless search, but easily it could have spoiled this new chance, and so she adopted an almost excessive amount of caution to compensate. Unmoving, unwavering; she stood and peered motionlessly into the tight cracks between the leaves, and she felt certain that something was staring back.

"Hello? It's okay," she eventually tried, of course giving herself the voice of the tiniest angel. She nudged her way closer to the bush with invisibly small steps. "You don't have to hide."

The bush gave no answer until it again very subtly rustled for another time.

"I would never do anything to hurt you. Don't be afraid."

One sliver at a time she inched her way nearer. And in response the cheerful flowers with the pink fuzz bobbed and waved just scarcely, disturbed by some movement underneath.

"My name is Fluttershy. I only want to say hello and see what kind of adorable little animal you are."

It took a gnat's lifetime but eventually her tender steps finally brought her within striking distance, and she reached her hoof out to the shuddering leaves like she was trying to touch a sacred star. With the lightest poke her hoof went in and she began to peel back the outermost layer of leaves.

"It's okay... you can come out..."

"AHHHHH, YOU FOUND ME!"

Pinkie Pie sprung from the bush like a jack-in-the-box, sporting a fitting carnival grin and flailing her floppy legs high. Leaves, twigs, and petals all flitted out of her mane (the cottony fuzz, it turned out, had belonged to her and not the flowers) while a fit of giggles tickled her wildly and her body bounced in place like a rubber ball.

Fluttershy, after her stalled heart had a chance to restart, drifted back down to the ground from the frightful leap she had taken. Quickly her spooked jitters worked their way out and then she smiled.

"Oh, Pinkie, hello. You surprised me." She squinted at her debris-covered friend still springing up and down in the bush. "Um, what are you doing in there?"

"It's my hiding spot!"

The pink pony climbed out, whereafter she pulled in a massive breath and then blew into her hoof. All the leaves, petals, and sticks still caught in her mane and tail were promptly ejected as her hair poofed out before settling back into proper shape.

"Hiding spot?" Fluttershy asked. The shadow of her mane fell over her eyes as she carefully looked about the garden. "Were you... hiding from your pony?"

"From Rainbow Dash, yeah!" Pinkie Pie beamed. "Are you playing too?"

"R-Rainbow Dash? Um, I'm sorry. I don't think I quite understand." The pegasus raised her head back up and shook Humble Herd from her mind.

"We're playing hide-and-seek!"

"You are?"

Pinkie Pie pogoed about, her mouth cracking with happy lightning, "Ya-huh! We were walking around these gardens and I was talking to Rainbow Dash – actually more kind of like talking AT Rainbow Dash because she wasn't saying anything – and we were talking and talking and talking and talking – and by that I mean I was talking and talking and talking and talking – and then suddenly Rainbow Dash was like, 'Hey, Pinkie. Do you want to play hide-and-seek?'"

Her voice had dropped into the tone of her friend for the quote, but in her absolutely perfect mimicry she had also unwittingly copied some kind of distant distraction, mumbling the words with a stone face and eyes cast far away.

"So of course I said, 'Does a ten-pound chocolate fudge bonanza cake have five layers?' And then she said, 'Uh, okay, whatever. Just like... hide here or something. I'll be back to look for you later. Don't go anywhere.' But then I told her what a forgetful filly she was being; she needed to turn around and count to ten before seeking! Then she flew off, so I guess she was going away to count while I hid."

Finally her crazy speed found its brakes, and she scrunched her face together as she looked up at the long-empty sky.

"She must be a REAL lazy daisy if it takes her THIS LONG to count to ten. Hehe, fastest pony my pink patootie!"

Fluttershy gave a helpless shrug.

"I guess you found me first!" the unbothered pink pony exclaimed. "So congratulations, you won!"

There were some cheers, a rain of confetti, and the victory blast of a party horn which burst so loud that Fluttershy was left scratching her inner ear. But with the short tale over and the celebrations through Pinkie Pie finally parked herself in place.

"Oh, I see. I wasn't really looking for YOU, though," the pegasus explained her side. "I was looking for any of the island's animals."

"Oooooohhhhhh," Pinkie Pie affirmatively rolled her head through an arc tuned to her pitch. "Yeah, I haven't seen ANY!"

"I know. Me neither," moaned Fluttershy. "I've been looking all over these gardens, too."

"Well you're not going to find'em here!"

Even for such a capricious pony, Pinkie was beyond certain. Fluttershy felt it and, not to question her friend's dependably random wisdom, responded with only a wondering face.

"My Pinkie Sense hasn't given me one tickle or twinkle or twickle or winkle or wickle or warble or sneeze," Pinkie Pie said, "so I'm preeeetttty sure there isn't anypony hiding around whose smaller than a party balloon. And maaaayyyybe also not any who are bigger than a gigantic, city-smashing Sharkosaurus Rex. Also proooobbbbably nothing in between, either. Not in these gardens anyway."

Again the pegasus moaned, more dismally than before. She trusted the brutal revelation.

"That really makes me worried," she said.

The pink pony put the greater portion of her impulsive performance on pause, asking seriously, "Why?"

It took Fluttershy a lengthy minute to gather her pensive feelings together.

"Mmm... do you remember Hamestown, and the Dryponies, and Dryearth Forest?" she asked.

"Of course!" Pinkie Pie pranced in place.

"Well, in that forest all the animals stayed away from everypony," the pegasus recalled. She shook gently too, nipped by some worry as if she had been transported back to that past just by thinking about. "There had used to be harmony between the forest and the animals and the Dryponies, but when Hamestown had come along that harmony had broken down and nasty things had started happening. The terrible behavior of the Dryponies had scared and upset the animals of the forest, so they had stayed hidden when they could have, or even had fought with the Dryponies when they had too."

Her mind returned to the present and she continued, "Now on this island, I'm worried something similar is going on to scare the animals and that's why they're all hidden. H-H-Humb-b-ble H-H-H—," she swallowed the troublesome name up and then restarted, "—somepony told me that it was okay to talk to the animals here and that they're all very nice, but also that they're really very reclusive and are uncomfortable with most ponies." Into a little filly she transformed, beset on every side by the worst monsters of frightful imagination. "I really hope the ponies here aren't doing anything to upset the harmony of the island..."

The pink pony rattled the thoughts around in her head for a moment before she quickly decided that she had the perfect solution. Wrapping a fun yet still sympathetic leg around her friend she advised, "Well, what Pinkie's thinkin' is that if you can't learn the story by making friends with any animals then you'll just have to learn it from the other side, by making friends with the ponies!"

Fluttershy was squeezed between the pink leg and the enormous, sparkling smile which was engulfing Pinkie's face. She showed the suggestion her appreciation with a sheepish grin, but she disliked the less-than-perfect plan.

"Um, Pinkie, I think I'd really prefer to, um, just find some animals to make friends with instead. Ah, if that's alright."

"Aw, don't you sigh, Shy-Fly!" she cranked her hug into a chokehold and channeled her cheery words into the other pony through their touching cheeks. Then, leaving her friend free to breath, she bounced back a step and declared, "I know just the friendliest friend of a pony you should meet: Double-H!"

"Double-H?" Fluttershy whispered with dread. All of her smallest feelings creaked out from her every dark corner to haunt her, climbing their icy claws up her legs. She squeaked, "H-H-Humb-b-ble H-?"

"That's right! HULAHOOF!"

Pinkie Pie's explosion of a name flung away the other pony's frightened guess without having given it the chance to be heard. And certainly Fluttershy didn't mind that she had been wrong or shouted over; she didn't put one ounce of effort into trying to speak her guess again.

Just thinking about the other party pony had Pinkie Pie up in the air whirring her happy hoofs, kicking so fast that they kept her afloat. But even in such mirth her pinball-machine of a brain managed to score an incongruous thought, and she plopped back down on the ground. She let the thought out without a filter.

"Or maybe he's just 'Single-H?' I think he spells his name fast, like 'Hulahoof' and not 'Hula Hoof.' OH! Or maybe the H's are silent and he's 'No-H?' Does it count as no H's if they're THERE but you don't actually say them? Hrm... Oula-oof! ... You-laoof?"

"Um... Pinkie?"

"Ul-la Oouf!"

"Pinkie!" Fluttershy softly squealed.

"Yeah, Flutters-y?"

"Ah, thank you very much for the kind offer," the pegasus said sincerely. But even if the suggested pony wasn't whom she had feared, she still shook her head in decline. "But I really think it'd be better if I just found an animal somewhere to talk with. At least, to start. If they're not in the Gardens then they must be somewhere else."

"Aw, come on!" Pinkie Pie encouraged undeterred. Again she couldn't be contained and whirled about in a dance that was more of a firecracker popping than a swan's ballet. "Huly's an ammmmaazzzzing friend! You'll definitely like him!"

"I appreciate it, Pinkie," Fluttershy again only showed her sincerest side, "but... maybe another time?"

"Teehehe, why be friends ANOTHER TIME when you can be friends NOW?"

"Oooh, it's hard to explain. I've been a little-... oh, nevermind. Anyway, if something IS happening here and the ponies are causing it, then they might not know they're the problem anyway, so-"

"He likes parties, and balloons, and being friends, and cakes, and confetti, and being friends, and surprises, and shouting, and being friends, and-!"

"Pinkie-"

"Honestly, he's the ONLY FRIEND a pony could ever need!"

"Pinkie, that sounds very nice, but-" Suddenly the pegasus stopped and blinked. Maybe the blare of the party horn was still caught in her ear and had distorted her hearing? "... 'only friend?'"

"Pfft, yeah!" the obviously-content-and-in-no-way-bothered pony chuckled back, tossing a hoof away. "Who needs to make ANOTHER friend when you got a pony like Hulahoof who totally WANTS to be your friend AND is the BEST friend of ALL friends who ever friended a friend? I certainly don't! Nope! Not a friend more needed here, no ma'am!"

Fluttershy stared.

"Pinkie... are you-?"

"I'll introduce you to him, and then you'll make friends with him too, and then you'll tell me:," Pinkie Pie grabbed her friend's mouth and moved it for her, "'Oh gosh, Pinkie, you were so right! Now that Hulahoof is my friend I'll never need to make another friend again, and I'll definitely be safe and okay forever!'"

"... Um... alright, Pinkie," Fluttershy quietly freed herself. She reconsidered the offer, if only for the sake of her agitated friend, but just a feather of a thought was enough to quickly bring the pegasus back around to defeat.

"I'm sorry," she said and sunk her head, "but I don't think I could make friends with anypony new just yet. One of them already tried to make friends with me, but... h-he gave up. I t-think. M-Maybe I'll feel differently later but, um, not right now."

The pink pony stayed excessively bright, but she did grind to a complete halt.

"... He gave up?" she asked.

"Oh my yes, very quickly." In her mind Fluttershy recounted the upsetting scenario, sending a tremble through herself. But she felt the privacy of the moment, and warmed by the presence of her good friend she timidly admitted, "Ah, m-maybe I should talk to somepony about it. After all, you're much more outgoing than I am, Pinkie."

"Uh huh," the other pony nodded. Her ears were open, clearly listening. Almost intently even. But something rattled behind her eyes, like a bent bottle cap trapped in a twisted tin can.

The pegasus turned aside, becoming tiny and tender as she ever was. She stitched together all the scraps of her courage which she could find, whispering to herself, "Okay, Fluttershy. It's just Pinkie Pie. She understands. You can do this."

At last she cleared her throat, coughing up squeaks as mighty as a mouse's. But she still couldn't bring herself to meet her friend's eyes.

"Um, okay, alright... so... when we arrived here we all had our bags taken by different ponies, and Humb-b-b-ble H-H-H-H-" No matter how much she tried to forcefully wheeze her way through the name it wouldn't come out. Giving up, she hung her head with shame and continued. "... and my pony-" HER pony? Her head fell further and her voice crumbled. "... and the pony who carried my things, he-... he TRIED to be nice to me, and I – oh, I don't know why it was so hard; he was just taking my bags and saying hello – I got so nervous, and I guess I wasn't so very polite back to him, and then he just walked away..."

"Uh huh."

The pegasus, still with lowered head, only heard her pink friend's hearty acknowledgment; attentive, cheerful, yet with something foreign peeking through. But Fluttershy was so fearfully invested in her own story that she didn't notice anything unusual.

"... So... by the time we got to my room he was already so disappointed with me that he just dropped my saddlebags and left right away. I guess after all he had read about me he had gotten his hopes up; Twilight was probably way too nice with what she wrote about me. I-... I don't think I can really blame him for being so disappointed with meeting the REAL me..."

"Uh huh." There was a mild, mild drop in Pinkie Pie's voice. Nigh undetectable.

"And I don't really even understand why I'm having such a problem!" Fluttershy lamented. "It's not like I haven't gotten along with plenty of very nice ponies before, and he does seem like such a sweet and quiet little pony. In fact, he must be VERY nice if he can make friends with all the animals of the island, especially if they're frightened of ponies. But for some reason when he comes around-... oh, it's just so different than with other ponies!"

"Uh huh." A little bit more air flitted out of the pink pony; a tiny deflation.

"When he just tries to talk to me I feel so-... so-... so squeamish! And my legs feel like jelly and there are frightened little butterflies floating around in my stomach. I mean, I do feel like that most of the time ANYWAY, but-... Oh, when he looks at me it's like... there's something else he wants from me. Something... a little... M-MORE. And-... and-... and I just think that-... Ah, something must be so very wrong with me..."

"Uh huh." Slowly the great curl of her floppy mane folded lifelessly down.

"I SHOULDN'T mind at all just talking to him, and when we talked a little at lunch he was being very nice and trying very hard to be open and generous with me... I thought then, maybe it was all in my head... But he still seemed so upset with how quiet I am, and he left again. Oh, I know it's something about me that he doesn't like but I just can't help the way I am!"

"Uh huh..." Without any accompanying sound, a line of shimmering tears built up upon the pink pony's eyelids.

"And I know I shouldn't feel this way, too. I have so many wonderful friends, with you all and all of the animals. It's supposed to be alright if not everypony likes me... But if somepony-... I-... I mean, if somepony like that is so easily disappointed with me, I get so worried that maybe-... m-maybe nopony will ever like me enough to-... ah, mmm..."

"Uh h-huh..." The wobble in her voice came out quite distinct, almost overtaking her every last natural sound.

"Oh, Pinkie, I'm so sorry for being a grouchy, loudmouth sourpuss. I didn't mean to get so worked up and rant at you about all my worthless problems. I guess it must be pretty hard for such a likable, sociable pony like you to understand what it feels like to have somepony to want nothing to do with you..."

"U-Uh h-huh..." The pink pony's teeth chattered, resounding like the eternal echo of weathered stones crumbling off a cliff face into an empty canyon long abandoned by its river.

The sound was at last enough to grasp Fluttershy's faltered attention. She looked up and was horrified by what she saw: oh, the tears! Ah, the heartache! Oh no, the thousand weights of sadness sagging the other pony down!

Immediately her own problems vanished and she swooped over to her friend, throwing her legs around the other pony. She pulled the silently sobbing Pinkie in, resting the pony's squishy pink head against her bosom.

"Oh, there, there, there," she patted and stroked her friend's limp mane, pouring out the same perfect love and affection which she gave to each and every one of her beloved friends, from biggest pony to smallest insect. "You just let it all out and tell mother Fluttershy every little thing that's wrong, okay?"

"Soooooo...," Rainbow Dash stretched her opening with such an unusual slowness. The longer it droned on, the further away her head pulled back into uncertainty, and the more her fixed gaze waded through a soup of messy discomfort. Her sound faded into a thick silence, still going, and somewhere too low to hear it rolled over the finish line.

A delay. A delay orbiting an unusual dread, and one that needed uncommon courage to break free of; not anything as simple as common bravado.

When her time was at last up she suddenly blasted out her next thought.

"... about Pinkie Pie-"

"Oh no!" James smashed the back of his hand over his eyes, squeezing it up into a fist. "No no no, come on!"

"Hey! This is serious!"

What sizzled her frustration the most was that she had so sincerely humbled herself and he had still given her such obstinance! It was a hard thing to swallow: that SHE (the amazing Rainbow Dash!) just MIGHT have been sorta maybe kinda possibly a little wrong about the whole situation when she had earlier hashed things out with Twilight and Pinkie. Still, her fire didn't quite rise above her general reluctance to face said wrongness down head on.

"Well, I'm serious too," the man harshly replied. "Not interested! No thank you!"

The pony's position hardened.

"I can't let it go that easy."

"God, I ALREADY got all this from Twilight TWICE and I DON'T need it from you, alright?" He was going to strike his own face again but the back of his hand was throbbing from the first blow; instead he bashed his palm upon the bench, evening the swelling. Quietly he grumbled, "... It ruins how nice it is to have somepony I can just CHILL with."

"Look, there's a lot of ways that I really don't like this all that much either," Rainbow Dash had mercy. "Zipping through these hoops isn't always my thing, and I'd MUCH rather prefer things just work themselves out awesomely like they're supposed to. But... this is for Pinkie Pie's sake. At this point I definitely wouldn't be her friend if I didn't bring it up."

"And what about being my friend?" James grumbled and scowled. "Or it's first come, first serve, huh?"

But he only fed the fire more, finally giving it enough juice to really burn past her hesitations.

"Hey!" she snarled, her objection as stern as it was sharp. "You know, when I talked about this with Twilight yesterday I actually DEFENDED YOU!"

"Oh, then how quick you are to stab me in the back," the man rattled his head in bitter sarcasm.

And that was really when the line had truly been crossed, erased, redrawn on a cloud a hundred yards down the way, crossed AGAIN, and then bucked into puffy shreds. Any last little niggles of nervous doubt in the pegasus: obliterated. All the weak glances she sometimes shot into the back of her head: demolished. Any softy-hooves sensitivity at confronting something that couldn't be bested solely with a cocky grin and some awesome flying: exterminated to the extremest of smithereens.

For the angriest frown the man had on him, hers burned as the more genuine article by a three-mile sky dive of a long shot. 'INSULTED' wasn't nearly the politest word for it.

"Wow," she told him, burying in that single word all the necessary sourness she would ever need to give him for the rest of their natural lives.

And at first he didn't budge. Yet every time he brought his eyes back to clash with hers he felt himself coming up short and he flinched. Eventually, even in his continued and stubborn disagreement, he understood what a truly pathetic thing he had said. His shoulders dropped, his stout chest caved in with a sigh, and he spoke in a wilted breath, "... Sorry."

"Hmph." It was a grunt of forgiveness. Not that forgiveness kept Rainbow Dash from muttering lowly, "You should be."

She let her irritation fade, waiting it out over the course of a few steamy exhales, all the while hoping that MAYBE James was taking the time to screw his head on straighter also. Once she was ready enough she trotted immediately up to him. Yet she approached with some measured caution; some of her own safe fears had been allowed back in alongside her calmness, but really her deliberate care was because she doubted that she had heard the last of his resistance.

Before his bench, standing slightly aside, she tested him, "So... about Pinkie Pie...?"

The man's glare shot up so high it struck his brow and bent it in crabby unhappiness. But he didn't object.

"Alright then," the pegasus murmured.

She cleared her throat, readying herself like a general before her fleet of flyers lined up for inspection. Yet it wasn't at all obvious if she had a battle plan prepared, and once she started talking there was no doubt that she was trying to wing it.

"Pinkie Pie's a real party pony," she began, already with an aimless glide sinking in. "She's the pony who always has that one extra surprise in her to keep the night going. Who always has that one extra jam to keep the party rocking. Who always has that one extra song she just HAS to sing. And you? You're not really a party ANYTHING."

"Hey!"

A divot of disbelief drilled its way between Rainbow Dash's eyes.

"Oh, come on! You're really going to deny it? Yeah, yeah, you can get up and get active when you want to, but not ANYTHING like her. Heck, not anything like even a run-of-the-mill party-going pony. You're just as quick to blab with Twilight about some dumb smartbutt nonsense as you are to try and take me in a match of wall ball. And even when we DO play, you're sweating and everything but you're just kind of... like... enjoying it? And not, like... trying to kick butt and be awesome?"

"... So?"

"So... you don't... get out and DO things. I mean, okay, with me I kind of let you get away with being lazy a lot, but even that's cause it's seemed like you NEEDED it. But do you expect me to think you're any different with Rarity? Or Fluttershy? You probably just sit quietly sewing frilly things, right? Or playing with rabbits instead of wrestling with her bear? And I KNOW on your days off you don't go out and do anything! You just drift, James! You don't soar!"

The man held only a dead stare.

"Yeah! See! Like that!" the pegasus emphasized. But his continued lack of any real reaction made her feel like her point wasn't coming across. Greased by a fumbling stutter which started to slip into her frustrated voice she stammered, "Um, well, okay... what word would TWILIGHT use to describe it?"

James lingered his icy gaze on her before he assumed that she must have actually been asking him, so he guessed indifferently, "'Ungregarious?'"

His gobbledygook might as well have been a vile medicine. Out came her tongue as she stepped a pace back. But his answer did sound a whole lot like a Twilight-ism, so... points for him.

"Okay, so you DO understand what I'm saying then," she concluded.

The man heaved a sigh, then reluctantly shrugged.

"Yeah, so I don't spend every night out on the town," he admitted. However he still he fought back, "But I never did, even back home. 'Quiet parties,' remember? What's your point?"

"The point," she quickly stormed on, "is that it KINDA makes sense to me why you and Pinkie don't get along so hot. Like, you two don't play the same game AT ALL. I mean of course there's been 'ungregarglous'—" she paused to doubt the word's actual existence, "—ponies before, but she still won'em over IN TIME. But I don't think there's ever been a pony in your kind of situation before. You know... NOT being a pony, and needing some serious R and R after such a big change in your life. I don't think her brand of party-cannon-happiness really goes well with that."

She eased, greatly calming her voice.

"At least, that's pretty much how I defended you in my argument with Twilight. Pinkie's really just trying too hard. She does High-Altitude Low-Recovery Ultra Power Dives to make the crowd go nuts when all she REALLY needs to do are a few Lazy Lollipop Loops. So... I encouraged Pinkie to back it up a bit and slow down for you."

James snorted in an unfriendly manner. A mellower Pinkie Pie? Pah!

Rainbow Dash was not amused, but she restrained herself and carried on, "Anyway, I felt pretty good that would do it. Obviously it'd be hard on Pinkie, but there REALLY IS nopony she can't make friends with if she tried hard enough IN THE RIGHT WAY. And she's awesome enough to do that."

Suddenly she squinted at the man.

"And you? Despite your dumb hissy fits about it right now..." Her hard scrutinization untwisted and softened until it turned into a flash of unexpectedly unguarded honesty, "... You're not really a bad guy."

He cocked an eyebrow.

"So it SHOULD have all worked out. Eventually, at least," she said.

But it hadn't been working out.

It hadn't. Hopeful warmth slipped away from the pegasus.

It hadn't. Slowly she sunk into a tragic silence.

It hadn't. She became a dimming sunset, leaving behind an chilly night beach.

Somberly she reflected, "But... then I saw what Pinkie Pie was like after our volleyball game."

The look she gave the man was genuinely distraught, and she said, "She's really hurting over this. Like really, REALLY hurting. Way worse than I thought. So that's-... that's why I was WRONG, okay? That's why it's ACTUALLY up to you to do something to help her."

So that was it?

For all that long trail of words uttered; for all those heartfelt sentiments outraged or meek; for all that drama; it had come back around to the same place as always.

James felt deceived.

"She-...," his groan rocked him, like an earthquake of frustration rumbling its way to the surface, "... she's just a psychopath. You can't read anything into ANYTHING she does."

Again Rainbow Dash had no trouble hurling her patience away, so insulted not just by his disrespect towards Pinkie Pie but by his refusal to take her own sincere feelings seriously. Angrily she berated him, "Shut up! She is not! Now, are you going to help me solve this or what?!"

"Solve?! Christ!" Forget deceived. He felt persecuted. "Haven't I already done my fair share?! I've been more than polite to her! More than patient with her! Months of getting along with her just fine even IF we didn't become chums! So-! So-! So if SHE can't handle getting along with somepony WHO ISN'T HER FRIEND then SHE'S the one who needs to get over herself!"

Away he turned in a huff, ready to slam the bench again, armed with aggravation enough to break it; wood, metal, and all. But rather than another unhelpful display of violence he instead launched a hostile and suspicious leer back at the pegasus.

"You only want me to arbitrarily be friends with her, just like Twilight does. Get some checkbox marked off for your happy circle of friendship. As if that's the way it works," he restlessly accused her.

The months of wonderful, casual friendship with Rainbow Dash – ripe with quiet and restful moments, loud with laughter, and fun with flights of frivolity – had mostly erased his memory of her aggressive loyalty. So he was entirely unprepared to find her floating inches from his nose, fuming directly into his face.

"No, MORON! I just have A FRIEND who's in bad shape—" One hoof she threw out there, towards whatever unseen garden the pink pony was at. Then the man she jabbed with her other hoof. "—and I'm asking MY FRIEND to do something to HELP HER! And if that's not one of the things you can COUNT ON YOUR FRIEND FOR, then I don't know what is!"

The moment ran long, and then stretched out more, and continued to extend on and on as the pegasus bobbed there with her furious, bitter, hurt, hopeful stare piercing him deeper than her hoof thrust into his chest ever could. And for once, at last, James didn't deflect her with a hot remark or shield himself behind some self-perceived injustice. He pulled himself out of that infinite moment by breaking from her eyes and turning his head slowly down, no resistance put up in its place. He was twisted and tangled inside still, but for the moment at least he was defeated.

And Rainbow Dash accepted it, pulling herself from him and touching down to the ground with some relief. But her alleviation was only of a worried variety. That was one step of progress made, yet the problem still wasn't solved. For Pinkie Pie OR for him.

"... You're doing better now. Than before, I mean," she said. She gave the dirt an uncomfortable and idle scratch, improvising her words more through wanting hope than through thoughtful strategy. "Like, I saw you with Poppy and everything. You... are doing BETTER... right? So, are you good enough to, like... TRY HARDER or something with Pinkie? Like when you're behind in a race, and you're giving it everything you got but you need more anyway, and so you just dig deep and pull out MORE. If you're... at least a little better... can't you do that for her?"

James sat silently, giving the pegasus bothered glances.

Daunted herself, she assured him, "Not... try harder to be her friend, I mean. If you don't want to be. (I don't get that, but... whatever.) Just... can't you try harder to get along with her in a GENUINE way?"

He squirmed. And it was something far different than any unhappy rustle or some indignant clenching. Rainbow Dash in fact had to pull herself closer again; it was like he was shrinking before her. His eyes retreated, leaving a wet trail behind them; something not ready enough to be tears by far within the suffocating crush of buried distress.

And when he finally came back to her it was the absolute and honest fear with which he shook that shocked her.

"I have NEVER in my ENTIRE LIFE met a pony with A HUNDREDTH as much energy as she has."

His voice quivered. He held his trembling hands up as if there were something he could show her; some gesture to explain it all. But the only thing he really managed to do was face out his palms like he was protecting himself.

"And she NEVER—FREAKING—STOPS! Never, ever! You can't turn her off! You can barely get out of the way! Sometimes it really feels like I'm DROWNING in a flood of pink! I can't even deal with-"

No language had a verb capable of describing the incomprehensible way that pink pony behaved.

"... I just can't," he drifted into a whisper. "You don't get me and her, but I don't get you and her. She's-..."

All of him froze.

"... she's so... FRIGTHENING..."

Rainbow Dash's hindquarters lost its support and plopped against the dirt, her back legs numbed by disbelief. She didn't doubt that she had extracted a truth out of him; never would she have admitted it to another pony but she recognized very well the look of shaken confidence he bore, and she sympathized with those feelings of tiny cowardice that he didn't want showing but were. In the past she had seen them before in a mirror, several times.

But how annoyingly, astoundingly unbelievable was it that THIS is what he had been burying all along?

"I can't BELIEVE you're the same guy who kept bravely standing up to the Dryponies no matter how bad things got," she said.

The man found her comment to be a sad gem of amusement amid a despicable occasion, and with a hurt shiver of a breath he chuckled, "That-... that was different. There were other ponies' lives at stake. I HAD to do something. But this-... this is only MY LIFE."

"Well... not only," the pegasus answered. Caring, merciful, but resolute, she affirmed, "It's Pinkie Pie's too."

The quiet man leaned a little forward in thought.

Then, in a single moment of shameful despair, his head dropped. It plunked down as far as his weak neck would allow, as if it had been lopped off with a razor-sharp guillotine of betrayed honor plunged with a thousand pounds of force.

The gentle touch of Rainbow Dash's hoof against his knee brought him back up.

"I guess I wasn't so off the mark about this...," she mentioned, thankful for the revealed truth but lamenting it all the same. "It's just a bit worse than I thought it was, though. But... if you'll trust me on this...?"

He hesitated, from self-doubt. But he nodded.

"I really think," she concluded, "that, no matter how scared you are of her... she's scared MORE. That's why I can't ask her to give up anything else. That's why I need your help. I wish I knew the exact thing to do but-... She needs to get SOMETHING from you, even if it's not friendship..."

James lowered his head and shook it, also lost for an answer.

The pegasus gave his knee another soft rub.

"You're not a bad guy," she reminded him.

"I-... I don't know what I could do," he shook his head again. "I guess-... I guess I could try and be a little more open to her, or talk to her another time, or something. But... you shouldn't hope for it to just turn out differently somehow, you know?"

"I know. But hey, it's not like I'm just going to be sitting on the sidelines and leaving it all to you. It's just: whatever the answer is, you NEED to be a part of it."

Pulling himself together the man sat up. He tightened his fists, pushing them down on his legs hard, and he breathed. He breathed loud, concentrated, slow breaths. In and out, one and at time, while wriggling the tension away through rubbing his thighs. It was basically the same technique Twilight had been teaching him in order to help him tame his sometimes unwieldy anger, only here he repurposed it to lift his trepid mind up into a calm.

"... Alright," he accepted, managing no amount of pleasure in his promise. "I'll... try something. Somehow."

Rainbow Dash donned a sneaky grin and in a show of support slapped the same knee she had just been comforting.

"Hey," she confidently teased, "if you can get your butt whooped at volleyball with grace then you definitely can handle this, Janky Jumpman.

"You can kiss my butt after you whoop it, Rainbow Trout."

Their small snickers, between each other, together added up to about one normal bout of warm, easy laughter.

A minute passed where they said nothing, unhappy with the exact circumstances things had come to but happy that they were friends. Rainbow Dash stood up.

"So... I guess I'm going to go back to Pinkie now," she said. She sounded less than optimistic but far more certain and hopeful than when she had first landed in the man's garden. "Thanks and everything. And, if you need like help or anything, I'm around. You know?"

"Yeah," James nodded delicately.

The pegasus bounced her head in agreement and turned towards the sky, more or less intuitively feeling out the direction she had originally come from. Out spread her wings, a mighty eagle ready to soar, when she stopped and twisted her head back like an owl.

"Uh, you're not going to tell Twilight about me changing my mind and everything, right?" she asked, looking a little grouchy and glum.

His nose wriggled in playful thought.

"I'll neglect to mention your involvement."

"Alright thanks. Later!"

One tremendous beat of her wings took her up, easily clearing the garden walls, and then she glided away.

Creaking and trembling like he was many times his own age James reseated himself on the bench, not quite finding any comfort. A dismal sigh leaked from him, and when it wasn't satisfying enough he shook his head and did it again. Then he turned in his seat and brought up his legs before he rested his back against the lifted end of the bench, laying upon it with one of his hands clasped against his chest and feeling the slow pulse of his breathing.

Leaned back, he had a good view of the branches just above him, and how their sprawling leaves let through a warm drip of steady, sleepy sunlight. The little spell that light cast made him perfectly drowsy; enough to make his burdens feel less heavy, floated by dreamy thoughts. That tranquil alcove, tucked in the corner of a lovely garden, certainly was a wonderful spot to retreat to. Somewhere where the worried world could be drowned away for a bit, and a pleasurable nap could be embraced.

...

Now he definitely preferred that Prism had simply stayed there. His hand slipped down off of his chest and landed softly by his side on the bench.

On the very spot she could have been laying.

Chapter 28: Connected

"Well, I apologize. But I feel it's right to worry. Certainly we knew that we were stretching our chances by freely asking her to invite friends without setting down ANY conditions, but it had seemed worth it at the time. She is our best chance. EVERYTHING rests on getting her invested in us."

The deep thought behind Vesuvius' crimson eyes made them glow, like magma bubbling under a haze of red smoke. As ever, his beautiful mare was attached to his side, leaned heavily against him. She stroked one of his legs up and down with her hoof, rubbing a warmth into it, and to each his words she nodded along. They were alone in the entryway garden save for Prism whom they were speaking with.

"Of course," the confounded stallion master went on, a tired twist entering his neck, "who expected her to invite along SO MANY, and some who aren't even ponies!" He dropped a sideways look at his love before he rested his cheek on top of her mane, and he asked her openly, "Could we have somehow prepared more for this gamble?"

"I'm sure the magic will make it all work out," Venus almost cooed. Her next stroke down his leg pressed deep, slow, and long. "Destiny is behind us."

Prism spoke up, "I really don't think there's anything to worry about with James." The pony was quite deferential and polite, but more and more an inpatient insistence was peeking out from behind her. It hadn't been the first time she had made that specific declaration about the man during this round of questioning.

Yet clearly her judgment still didn't satisfy the island masters. Vesuvius showed her confidence the same regard as any dreamy fantasy uttered by a lovestruck filly. Venus was more sympathetic, but she didn't overrule her dear stallion's mistrust. The two continued to physically comfort each other while moving between bouts of silence and exchanges of loud whispers, all as if the other pony weren't even there.

"I'm afraid that if we stagger the introduction to our ways between guests then they'll start talking to each other about it," Vesuvius said.

"Well, that was the very reason we brought them all," Venus responded. "So that, in their friendship, they would share with each other, and help each other discover our beautiful truth."

"Or begin to grow their suspicions," the stallion feared.

"Nonsense. Why wouldn't they trust each other?"

"I think it's their trust itself that would be the problem. Without firsthoof experience nopony could possibly understand the enormity of what we are trying to accomplish. To hear the secondhoof truth from a clearly-changed friend would only disturb them. A pony has to taste it for themselves to understand. We should have realized it before! This crowd was a mistake."

"Mmmm..." Venus again hardened her stroke, but less tenderly. Even if she would not say it aloud, she did not agree.

Vesuvius lifted his head to stare at Prism, soliciting her opinion through his questioning leer.

The silver mare lowered herself in submission and agreed, "I never would have believed myself, even if I had heard it straight from every pony I've ever trusted," she said. "But now that I've actually felt it, I-... I want this for the rest of the world."

Vesuvius rewarded her response with a grunting nod and then he turned back to his beloved mare, again whispering warnings.

"And that is why we NEED Twilight. Hmph, but already that pony is digging in places she shouldn't be. She undersold her own pesky curiosity. If one of the other guests feels true passion before her and then goes to her about it, I don't think she would refrain from prying MORE in all the wrong places. But we can't lose her like that, my love. SHE'S our key."

Venus surrendered a forlorn sigh. There was in her no faith poisoned enough to have believed in such impossible misfortune. But never would she have dismissed her Vesuvius, sometimes rocky and volatile as he might be, and she held tight to him.

She tried to assuage him, "But where could they go? They can't leave. In the end they'll all experience it somehow or another, except for maybe the dragon and the man."

"My love, we have NEVER had a more critical moment in our mission," he reminded her, and his voice mildly began to erupt.

"Shh," the mare instinctively settled him, again sliding her warm hoof up and down his leg in slower, stronger strokes. "Alright, Suvi. You're right about how so very important this is. And with the biggest crowd we've ever had here, maybe we shouldn't be so cavalier. But! We shouldn't wait too long. We should make them a part of us as soon as we think we have a good chance to catch as many of them as we can. If they aren't all ready at that time then we can't wait for the rest of them. We have to TRUST the magic will bring them in."

"Hmmm..." The stallion shifted and mumbled as he thought, but then his troubles eased and he rubbed himself against her. "Alright. We take who we can, as soon as we can. Likely we'll HAVE TO, anyway. I have my doubts about Humble Herd's ability. Nosedive isn't performing as expected either. And Summer Wind? Hrmph." Then suddenly he rumbled as a great swelling stirred up inside him. "And it has ALWAYS been a mistake to have let Sweet Nothing in on all this."

"SHHHhhhh," Venus again soothed him, this time also running her nose up his neck before kissing it softly.

The unrestricted love melted upon his itching heat like healing ice, and he calmed. They spoke no more about their disagreement and instead Vesuvius returned to Prism's debriefing.

"Do you understand? Don't get overeager," he sternly instructed her. "And come to us right away if you suspect there's going to be some trouble with the human."

Prism couldn't hold back her shy laugh, and a light blush washed into her face. Again she had to explain, "I don't think there will be. He already seems interested. And all the things he's said about his past relationships? Sometimes-... sometimes when he was talking about them I felt like-... like his passion had already been opened..."

The red light in her cheeks seared, and her legs wiggled as she shivered with excitement.

But Vesuvius was smoking with suspicion. For another time he cautioned her with a hard tone, "Just don't jump the gun and reveal anything you shouldn't. Keep in line with the others. And KEEP US IN THE LOOP. We don't know for sure what the corcandeo will do to him."

Venus laughed loudly, "Suvi! This pony is one of our dearest and most faithful! You don't need to treat her like she's trouble! Prism, you're not going to take any naughty risks, are you, sweetheart?"

"No, of course not! I'll do exactly as you want me to," the other mare effusively promised, as if her very future depended upon it.

"Alright. Thank you for your time. Now off with you, then," Vesuvius commanded. Yet she hadn't even lifted a hoof before he further pressed, "But don't expect you'll have much longer here; we'll be leaving the Gardens soon."

"...? Yes sir."

Prism carried herself away, fighting to restrict her speed and appear collected until she was out of the entryway garden. Free of her masters' sight she flew into a merry gallop to return to James.

Venus unchained her tongue and questioned her stallion, "'Soon?'"

"Yes. I don't want to give them too long."

"But this is such a beautiful opportunity for them to spend time with their ponies."

"That's swell for those who are succeeding," he emphasized, "but, as mentioned, we might need to keep a tighter eye on a few of them. Let's allow them to rest and mingle at the Passion's Embrace instead, where they'll be more contained."

"Dear, dear Suvi," the island lady laughed again, quieter and from her heart, beating ever faster. Up his leg she tickled with her hoof, and this time it continued beyond. She climbed his chest sensually until she was dancing up his neck and on his cheek. Her nose and lips she brought to his, close enough that she could have passed a fevered whisper straight from tongue-to-tongue. However, she only purred to him, "If you don't trust the magic to work on them, how can you trust it to work on us? I know you're afraid of the risks because everything we're doing is so, so important. But spend too much time micromanaging everything and... you're going to leave less... time... for... US..."

The kiss she planted under his chin was faint, with the sound of a sweet strawberry releasing a pure drop of dew onto the leaves below.

Vesuvius couldn't stop himself from holding her tight and cradling her neck with his own. Through his nose he breathed in the smell of her marvelous mane.

"Mmmm... My love... This is almost enough WITHOUT the passion. But for later! Later... There's too much more to do right now."

All throughout the trek back to the Passion's Embrace there were signs that maybe Vesuvius had been right about curtailing their time in the Pleasure Gardens. A very different air had settled over the group. More than half of the guests were less engaged than they had been beforehand, reflecting inwards while they walked and not even so much as whispering with one another. The only guests who were unaffected by the rash of introspection were James, who was still rather engaged with Prism, and Spike and Rarity, who were still tangled up with Summer Wind and Sweet Nothing.

Upon arriving back in the lobby the island hosts thanked all the guests for their attention during the tour and then released them. Vesuvius predictably gave them a stern echo that they shouldn't wander, Venus invited them to enjoy the amenities of the Passion's Embrace itself and to be forthright in asking their attendant ponies should they need anything, and both masters reminded them that they should all gather again in the lobby in a few short hours if their ponies didn't retrieve them. The beginning of the bell moths' mating season was the next event and it was a very timely one. They would need to head out at the very border between afternoon and evening, into the light of the yawning sun, if they didn't want to miss its start.

The reminder of the bell moths brought Fluttershy out of her contemplative shell, lighting her up like a new day. The moment was short, though. All the attention her gasping squeal brought her quickly rendered her dull and mute once more.

After that the hosts departed, and the large group broke apart to head to their rooms. Most had no real desire to explore the building for a variety of reasons, but all sought some form of solitude, silence, or rest. And in any case, for those guests who had guides present, the eager attendants wasted no time in starting to pull their guests back to their rooms.

At the top of the lobby's grand stairway Sweet Nothing bore right to steer Rarity up to her fifth floor room. He was ever the gentlecolt in his refined gait, but it seemed like with each step further he was more and more ready to seize the seamstress and take off, carrying her all the way there by himself. All day his aggression had be stirred and simmered by many problems and interruptions to his plan, and in that moment at the top of the steps his impatience really began to boil.

He held himself in a stop, motioning for Rarity to do the same, and waited for the busy crowd of ponies heading in the same direction to pass them by. He had endured quite enough clamor already and needed time alone with his given mare, and he wasn't going to wait all the way until her room to get it.

So he really blew a silent gasket when he looked backed and noticed that Spike had ALSO turned right at the top of the steps, and Summer Wind had followed behind the dragon.

He whirled about, dressed impeccably with professionalism from face to tail, and even delivered a charming smile to Rarity in a flash. The abrupt spin brought the approaching dragon to a halt.

"Excuse me, SIR," Sweet Nothing addressed Spike, and he pointed over the dragon's head in the opposite direction down the gallery, "I'm sorry to be TROUBLE, but I do believe your room is THAT way."

Spike folded his arms.

"Uh, no thanks? I don't WANT to go to my room right now. I'm fine sticking with Rarity."

"SIR, everypony should be taking this time to REST. You're supposed-"

"As VENUS and VESUVIUS said," Summer Wind freely inserted herself, "this is free time for them to do as they please. And they can spend it together if they'd like to." She gave a positively earnest look to Rarity. "That is, miss Rarity, if you'd like to spend this time with... your dragon?"

Put on the spot, the unicorn fumbled, "A-Ah, w-well, of c-course! I m-mean, I wouldn't m-mind at all! T-That is, if my dragon—ah, if Spike really would like to-"

"My beautiful lady," Sweet Nothing removed the burden of answering from off her shoulders, coming upon her with command even as he sang with such overflowing deference, "after so many long and, of course, enjoyable hours where we tramped around in a such a large and uncomfortable group, wouldn't some solitary relaxation be very good for everypony?" He donned his dashing prince although he never surrendered his servant's garb. "I would be more than pleased to draw you up a hot bath and stand at the side ready to attend to your every need. And perhaps afterwards: a massage. My hooves can reach your deepest aches."

Had Rarity been a tea kettle surely she would have been whistling steam.

The intoxicated mare, now a drunken shade of red, could hardly speak her spellbound words straight at the dragon, "Oooh, Spike... aren't you at all tired after that exhausting excursion? Such trekking about is for tourists, but we're on vacation! A-And that m-means... ooohehehe... some q-quiet time to t-take in the l-luxuries. Mhmm..."

Sweet Nothing, having ownership of her eyes, made an enticing show of himself and his impeccable form. Like an artist he found the right angle and the right pose to bounce the lobby's falling light off of his trim muscles. And like a romancer his gaze over her spoke poetry, telling her of all the pleasures he would open up for her.

Spike nearly abandoned all hope, giving up an unheard sigh.

But then he felt again a hidden nudge against his side. And upon inspection, sure enough, Summer Wind was stealthily prodding him. Secretly she gestured her nose between the other two ponies, miming a wedge between the stallion honey pot and the mare drinking so deep she risked falling in. Still she encouraged the dragon to intervene; to offer some enticing service of his own to the mare he adored.

Except the dragon remembered how such efforts hadn't worked out so well the last time. The shame of earlier clung to Spike like rank sweat caught under his scales. He had no wish to draw another rebuke from Rarity, and honestly he had now accepted that in terms of stunning looks and raw charisma he was really no match for the dark stallion.

'Hunk' she had called him. More than once, even. A body sculpted from obsidian. A mane and tail glowing like crests of silver moonlight. And what was mighty Spike's counteroffer to that? A dumpy form coated in dried out, flaky scales that were purple like some sort of tart-tasting candy, and flabby frills that jiggled like gelatin when he walked.

Everything Sweet Nothing had whispered had been some sort of mesmerizing spell to her, regardless of whatever specific words he had actually used or what things he had actually been talking about. Whether true or false, right or wrong, up or down; it was only how he had spoken that had mattered; how his each uttered syllable had snaked their way into her ears and used their forked tongues to tickle her brain until she had become moldable goo.

The only thing Spike had versus those dark powers was that he never spoken to his beloved mare anything that he hadn't earnestly meant.

"Rarity...," he quietly asserted himself, "... I don't care where we go, or what we do. My idea of a vacation is just getting to spend some time with you without dresses, and work, and libraries, and clients, and other ponies being in the way."

Bit by bit the witlessness trickled from the giggling mare. It drained away while something sincere – something stronger – came in to take its place.

"Oh, Spikey..."

Sweet Nothing swiftly rolled up next to her, appearing again in her vision. But now he had suddenly become a sight of broken, frightened, pitiable, and discretely-obnoxious defeat. No part of his of toned and powerful musculature was allowed the strength to stand upright; not from ears and neck to flanks and tail. His golden eyes were a treasure whose luster had been smeared off in a hurry.

"Ah, of course. I wouldn't presume at all to tell such a breathtaking lady how to spend her time," groveled the stallion. He even started to generate a sad sniveling. "That your stay is the most wonderful experience of your life is my only concern. Venus and Vesuvius charge me with ensuring guests have their every desire met and their every comfort provided for, and I would be so shaken to fall short of their demanding expectations."

"Oh!"

Concerned, Rarity laid a hoof upon him. Right on his shapely, firm, well-built leg.

"No, no, we couldn't have that," she said. And generously she told him, "So don't you worry. I guarantee you that they'll hear not a word of disappointment from me! I will insist to your employers that you have provided me only the best possible service since I've arrived! Now head along and enjoy the break you've earned, Mr. Nothing."

She pulled her hoof away from him easily, not a tug of magnetism coming from him. In turn she offered her hoof to her dragon.

"Come along, Spike. Let's head back to my room. All this striding about in the heat has butchered my mane, and I could use an experienced claw in curling it right again. That sounds rather relaxing, wouldn't you say?"

Renewed and reinvigorated, the little lizard popped up straight.

"Yes, Rarity!"

Together they continued on along the gallery, the dragon at first skipping along to catch up to her side.

Left behind and no longer caught under the attention of his target, Sweet Nothing slowly inflated back to his usual stature. But a hard anger kept him slightly bent out of shape. In silent fury he watched as the dragon disappeared into the second floor hall with the prized mare. And once they were gone their were no ponies left in the lobby but him and his detestable partner. He turned his vengeful leer upon Summer Wind.

She was in a mild daze as well because of the very same dragon, but for an entirely different reason. That heartfelt display from the little squirt had been truly impressive! Actually, she was envious of Rarity... if only by a small amount. Ah, were that dragon to have been bigger and older...!

"Proud of yourself?" Sweet Nothing bit her.

She was pulled from her brief reverie.

"Are you?" she scoffed.

"I'm doing what I'm SUPPOSED to be doing. Maybe Venus and Vesuvius should know about your little interference?"

"Maybe they should know about your theft of their fruit?" Summer Wind acidly shot back. Foul grooves cut deep into her chin, and she picked him apart easily, "Besides, I think we both know you don't give two bits about what Venus and Vesuvius want."

The dark stallion cast aside all his minimal efforts at civility and reason, and he went straight into sharpening his barbs to their most penetrating, "So what is this, then? Jealousy causing you to lash out? Or are you just frustrated because you're so broken? Look at yourself: fawning over a lizard child now..." He had a special spear ready, especially for her. "... just like before with that pathetic crybaby."

They were through. The pegasus waited for no more; it wasn't even worth wasting her tenderest insults on him. She turned around immediately and strode away.

But Sweet Nothing had to ensure he had the final word. He didn't need to shout to make his booming voice chase after her.

"Never again, Summer Wind! You're mine never again!"

Increasingly nervous were James' steps, and he tried to mask his awkward jitters from Prism by humming an impromptu, distracting tune, as if his faulty ambling was being done for some lazy but intended purpose.

His trouble was that he hadn't memorized his room number; a small detail that had been lost in the forest of dinner, chitchat, volleyball, tours, and gardens. He knew which side of the hall his door lay on but only roughly how deep in it was, and so he could only pin his best guess on any one of the next three or four doors down. Prism surely had the correct answer, but for some reason he was so utterly afraid of appearing as a buffoon before her that he dared not ask for it.

Thus he hobbled like a drunkard who hoped they'd pull through in a key moment with a sudden burst of sobriety, and he hummed away at his ever more incoherent song. All the while he stole poorly-disguised looks at Prism in a search for useful clues. Perhaps she might have revealed an expecting stare towards one the doors, or maybe she might have taken a very purposed step in an indicative direction. But always he found no hints on her; certainly not with how fixated on him she seemed to be.

And she had a remarkable nervousness as well, but quite distinct from that of the man. He held back shame, but what she held back wanted to be free.

As time dwindled down James genuinely couldn't come to a decision as to which door was the correct one. In the last fevered moment he made a guess and started to greatly slow, inching ever closer to freezing before his lucky door but not committing enough to stop.

Prism only kept speed with him, slowing also, as if her mind had wholly forgotten where they were going and why. Pleasantly she waited for him to share his thoughts, ever smiling up at him.

A low, phlegmy noise came from the man's throat, as of words not quite connecting together as they should, and his arm lifted with a wiggle only to fall back down, the muscles distracted by contradictory impulses, and all manner of other silly little things came from him which weren't quite decided actions.

Perhaps the pony then realized the root of his dithering, or perhaps not, but regardless she betrayed no sign of knowing. Merely she gave a chuckle which lit up her cheeks and then she started up again, walking past the door James had selected and stopping at the very next one.

"R-Right," the man choked on a laugh of his own as he caught up, admitting nothing out loud but certainly incapable of hiding anything with his floppy body.

Still charmed, Prism opened the door for him and then held herself aside in invitation. Once he entered she turned and stood before the doorway like a servant awaiting instruction.

James gripped the open door by its edge and looked down upon the waiting pony. His greased palm rubbed on the wood, smearing sweat over it, and his fingers alternatively rapped and scratched against the backside. He bounced on his heels a time or two.

"So..."

There was a desert in his mouth. The dryness had baked away all his saliva and his shriveled tongue felt like a prickly cactus. Even his audible rasps were hot winds coasting over coarse dunes of sand.

But then he tightened his hand on the door, held it open wider, and turned his body aside to clear the way for her.

"... I guess we have some time to kill until this bell moth thing happens?"

A happy victory dawned inside Prism, shining through her like a magnificent sunrise leaping high from below the horizon and throwing its light through every east-facing curtain in a gilded hallway. She was a hungry hound being offered a seat at the dinner table; a quiet dancer on the floor whose very favorite song had suddenly come up; a child whose simple wish had come true before her very eyes. Ready, she leaned forward, and her eager hoof lifted.

But she didn't enter.

She swiftly clouded over and let her hoof sink back down. Her pleasantness stayed unfaded and her demeanor didn't falter, but so much of her light shaded over and so much of her earnest hope was squelched. The ominous smoke which had billowed from Vesuvius left her dark.

"We've... spent so much of today together already," the pony strongly disliked her own gratefully delivered words, "and... I think... I should attend to a few other things?" She forcefully injected some truth, "But I'm really looking forward to taking you to see the bell moths! I haven't see them yet myself and it's supposed to be incredible! I'll... come get you when it's time?"

The man was inscrutable for a short moment before he acknowledged, "Yeah. I'll be here, waiting for you."

"Oh, okay! Great!"

Reluctant to go, the pony moved away in incomplete steps, never quite turning about. Every regret she had; every itch that tickled her stalled her. Several times she readied to speak, to add another second more to their encounter, but it was only on the fifth try that she finally produced anything.

"Thank you!"

"Hm? No, thank you."

Even after that Prism still stammered away, struggling to pull her heartened smile out of view. A lifetime later she had finally disappeared from the doorway.

James, silent, stood with the open door still in his hand for a long, thoughtless moment before he at last eased the door closed. But on impulse he didn't press it all the way shut, and he held his ear to the crack he had left open.

He still heard her. Her hooves dragging on the carpet made the same noise as an unsteady mouse scampering about and stopping to inspect every crumb. Perhaps she was watching the door as she retreated, to see if he would emerge.

Longer the man stood there, for a time attentively listen, but even his ears eventually were drowned out by his own rambling thoughts.

The hinges on the door gave a sharp and wobbly creak, calling loudly for his attention. His hand was shivering, and therefore in turn the door was bouncing and pulling on its hinges. There was a soft wooden clap as the edges of the door lightly scratched the doorframe when one particular jiggle brought both too close together.

Fast but softly James shut the door, and then he squeezed his nervous hand until it calmed. The whole time he breathed heavily, bringing the air down into his stomach before he wheezed it back out. He felt sweaty.

Turning back into his room he dropped himself onto his bed, not bothering with the sheets or covers. He crashed on top of the mattress, slung at an angle which he didn't bother to correct, and he slapped his face into the pillow. Humid breaths met feathery fluff, tickling his lips even as he gave a low groan. And when his half-hearted effort to take a nap predictably failed in every immediate way he instead seized the pillow, lifted it over his still-facedown head, and wrapped it over his ears. Again, not that he imagined burying himself under it was going to have shut up his mind.

Had he EVER behaved so awkwardly about a girl, even as a teenager? He was beginning to think that he had never actually been a mature or capable romantic partner at all, and maybe he had somehow ignorantly bungled his way through every one of his past relationships. MAYBE it had been genuinely true for his first, but surely by the third serious relationship he had been better? Though from some perspectives, 'love' and 'don't know what the hell you're doing' certainly were hard to distinguish. But... no. No, on Earth he had definitely grown to have been way more capable of holding conversations with rosy-cheeked girls without having turned into a wet, flopping fish. How could a little tumble through the dimensional weave have regressed someone by such a horrific amount?

Calm down! CALM DOWN. This wasn't as crazy as it seemed, by virtue of being SO STUPIDLY CRAZY. He hadn't been flirting with some lady he had bumped into while out with friends at a bar. Rather, he had just spent several hours TALKING WITH A HORSE who had been ASSIGNED TO HIM for the purpose of BEING A PERSONAL ATTENDANT while he was at a TROPICAL ISLAND RESORT. She was a concierge, and one who had the perfect eager-to-please personality for it. In this whole nutty situation there were enough unknowns involved for which he lacked the experience or training to deal with, and THAT justified his absurd and incapable reaction.

Right.

Right! He was, in fact, the first human being to have ever remotely faced the TRUE possibility of snogging with a sentient horse.

...

Oh God.

These were his real, LEGITIMATE thoughts that he was having.

"Shut up," he moaned preemptively to no one.

He didn't WANT to kiss her. He liked kissing very much. For good or for ill, make-outs had always been attempted by at least the third date, and he had so far spent some short time with Prism TWICE now. But he didn't want to kiss A HORSE. Of course he didn't! She was the one who had brought it up! She liked kissing too!

...

She probably tasted like hay, anyway. Bleh.

...

Yo. Remember that one time when the party schedule ran really late into the evening, and you got back to Sugarcube Corner and Pinkie Pie heard your stomach going nuts so she heated up some quick hay-stuffed zucchini she had laying around? That hay was actually pretty warm and delicious! Mmm.

"Shut up."

Just saying. You never know until you try it.

He had never tried slicing his own tongue off with a chainsaw either, but somehow he had the confidence to know he wouldn't have enjoyed that.

Alright, well, if you move in on her and then hear her throat start to rev up or something, and your suddenly-severed tongue start to squirt blood into her mouth, THEN you can say, 'I told you so.' Come on man, get real! Smooching is smooching! And you heard her! She handed you her consent NOTARIZED. A little tongue-tango would be SOOO GOOD after all this time, eh? And who's going to judge you? The people of Earth an infinity-billion miles away in another dimension?

Ponies aren't like that, though. Twilight said so (kind of). Prism had probably just wanted to snuggle a little.

So why not start with that? You like that too. And then if during said cuddling some hands or some lips begin to wander... well hey. 'That's one small step for a man...'

James couldn't stand to stay laying facedown. Something below was growing uncomfortable.

He flipped over and leapt into a sit. Bent off the edge of the bed, his back was crooked and his heels dug into the side rail, and he watched as his profuse sweat drizzled off his forehead and splashed onto the floor. He tangled his loose shirt in his hand and beat it against his chest, whipping air over his body, but while that fought back against the heat oozing in from the balcony it did very little to combat the heat coming from inside him.

Suddenly he the tore the shirt up off his body and held it out in front of him for inspection. Truly he was indebted to Rarity forever for having clothed him (clothing the naked being a great act of love, after all), but Christ Almighty it was such a hideous thing to wear! Those frilly ruffles; something a ballet dancer might have covered their legs with, really! And the spaghetti straps were just so unenviably humiliating, not to mention they had left pale lines on his crispy shoulders.

He couldn't wear this! No lady would have ever found such an ugly-looking gown attractive!

He crumpled the garment and flung it aside in disgust, and it flew so lightly that even the dying breeze slipping in from under the balcony curtain was enough to float it down gently onto his dresser.

James rubbed himself; shoulders, back, chest. Thanks to Prism's sunscreen he was only faintly cooked. His back had gotten the worst of it. It probably would have been wiser to have let Prism coat it instead of himself. Likely she would have magic'd it over him, fast and convenient. But... maybe she would have slathered up those delicate hooves and—

Grunting again, the man jumped off the bed and paced a minute before he threw up his hands. Tearing off his ugly pants and likewise kicking off his sandals (probably the only remotely acceptable piece of the whole ensemble), he marched straight for the bathroom.

He needed to take a shower.

A very, very hot shower.

Summer Wind slammed the door to her room, though unintentionally. Despite how Spike and Rarity's situation had worked out, a lot of things were cutting into her.

Sweet Nothing was such scum! This island offered something truly special, BEYOND ALL IMAGINATION – something incredible that simply would have overwhelmed the understanding of everypony far back on the mainland or anywhere else in Equestria! – and what did that vain stallion do with such a special gift? He had only always tried to pick and choose which mares he wanted for himself; which ones he felt were worthy of being duped into pleasing him. The only thing bigger than his body was his ego! Even if the passion in his body was capable of being opened, there was no special fruit in existence which could have ever opened up a passion inside his greedy heart!

And, of-freaking-course, he was the only pony on the whole island fit and energetic enough to give her what her body's passion craved. Her ONLY source of relief was that abominable stallion! Fate had made sure that not even THE DRAGON was a right fit for her. Why did she even need it so badly that she endured getting fulfillment from trash like Sweet Nothing? Why was it so irresistible that-... that-... that she really HAD been daydreaming about sharing it with a big, powerful dragon?

As if the parade of injustices hadn't already been enough, it had turned out that the very same unobtainable dragon was also an admirable sweetheart; a fellow whose faithful and well-meaning affections she found immediately endearing; the polar opposite of the detestable stallion. Yet it also wouldn't have mattered even if Spike had been everything she had physically wanted, since that scaly sweetheart was also sweet on Rarity.

So now here Summer Wind was. Instead of spending time earning enough trust to share an amazing treasure with Spike and finally getting some relief, she had been exhausting her already-weary self by defending Rarity from her own cohort's predatory advances.

Vesuvius might not have agreed with her choices if he had known about them. But Venus might have. After all, if Spike was truly devoted to Rarity in the deepest way, and if the seamstress also somewhere inside felt the same towards him, then-...

Then-...

Both of them DESERVED more than Sweet Nothing being allowed to get in their way.

As she mulled through the same cycle of cumbersome thoughts over and over and over again, Summer Wind filled with a self-disgust. It was unbelievable that she had succumbed to the dark stallion last night; that she had given him exactly what he had wanted. And all so that she could have felt that exhilarating, breathless experience again. (Even if only a less-than-perfect version of the experience, taking into account that awful pony's toxic presence.)

But at least she had extracted something good for Humble Herd out of her sacrifice. True, that sweetheart of a pony deserved far, far more and far, far better than a simple apology from Sweet Nothing, and not just for that one act of coarse rudeness which the guests had witnessed but for all the contemptible ways that flea-riddled sack of garbage had treated Humble Herd since the latter's arrival on the island. But baby steps; she had to celebrate her small victories.

And what an especially delightful victory! Bowing in apology to somepony was an ordinary thing for most, but forcing Sweet Nothing to do it before a pony he so thoroughly looked down upon like Humble Herd? The self-inflicted humiliation that self-important jerk must have suffered through had probably been drinkably delicious!

Or 'would be delicious' perhaps, if that over-proud pony hadn't gotten around to it yet. She needed to verify that he had kept his promise.

Her many frustrations didn't dispel easily and so the pegasus blindly stomped about her room for awhile. Too wound tight to sit loosely, too worked up to lay down, too tense to vent her hot energy on her many wing-weights scattered about the floor or on her exercise machine tucked in the corner, and too lost in a grisly fog to even zip through her balcony curtain and shoot into the sky where she could smash apart some clouds. Around her room she pounded away. The air she took in saturated with her anger and angst, and when it came back out it diffused in moans of madness and misery.

During a tight pass by her nightstand she weaved too close while turning about and her thick tail slapped against it. With all the boiling exasperation steaming off of her, even down to the very tip of her tail, the whip was enough to cause the nightstand to jump. Startled, she quickly stabilized the upset furniture, and it was then that she noticed somepony had left behind something on it for her; the stand had definitely been clear when she had woken up that morning.

Dead center on top sat a small statuette. Not one solidly carved out of stone but instead one built from a whole assortment of many very natural things. Pebbles were glued into place here and there by tight packings of once-sticky but now-solid dirt. Thin twigs and reeds were flexed into shape and held together in the same way, or sometimes bound by twists and weaves into each other, much like a bird's nest. Most prominent were a few small feathers used to decorate the item; ones that had not been cruelly plucked from any bird but had been donated after molting. The craftsponyship of figurine was absolutely masterful: a mix of fallen things plucked from the ground and painstakingly assembled into an exquisite and beautiful depiction of a little pony, prepared without flaw.

No ultimately personal marks were present on it. The artist could never have found anything fine enough in Equestria to have represented such tender eyes and thus the face of the figurine was featureless save for whatever imagination chose to lay over it. Nor had there been anything good enough to have done justice for such a splendid cutie mark and thus the flanks of hay and sticks were blank. Yet even without such details there was still just enough uniqueness to distinguish the item. The two collections of feathers gave the little pony rather large wings compared to ordinary pegasi, and they were on glorious display because the statue stood reared with power. It was high on its hind legs like a hero, its wings spread broad and grand.

Summer Wind recognized who the statuette was immediately.

Gently and with much care she slid her small, fabricated duplicate aside, for it was holding down a short note which had also been left behind on the nightstand. She pulled the paper up and read:

Summer Wind,

Sorry I disappointed you today.

But thank you so much for encouraging me and also for believing in me. Not just today, but every day. It really means a lot more than I can express.

Humble Herd

The pegasus set the note back down. All of her headaches and pains drifted away into a carefree ether. A happy, sad smile came upon her.

With such devoted love and respect she picked up the figurine and carried it over to her dresser. There she placed it on top, setting it down like it had been crafted from fragile gold. And softly with her strong hoof she nudged it right into place next to the dozen of other statuettes that were already there. The many figurines were all little models of Summer Wind, every one of them made from the same kinds of materials precisely woven together with astounding, dedicated, and attentive skill. No two were posed alike, but each was unique in a different but fully gallant stance.

Chapter 29: Bells

Author's Note

I have waited a long, long, long time to be able to write this particular chapter. Please, I hope you enjoy it.

Chapter 29: Bells

More than once Prism scratched her hoof idly upon the carpet, clearing off dirt real or imagined. Her magic pulled the violet clips out of her mane and reset them, fixing up her hair only so that she might do the same thing again a minute later (her manestyle never actually changing from what it had been in the very beginning). She even, just once, pulled out all the ties in her tail and rebraided it; a job she rushed, in case the door before her were to have opened unexpectedly.

'Don't get overeager,' Vesuvius had said.

But she had arrived a few minutes early.

'Don't jump the gun.'

Every hesitating twitch was done solely to prevent herself from knocking ahead of schedule.

'I'll do exactly as you want me to,' she had promised. Her same promise to everypony.

And so she had wound up standing there outside of James' door, diverting her eagerness into constant fidgeting and all the while praying for the door to open on its own and relieve her happy nervousness.

Minutes passed as hours, and finally the official time to gather the guests arrived. No longer chained by her word, and without wasting a moment more (except to straighten up the bracelets on her legs), the mare stepped forward and knocked on the door.

Immediately from behind it came loud, racing steps, and quickly the man pried it open.

"Hel–lo," Prism greeted him, a sudden jump of interest spiking at the end. The rapt squeak was not without cause: James had completely changed his clothes!

No longer was he dressed in that unsightly summer outfit. Gone was the frilly, loose top and the baggy, short pants; that experimental work of art with its slapdash mix of design and awkward fit over such a strong form. He wore now instead something the pony had never seen before, but the man himself clearly was quite comfortable and familiar with it:

His autumn clothes.

It was a wonderful surprise for the mare. Though it was true that just about anything would have looked better than his prior outfit, how charming and impressive the new uniform was left her flustered with delight. He wore it so finely! That double-breasted vest, a tight green upon his chest; his body highlighted by lines of gold! Covered over by sleeves and leggings, his smooth and tempting limbs were now only available to her eager imagination! And the sapphire pinned right at the center of his waist: a glittering jewel placed like a mark upon a treasure map!

Mmm...

Perhaps her next bracelet should have been green and studded with sapphires?

"Hey Prism," James welcomed her without the slightest pause. He was changed; something had been taken out of him. His shower hadn't only cleaned up his body but also his confidence.

"That is... a nice piece!" the pony marveled. Yet again she looked him up and down, more closely than ever. She didn't even back off to take him in all at once but moved nearer to absorb him section by section, almost reaching out to touch him with her nose.

And the man did nothing to discourage her, instead opening himself up so that she could get a good look.

He beamed, "Yeah! See: Rarity CAN put together something nice when she ACTUALLY sets her mind to it."

Prism chuckled brightly, "That other outfit was quite awful, wasn't it?"

"Heh, it sure as heck was! Never worn anything so ugly in my life! God, I can't believe I had that trash on for so long, haha!"

He wiped some sweat from his brow. The moisture was the fault of only the late afternoon heat exacerbated by his warmer clothes, not the result of any shaky self-assurance. In fact he felt more emboldened than ever, and the more Prism inspected him the more she seemed to take upon herself his former bashfulness. A timid red took over her snout, her eyes could only rise to his in short and dreamy jumps, and just the captivated look of her had him feeling like quite the man again.

"Well, it's time right?" James tilted in a gentlemanly bow and gestured down the hall. "Shall we go?"

"!! Yes!"

Very nearly she shouted, leaping up before she was barely able to compose herself. The evening ahead seemed clear and free. No smoky cloud of black smog obscured the prosperous stars twinkling forever into the night.

At least, no cloud which she cared to pay attention to.

She stood back, eager to let him come out of the doorway and walk alongside her.

"Let's!"

Their stroll was lamentably short. The man's second floor room was closest to the lobby of all the guests, and in no time they found themselves descending the grand stairway.

The only other guest already there was Applejack, of course accompanied by Till. Their chitchat was minimal, quiet, but friendly. Both were casually committed to their promise of saving any significant dialogue until the party later.

The two island masters also were present, but they seemed less absorbed in each other than usual. Venus and Vesuvius were too distracted by the respective grimaces of pity and frustration they had for the most awkward of the servants in their employ.

Humble Herd stood aside in the lobby, far away from the other ponies, appearing as uncomfortable as ever. The assault of unsatisfied, regret-filled looks from his superiors did nothing to help him, and he would have been invisible if their stares hadn't highlighted him so strongly.

It was telling that Fluttershy was not also in the lobby.

But the yellow pegasus was the next to arrive, coming by herself.

She burst into the room at first, very fraught and with her worried wings beating frantically. Absent any guiding pony she had assumed that she was late, but discovering that she was earlier than most of her friends whipped her to the other extreme end of embarrassment. Rushed and anxious flipped to cowardly and shy, lamenting the fuss she had made for herself and the scene she had created by exploding into the lobby. She landed as discreetly as she could before she made her walk of shame down the stairway.

James noticed immediately that she wore her necklace with the sapphire heart, and he was pleased to see it again after it had been absent all day. As she descended he made sure to quietly get her attention and, with a secret throw of his eyes towards her jewelry, he gave her a knowing grin.

At the same time he sunk one hand into his pocket, feeling about inside for his own necklace. He still carried the trinket on him of course, to keep dear Poppy close, but he had declined to actually wear it since it didn't much match with his autumn clothes and couldn't have otherwise been hidden underneath his vest without creating a strange and unsightly lump. When close to him the crystal flower constantly glowed with darkness because of his innate magical dearth, and that hardly made it the most appealing accessory.

Hard to imagine anypony would have found such a thing attractive at all!

Fluttershy spotted the unvoiced doubts swirling about the man, but because she was already feeling under the spotlight she assumed his hidden thoughts were all unimpressed judgments of her. She looked down at her own necklace and with her hoof gave the blue crystal an insecure tap as all the ugly colors of humiliation flooded into her downturned nose.

Instantly James withdrew his medallion to show it to her; to show her that he had been thinking only about his own little piece of jewelry. Then, hesitating through one last second of doubt, he tossed it over his neck and winked at her.

If anypony dares to question you about why you're wearing it... then you can just point at me, flip your mane, and scoff, “Well if he gets to wear that then why can't I wear mine?”

The simple gesture cured all of Fluttershy's fears and nervous ills, and she smiled broadly in appreciation.

James couldn't resist returning a smile, and a helpless chuckle sprung out of him. He strained to bury the well of gladness that came bubbling up. Without thinking he turned to share some of the excess joy with Prism who stood next to him, but there was an unusual, imprecise air about her which caught him off guard.

The mare was an odd painting. Like a landscape, she was a vibrant shower of colors. Her lines were perfectly drawn and her face was perfectly bright. Each stroke of her was pleasant to look at, refined and masterfully done, and when taken in from afar all the layers merged to make a gorgeous scene. Yet even so beautifully rendered, something was still off about her. Like a immaculate painting that had been hung off-center, crooked with suspicion.

She didn't catch his glimpse as she was too busy observing Fluttershy.

The pegasus came right up to James to deliver a tender 'thank you,' virtually inaudible as it was because of how reserved, polite, and gracious she chose to be. But her earnest and heartfelt feelings were unmaskable even by her very withdrawn demeanor. She glowed.

"You're welcome," the man whispered, breaking from his momentary distraction.

Fluttershy treasured the warm feelings of friendship for a moment longer, but then suddenly she too underwent an unusual change. Her fonder spirit she put on hold, casting over herself a seriousness which wasn't outside of her kind character. She evaluated him; studied him; took attentive mental notes as she might have done with any of her injured animal friends. Something behind her, hidden in shadows, tugged at her like shackling weights sinking into tar.

Wary of Prism, only for reasons of good social manners, she used no signal from mouth, hoof, wing, tail, or any other movable part of her to bid him to come an inch closer. Their exchange needed to be a little more private.

Confused by but receptive to his admired friend, he leaned in.

Genuine concern swelled in her, betraying her calm look with just how badly it unsettled her, and she asked him, "Have you been alright? Has everything been well? I mean, not just here but over the past few weeks?"

"... Yeah?" he mostly failed to grasp her fear. Still, he replied with as much honesty as he knew. "Things have been pretty good. I'm feeling pretty great, actually."

"Oh. That's good."

But her face didn't reflect at all what she had said. No relief came upon her; just deeper thoughts. Not that she was being untrue with him either.

"Is... something wrong?" he asked.

Her eyes danced to her low, pensive hum, but then she shook her head.

"No. It's nothing for right now."

Whatever was bothering her she set aside in an instant, lifting away the weights and restoring her lighter side. Her eager smile returned. Excitement filled her, soft as ever despite how powerful it was, and with her mighty voice she cried a tiny whisper of delight.

"Oh, I can't believe we're finally about to see the bell moths! I've been looking forward to it since they first mentioned them at dinner last night!"

It was a subject which so enthralled the usually timid pony that she didn't even know where to begin in sharing with her friends about the astounding insects. But they hardly had the time anyway. She hadn't gotten a word out before the other guests began to appear very quickly.

Rainbow Dash showed up first, escorted by Nosedive; or rather Nosedive was led to the lobby by an impatient Rainbow Dash. She walked in front, practically galloping, full of anticipation for rejoining her friends and scantly aware of the dismal pony tailing her.

Then before long came Twilight, quite verbally engaged with Gallowayo. They came side by side, chatting with each other in library voices even as they stepped down the stairway.

The stallion strangely looked he was recovering from some exhausting exercise. His body was tinted still with an energetic color, there was a wet glistening about him from sweat having been too soon swept off, and his mane was tangled more than usual. His voice, however, was strong and heated; he had a difficult time keeping his volume down. An entire afternoon of rehearsal had left it strong and ready.

Those two had scarcely hit the bottom of the stairs when Pinkie Pie appeared with Hulahoof. Yet while some might have expected their entrance to have come with all the pop of a surprise party, it was nothing such. They used standard trots instead of flying gallops, and indoor voices instead of loudspeaker cheers. The pink pony had an earnest smile but it was worn down and tired, and consequently her impaired state had a diminishing effect on the blue pony. He was much more reluctant to explode in a bright display of fireworks as was his usual way, and a certain assumed guilt followed his every step.

Once they were at the base of the stairs Fluttershy didn't wait to give Pinkie Pie a hug, friendly and compassionate. Then Twilight did so as well, then Rainbow Dash, and then even Applejack (not to be left out of whatever the hay was going on; she didn't know)! However, not one of the ponies spoke a word aloud regarding why they were being so supportive. James kept his silent distance next to Prism, watching uncomfortably.

Hulahoof, witnessing how the support his chosen pony was getting put a fresh shine upon her (even if it was still dull compared to her ideal self), was suddenly whipped into shape by courage. A wobbly indecision inside him had made the trek down to the lobby a slippery journey, but now he felt strong and safe enough to make a choice he had been weighing.

"I hope you enjoy the bell moths; Humble Herd always says that they're really flashy-dazzling," he floated into the group of friends and said to Pinkie Pie, "but I'm super-sorry that I won't see them with you. There's more preparation for the party that I want to do. I know I've been working on it all afternoon, but I want to make one-hundred percent sure that it'll be awesome-fun-you-can't-outrun."

Pinkie smiled, "Sounds great!"

"Okay! See you later!"

A jolt of happiness shocked the blue stallion, and he whirled about to head out the front door. He had only a slight pause first where he looked to Venus and Vesuvius for belated permission to excuse himself, which they granted with small nods, and then he zipped away.

Last to arrive were Rarity and Spike, escorted like always by both Sweet Nothing and Summer Wind. They showed up several minutes after Pinkie Pie; a delay that had started to bring a rumbling impatience out of Vesuvius, though Hulahoof had meekly assured him again and again that there was sufficient time. It was a lateness which Rarity would have immediately apologized for if it hadn't have been so intentionally fashionable.

She was dressed to the nines in one of the gowns Sweet Nothing had gifted her, and she knew full well the kind of entrance she was making. Blue as the night heavens glowing with far-off light, the folds of her dress swished as she weaved down the staircase in display of herself. A shimmering like bursting stars was about her, the flashes waltzing off the dress with each turn she made in her promenade. She had washed something into her mane which loaned it a similar shine, making it glitter. Across her muzzle was draped a thin, silky veil, and above it she had highlighted her eyes with extra shadow, vastly deepening their beautiful blue.

Nopony else there was remotely clothed in as much class as she was; not even Venus in one of her gorgeous lava-lavas. Rarity was the princess of the ball; the queen of the court; the diamond crowning the golden spangled band. And she reveled in every moment of it.

As she led, behind her Spike and Sweet Nothing followed her down.

The dragon's tongue was loose and hanging low enough to be licking his chest, and he wore over his eyes spectacles shaped like hearts. All the world was blotted out from his sight save for the most lovely mare in existence and the perfect way she swaggered before him. If he hadn't been floating down the steps he would have tripped over his own tail.

Likewise, something was going on with Sweet Nothing's tongue and eyes, though it was much harder to perceive. Just barely he licked his lips. Nothing could be seen in his gaze since he was looking inwards, reflecting on all that he would possess.

Summer Wind hardly bothered with the show. Now that their quartet had reached the lobby and joined up with everypony else, her vigilance was unnecessary. Free to relax, she quietly floated herself down to the lower floor somewhere away from the stairway, avoiding the notice of the distracted crowd. Her landing incidentally surprised Humble Herd since she had all but spontaneously appeared next to him. As usual he jumped in shock only to be immediately relieved by who it was, but he was startled again when she suddenly hugged him.

"Thank you."

"Oh, ah... y-you're welcome. Um, f-for what?"

"Heh. You silly pony." Lightly she batted his blushing nose.

Rarity's arrival at the bottom of the stairway stirred up a hubbub as all her friends gathered around in excited worship. Sweet Nothing perhaps would have been bothered by having been pushed aside, except that every word of praise and every awed question her friends heaped upon Rarity gave her another reminder of just who had made her so beautiful. Between her indulgent basking in the attention and her explanation of where the dress had come from, she had many blushing glances for the dark stallion. Fortunately most of her friends weren't terribly upset that they hadn't also been quite so doted upon by their respective guides. (And that was especially true of Fluttershy, who was relieved more than anything that Rarity's attire had stolen away any possible attention her sapphire necklace might have earned her.)

In the midst of all the commotion James, with his usual friendly amusement, lauded Rarity, "That's quite the dress! You sure that's what you want to wear for trudging out through the jungle to see some bugs?"

"Oh, I'll be quite careful. Besides, Mr. Nothing has promised to thoroughly wash-... ? James? You've... changed clothes."

His swap of attire had only just registered for her when she had finally looked upon him directly. The same was true for all of their friends in fact; each suddenly marveled at the obvious change which they had all missed. Then again, they were all accustomed to his autumn outfit, having rarely seen him in anything else for all the months they had known him. He really looked more proper in it anyway, especially compared to his truly bizarre summer clothes. Not that any of them mentioned such thoughts aloud in Rarity's presence.

"I, uh-," the man fumbled his answer, "... yeah. You know. I figured... heading out to see the moths and everything. That jungle, you know. And anyway, night's coming up, so... something a little warmer. Yeah."

"We're in a tropical climate now," Twilight said. "Even late into the night it isn't going to cool down."

Rarity worried, "My gracious, aren't you baking in that?"

He patted his forehead with his sleeve, mopping up the sticky sweat.

"N-Nah, I'm fine."

"Mm... yes...," Rarity clearly doubted him. Given the public space she didn't want to take up any time or create any sort of scene over what might have simply been silly fears. She leaned towards the man and, awash with concern that twinkled more distinctly than her gown, she hurried out a whisper, "Was... there a problem with your other clothes? I brought along some materials; I certainly wouldn't mind making some alterations later if-"

"N-No, t-they're great," he hoarsely coughed. "J-Just great. They're f-fine; really great; love'em. Don't worry about it. Um, t-thank you."

The unicorn relented, nodding, but the trouble in her eyes lingered until she finally turned away to face again the excited praises from her other friends.

James had to wipe his brow once more, and he tugged at his neckline to let some air in. One step back he took, just to be a little more out of the way of everypony, but he nearly collided with Prism when he moved. They both steadied themselves out, neither harmed by the near miss, but when he went to ask if she was alright he noticed that the pony squinted oddly between him and Rarity. The strange look, however, quickly faded under a quiet brand of amusement, and he felt her rub his leg supportively with her hoof.

SHE had no grief for his choice of clothing.

The guests were ushered out the back of the Passion's Embrace again, this time on a trail going swiftly up into the coastal hills. The path was not as broad or welcoming as those they had taken to the orchard valley and the Pleasure Gardens earlier that day. Besides being much thinner – shrubs pushed their leaves rudely in the way, and everypony nearly had to march single file – uncivil rocks and roots left themselves all over the trail, extruding from the ground wherever they felt like or even cutting across the way such that they had to be stepped over. The fading sun and growing twilight likewise didn't help navigation any either, and there were occasional stumbles from both the guests and island ponies.

Yet Humble Herd knew the way blindfolded, and he forged himself a comfortable lead trotting fast up the trail (lest anypony approach him and ask him questions). Aside from the few things that had already been divulged to the guests he hadn't discussed with them anything about what they were on their way to see.

Vesuvius naturally hadn't been quite as quiet. It was he who had pushed everypony out soon after Rarity had arrived, but he had not done so without first having built up their excitement for the bell moths. This was going to be his and his beloved's second experience of the event, and both island masters had praised it as a magical and inspiring phenomenon, though they likewise had held back on specific details.

Given the density of the vegetation along the trail and the mind-bending way it sometimes twisted around, most of the guests lost track of where they were rather quickly. Only on occasion could they look back and spy the Passion's Embrace between the branches and leaves, the resort glowing gray in the falling sun. It never disappeared behind another hill; they were climbing one of the highest on the island. The only other hint of where they were was the ever-present sound of the ocean harassing the high cliffs nearby.

Before all too long they made their destination.

It was a clearing, but only when compared to the thick web of plants they had been pushing through for the past fifteen minutes. The bushes were like walls around them, herding the crowd into a fairly tight space, and what trees were nearby lurched over the glade and half-concealed the sky with their branches. No sunlight dripped in, but that was solely the fault of the evening; above and beyond the leaves everything glowed like molten metal cooling to a steely blue as night came.

Everypony looked about while they piled in, dusting the dirt off themselves from their trek, but the space seemed entirely empty except for themselves and the oppressive chirping of crickets. The unseen, noisy chorus only grew more lively as the last warm colors slipped away from the world.

It was Fluttershy who pointed out to everypony just how crowded the space really was. There were far more than crickets there, and in much, much greater numbers.

She zipped around like a filly in an amusement park – from bush to bush, tree to tree, high to the branches, low to the roots – and she pointed out the many moths quietly gathering around the glade. They weren't flitting about like she was; rather they slowly and gently crawled into place one at a time. They clung to the plants in the area, never taking to the air at all, and they waited patiently alone on twigs, or in small groups nested in the bushes, or even in great crowds on some of the trees. One particular tree with an exceptionally thick trunk had such a vast coat of them that it looked like the tree was breathing when they silently wiggled about to make more room for the continuous stream of moths arriving. There were hundreds of them!

What made them so hard to spot was that they didn't have the wings most first imagined of moths, all white and pure as freshly laundered linen. Their wings were a dark and dirty gold, well-camouflaged in the advancing night. Nor were they terribly large insects, being the kind of bugs that could secretly hitch a ride on a pony's back and escape notice most of the evening.

But each and every single one of them was a treasure for Fluttershy, and she got lost while rambling about encouraging whispers to each of them:

"Soon, soon! ... Oh, I bet you're all so excited! ... I'm so, so happy for you! ... Isn't this what you've been waiting for all your life?"

She didn't nearly have the time to get to them all. Vesuvius called for everypony's attention and then immediately turned the show over to Humble Herd.

But under the pressure to perform again, the pony couldn't speak up. When he was more forcefully prodded by Vesuvius he did manage to open his mouth, but the mumblings which came out were barely above inaudible. The grouchy Vesuvius had no interest in acting as a megaphone and he delivered a punishing stare as harsher encouragement, but it only worsened the pony's stage fright. Paralyzed, under attack from every side by the stares of the waiting guests, and nearly on the verge of tears, he was about to pass out.

"Well, Humble Herd? Tell us about the bell moths."

Summer Wind came and stood next to him, spouting nothing but support.

"I've been really looking forward to seeing this ever since you first told me about it. You made it sound very special."

She nudged herself closer and laid a comfortable wing on top of his back.

"Come on... Tell us."

His throat opened and a gasp of air spilled in. Somewhere inside himself he found a small reserve of strength; enough to double his effort.

Not that twice his low confidence amounted to much... but it was enough.

"R-R-R-Right... S-S-So, e-everyp-pony, if-, if... I could j-just, um.... sp-speak to you all f-f-for just a m-moment."

They were the politest crowd in existence, paying attention like they had been raised and trained to do so since birth.

Yet he still cringed as if they were a firing squad.

"A-Ahh, um... s-so... t-this pl-place is the ga-gathering spot for the b-bell moths, ah, f-for their m-m-mating season. It'll s-start in a f-few minutes, once the s-sun has com-completely gone d-down. Y-You-, ah, you d-don't have to w-worry about b-being in their way; t-they're v-very friendly and l-loving little in-insects and w-won't be b-bothered by o-our presence. J-Just, um, p-pl-please don't del-liberately interf-f-fere, ah, with them. Th-that w-wouldn't be, um, n-nice. A-And t-this is a very sp-special and im-im-important time in their l-life cycle, so, ah, um... I h-hope you un-underst-stand."

He did it! He had climbed the mountain! And he was drained in breath and color just as if he had literally done so.

Summer Wind rubbed his back and smiled at him like the champion he was.

"Excuse me?" Twilight raised her hoof with a question.

Her lifted leg looked more like a ready sword to Humble Herd. When he didn't immediately call on her she gazed about to see if somepony else had beat her to the punch, but she was alone in having something to ask. She wiggled and waved her hoof with increasing ferocity until she finally realized that the only acknowledgment she was going to get was his wide-eyed, frightened smile. So she threw out her question regardless.

"What exactly IS a bell moth?"

"O-O-O-Oh, w-w-w-well... um... t-t-they're... v-v-very r-rare, uh, in-insects. T-Their r-r-range, um..., is-, is-, is-, ah..."

His blathering degraded by the second, and the loudness in his voice only went up in an utter failure to compensate, making him look like more of a fool.

It wasn't really even fair, either! This was such a favored topic of his! They were unbelievably fascinating little bugs, and he had befriended so, so many of them! In private, to ponies like Summer Wind, he had gone on and on and on and on and on about them until he had literally been unable to speak anymore. And this whole event they had all gathered here to witness was the MOST special thing of all about bell moths! It was going to be so beautiful, and anypony would be blessed to see it!

He WANTED somepony to share this magic with!

But with so many eyes leering on him he couldn't even share a single coherent sentence, let alone a feeling so important to him.

...

And what did it matter? Even if he had the composure to speak then they probably would have just laughed at how excited he was over a few bugs. Really, they all might have had a better and more magical experience if hadn't come out there with them at all...

But though he lost his willpower and faded, Vesuvius had lost nothing except his patience. The island master unleashed a highly disfavorable stare upon Humble Herd, a thousand times worse than all of the guests combined.

Humble Herd made a sudden, desperate last effort, but it came out more like the final screams of a poor soul being devoured by a ravenous beast.

"T-T-T-T-T-There's o-o-o-o-onl-l-ly a f-f-f-f-few... pl-places in-in-in Eq-Eq-Equestr-tria... w-w-w-w-where b-b-b-bell m-m-m-m-m-"

"Bell moths are a very, very special kind of insect found in only a few rare places all around the world," Fluttershy said.

The pegasus spoke so freely – so in awe, so unrestrained – as if nopony else in the world were there with her and her voice alone controlled access to the mysteries of the universe. Out in front of the others she wandered, heedless of who saw her or what they thought of how she marveled so openly over the little insects, but certainly she hoped with all her bright hope that they were listening, if only so that they could share all the joy she was feeling.

She came before the biggest tree and looked up at it and all the countless bell moths biding their time in its branches or on its trunk. Whenever she saw one of their wings flex or flutter her own wings buzzed reciprocally, and whenever she saw one carefully creep to a new resting spot her own hooves tapped a few steps over and back.

There was a miracle in the air that only she seemed to feel, but she was the gateway for everypony to begin to feel the tingles of it too. She was ready for it; so, so ready for the miracle to show itself. This was why she lived.

"What makes them so unique is their amazing life cycle. It's very unlike other creatures. They're born in very large groups as caterpillars, but right away they wander off from each other until they are all alone, and they feed up on leaves by themselves until they find a safe place to cocoon. Then they spend a long, long time in their cold cocoons, without anypony to keep them company, growing up into new adult bell moths; little, humble, shy, lonely, beautiful bell moths. But after that is when the magic happens!"

Even though she was sharing her knowledge with the others she had an absolute need to gaze upon the army of bell moths as she did so. Her eyes twinkled; no matter where she turned she saw them in the branches and bushes. And around her neck the sapphire heart caught every last bit of dimming sunlight and shined it back brightly.

"For their mating season they instinctively return to special places like this one, gathering together again with other bell moths for the first time since their birth. And when it starts, always at night after the sun has first gone down, each moth begins to fly about slowly... and play their lightsong."

"Lightsong?" Twilight didn't recognize the term.

"Yes. There's a tiny little magic in the wings of each bell moth; a LOVE magic. When they fly, adult bell moths can use their wings to play their lightsong: a musical light whose sound and melody is uniquely theirs. No two bell moths share the same lightsong. The reason they gather together again to play their lightsongs is because somewhere in the crowd is another bell moth whose lightsong is a perfect match for theirs! They play, and they listen, and they play, and they listen, searching and searching and searching... always hoping so much that they're being searched for. And they search and search until they hear the amazing, beautiful, wonderful lightsong which speaks to them in a way no other can; the one that is in perfect harmony with their own."

Her heart cried from pure happiness.

"And those two bell moths who have found each other... they come together, playing their matching music for each other. They were MADE for one another. They were ALWAYS meant to be. They find their true love forever.

"And all they needed to do was be themselves."

It felt like she hadn't taken a single breath the whole time she had been speaking. When she finally exhaled, the air from her lungs glittered like flecks of stunning crystals swept up in a breeze. Finally she faced her friends again, and she entreated them all to be as enamored as she was.

"Isn't it so wonderful? They start alone, having to struggle by themselves until they at last come out of their lonesome little cocoons, but they do it all because they know that magic will bring them together with their one true love in the end. And that is how the next generation of bell moths comes to be so that the cycle can continue."

And everypony agreed. Even those who were typically least swayed by such romantic fantasies found her enthusiasm inescapable. In that moment they all were Fluttershy.

Certainly though some of them were a little more moved than others.

Rarity felt tingles for the story, imagining the brightest and most beautiful of dresses flying out from her sewing machine while they sang so loudly that they summoned to her boutique a long trail of suitors: princes with palaces, artists after inspiring muses, heirs with endless fortunes, poets with pure souls, actors ample with astounding looks, statesponies stunning in speech and scholarship, adventurers after unassessable treasure, lovers luscious and irresistible, and every manner of pleasing pony under the sun and moon. Each imagined pony was a marvel of a vision; one she could picture in a million perfect wedding photos.

The only interruption to her indulgent thoughts was a little mistaken touch against her leg.

Without meaning to Spike had let his tail drift into her while it had been wiggling about, driven by romantic dreams of its own. When the unicorn looked down at the dragon she caught sight of how intently he watched the sittings moths, with a wish planted firmly in his heart and an adoring warmth burning in his cheeks. For just a moment he looked back at her while she still gazed down at him, the worshiper waiting without demand or disdain.

Quietly she shuffled herself an inch or two closer to him.

Humble Herd too had found Fluttershy's speech very stirring. It had contained everything he would have said, only spoken more clearly and with more heart. She had captured in word and soul absolutely everything that moved him about these little insects.

The shy stallion was sturdier now that all the attention had been lifted off his shoulders, but it seemed like at any moment he might have fallen forward onto his face. The magnetism of Fluttershy's beautiful confidence and chaste bliss was pulling him in, dragging his nose ahead while his cold hooves stayed anchored behind. The lopsided way he tilted forward, eyes stuck upon her, was like an awestruck bow being taken before a holy altar.

The counterweight of Summer Wind's wing held him back, so tenderly pressing on his spine to keep him upright. When her soft touch finally became enough for him to consciously notice it he looked at her.

She gave him a smile which wouldn't have found her anywhere else in the world.

Fluttershy all but took over as presenter, answering the questions of the excited crowd, guest and islander alike. They all instinctively spoke in hushed voices, sensing the inherent quiet of the world as every last faint ember of sun slowly drained out of the sky. The darkness which descended into the glade only encouraged them to whisper more, even as it became harder and harder for them to see each other in the tight space.

It only took a few more minutes for the very last blip of day to disappear. Both Humble Herd and Fluttershy seemed to detect the moment at exactly the same time, though naturally it was only the yellow pegasus who called for everypony's attention. Now on the very cusp of an exhilarating ride, she pleaded with everypony to hold still and watch. She herself held her breath.

The glade froze.

Even the crickets seemed to calm, canceling their performance for the sake of their buggy brethren.

Not a single light was there, and the blackness of night was thick between the trees. All was shadow, though the ponies, dragon, and man fared a little better with picking out details since their eyes had been given a long time to adjust. They all silently scanned for signs of the bell moths.

Some of the bushes jiggled as the insects crawled between the branches. The bark on the trees appeared to ruffle, still covered over with waiting moths roaming around. But not one moth had taken to the air.

Everypony waited, their breathing becoming fainter than the farthest wind tiptoeing across the other side of the ocean.

On a little bent sprig sticking up awkwardly from one of the bushes, a single bell moth sat alert. He didn't need to turn his head about to look around the glade; his crystal eyes saw each and every one of his fellow moths waiting nervously like he was. Surely they all felt it too? That pulse in their wings; that energy; that need to dance and sing and cry and laugh, and live and love.

Maybe they were all just a little afraid; he was too. Or maybe he was simply the courageous spark of a waiting fire.

Up and down he flexed his wings, three times, and then with a jump he bounced off the sprig.

Nopony saw the lone little bell moth at first; not in that darkness. He weaved about, fluttering around in the way that moths often do, his wings pumping out the tiniest hurricane. He only finally drew notice when, little by little, his magic began to activate.

"There!" Fluttershy quietly gasped.

They all saw it, though it didn't seem much. A new color appeared in the night, barely lit against the sea of black and flitting about slowly. It hardly even glowed, being more dim than the faintest flicker of a firefly; something like only the memory of a golden flash lingering long after one has closed their eyes. Everypony had to strain to keep track of it, but there it was.

And then the first lightsong played.

As the bell moth hit the peak of one of his high arcs, a tiny droplet of light fell from his wings.

It was like a candle flame, shimmering shyly in a dance. All alone in the dark its many rays stretched out far beyond itself, stabbing into the night and bouncing off leaf, dirt, tree, and pony. The tiny glow drifted almost weightlessly, a lazy snowflake of pure light tenderly dropping towards the ground.

But most spectacular of all was the sound it made:

Bells.

Ringing bells, as if echoing in from some distance.

The little light pulsed constantly, and with each flash and jitter it made a unique noise like a bell calling out a soft tune, seeking earnestly for someone to listen. From nowhere the musical light rang its melody, pure and distinct as a flawless crystal, and only after the twinkling speck of dust finally hit the ground did its sparkle and music start to gradually die away, fading like a record trailing off.

But once it had gone the small bell moth simply threw himself up through another arc and cast out another spark of lightsong, singing out for his one true love to come and find him.

And from the bushes, from the trees, from above and from below; more little dim golden blurs suddenly started to dance out into the darkness, just a few at a time. When the lead bell moth released his third droplet of lightsong several of them swarmed around it, circling it as it wandered down towards the earth, their tiny shapes becoming visible to everypony as they swam in the musical light. They followed it down, listening and studying the lightsong so closely.

But it wasn't theirs. It didn't call to them.

Yet two of them became so emboldened that they suddenly broke off, soared up towards the highest tree branches, and dropped their own glimmering sparks of lightsong. Again like snowflakes, the new lights were unique in their own small ways: being different sizes, flashing in different ways; the patterns to their glints so incomparable to each other. And certainly their music was all their own: bells of different tones and depths, rung in entirely different ways from the first lightsong. There wasn't an obvious harmony between the three, but they came together regardless with a pleasant sound.

The new songs called in more bell moths from the fringes of the glade. With each sinking drop of light, ever more came. Soon many bell moths were swooping around the falling sparks of music; searching; seeking out the song most beloved to them. And ever more of them became confident enough play their own lightsongs, adding to the flurry of dazzlings lights that began to fly all about the glade.

The bell moths filled the air just below the branches, an entire army marching about in no formation whatsoever except one conducted by the baton of magical romance. Together all their lightsongs were a slow snowstorm of melodic brilliance falling from heaven. The brightness which so illuminated the glade banished all the bleakness of night, creating a stark world of only two colors: glittering gold and distant black.

Though the ponies, and dragon, and man, were all there together in the glade they were also all so far away; elsewhere in time and space; beyond the moon and between the stars. In those timeless moments they scarcely breathed more than whispers to each other, afraid that anything louder might have broken the spell. Quietly they wandered about through the music, looking up with awe into the twinkling sea of lights.

Twilight was intrigued and captivated by the whole event. Fluttershy had always been a fantastic friend for information on animals, and certainly Fluttershy had zealously dragged her to a fair share of interesting, but sometimes less-than-interesting, occurrences of the natural world. (Wearing a clothespin on her nose and bearing witness to the hatching of the Great Stinkbug Herd wasn't really one of her fonder memories. Admittedly it had been a very educational experience, though.)

But seeing this event here...

What a reminder. It slipped her mind easily whenever she was engrossed in her studies, but what a reminder:

Magic really was such a miracle.

She looked between her friends and caught sight of Gallowayo, the mesmerized stallion wandering and weaving between the innumerable drops of lightsong, occasionally picking one or two to follow intently until they hit the ground and withered. He was recording every second of the experience.

She even heard a thrilled murmur from him, "Ooooh, I am going to have so much to write about this!"

"I wish I had brought a notepad," Twilight came besides him and said.

"Oh, not notes, no," he acknowledged her for just a moment, barely breaking from the falling bells. Very clearly he needed more time to invent the right words for what he was seeing; his lips trembled while he spoke nothing. But when it finally hit him that it was Twilight next to him – his fellow student – he got a sudden idea.

He reached out and tipped her chin up while he pointed into the air and invited her, "Look. Look! Look at it. Now... tell me: what do you FEEL?"

"Curious," she immediately answered.

But she absorbed the scene as instructed, soaking in the light and sound.

"... Happy," she chose to add.

In the lower reaches of her vision she saw her many friends gently roaming around, all painted golden and with so many indescribable emotions written on their faces.

"... Blessed."

"Yeah... Yeah...," whispered Gallowayo. He himself looked again over the field of chiming lights and, though he didn't directly name his own feelings, he said, "We can feel so many amazing things, Twilight. PONIES can feel so many extraordinary things. Things we can't even imagine when we're in our normal minds."

She extrapolated, "Things that sometimes take going to a special place, no matter how near or far. Or having a special experience, no matter how grand or small. Or seeing a special display, bright or quiet."

Again she looked at the many friends she was so lucky to have.

"Sometimes we just need a special key to unlock those rare, magical feelings."

The stallion positively adored her impromptu bout of poetry.

"Yes! Yes, exactly! If only we could find the words to understand those feelings fully; to communicate them completely! Then we could take them to anypony, anywhere!"

His mind, firing on all cylinders, turned again to the magical spectacle before him. He saw not just all the lights and heard not just all the bells. Something else he began to overlay on top of the scene.

He uttered not a word of his innermost thoughts until he mistakenly mumbled aloud, "I wonder what it would be like here? It's a shame this event is so rare; this would be the perfect place for it!"

"For what?" asked Twilight.

"For-!"

He awoke, deeply red.

"Uh... for-... for-, um... for singing." The answer had no grime or filth on it, but it likewise came out with no weight. "To come together and... sing... with somepony."

"Like... how the bell moths play their lightsongs for each other?" the other unicorn took a befuddled stab in the dark.

Galloway didn't confirm her guess. He only instead nervously returned his attention to the moths.

Though his lack of a response was somewhat frustrating (James would have had a response ready for sure), it merely forced Twilight to dwell on his final remark. Turning it over and over again in her head as she watched the concert of lights, she eventually decided that there was a bit of beautiful poetry in what he had said.

The magical music might as well have unwound some of the years in Spike. Like a dragon whelp chasing fireflies in a field for fun or practice, he rushed about in fits and starts, catching some of the falling lights in his claws. Each one he snagged he'd cup his claws over to mask out the glow of the other lightsongs so that he could observe specifically his catch's unique twinkling. What's more, he time and again brought them back to Rarity like gifts, presenting them to her before they faded.

"What do you think of this one, Rarity? ... And this one? ... This one's pretty great! ... Oh, I really like the sound of this one! ... Hey, take a look at how this one flickers! ... Do you like this one, Rarity?"

"Hmhmhmhm," she swallowed her amusement. "My goodness, Spike. You seem to be quite absorbed in this."

The sudden embarrassment weakened him, and he dropped his latest catch with limp turns of his wrists.

"I-... I think it's kind of cool...," he almost didn't have the will to admit.

But the well-dressed mare didn't want there to be any confusion. She spun him about so that she could stand just behind him and look upon the dazzling display with him.

"Oh, indeed it is!" she agreed. "And magnificent! And marvelous! Why, it makes me think of... having a wedding far out amongst the stars."

The heavenly thought snuck deep into her and for a moment all the flashing lights and ringing bells went inside her. Lost in that beautiful cosmos, romantic in spirit and breathless in body, the hoof she held on her dragon gave him a caressing touch, and she blushed (though, quite helpfully, her veil hid it).

To free herself she lightheartedly commented, "I suppose, even if I might be just a tad too old for it now, I would be running around catching some of them too if it weren't such a risk to my dress."

"Do you... want me to catch some more for you?" the ruby-cheeked dragon offered.

"By all means. Don't let me stop you." There was a sharp glint in her eyes. "I think this spectacle is giving me inspiration for a whole new line of dresses!"

That was all Spike needed, and out again he went. He played amidst the ringing lights but aways faithfully came back to present the mare with the prizes he thought she'd love the best or be further inspired by. Rarity waited and watched in joy, dressed like the night but shining like the sun under the color of the lightsongs.

"Adorable little presents he brings you," Sweet Nothing said, approaching from behind her. "Like a puppy."

"It is quite charming," Rarity giggled, thinking nothing negative of the comment. Her attention stayed focused forward.

The stallion, dark still even under the glowing lights, looked at her gown before he remarked carefully, "It's a shame his little gifts wither so quickly and don't last."

"They don't need to," the mare still watched the dragon. "This is the kind of moment that doesn't need to last for more than now..." The color hadn't yet drained from her face.

Fiery, frustrated wind ran into Sweet Nothing's nostrils. He straightened his muscular legs; he put out his broad chest. Into his voice he wove the sound of harps, complementing the bells in the air.

"Madam Rarity. If you would allow, tonight I would be honored to treat you to something special. Your beauty has captivated-"

"Yes, yes," she quickly pushed him away, too busy with Spike, "but if you'll please pardon me, Mr. Nothing. I'm trying to enjoy this moment."

She didn't hear a single terrible sound from the dark stallion as he slunk away silently outraged.

James stood stiff until the merging minutes became meaningless. Every amazing light that fell to the ground and shriveled away was replaced by two more, all of them sparkling and chiming gloriously, and in looking through the glowing sea of shining stars he felt eternity reach out a soft and inviting hand to him.

One drop of lightsong he gazed at was tiny but its flashes were electric, popping like an unpredictable blaze. The sound it made was like a chain of jingling Christmas bells being merrily whipped.

Another blob of light was fat and thick, and its pulses were long seconds apart. Each flash was identical; the drop shrinking for just an instant before it burst with light and made a loud, deep gong.

Still another swayed as it drifted, like chimes rolling back and forth. It sounded like church bells, welcoming and proud.

The spellbound man reached a hand out and after a few moments one of the lights from the downpour landed in it. There was no sensation of weight to the magical spark, but through his skin he felt the happy shaking of its bells as it ringed again and again. He brought it up in front of his nose, nearly crossing his eyes to stare deep into it. The rays of light split apart from some point only inches before him but yet also infinitely far away, and in their spinning and pulsing he thought he saw the vastness of the universe appear; colors and shapes from beyond the realms of time, space, and understanding; cosmic manifestations of ungraspably enormous proportions like would be found beyond the farthest galaxies, but brought down into the palm of his hand like an existence which folded in on itself in scaling repetition.

The bells faded, the light shrunk, he pulled his hand ever closer to his eyes to keep up with its retreat into microscopic infinity, and then it was gone; melted into his flesh.

On blind instinct his hand slowly dropped onto the medallion hanging from his neck, holding it like he was feeling for the beat of his heart...

... And he cried.

Not with any pain. Not with any sorrow. The tears flooding his eyes only made the lights more beautiful by their shimmering distortions.

He thought about the stunning vista over Canterlot seen from the castle windows; the ordinary homeliness but spectacular wonder of a library carved from a tree; the cold, living rain put together with intent and purpose; the race of wind on his face as the lands of Equestria passed by and the train whistle roared; the mighty Pearl Peaks; the gorgeous bloom of light under the lake at Heartwood during the night; Poppy's energetic smile; Star Glitter and P.V. sharing a simple but so special kiss in the streets of Ponyville; and the new friendships he had felt, pure in the hearts of ponies.

This, here in the glade, was one of those magical experiences he had come to Equestria for.

There was a nudge against his other hand, and he looked down. Too bleary-eyed to see all that clearly, he had to wipe himself before he could pick out Prism's colorful bracelets.

She was lightly pressing her hoof into his hand.

Up at him she gave a smile, though he had a hard time seeing it through his still-smeared vision. He also thought he saw the golden lights gleaming off of some soulful tears of her own.

James took and held her offered hoof.

Even though it wasn't the first time Humble Herd had personally witnessed the bell moths' ritual, it wasn't any less of a miracle to him. He watched with all the pride of a father, all the wonder of a foal, all the bated breath of a mystery's big reveal, and all the humility of a true believer before a divine power. Their light was one that shined through any of his nights; their songs an orchestra that rang clear through any of his storms.

He was interrupted again by the sensation of a great wing tenderly laying upon his back. Only this time Summer Wind went further, pressing her hoof against his; nearly picking his up and holding it in her own.

"Humble Herd...," she couldn't take her eyes off the dazzling display, "... this really is just as beautiful as you made it out to be..."

A cold shake entered his hoof, and he looked aside to hide the ashamed gloss that came over his eyes.

"I wasn't trying to undersell it or anything...," he said.

"Oh, you."

Softly she laid her neck against his, resting against him in such perfect peace.

"The only thing you undersell is yourself, Humble Herd."

There was another cold shake that passed through him, but then he carefully tightened his hoof against hers.

"Summer Wind..."

"Hm?"

"Summer Wind, I-... I-..."

He went cold and loose again.

Though not entirely unhappy.

"... I'm really glad you're here with me for this."

She offered no fast response. Her wing twitched, easing off him and hesitating to come back down. The muscles in her neck tensed, becoming abrasive against him, and were likewise reluctant to soften. Out of her nose silently whistled small regrets which she piled up to bury the largest regret of them all.

She tried to smile for him, producing a hollow-ringing answer, "... What else are friends for?"

They held close together for the rest of the ritual, saying nothing more to each other until after the last lightsong had faded.

Every animal was special, from the largest leviathan in the sea down to the tiniest mite. Even if some were a little less-than-savory to deal with, every animal was special.

But stuck in that blissful moment Fluttershy strongly considered declaring bell moths the most special of all.

There was so much she had read about them – had known about them – but she had never had the opportunity come to have gone and seen them up close. They were such a rarity the world over. But to witness them had always been a fantasy in her heart, such that when they had been first mentioned at dinner last night she had many times doubted the opportunity had been real. For years on some nights her dreams had been filled with flurries of the bell moths' falling lightsongs, but now they were here, and real, and more breathtaking than anything her ambitious dreams had ever conjured.

Of all the ponies in the glade she moved around the most. Every angle had to be taken in, every drop of lightsong had to be memorized, and the face of every moth had to be learned. It was all so hard to do when her tranquil ecstasy kept her from breathing. Her wings stayed permanently spread from the electric energy flowing through her, and so many twinkles of lightsong got caught in her mane that it looked like the sea in a pale sunset, warm and pink but bright and shining with the reflections of stars.

Above, Fluttershy caught sight of a falling drop of light which had a particularly happy bell moth blitzing about it. The little lady was in love with the sound; it drove her batty, as it were. The light sank and sank and she followed it down, swimming around it and taking in every ring with her tiny insect body.

Fluttershy sat down nearly under the drop, and she held out the sapphire heart which rested at the end of her necklace. The falling light drifted down onto the blue heart, landing square in the center of the upturned jewel. Its still-pulsing light spread into the crystal, splitting deep into it and warming it with the color of a simmering, golden fire.

The little bell moth followed, still dancing about the light in glee until it finally faded away. But once it did she blasted up towards the branches and released three of her own lightsong drops, singing out loudly and joyfully for whomever had sounded the bells she had fallen in love with.

And right away he heard, and right away he came. Like a swallow diving he soared down to one of the lights, enamored; he spun around it and moved on to the next, and then the third. And there he released another of his lightsong drops next to hers, and their falling music mixed together in perfect harmony. The joined pearls of light landed on the sapphire heart, again moved into place by Fluttershy.

The two bell moths came down on top of the crystal, staring into each others large eyes as their bells continued to ring away. Their legs reached out for each other, their antennae kissed again and again, and they beat their wings with the golden promise of love forever and ever. Tiny sparks of miniature lightsongs came falling out of them both, splashing all over the sapphire and making it glow, and when they were finished they held together and danced away into the darkened trees.

Fluttershy whispered her most jubilant wishes for them, profoundly happy to have been there and witnessed their blessed union, but then she turned her eyes to her necklace still held up in her hoof. Little sparkles of lightsong were caught in it, fading fast, and its new color was diminishing to that of cooling embers.

She took the gem, turned it, and pressed it against her own heart, even rubbing it against her chest. Tight she held it against herself, spreading whatever magic was left on it to her, until all the glow finally faded and she had a blue heart again.

If only she had been born a bell moth.

Chapter 30: Whistles

Even with the bell moth spectacle fresh in mind, the sheer pageantry of all the balloons and banners and streamers populating the boardwalk before the entertainment stage was quite incredible.

Foil ribbons ran everywhere overhead, innumerable, yet they were strung with unmatched mastery. From the highest point above the stage they fell down like a fountain of glistening flags in rainbow colors, all bouncing along to the gentle sea breeze in a wild little party of their own. And even with their spread so dense they were balanced far enough away from the bright and burning torches to meet all mandated safety requirements.

Everything else was just as spectacular! The thoughtful placement of all the balloon bundles was calculated for maximum cheeriness and minimum obstruction of the stage and ocean. Every party sign which dangled here or there was homemade with exceedingly precise care, and together they filled the entire range of information from helpful ('Snacks thattaway!') to plain old exciting and fun ('Give it a shake until you can't stay awake!'). Even the baskets of knick-knacks and party favors – one at each table – were unique and put together with meticulous attention to detail, being perfect as either centerpieces or as dissections of noisy and flashy enjoyment.

All of the pizazz – including a twenty-one confetti-cannon salute whose squeaking bursts were timed to play a short tune, and Hulahoof himself dancing on top and across the many tables – greeted the guests when they arrived for the party. No military parade in Canterlot could have be flashier, and no circus in Equestria could have been more fun.

Nopony could have been in a more ready mood for it.

For the entire walk back down from the hills they had all been booming with excitement. While the bells had been playing in the glade the absolute magic of the experience had left them gripped with near-silence, but once they last chime had rung and the last pair of smitten moths had flown off and all had become night again, then everypony themselves had lit the glade themselves with their bright emotions bursting simultaneously. During the return trek to the resort they had somehow managed to cram many of themselves side-by-side on the thin trail just so that their buzzing chatter would have been unhampered. The once-in-a-lifetime event had transformed what should have been a sleepy hour of preparing for evening rest into a waterfall of energy like an amusement park with free passes and no lines.

There wouldn't have been one complaint if the party were to have lasted all night.

Venus and Vesuvius opted not to stay. They had held each other closer and closer while watching the bell moths, and afterwards they had very nearly soared ahead of all the others anxiously down the hill trail. Once they were sure everypony had arrived in front of the Passion's Embrace for the party they immediately, through the immense distraction of their eyes slobbering all over each other, wished everypony a happy time before they raced inside. The flushed-faced Venus led her stallion away by the nose with just the tempting swing of her silk-covered backside.

On the stage Gallowayo's band was close to ready for showtime, though they were still busy with their very final checks. Some good money had been spent on equipping them; it was odd how the two bended trees used to highlight the stage contrasted so strongly with the massive tower of speakers now also found on either side. Wires snaked about, bunched and labeled carefully, all either hooked to power or plugged into the assortment of devices more appropriate for a large club gig. Yet most all the equipment was pushed to the side or to the back, clearing a wide open space center stage except for a solitary mic stand which sat in an empty spotlight.

Gallowayo tapped Twilight and directed her eyes towards the stage setup, and he didn't need to say a thing to convey how eager he was. Every ready tremble of his body called out the same message which was written gloriously all over his face: he had been waiting and waiting AND WAITING for a thoughtful pony like her to show off his most labored-over art to.

Twilight smiled, and she nodded a promise of sincere attention.

Pleased, the stallion made his way up onto the stage. There weren't even faint traces of his usual nervousness before a performance. Like Fluttershy, this one show TONIGHT was going to be HIS bell moth ritual.

Meanwhile most of the audience followed the signs to the other side of the resort beachfront, past the entertainment boardwalk and to where the bar and food hut were. Though long tables filled with snacks and party punch had been set up near the stage, the day's activities had precluded dinner and most of the guests were hungry enough to want something slightly more substantial than salty or sugary treats. Altogether they were a busy crowd crammed in front of the wide windows of the food hut. The peckish ponies laughed and shouted over each other while trying to get their orders in, and the island ponies working in the kitchen scrambled to sort everything out.

A few ponies were wise enough to realize that while waiting they could get their drinks from the bar next door where Till had dutifully taken up his station. Behind the counter and with a dishcloth draped over the back of his neck, even alone he served with far more speed and efficiency than his neighbors. His knowledge of the island's supply of drinks was intimate, and he was fast to make recommendations to anypony who didn't have an immediate request for something specific. In the same fashion he was always gentlecolt enough to invite those he served to take a stool, though all courteously declined the offer.

Except Applejack.

Plate after plate and glass and glass the rest of the ponies were served their meals and drinks, and they made their way back towards the stage to attend the party proper. But the farm pony brought her plate to the bar instead. She set her food on the counter very near one end and then hopped right up onto a stool. Her hat she gently dropped onto the seat next to her.

"Howdy, Slick."

"Ah. The corn fritters," Till approved of her meal choice. The opportunity to trade open words with her again had him in quite a jolly mood, and his smile couldn't have been pried off his face.

"I wanted something small," the farm pony explained her choice of an appetizer over anything with bigger portions. "But dang if this butter sauce ain't mighty enormous! S'made'em good and crispy, too!" She smirked, fluffing herself with overdone vanity, "Had to go with the corn, though. Can't trust your apple fritters would've been any good!"

The stallion made a mock show of being wounded before he grabbed a empty glass from his rack and spun it onto the bartop before her. She hadn't been one of the ponies who had sought a beverage while waiting.

"Well, maybe you'll be good enough to at least help us out by passing judgment on our cider?" he invited playfully.

"Tryin' to poison me, huh? Alright, let's have it then. 'What don't kill ya only makes ya more tough-like,' Granny always says."

Selecting one of several identical bottles from the loaded shelves in back, Till popped it open and filled half the glass. He was a natural at his work; smooth in motion, he was quick enough to flick the bottle over and upright without a splash or spill, whipping the bottle on and off like a faucet. It could've been his one-millionth drink served that week.

He slid the glass over to Applejack who gave it her a professional inspection: color, smell, fizz, thickness; all overplayed, of course. Once ready she raised the glass up in a final farewell and then tipped it back for two solid chugs.

Till leaned on the counter, one hoof poking into his jester-like grin, waiting as the farm pony set the glass back down and smacked her lips to process the flavor.

"Well," she delivered the bad news, "it tastes like something that came outta a cow, and I don't mean milk."

"Ouch."

"It's all in the apples, Slick; they're gonna make or break your cider. You done gone and shot yourself in the hoof starting with such slopwork goods."

"How unforgiving. Do you treat all your potential customers this way?"

"Any partner that's worth going into business with you gotta respect enough to tell them the truth. The honest-to-goodness, ugly, ugly truth; warts and all."

"So... should I pour you something else then?"

"Heck no! I'm gonna finish this!"

Nothing they said to each other was devoid of a twist of humor, and they decorated themselves with huge smiles.

A few final guests and islanders passed by the bar, all on their way towards the stage. The very last individual to come through was James, and it was no surprise that the man had taken the longest: his plate had no orthodox meal. He had spent some good time haggling with the kitchen staff for a special order, as he had very much wanted food that would actually fit his diet and not chain him to the toilet for a night.

He stopped and briefly laid his plate on the bartop.

"Aw, howdy Beanstalk!" Applejack chuckled. "Come to join us?"

The man took a glint down the way, at Prism and all the other ponies who were spreading out amongst the tables on the boardwalk before the stage.

"Nah; no disrespect, of course. Just stopping for a drink," he said.

"Sure," Till immediately moved down to meet him. "What can I get for you, sir?"

Pulling his head back, James took in the shelves and shelves of bottles behind the stallion. It was an inventory too mindbogglingly big to browse in any fast amount of time, especially because a lot the bottles were branded with unrecognized names or identified themselves only with unfamiliar iconography. He hadn't exactly ever gone on a Great Equestrian Drinking Tour while at Ponyville.

"I don't know," he merrily sighed and shrugged.

"We have just about everything you could imagine," encouraged Till. And happily he began to enumerate, "Juices from nearly every fruit, your typical brands of soda, the whole range of teas, I could pour you some coffee if you'd like, or maybe you'd prefer something a little more creamy or sugary? If you'll take a recommendation, I'd suggest the watermelon lemonade. A little wild, but when it gets low just fill the glass again with punch and you'll have mixed together something particularly sweet."

"Hmm..."

Still dancing over the bottles, the man finally caught notice of a rather interesting item. It popped off the shelf with its color.

Far back in the corner, set on the highest shelf, was a bottle without any label at all; not even one solely with a picture. Shorter than nearly every other bottle, with almost no neck to speak of and a simple rubber stopper to keep it sealed, the liquid inside had an unusual luminescence about it; it didn't glow, but it was bright, shining, and incredibly colorful. Somehow they had bottled a brilliant rainbow.

"What's that?" James pointed.

The stallion turned to look, but immediately a nervous frown seized him.

"I'm sorry, THAT you can't have," he said. "That's the corcandeo juice."

"Well hot dang!" Applejack laughed loudly and slapped and bartop. "Can't even sip it AFTER it's been juiced? You're stingy as a mule!"

Till wasn't able to take her comment with the same fun as he had all her others.

"I'm really very sorry, but it's for... special occasions only."

Amused, James poked at him, "And eight guests, including the pupil of Princess Celestia, on the night of a big party AND the start of the bell moth's mating ritual, ISN'T a special occasion?"

"I... would have to get permission from Venus and Vesuvius," the stallion still responded in the same withdrawn, sober fashion.

"It's fine, it's fine," the man dismissed with a wave.

He returned to browsing, not finding the task any easier than before. Again he glanced left towards the stage and tables, and though at first he was drawn to Prism his loose eyes wandered after a moment. Eventually they reached another table.

Pinkie Pie sat with Rainbow Dash and Hulahoof, and they were all engaged in some cheerful back and forth with each other. The blue stallion had some vegetables shoved into eyes, mouth, and nose, and he was waving his legs and wings about while surely spouting some ridiculous roars to go with his wacky look. The other two ponies couldn't contain themselves at the sight, and Rainbow Dash almost tumbled over from her gut-busting laughter.

They were like a drunken crowd.

But that one squeak of an idea instantly set the man down a deep trail of thought. There were plenty of items within pony culture that he had sometimes pondered over but had never chased answers too thoroughly, and now he had a opportunity to discover one such answer. After all, if he was going to have to deal with Pinkie Pie sooner or later then maybe for that difficult task he could avail himself of the most universal friendship maker of all.

"Hey," James called to Till, and he pushed himself far over the counter. He was as serious as he was curious, and he questioned intently, "Do you have anything... HARDER?"

Much to the man's relief the pony very casually answered, "We have the standards. Not in any great supply, though. I mean, they're not the most popular selections by a long shot."

"'The standards'?" James raised a suspicious eyebrow at the stallion's qualifying comment.

"Yeah."

The man snickered to himself and then threw his arms out wide to show off his very human body.

"Pretend for a moment," he hinted to the bartender, "that I'm not from Equestria."

It only took Till a single quizzical second to realize his error.

"Oh, I'm sorry!" he sincerely apologized, and then he leaned his head back to look under the counter. "We have four brands of wine, nine ales from dark to pale, five kinds of beer, two rums, two whiskeys, and then I've got a few mixes (which, to be honest, I haven't ever made before)."

"Let me see the rum," James decided to cut straight to HIS standard.

Till produced two bottles that looked exactly as expected for rum from any old liquor store, and the man turned and pulled one of them over to himself. To no surprise at all he found the label immediately useless: there was a depiction of a high-class mare with a monocle sitting amongst some barrels, all of it was stylized as if it were a wood engraving, the branding 'Lady Love Eyes' Fine Aged Rum' was written at the top in swooping letters, and then there was a single notation of '80 Hoof' on the bottom. Literally not a thing more was there; not bottling information, not barcodes, not a word of warning vis-à-vis responsible drinking.

Great, James chuckled in his head. Though maybe this was a sign that Equestria truly WAS a land of harmony: not enough lawyers to chase labeling lawsuits!

The man tapped the top of the bottle.

"Let's do it," he said.

"What would you like it with, sir?"

"Ah, I don't know. Surprise me."

Till had a very hesitant look, as if the man wasn't taking the decision seriously enough.

"Yeah, go ahead. Experiment a little. I want to see what you got," James assured him. After all, it wasn't really the rum he wanted anyway. It was the courage.

Slowly the stallion nodded, but as soon as he began to think about the all the possibilities he could mix his reserve was quickly swept away. He replaced the extra rum bottle and turned right back to his shelves, jumping from drink to drink and grabbing other bottles here and there and as he rapidly created a miracle concoction in his head.

Applejack had a tall stare for the man, equal parts calm surprise and wily evaluation, and she whistled, "Doggone, human-folk got some really funny tongues don't they, Beanstalk?"

"Are you telling me," he needled her back, "that Sweet Apple Acres doesn't make any sweet apple hard cider?"

"It don't sell," she explained plainly.

"I'd buy it."

"I can see that!" She peered into him: not at all worried, delightfully amused, but with at least some friendly caution. "You sure your constitution is up for this?"

"Mmhm. This ain't my first rodeo. You know, I'd LOVE to see YOU after you've had a few shots of rum in you. I can picture it now, and let me tell you: your countryisms only get MORE hilarious."

"Don't go counting your chickens, Beanstalk," she denied him with a tickled smirk.

On the bartop Till spaced out his supplies and then began his wizardry. As before he worked fast, swiftly mixing together a drink from bottles which flew too fast for the man to read. The stallion was even able to work without watching what he was doing; he constantly had his head up to examine the man, thrilled that his patron was taking a happy interest in everything.

Once finished, he gave the drink a gentle swirl and pushed it towards James.

"Here you are. I hope it's to your liking."

Whatever he had devised had lightened the rum up significantly, giving it a flatter but sunnier color bent only by the shine of the bobbing ice. The man took careful hold of the drink and, with Till intently watching, he took a taste.

It had a bit of tang to it, the added sweetness being rather sharp, but underneath everything he recognized a specific sensation. From tongue to throat to nose he felt it: the burn of alcohol. Real, genuine, no-magical-substitutes-added alcohol.

Well hot damn.

James thanked the bartender with a highly pleased nod and a toast of his delectable drink.

Till was quite enthralled to have served another satisfied customer, and he said, "Wonderful! Please enjoy! Though, of course, I do have to warn you to please keep a close eye on yourself."

"Hey, no trouble. I promise I'll take it easy," the man thanked him again. "Just this one will probably be enough anyway; I'm not looking to go crazy here. And if I come stumbling back for another drink all whirly-eyed and talking like my teeth have fallen out then you have my permission to cut me off."

"Now THAT I would like to see!" Applejack chipped in.

"Don't hold your breath, Applejack."

After one last tip of his head to the ponies he left with his drink and plate, off to the party.

"Interesting fellow," Till said.

The farm pony mildly buried some shadowy seriousness.

"You don't know the half of it..."

While softly whistling a merry tune the stallion cleared away all the bottles he had taken out and wiped the bartop clean with his dishcloth before he poured himself a juice drink into which he dropped a single cherry, and then he set himself up across from Applejack.

"So, how are the fritters?" he asked and passed a napkin to her, laughing quietly at the shine around her mouth; her dish's savory sauce had splashed about her lips recklessly.

"I can't get enough!" Applejack proclaimed right through the napkin as she wiped her mouth and hooves. Her plate was emptying alarmingly fast. "Reckon I'll be back over there for another helping. Maybe I'll ask'em for the recipe too; give it a shot once I'm back home."

Till proudly offered, "I can tell you it. It's my mom's recipe."

"Ah, hehehe, that's right. You're the head chef here ain'tcha?"

"The two other ponies they hired to help with all the cooking are good, but still learning," the stallion shared. "It's been fun to trade recipes with them and teach them a thing or two. Mom loved how much I took to the kitchen; can't say Dad was ever so happy about it."

Applejack glared as she softly set the napkin aside. There again was the other pony's father, come to intrude unexpectedly upon a pleasant conversation.

But Till couldn't pull himself away, and he carried on earnestly, "Yeah, he thought it was all a waste of my time when my Mom already had all those servants around to help her. My time, he said, was better spent learning the management end of things. But I couldn't help myself; there's just something so satisfying about cooking."

His stare went back and forth between the farm pony's vanishing meal, the sauce-stained napkin, and her freshly cleaned mouth.

"It's all in how you labor with your hooves in a hot kitchen to put something together, and when other ponies taste it there's just this really elementary happiness that they light up with. It's such an easy way to really please another pony."

"Uh huh," grunted Applejack, still suspicious. "I know the feeling."

"Yup," Till didn't catch on to any of her wary clues, "and that kind of thing was exactly how it always went with Dad. He was always going on about, 'Well, my father spent every day teaching me this and that about running our family plantation, just as his father before him, and the same before him, and the same before him, and before him, and before him! Generations of Tills have been masters of this place, da-da da-da da-da, and one day, Plottington, you're going to take over! Pay attention! You need to know how we do it!' But geez, he couldn't take one word back to him about doing things even just a little bit differently! Everything had to be EXACTLY as grandpa taught him." He smacked his lips once, shook his head, but then regretfully sounded, "It was always such a struggle."

"So it goes, sometimes," the farm pony commented bleakly.

Looking to draw their conversation elsewhere, hopefully to more interesting things, she directed a hoof towards the corcandeo juice in the back corner.

"You ever try cookin' something with your magical fruit over there? Or do the bigwigs think that'd be too much of a waste of their precious supply?"

He was somewhat thrown for a moment with the change of gears, but swiftly he got himself on the new track.

"Ah, Venus and Vesuvius have let me do an experiment or two, but mostly simple things. You know, sauce or whatever. We've found that if you go too far it changes the fruit too much."

"Isn't that the whole point: to change it?" Applejack was stumped by his suggestion. "You mix it up with some other stuff to take its flavor somewhere new?"

"Oh, flavor, yeah," he seemed so unconcerned and unversed with the idea, and he struggled to clarify himself. "It's just that you don't... really have corcandeo for the FLAVOR."

"Then why?" she demanded, and she slid her plate and glass aside, stretching herself over the bartop. "What EXACTLY is this fruit?"

"W-Well, l-like I already said, it's a bit of a mystery to us and we're trying to study it."

The stallion was so genuinely uncomfortable with how dodgy he felt forced to be, especially before Applejack. Every time he tried to meet her eyes to be fair to her he cringed with weakness and diverted away. He had a true sense of how quintessential her honesty was and therefore how much his restrictions displeased her, and that was what skewered him the most. Yet even so, apparently all his great unease wasn't enough to keep him from wandering peculiarly.

"B-But it's sort of like-... well... hm... You put a lot of pride in your apples, I'm sure, and when you give an apple to somepony and see how much it pleases them to bite into it and to taste all the goodness inside... That's really something special, right? So... corcandeo is sort of like that. It's a way to make other ponies happy."

The farm pony frowned, muttering, "Only not by actually tasting it, you're sayin'."

Till winced some more, and he took a long swig of his drink. Finally he bled just a little bit of timid sincerity.

"Yeah... it's-... it's the magic. We're trying to understand it, but it's really something-... something SO SPECIAL."

Applejack mulled on his reveal for a time. She even snatched another corn fritter and chewed on it unhappily.

"Isn't that, I dunno, a mite dangerous?" she asked at last. "Messin' with magic you ain't so sure about? I mean, with what you told me of them trees back in the orchard-"

"The trees are something very... different," the stallion asserted with confidence. "They're definitely the bigger enigma and are more unpredictable, but the corcandeo is... very consistent, and not dangerous at all. It's something WONDERFUL."

Again there was so much speaking in circles around the target without ever hitting it, and it made Applejack grimace with impatience.

So he only tried harder, still drifting at sea, but he again immensely pulled from his inner honesty, "... If-... if you've ever wanted to make somepony you know DEEPLY HAPPY, in such a-... such a... RAW way; such a FUNDAMENTAL way... If you've ever wanted to PLEASE somepony in particular in a way that's SO COMPLETE; to LIFT the whole of them ENTIRELY... Well... the corcandeo is a way to do JUST THAT. I mean it. And that's all I want from this place; to give that feeling to other ponies."

He reached for her, across the bartop, placing a hoof over hers. Though a surprise, she didn't recoil; his touch was so calm and caring. The coming down of his hoof was like the slow laying of a warmed cloth over sore and overworked hooves.

"I promise, Applejack, that I'll show you when the time comes. If you're willing, that is. There won't be any secrets. There's nothing I want to hide about this."

For a lengthy few moments the farm pony studied his eyes and the heavy violet swirls of his each iris; a noble color; spiritual; generous. Far be it from her to toot her own horn but, like Granny Smith before her, she saw herself as a rather swell and fair judge of character. And judging from the royal beds of color so dearly hugging his eyes' apples, and the clear gloss over them that reflected so crisply her own face, there was nothing that stopped her from peeking inside of him. He acted with an undivided heart.

Swallowing undescribed magic wasn't the most pleasant-feeling thought, but with her free hoof she patted sweetly the top of their held ones.

"I believe you..."

They untangled themselves, at her hooves' suggestion.

"... Just," she worried with a bit of a twitch and a pinch of her cheek, "something about it don't settle right."

Even that mild statement baffled Till, and he blinked away at his confusion with an earnest regard. Finally he sighed and grabbed his dishcloth, using it to shine some of the fresh smudges off the bartop.

"I suppose I really have forgotten what it's like to be uninitiated," he said.

Applejack reasoned generously, "Ah, I'm only just sayin', is all. I reckon we Apples stepped in it ourselves getting so mixed up with zap apples – mighty unusual magic that all is – but heck if it didn't turn out okay in the long run. We got right comfortable with it eventually. Maybe this 'core-candy' here is the same thing: just the start of something new."

"I really think it is," the stallion hoped in an unshaken whisper.

Many thoughts juggled about in Applejack's head. Eventually she grabbed her plate of corn fritters and pulled it back before herself. Noshing on the delicious little treats made everything a little easier, and the sweet taste of (inferior) apples that she washed it down with also helped.

In time, after her plate had nothing left but smears of butter, and the air between the two ponies had cleared a little, Applejack opened up with renewed interest.

"So maybe we can get to talking a little bit more about this tricky orchard of yours?"

"Sure." Till set aside his glass; all that was left was the cherry bathing in the wash anyway. "Any enlightened thoughts come to your mind since this afternoon?"

"Well, like I was just mentioning, I actually have SOME experience with magical crops," she replied, but then dropped her nose. "Not sure how much it applies though. Magic does as magic likes, and you sort of have to figure your way through it no matter how much sense it make or don't make."

"That's how it's been, yeah. Figuring out that the trees were responding to the pony workers themselves took some careful, lucky observation, and then it's sort of been trial-by-error from there. There's got to be some sense to how the trees... 'feel' though. I guess."

"I ain't no stranger to showing trees some affection, neither," chirped the farm pony, unafraid to admit it. "It's sort of an old Apple family tradition: if you want them to grow their best you gotta treat'em like family. Like sisters and brothers. Like your own foals, even!"

Quickly the tale unfolded far beyond the needed limits, unwinding like a spool of thread tied to her tail while she galloped.

"Course some of them are more like cousins, and a few more even like those... really sketchy cousins who show up at every reunion that, you know, the more you look at them the more you're pretty sure they ain't ACTUALLY a part of the family, but nopony won't say nothing about it so you just got to trot with it no matter how it makes you feel. You deal with'em cause you have to – and show some manners, of course – but most of the time you find yourself wishin' they wasn't there.

"Offering a little of your personality does great with the trees you actually get along with though! 'Cept... it really makes it rough when it comes time to bring'em down, too. Grover was never the same after Palmyra had to be felled, but it was just her time, you know? They were neighbors for years and years, but once she was just a stump in the ground; hoo dang, did those apples drop from Grover like tears! I spent so many hours trying to tell him that she led such a charmed life; bushels upon bushels of delicious apples, more great-grandsaplings than she could count, and then in the end she even made a darn solid rocker for Granny! But grumpy Grover just pulled away more and more every day...

"Oh, and that's not even mentionin' such heartbreaking things as seeing Barkley with his two boys, standing tall and proud and fulla apples, but they just don't look nothing like their daddy at all, so you're pretty sure old Silvia done gone and pollinated outside the proper confines of her marital arrangement without ever telling him. Worse is that it really seems like he knows it too, but can't admit it to himself! Poor guy; it tugs at ya, right here. And of course you can't even breathe a wink of the truth about it to him cause if you did he'd just fall to pieces; literally; leaves everywhere! I mean, it happens every autumn anyway but-... well, it-... ah, you know what I mean."

Charming as her long-winded aside was, Till didn't want to waste the lengthy pause she put in for a breath. Politely as he could he wedged himself in.

"I'll, uh... try to keep your experiences in mind as our orchard here moves forward."

"Aw shucks," Applejack took her little spoonful of shame in stride, "I know some of all that was probably... more in my head than anything. I mean, they're just apple trees and all. But my point is that you'll be your most serious about your work if you treat your trees with some real feelings. That little devotion helps you feel them out just a bit more."

Her eyes went up and her chin grew itchy with thought.

Carefully she suggested, "Maybe-... I don't know... Throw magic into the mix and... maybe these trees here are awake enough that they're just trying to feel YOU out a bit more? Instead of the other way around, I mean."

He nodded, very weightsome. And the thought wasn't new to him.

"They WATCH...," he said distantly. "It's only when you think about it that you feel it, but they do..."

"Hmm... what for, though?"

"We'll see, I guess. Soon, hopefully. Remember how I told you we're going to keep about a quarter of the next harvest?"

"Sure."

"Well," the stallion perked up with optimism, "that's the worst case. That number has been pretty steady for awhile now after all my finagling with who's scheduled for orchard duty brought it slowly up there. That method's stalled out, but for this latest cycle I've implemented some new changes and we're going to see if maybe they bring that number up some. Here's hoping, anyway. What I've done is... actually something a little in line with what you were talking about."

"That so?" Applejack bent her ears with keen interest.

"Yeah," Till was eager to share his own story.

"So, there's these two orchard workers under my charge, and they're REALLY into each other. For an island like this, where even strangers... get VERY close to each other regularly... well, that kind of genuine romance is actually pretty rare. (Don't tell Venus I said that, by the way; she has all sorts of big romantic aspirations for this place. Love is love, though. You can't fake your way into that no matter how much you want to please another pony.)

"Anyway, these two lovebirds were so deep into each other's eyes all the time that I usually tried to schedule them apart. They just didn't get a lot done when they were both in the orchard at the same time, cause they were a lot more dedicated to each other than to their jobs. But it got a little difficult to keep them ALWAYS apart when I had to start trimming ponies from the schedule that the orchard really hated.

"Then, one day, they were out there together, taking one of their many unsanctioned breaks to be... boldly romantic under one of the trees. And I noticed something. There they were: laying against the trunk, hooves all over the place, kissing like there wasn't any other pony in the world to watch them. (Seriously; we have a WHOLE HOTEL here and they couldn't take it to a room.) I don't actually disapprove of their happiness or anything, but there was a job to do so I was about to go playfully chide them into getting back to work when... one of the corcandeo fruits popped right out of the tree and clonked one of'em on the head.

"No doubt it surprised them and ruined their moment, but it REALLY surprised the heck out of me because it was too early for the tree to have been dropping anything. I thought at first it was just some more bad magic; the fruit was probably rotten to the core or something. But no: it was ripe, and INCREDIBLY healthy-looking! And when I cut it open just to check? Probably the best sample of the fruit that we've ever grown!

"I FELT the trees watching them...

"So this cycle I've scheduled them together as much as possible instead. I've asked them to spend some of their work hours being clingy around the trees. Encouraged them to take all their dates in the orchard. I've even asked Venus and Vesuvius to help out by spending as much time there as they could, too! And some of the trees seem to really be responding to it!"

Yet he suddenly emphasized almost coldly, "SOME."

The farm pony raised an eyebrow as the stallion sighed.

"You'd think that LOVE would be a big part of the answer, all things considered," he said. "I mean, it FEELS SO RIGHT for that to be it. But no. It's not it for every tree. In fact, some of the trees actually seem UPSET by it. Turned off. Disgusted. For as much as some of the trees have responded so well... I think some others have withered from it. So... we'll see if the yield ACTUALLY increases."

"No kiddin'...," mused Applejack.

"Yeah," griped Till. He chewed on his lip and shook his head. "If some of the trees were 'looking' to see love then... I just don't have any idea what those other trees are 'looking' for."

Their mutual silence didn't produce any big revelations, so Applejack lightened the air with some jolly humor.

"Well in any case, it's a doggone riot that part of your job now is commanding ponies to swap spit under a tree!"

"They're not complaining, if that's what you're worried about," Till chuckled.

"Heh heh heh. They take off weekends or sick days?"

"Not yet. They regularly put in overtime!"

"Hah!"

She let the remaining laughter wiggle its way out of her and then, conceding to her thirst, she raised her empty glass in a call for more.

"Something different?" Till picked himself up and asked.

But she responded very casually, "Nah. More of the cider."

"REALLY?" he played a tricky smile.

"Wipe that smile off, Slick! That don't make it praise or nothing!"

"Oh, whatever you say, ma'am," the stallion dutifully refilled her drink.

"You take what you can get, sure, but some proper-made cider would shame this like a dairy cow with a milk allergy—" She took an extra-long, extra-greedy swig of her fresh glass. "—and don't you forget it!"

Humble, humorous, and true, Till responded, "I won't. Hey, I still remember the taste of Mrs. Gold's apples. It would be a delight to get some Apple apples on this island. That's an honest offer."

Flattered, Applejack genuinely questioned, "You don't want a sample or a tour of the farm or negotiations or nothing first?"

"I don't have any reason to doubt you."

"Aw shucks, Slick. ... I reckon it's going to be a deal, then."

"Great!"

And they shook hooves to seal their agreement.

Applejack lifted her glass for another pleasant swig, but as the wave of mediocre cider was about to wash over her lips she froze, stumbling on Till's next words:

"I suppose being able to ACTUALLY make deals with an Apple is another thing that makes me different from Dad."

Slowly the farm pony set her glass down without taking a sip, and her eyebrow lurched up her forehead.

"Uh huh...," she muttered.

"Yeah," Till was all too eager to carry on. "You know he always fumed so badly about Mrs. Gold outselling us, and again and again I kept telling him, 'Dad, what're you going to do? She grows BETTER APPLES. There's no sense competing, so let's work together with her instead! Then we can make EVERYPONY happy!' You know, we're the dominant landowners in the area and your aunt only has this dinky farm. But I just couldn't convince Dad to lease our apple orchard to her; then she would sell her great apples at bigger volumes and we would collect a fair cut for our land. But nope; Dad just COULDN'T let it go. Stubborn, stubborn, stubborn."

Applejack could hardly find the carefullest way to phrase herself and she wound up speaking very directly, "I ain't so sure your choice to be on this island DIDN'T have nothing to do with your dad like you said it didn't."

"What?" the hard turn jerked the bartender from his thoughts.

"You call him stubborn but your mouth keeps running back to him every chance it gets!"

"W-What? I-, uh..."

"You ain't buying apples from me just to prove something to him, are ya?" She was only concerned, not aggressive.

"No!" Till was wounded by the accusation, and he pleaded with her, "I want this island to succeed! It only makes sense to bring in the best produce if we can't grow it ourselves!"

"Well then I just can't figure why you can't let go of him if your heart's truly here."

"He's-... They're-... they're my parents! I love my dad! Why wouldn't I think about them a lot? I miss them!"

"Hey, easy there," Applejack apologized, even though he clearly was more frightened than upset. "It just makes me worried some, is all. Sounds like you got something unsettled."

Till sighed, "We disagreed on a lot of things, he and I. Especially as I got older and he expected me to take on more responsibility for the running the plantation. I would try to do what I thought was best and he'd overule me and argue that it 'wasn't the way the Tills have always done it', and how his father had taught him so-and-so and... we... fought a lot. I just have more memories of that than anything else. It's no big deal."

"Don't sound like no big deal," lamented the farm pony. "He's a bit of a headstrong mule maybe, and a hard stickler for tradition (nothing so wrong with that, by the way; some amount of tradition is good), but I don't think you didn't inherit some of his stiff neck."

"I-... I still write home and TRY to keep in touch with him," the bartender distinguished himself. "He's the one who doesn't write back. Only Mom does."

"You told me your mama thought he was mighty hurt over your leaving, and that's why he don't write."

"'Brokenhearted', yeah," he quoted, but immediately he shook his head. "That's not Dad, though. He's stern. And TOUGH! He doesn't get all gooey like that. He's just miffed because I wanted to do something different again, and he can't let it go."

Applejack grimaced and looked down into her drink, watching the brown swirls as she spun her cider and shook her head. Dismally she groaned, quietly distressed by Till's take on the situation and altogether unhappy.

"What?" her unsatisfied slump drew the stallion's instant concern.

Back and forth the farm pony's eyes went, between her glass and the discomforted bartender. She sighed, swished some cider into her throat, and then set her drink aside.

"... It's like this," she laid out her worries with little reserve, speaking speculatively but openly. "Your papa comes from a long line of tradition; I recognize that. I bet as a colt he just loved everyday of learnin' from your grandpappy every-dang-thing there was to know about being a Till. Ain't nothing nearer and dearer to his heart than all those wonderful memories of the bond he made with his own pop growing up, I wager. And so, when he finally had a colt of his own he was probably so plum excited to share everything what was shared with him with you. All that happiness he remembered from all those good years with his own dad... they was gonna come back around again, and he was going to PASS IT ONTO YOU..."

She shrugged sadly.

"... So I guess it was mighty confusing to him when you turned out to be from a different mold. And that's no knock on you; sure enough you gotta be you, and it's on him to learn who his son ACTUALLY is 'stead of who he wants'em to be. BUT – and this is where I think you're both stubborn as an apple harvest in winter, but HE was showin' the difference between you two – he was LEARNING, wasn't he?"

Till squinted at her, unsure of where her hints led.

"You told me he was giving you assignments farther out at your request," Applejack reminded him. "That it was your idea to invest in this here island but, though he didn't cotton to it none, he put you in charge of figurin' it out anyway. It took him a long while but I think he was finally coming to grips with the fact that you ain't the son he dreamed you were gonna be, but he still knew you were HIS LITTLE PONY. So he was TRYIN' to learn about ya; TRYIN' to figure you out; TRYIN' to let go of his baggage and tighten himself with ya. Maybe you're right that he's all thick-skinned and hardnosed, and so he didn't have no comfortable way for him to talk about it, and sure enough I reckon it scared him to death to walk into something he didn't understand, but he wanted so much to try, for YOUR sake..."

She grew exceedingly soft and quiet.

"... And finally he took the chance on something big: letting you have your way and coming out here. And for that risk... he only got a letter saying that you wasn't coming back..."

Deeply in need of comfort her hoof hugged her glass.

"... I reckon it really DID break his heart. He went into something scary to try and hold onto you... and he LOST you instead. He don't write about it to you cause... he plain don't know how."

"... No, I-... I don't think-...," Till tried to reply, but he couldn't find the ground to stand on. He actually began to tear up slightly, and a small shake entered his breaths. All of a sudden he seized his glass and poured the cherry out of it into his mouth, nibbling away on it while he wordlessly readied himself another drink; something a bit stronger.

"Sorry to wade into matters of such a personal nature; I know we ain't exactly close friends or nothing," Applejack said after they had spent a minute drinking in silence. "I'd just hate to see you and your old pony fall away from each other over a little stubbornness, is all."

Till drained a huge portion of his drink.

"... So," he said, "I really am my dad's little mule, huh? Pigheaded and all?"

"You got different affections, that's for certain; but yeah. Maybe instead of 'pigheaded' we'll call it 'dedicated,' though. That sounds a mite more refined."

The stallion held up a weary smile.

"I never really thought of myself as having his 'dedicated' side, heh."

"Might got it worse than him," the farm pony smirked. "After all, he was actually tryin' to wrap his head around you but here you are still bellyachin' about him!"

Her grin folded over to reveal a rather serious, caring face.

"You're a swell fella, Slick—" She swiftly reconsidered the nickname in favor of one more narrowly tailored. "—Brown Sugar. You aim to please everypony you come across, and I don't think your papa should be any different. You got what it takes to patch things up with your old pony while still being your good-old self, and without giving up the things you want to chase. Just... put a little bit more into figurin' him out, maybe."

For a short while Till reviewed her words. Through all his imagination over the days before Applejack's arrival, this was not something he had guessed would have ever come up. (Though she was right: it had been his fault it had, hadn't it?) Lightly he nodded.

"I suppose this is the kind of homegrown wisdom you pick up on a small farm," he chuckled. "I take it you had plenty of back-and-forth with your parents before you all figured everything out?"

The farm pony didn't respond, taking instead a very sullen stare down into her drink.

The sorrowful cold that radiated from her was far too obvious, and right away the bartender knew he had said something much more penetrating than he had intended. Without her voice it wasn't immediately clear what line he had crossed, but he took clues from her face and eyes, slowly finding his way to the truth. For a brief moment she looked up at him, and just through the very depth of her stare it at last all became clear.

"I'm sorry...," he whispered.

"Don't be," she recovered and shook her head. "They was good ponies. I'm glad to have known them for as little as I got to. All the more reason I'm pushing you on this matter of your own folks." Another thoughtful moment; she traced her hoof around the top of her glass. "... They're not around forever, you know? Don't dally about keeping close to'em."

Again Till nodded through a long silence before he promised, "I'll get another letter out soon. This time I'll try to be a little bit more... honest with myself... while I write. See if I can get Dad to write me back."

"Hey, that's wonderful. Best of luck, Brown Sugar."

She raised her glass. Then he. And they drank.

Their quiet conversation slipped away from more serious things, forgetting orchards of magic trees and the pressures of parental relationships. They moved on to talk about more idly pleasurable things: what makes a best apple, the secrets of cooking squash, Hearth's Warming traditions, and how to make a fine sales pitch to a pony on the fence. The respite of light laughs and casual smiles helped reset them for their next interruption.

Nosedive wandered over to the bar, his face predictably cast towards the ground. He came right up to a stool and hopped onto it, taking up dreary residence at the bar on the extreme opposite side as Applejack. His elbows mounted themselves on the table, and his hooves pressed themselves deep into his cheeks. On his back his wings sagged low, like they were soaked with water and couldn't lift themselves.

Till didn't waste a second, breaking instantly from the farm pony and briskly sliding himself down the bar up to his friend.

"Hey, Dive," he greeted with utmost condolence. "What's up?"

It didn't need to be said. Nosedive blew a hard sigh through his nostrils.

Right away Till turned about and began mixing a remedy; his friend's most favored drink, which would hopefully provide a little cheer.

Applejack politely didn't speak and minded her own business. The nature of what was happening was easy to read, even if the specifics were completely unknown, and she admired Till's compassion and loyalty enough to give him uninterrupted space to work.

Nosedive accepted his drink with the dimmest of thanks and then sipped from it grimly, ignoring the few whispered entreaties of his friend.

From winding trail up to the bell moth's glade and down back to the entertainment stage, Rainbow Dash hadn't spent a single second away from her friends all evening. Now she was at a table receiving laughs from Hulahoof; the party pony was probably more familiar to her than he was! There was nothing the self-pitying pegasus wanted to say and nothing he wanted to hear; he just wanted to drown his bitter defeat in the presence of somepony with a supportive air.

He just didn't want to be alone.

It didn't take long for Till to understand. He rubbed his friend's leg in sympathy before standing aside quietly to let him drink.

And then the bartender remembered Applejack.

He slipped a few steps towards the middle of the bar and introduced, "Applejack. This is my best friend, Nosedive. We grew up together in the Old Commonwealth. I came to the island first, and after I got on board I invited him to come and join up."

"Pleased to meet'cha," the farm pony cordially greeted, tipping her glass towards the pegasus.

He responded with a murmur, true in effort but dead in energy. Barely he lifted his glass towards her before he was attacking it again in small, sad sips. Whatever it was that Till was attempting by drawing in Applejack, the pegasus cared very little.

The chocolate stallion went on to explain to Applejack, "He's... a bit of a fan of your rainbow-maned friend. He actually VOLUNTEERED to be her service pony. But he's been... having some difficulty introducing himself to her. I don't know if you... maybe have some advice for him?" He hardly wanted to sound pressing or too forward, and he maneuvered quite cautiously, "Dive's a good guy but he's never the loudest voice in the room. Your friend—I don't want to make judgments here but—she's kind of-"

"Oooohhhh, say no more," Applejack rolled her eyes so hard it took her head with them. "Whatever you're judging of her, you're judging right, I guarantee it. Girl's got such a one-track mind you could only race a train on it!" She lobbed some bitterness towards Nosedive. "Don't surprise me in the least you couldn't drill a word into her thick skull; like trying to squeeze apple juice from a stone, I tell ya."

The fire was somewhat unexpected for two ponies who were supposed to have been friends, and Till leaned back an inch while asking, "Uh... are we... talking about the same pony?"

"'Bout yea high, tail looks like a rag used to clean up after a jam festival, has a dumb manure-eating grin planted extra low on a face that only a blind mother could love? Yeah, that's her."

Again she turned and spoke to Nosedive, oozing sarcasm.

"You want my advice? Trot right up to her and ram your noggin into hers, full force. There's a SLIGHT chance you might get her attention."

Even the gloomy Nosedive was a bit surprised by all the fierce venom. He and Till exchanged wide-eyed glances.

The chocolate stallion made his way further down the bar, stopping before the farm pony and folding his legs on the bartop.

"Uh... everything alright?" he asked her authentically.

"Aw, peachy as a pie on a window sill in a rainstorm!" Applejack griped.

She stewed in her frustration but finally met with Till's eyes. They were waiting patiently for her to show the same honest seriousness she had just been dealing to him some minutes ago, and at that the farm pony loudly sighed. She shut her eyes and tapped her temple sternly to punch out some of the indignant misery.

"Alright, alright," she groaned, "Rainbow Dash IS a good friend, I admit it. I think highly of her finer qualities. But sometimes there's just no dealin' with her, you understand? She gets in these fightin' moods and then she's like an ornery bull: she sees everything as a target and charges at anything that moves. If you ain't looking to tussle then you got no choice but to just get out the way and wait for her to tire of it."

For a third time she faced Nosedive, and she didn't have for him any good news, "Sorry to say that if you're looking to get some face time with her then your best bet might be to just challenge her to something; it don't matter what. Competition is the only thing in her head right now and she's always looking for another pony to humiliate."

The pegasus, still dour, retreated into thought. He continued to take small, regular nips of his drink.

Till, meanwhile, bowed with thanks towards Applejack.

"I'm very sorry to hear about your rough patch with your friend," he said.

"Eh. It happens from time to time," excused the farm pony, somewhat harsh. She glowered at nothing in particular as she briefly thought on it, then moaned half-to-herself, "'Course her little hissy fit this time is setting a new dang record. Gosh, how many WEEKS has it been? Feels like I don't know her no more..."

When she spied the bartender studying her carefully she played it off, "Ain't no big deal."

Till remembered her exact response to him when he had said the very same words, and in friendly humor he spun his voice like hers and replied, "Don't sound like no big deal."

She popped up like he had stomped on her hoof, and she glared at his cheeky smile. The thoughts whirling in her head still had her slightly too dizzy to grasp what he was playing at, but she more than felt the way he was ribbing her.

"I sincerely apologize to dig into your personal matters," he still needled her, co-opting more of her words (though he at least ceased fooling with her accent). "I know we aren't close friends or anything. But I'd just hate to see you and a good friend have a falling out because of a little stubbornness, is all."

At last she began to latch onto his turnabout suggestion. She was none too happy to have her own weapons turned against her. Bit by bit her nose came up and her brow came down, crushing her eyeballs.

"You're a great pony, Applejack," he only continued his mimicry, and his grin was just too perfectly weaselly. "You're honest with everypony you come across. You've got what it takes to fix things up with your friend. Maybe just... try a little more to figure her out."

She matched his innocently fluttering eyelashes with the foulest leer of a jack-o'-lantern, evil and watchful. Against the sassy turn of his lips she wielded the crumbling frown of a mountain going bald. And, changing not an inch of her face and for not a moment releasing him from her sour-tempered stare, she slowly chugged down the rest of her cider. Glass finished, she dropped it onto the bartop with a loud clack, firmly planted her hoof upon its top, and screeched it steadily across the counter towards him.

"Alright, FINE. Have it your way, Brown Sugar. I'll give talkin' it out with her a shot," the farm pony grumbled, and she retrieved her hat before pulling it down hard onto her head. More mildly she muttered aside, "And why not? I promised Twilight I would anyway."

Picking up her glass Till jiggled it and promised, "There'll be a drink here waiting for you when you get back."

Then he leaned far over the bartop, and though he appeared in every way thankful to her for her good-natured decision, he couldn't help but jab her with one last tease. Dark went his face, and sinister went his eyes.

"Vengeance is MINE."

Chapter 31: Measure

Body goes up another floor
Each step more, falls a drop of sweat
A place for these hooves to explore
'Til they're sore, and so aching wet

Higher, and higher!
You're the tower, and the sky!
Higher, and higher!
Feel the power, gasp your sigh!
Desire, much higher
Then the thunder will reply!

These breaths so warm against your skin
Air so thin, above the night glow
You take me into heaven when
You begin, and the world shrinks below

Higher, and higher!
The sights now blur; make me fly!
Higher, and higher!
You're the tower that I'll try!
Entire, our desire
There's no sun where we will lie!

The stars take flight...
The moon's blue light...
This moment's right!
At the top! This top!
Of your spire!

Higher, and higher...

Gallowayo's nervousness – his reluctance, his general inexperience – didn't show. The stage fast became his own and he poured himself over it. His band played from far in the back shadows, hardly there at all save for their music. Only the drum of the surf contested the roaring coming from the stage's speakers, but in the end Gallowayo's voice was stronger. It conquered the night.

Every song received the full throat of his soul. His voice stretched over an impressive range which he was able to slide up and down with ease, flying soft where appropriate but humming hard when necessary, and crying fierce at times but crooning smooth in the right moments. No movement of his tone was arbitrary; he reached for intensity when he knew he wanted it and he blasted into those heights with the simple turn of a key, as if all of his meekness had been a mere coat he had worn only to have discarded it at this exact moment. Some of his strongest shouts needed his full body, shaking him sharply all the way down to the tip of his tail and the bottoms of his hooves.

And the music's power moved him about constantly; it was little wonder they had cleared the whole stage for him. He paced; he wandered; he rolled back and forth across the front of the stage in whatever way the sounds told him to, and his hooves instinctively clopped with the beat. When things were slower he slunk towards the shadows in back, singing softly out of the darkness, but whenever everything flared up he burst into the light and nimbly danced about the stage.

All his energy worked him into a sweat, and under the stage lights his body glistened. His mane especially became drenched with perspiration, growing tangled with curls and often clinging to his face and neck in twisted ways. Yet the show went on regardless of whatever tricky knots or salty weaves got in his way. One lash of his head was usually enough to whip his mane out of his way, and it cast out a mist whenever he did. Eventually sweat even began to seep into his eyes, and he squinted like he had to peer through a downpour of rain. But still he stopped for nothing, so intimate with the stage and so under the direction of the music flowing through the air that he could persevere blind.

If he had ever pretended to have been a rock star when he was a colt, then all those hours of performing alone before imaginary crowds now served him well. There were less exciting shows at bigger name concerts.

Down amidst the spread of tables on the boardwalk, all of Gallowayo's hard work tended to be alternately tuned in and out by the audience. They paid attention when it pleased them, or otherwise they let the noise become an energetic ambiance to whatever else they were doing. Sometimes the songs struck them enough to listen closely or cheer, but other times it was just good old fun to need to shout in order to talk to their tablemates. No particular space had been cleared below the stage for dancing, so things never really rose above ponies wiggling at their seats.

At the back, near the center, James shared a table alone with Prism. The happy pony thrived in the exuberant environment, matching its enthusiasm and energy just as well as she had matched the calm and quiet of the Pleasure Gardens. It was absolutely her pleasure to pitch her voice loudly to the man.

"But it just tastes so terrible!" she laughed at his choice of drink. Her magic raised her own glass to show off her preference: essentially a liquid fruit salad with a cheerful little umbrella in it, free of any alcohol.

"Well, you get used to it after awhile!" James answered. And to prove he enjoyed his drink he took a sip, yet he almost snorted his swig back out when he saw Prism poke her tongue at him in playful disgust. Coughing, he clamped his hand over his nose and mouth to try and suppress the burning in his nostrils.

"Looks delicious!" the pony teased of his reaction.

Hard wheezes cleared the heat out in his throat, coming between his bursts of laughter.

"It's good," he assured her. "It's good. This was mixed well."

Once more he sipped, and this time he pulled it off without difficulty. Then he raised his glass to her.

She did likewise, and together they drank.

But her sip was much shorter. Carefully she let her glass down, and she looked at her partner with more than a little worry.

"You are going to be careful... right?"

Till's warning had been easy to shrug off, but now this was the second serious warning coming from a pony, and all over what was only one small glass of booze. It was enough to make the man lightly quip, "Geez, I feel like I'm in a teen drama. I'll be fine! It's just a little bit to ease my nerves!"

Between his words he slipped a fast glance at Pinkie Pie and all the loud, non-drunken revelry which was going on at her table. When his eyes came back from his aside he was surprised to see Prism had withdrawn into her concern even deeper. There was some hopefulness inside of her still – enough at least to keep her body held up – but her head had been lured towards the floor as if anxious whispers were coming from somewhere under the table.

The curve of her neck was exhausted. The sag of her shoulders was weary. The turn of her frown was tired.

"... It's me, isn't it? I'm making you uncomfortable."

Genuinely James was surprised.

"N-No. No, not-... not at all."

His floppy tongue started slapping noisily against his teeth before it simply tied itself up in a knot. He plugged his drink into his mouth to silence his bumbling foolishness and prevent any nonsense from spilling out.

His denial hadn't alleviated Prism's worry. Not in the slightest. An unhappy fold of doubt pulled down her brow, and her eyes could only push it back up in tiny, brief glances towards the man.

Each hurt look felt like a stab to James and, lowering his glass down slowly, he was able to admit, "Alright, well... yeah... I'm a little... uh, uncomfortable around you. You're, uh... You're sort of WAY more forward than most ponies that I've dealt with. That is, uh, about... certain things, anyway. And, I guess... it's had me off balance..."

The scattershot answer didn't help. Each jumbled, disconnected phrase tumbled out more like an excuse than a reason. Very obviously the pony regarded them as such, responding to each with a gaze that grew only more and more miserably downcast.

James froze his dumb mouth. Then, once he could feel it again, he took a breath.

"But-...," his tone changed, "... but... you know... truthfully..."

The shyest thirteen year-old might have shown more grace, but the man did manage to pull the words out of himself.

"... it's been kind of... nice. It's been nice feeling these things again, after all the stuff I've gone through. It's been good."

The remark hit both Prism AND James as a surprise. For the man it was specifically because of how much of a sudden feeling of relief washed into him; like a lie had been planted deep in him and left to rot but he had finally found the tiny valve of honesty to release the awful pressure.

Abrupt thoughts quickly spun through his head, out of his control. All the quiet moments with Prism came back: holding her hoof as the bells rang in the glittering darkness; soft words being exchanged while at rest in the secluded garden; on the beach, sitting with the warm sand under him while at the same time under her warm, long stares...

Prism meanwhile was quite confused.

"But-... I don't-... You-... you look so uncomfortable right now," she said. And when he answered her with a perplexed look she pointed at him, "You keep wiggling around and fidgeting. You were doing it a lot at lunch, too. I mean, it looks-... it looks like, maybe... you don't want to be here..."

Truly James had no idea what she was talking about. Certainly he had now admitted to being nervous, but he had never thought of secreting himself away, nor had he felt ultimately regretful of the island venture. However, per her suggestion, he took stock of his own body and swiftly discovered that she was right! He was squirming quite badly where he sat, shifting almost nonstop.

But it wasn't for the reasons which she had thought; or at least, not completely so. It was more simple than all that:

He had no chair.

It had been the same situation back during lunch. The low-set tables were built for creatures the size and shape of ponies, not tall men like him. To maintain an adequate height he had been half-sitting on one of the short posts which lined the back of the boardwalk, and the stupid thing was always sliding up his butt. Only someone with superior posterior nimbleness would have ever found the balance sweet spot on one of those things, and a butt-ninja the man was not.

"Oh! Oh, no no no," he laughed, "it's just these tables."

"The... tables?"

"Yeah," he stood up and explained. "Tables are a problem that come up with me now and again here in Equestria. Usually I do okay, when stumps or stools or whatever are provided. I can squat or slouch and it isn't so bad. But when you get places like this where ponies are expected to just park their tails, I don't fit so well. So I've just been trying to make due with this... thing back here. You know, rubbing splinters into my butt."

First a struggle came over the pony, with her head tilting every which way as she tried to parse a concept so thoroughly alien to her pony worldview. But movement took over quickly, with pieces of perspective falling into logical place one after the other like stones laying out a road to wisdom. And at last came a very happy understanding; one which popped suddenly and drove away all the fears with a sudden burst of sunshine.

"Ah ha ha, is that all?" her smile flashed so brightly. Every color on her, from radiant eyes to rainbow mane, sparkled.

"Yeah," he nodded.

That awful feeling pressed on his insides again; that rotting pressure.

"I mean... mostly, yeah," he corrected himself. "And..."

A few more images of bells, gardens, and beaches passed through his mind.

"... I can deal with no chairs. Something like that isn't going to keep me from spending time with you."

Prism jumped so suddenly out of her seat that she practically landed on top of the table.

"I-, I can get you something more comfortable to sit on!" she offered ecstatically.

Her horn started to brilliantly flash, outshining the rolling lights of the stage show. Her careless magic scrambled around eagerly for anything the man could use as a seat. Random objects around the area rattled, wiggled, and hopped about as her flailing magic bumped into them during her impulsive search.

"Oh, you-, you don't really have to," James said.

"No, no! I'm supposed to make sure you're comfortable!"

She was so overly excited that it didn't seem like she was really even processing anything her magic grabbed. Plates lifted and dropped, clapping against their tables. A snack bowl rattled, spilling a few treats before it landed. A few party favors came spinning out of the little tins which held them. Her magic was like an army of newborn puppies sniffing about not for any particular scent but because they had only just discovered that they had noses!

The man laughed, "Really, you don't. I'll manage."

Exhilarated, relieved, pleased, and overeager to the utmost limit, she responded, "No, I want you to be comfortable! Just-, just... give me a moment!"

She finally seemed to realize that the task of acquiring something chair-like for such an oddly-shaped creature would require some actual thinking, and she recollected her magic in her horn. After only a short moment of thought an answer came to her, and she beamed at her guest.

"I'm sure we've got some boxes that would be just right! Somewhere-... somewhere in the back." Her neck spun and pivoted so that she could stare at the stage, or more specifically, the large storage area which was hidden behind it. "It'll just be a minute or two! And then-, then-, then, you know, we could sit down comfortably and-, and... talk! About anything!"

Each of her blinks had her diamond eyes gleaming. Each of her words was a elated wink of her mouth. Each of her breaths came out with an accompanying throb her chest, gasping with more ready enthusiasm than could be found in a hundred lovers waiting for nightfall.

And it was all for his sake.

"Okay... Thank you...," he bowed his head and smiled.

"Alright!"

Prism stumbled as she threw herself away from the table.

"I'll be right back! This'll only be a minute! This'll-!"

She dashed away from him without even finishing, brusque by way of buzzing exuberance. She might as well have been drunk; she almost collided with several sitting ponies while maneuvering through the tables, too often blindly charging ahead while peeking back at the man in fast, glittering glances. Her luck held enough to carry her past all the obstructions, and then she quickly peeled around the stage and out of view, but not before offering one final sunny look back at James.

The man chuckled to himself. The laughs began in a place of amusement, but a slow change overtook them; deeper; softer. A warmth came up under his face and across his nose, and it wasn't from the alcohol. He scooped up his drink and guzzled some down so that he would at least have that as an excuse for how flushed his face was, and he lodged his sitting post back up his butt to get uncomfortable again.

Every day I'm up at dawn
Working through these lightless hours
In a life that makes me yawn
Not a scent to any flowers
No taste, no sight, no beauty here
Just this old world cold and plain
Mind is drowned in murky blear
I've seen enough! Let it wane!

Wake me up into a dream
I don't want to sleep anymore
There's something more that we mean
Something we've never known before

You come at first with a whisper
Calling me to a fantasy
Inside I can feel your kiss stir
A realer life entirely
What was the truth, now is wrong
And love before? A thin thread
You're all the words, and the song
This real illusion demanded

Wake me up, we'll share a dream
In a sleep so unlike before
Our bodies are more than they seem
There's something old we must restore

The music blended into the air, becoming a part of the melange which entered into James as he sat there. He listened, but he didn't listen. He watched the stage, but he wasn't watching. One finger rubbed the tip of his glass when he wasn't sipping from it, and when he did go for a taste he wasn't tasting anything.

Prism had a smile which really invited happiness right in.

Or was that only his imagination playing tricks with her politeness?

Her personality was just so giving, and it was clear that she was hoping for the same from him in return.

Or maybe he was reading too much into her role as a concierge of sorts.

And those legs! Good Lord! With that tail right up there?

But, then again, he had always had a thing the backsides of ladies.

And...

Maybe it WASN'T so weird to feel it for someone with all the same qualities as any lovely person, but they walked on four legs instead of two?

James rubbed his neck, then his forehead. Sweat was raining off of him, enough that after peeling his hands away he caught the smell of a wet jungle coming off of them. His damp outfit was stuck to him. The autumn clothes were really way, way too warm for a place like this.

But SHE really liked the way they looked a whole lot better than that summer garbage Rarity had put together. Really, it should have counted as paying back the seamstress's generosity just having had accepted that awful gift! It had also been quite generous of the man to have worn it and endured it as long as he had. How could Rarity have asked for anything more?

There was a warm, soppy chill that ran through him, and he felt a little disgusting all over. He took an even larger draw from his drink than usual. Only a thick puddle remained in the glass afterwards.

The clank of another glass onto the table snapped him to attention.

Twilight's magic had planted her drink while the unicorn herself pulled up a seat at his table (that is, she sat her tail down on the floor).

"Hey, Twilight," James greeted curiously, a little out of sorts from his pondering but in no way harmed by his friend's sudden appearance.

She didn't respond to him, except to throw a stare his way that had the oddest look of danger and... thrill? Like a gaze ahead, eyes widening, at the moment the roller coaster was about to gently crest into its first big drop.

In she breathed, then out. And then again, deliberately slower for good measure. She mounted a hoof onto the table to hold herself steady, but the hoof didn't sit calmly and she kept moving it about. The glass she had set down she twisted in place with her magic, wiggling it around only centimeters from its initial position, still trying to find the exactly perfect spot for it.

"Um... Twilight?" the man uttered.

She raised a hoof; a 'just a moment, please.' Then she only continued her little incessant acts of arranging herself.

It was stupefying to watch. Something was so very wrong. What made it most obvious was how each little adjustment was half as much as the one immediately prior. She was asymptotically approaching 'prepared' but never quite getting there. However, something was also very right. There was inquisitive energy which James plainly recognized. He had seen it in her a dozens of times before.

Finally she hit a point where she paused and sat half-frozen. Below steely, but above anxious, only her eyes moved about. Then, gently, her magic grabbed her drink and held it to her lips. She took in one last breath. All at once, glass, head, and neck tipped back. Far, far back.

She downed the whole thing in one go with several immense chugs.

The glass floated down onto the table again, drained so clean that it was dry. She wiped her mouth before she let the tension out of her body with a huge, relieving gasp.

"Alright," Twilight said. "I'm ready."

"... For what?" asked James.

"To talk about s-s-s-s-"

All of her preparation crumbled apart as soon as she hit that one word. She cut free her failed attempt, whipped her spine straight, and restarted more firmly.

"To talk about se-se-se-sss-"

Every fiber within her resisted her effort to speak it; every part of herself except for her curious mind rose up in revolt. Her teeth tried to dig themselves into her lips to hold her mouth shut, her tongue tried to lasso her own throat and crush it into silence, and her forehooves instinctively went for her chest to beat the air out of it. But she pressed on, straining even more to restart again.

"To talk about-... To talk about se-... To talk about se-se-se-...!"

A single spasm blasted through her, tip to tip, shocking every muscle into a tense state. Her body might have rather shut down than allowed her to have openly spoken something so forbidden.

But then, just as suddenly, she conquered the resistance. She rose above whatever was in her that was trying to steer her away.

Collected, in control, and immediately relaxed, she looked James right in the eyes.

"... To talk about... sex."

"Heeeeey, Applejack!"

"Howdy, Pinkie..."

The farm pony's grim hello didn't even include a look at her pink friend. Her eyes rested solely and sorely on another one of the ponies at the table.

And for her part, Rainbow Dash was just as leery.

"Hey, Applejack...," she said, cautiously and hanging a slow weight onto the greeting.

Hulahoof was quite enthused, however. The more, the merrier!

"Ho-ho-hey! Welcome to the par-tay table! I'm Hulahoof!" He stretched forward a wing in greeting which Applejack didn't bother shaking, to no ill effect on the happy pony's mood. "So, Applejack! Major-fantastic to meet you! You've got some great friends! Like happy-clouds-and-cheering-crowds great! We've just been having a blast with each other! Take a seat and join us!"

"Yeah!" Pinkie Pie enthusiastically agreed. "All the party ponies are at this table, AND EVERYPONY'S INVITED!" Her big grin was on a crane being thrown about like a wrecking ball.

"Kind of ya to invite," Applejack answered, still dark and still fixed on Rainbow Dash, "but I—"

"—Haven't eaten yet?" Hulahoof finished for her. He whirled a plate of fruity treats before the farm pony. "Have an apple snack, Applejack!"

"No, I—"

"—Came to play?"

He spilled out a few confusing-looking items from a glittery bag: rubber balls and plastic rings, some small but broad-mouthed cups, a bit of fishing wire tied to a porcelain fruit basket, and some other even less sensible playthings.

"We got some apple knacks!"

"Um... What? I—"

"—Need something more challenging?" He produced a piñata shaped and colored like himself but which depicted him as comically ill from overeating candy. He also pulled out a bat and blindfold. "Try and give it an apple whack!"

This time Applejack knew better than to respond, but the sheer insanity of what she was experiencing did finally break her icy gaze away from Rainbow Dash.

Seriously.

What the fig-eating hog bunk was wrong with this guy?

No more deterred than before, Hulahoof just kept on guessing:

He planted a tall wooden stand next to her, its pegs heavy with headwear, and he seized and tossed her hat up onto it.

"Need an apple rack?"

Next came an island tote bag, stylized with an image of the resort, which he dangled before her.

"Would you like a complimentary apple pack?"

He whipped out a pair of running shoes, laces tied together.

"Gotta race around the apple track?"

Then came a toothbrush.

"Here to take care of some apple plaque?"

Then from out of thin air he conjured a real, live shrunken animal no bigger than a hunk of fruit, tenderly setting the woolly creature down on the table.

"Care to pet my apple yak?"

At an apple lack for words, Applejack looked to her pink friend.

But Pinkie Pie was eagerly nodding along to everything the blue pegasus offered. He was her dear, adored, prized new pet that she was showing off to all of her friends, knowing in her heart of hearts that they would share the same wondrous delight for his antics that she did. She had only a massive smile for the farm pony, bright and bold and blissful, but goofy as heck.

And when Applejack turned back to take a look at Hulahoof (who was STILL presenting her with random nonsense), she saw the same goofy grin on him. Only somehow rendered worse.

She went back and forth between their nutty visages, like she was caught between a funhouse mirror and a funhouse mirror being reflected in ANOTHER funhouse mirror. There was her lively, endearing friend, and then there was a blue version of that, only more twistingly-lively and less... anything else.

Finally Applejack gasped aloud, "Well make me a tater and mash me up! I didn't think it were possible!"

"He's the best me I've ever met!" Pinkie Pie agreed. She could tell: Applejack was impressed.

Retrieving her hat and straightening it back on her head, the farm pony apologized, "Look, I ain't staying. I'm just here to talk to Rainbow, alright?"

Her brisk remark was at last enough to kill the blue pegasus' pep, though he remained cordial, if a very bright shade of glum. He began to scoop up his many scattered things, pausing only to give Applejack some small, understanding nods and a closed-lip smile.

But as soon as she was turned away from him he leaned deeply into Pinkie Pie and masked his mouth with his hoof, pushing loudly whispered words to the pink pony, "Guess she needs me to cut her some apple slack!"

It tickled Pinkie Pie, at least a little bit. Enough to lighten some of her worry as she eyed her two friends.

Rainbow Dash leaned back where she sat, resting herself with an utter nonchalance that was betrayed by her suspicious glare.

Applejack, no less chilly, leaned in and asked confidentially, "Maybe we could take this somewhere more private-like?"

"Why? What's this about?" the pegasus grunted. She offered back not one sign of yielding.

"Oh. Gonna be like that, huh?"

The farm pony glared hard, but then she peeked at the other table guests. The pink and blue ponies hadn't resumed all the comical banter and lighthearted tomfoolery that had distinguished their table since the beginning of the show. They at least tried to politely appear engaged in only themselves, but there was no question that they were monitoring closely the distraction before them.

But what did Applejack care?

"Fine," she stiffened her neck and said. "I can wrestle pigs in the mud pit, audience or no. It's no sweat off my flank."

After all, the source of the problem was Rainbow Dash, not herself. As the honest and forthright one she had nothing to be ashamed of.

"It's like this, Rainbow: you and I need to have a talk about the not-so-prime-like state of our friendship. Weren't my call to do it like this, but my mouth done made some promises that it has to cash, so let's just get it over with."

The pegasus put on a sour expression.

"Oh, so, is THAT was this is about?" she equipped herself with an incredible mix of hostile boredom. "YEAH, we need to have a talk."

Applejack grumbled, "Forgive me if I'm doubting you even know what I'm talking about."

And equally abrasive the reply came back, "Oh, I know what you're talking about. Do you know what I'm talking about?"

"Assuming we ARE talking about the same thing, you gonna be a grown enough pony to talk about it like adults do?"

"Well, I dunno. Are YOU going to put on your big filly bridle and get up early in the morning and eat your wheaties so YOU can win the race like a professional?"

"That don't even-!"

Applejack clenched her teeth and bashed her hoof into her temple. Pressing in hard, she smudged the hoof down her snout and off her nose.

"Alright, forget all the bickering! Let's just cut straight to the core: there's a problem with how we been getting along these past few weeks. Namely, we AIN'T been getting along! Can we agree on that much at least?"

Rainbow Dash sat up. She still had a warrior's grit. But...

"... Yeah," her answer softened. Ever so slightly.

"Well... good to hear."

That tiny little crack – that blinking little ray of an opening – was an immediate relief to the farm pony. All the walls gently came down, a quiet but happy sigh floated out of her, and she filled with the sweetness of an apple. She sat herself down next to the table, facing her friend while as pleasant as can be.

"It hasn't been real great," she said sympathetically. "It never is when we don't get along."

"... Yeah," Rainbow Dash said again, softer still. Her eyes rummaged around the floorboards for a moment before lifting, and she admitted, "... I've missed hanging out with you, you know?"

"Heh. Me too, Rainbow."

The farm pony wiggled her head in embarrassment. It all seemed so stupid now, looking back. Even if the competitive kick which had gotten into Rainbow Dash had been so much stronger than usual, the pegasus had always been a tight friend. That friendship wouldn't have really meant much if such a little disagreement had been the straw to have broken the pony's back. There was no good reason Applejack shouldn't have tried simply talking to her friend honestly in the first place!

"It really feels like it's been weeks since we've done anything together," Rainbow Dash said.

"It has been," answered Applejack.

"Yeah, wow," the pegasus marveled. She seemed equally ashamed, something weighing her down. But at the same time she had enough awareness to crack a sad, silly smile. "That bites."

"Sure does."

"Like, hard."

"Like a hungry gator hankerin' for a handout."

"Yeah. That."

"Yup."

"..."

"So..."

"So...?"

"So... like...," Rainbow Dash carefully offered a hoof, almost as a test, "... friends?"

"Haha, of course!" the farm pony pounded the available hoof. "But we've ALWAYS been friends, fly-brain! Just takes a little doing to steer the friendship back onto course when the wind drifts."

Rainbow Dash blew an entertained snort, considered her friend for a moment, and then, in an uncharacteristic move (and almost in a magnanimous way), invited Applejack to bring herself in for a hug.

Gladly she did, and they fast grabbed each other, bopping their chests and slapping their backs once.

Victory horns blared as they pulled apart, provided in sudden surprise by the table audience. The two party ponies now had flashy party hats sitting over their manes and party horns with paper tubes blowing out of their mouths, and they were going more than a little crazy with their cranky party horns. And that was before they pelted the forgiving friends with blasts of confetti.

"Yeah, yeah," Applejack worked out a pleased laugh. She had to take off her hat and really give it a good, hard whip to get it clean, casting away a colorful rainfall of paper.

With a hefty shake of her body and one strong beat of her wings, Rainbow Dash was able to throw off all of her confetti in a spray.

"Hehe, awesome! I'm so glad that's finally over!" she said.

"Me too!" the farm pony agreed heartily. "All much ado about nothing, and it was putting a mighty damper on this here vacation!"

"Yeah, you said it! But everything can go back to being totally sweet now that you've finally apologized!"

"Ah, well, it'll be good to—"

Applejack froze and blinked.

"—Say what now?"

"You've been acting like a complete flank-face all this time," Rainbow Dash calmly explained, "and I couldn't figure out why. So I'm just relieved that you finally ponied up and apologized about being such a dumb jerk over everything for so long."

"Oh," Applejack intoned quite gratingly, "is THAT all?"

The pegasus nodded as if it were the most plain and obvious thing in the world.

"Yeah. You can definitely get a little crabby sometimes, but somepony must've really spun the dial up to one hundred and eleven cause you've been a real beach these past weeks! Glad to have you back to normal, AJ!"

Even over the thumping screams of the stage speakers the gnawing of the farm pony's teeth could be heard. She ground them down more finely than any block of wood she had ever sanded smooth. But she kept her cool; her bubbling-hot, boiling-over-the-edge cool.

"I'm sure what you meant to say," she squeezed out of her snarling mouth, "is that WE'VE BOTH made some mistakes communicatin', and YOU'RE sorry for YOUR part."

"Me? What?" laughed Rainbow Dash. It was a big laugh too, sprouting up from deep in her belly; the kind normally reserved for Pinkie Pie's hilarious antics.

"Yes, you!" snapped Applejack.

There finally was a serious turn in the pegasus' expression. But it wasn't a sorry turn.

"What did I do?"

"Ya been acting like a small-feathered hen who got something to prove to her brood, that's what! Always picking fights and lookin' to tussle! And you certainly got a lot of nerve to pretend like it's all my fault when you've been the real fine jerk through everything!"

"Real nice, Applejack! Calling ME a jerk just because I called YOU one first!"

"You're a stubborn mule is what you are!"

"I know you are but what am I?!"

Pinkie Pie's elongated body reached all the way over the table, almost stretching herself between the two bickering friends. Again and again she blew into her party horn, so much more rapidly than before. The paper tube was shooting out faster than a jackhammer as the pink pony desperately tried to fill the air with the happiest honks her little horn could muster.

'It's a party, ha ha ha!' 'We're having fun! Yaaay!' 'We're definitely not arguing right now! Whee!'

But despite the tube unfurling again and again between their battling gazes, the two ponies didn't blink as they continued to verbally wrestle with each other.

"Oh, so we gotta turn this little set-to into another official Rainbow-Dash-goes-for-the-gold contest, huh?!"

"What the hay! First off: YOU'RE the one acting all Rarity-on-a-bad-day-without-her-makeup! Second: I could TOTALLY beat you in ANY argument, muzzled AND with both wings tied behind my back!"

"A muzzle, huh?! Good idea! Gimme a spell and I'll find one! Then we can shut you up for good!"

"Yeah, let's talk about shutting up! How about you shut up with saying this is my fault?! You know, I kept TRYING to hang with you, but YOU were the one always stomping off, or PRETENDING you had other things to do, or LYING about needing to be somewhere else!"

That particular charge got deep under Applejack's skin. She activated her hat; the back-half nudged skywards like a scorpion's stinger going up, and the front-half pushed her brow down into furious folds.

"Now you listen here, you cantankerous canary! It's one thing to be a right pain in the rear end but it's a whole 'nother bushel of apples to impugn my honesty! You take it back this instant or so help me I'll show you why Big Mac leaves the biggest apple trees to me come bucking season!"

Rainbow Dash waggled her hoof in the air, simulating a prattling mouth, and she spoke in a low, squeaky, mock voice, "Look at me! I'm Applejack! I say that my friend starts everything but here I am challenging her to a wrestling match! Which I'd totally lose, by the way!"

"You-!!"

Applejack was ready to pop. Her hat would shoot into the night sky from the top of her head exploding in a column of steam. Gouts of boiling blood would spurt from the corners of her eyeballs. Her hooves would blast right off, and the streams of crackling fire burning out from the holes left behind would rocket her straight into her friend so that she could knock that infuriating infant of a pony into orbit.

And then suddenly it was like a rock appeared in the road and knocked her speeding wheels off course, guiding her wagon off the trail. Her anger hit a limit it couldn't pass, and instead it was somehow redirected away. She sizzled. She growled. Her whole body prickled with rage.

But she didn't burst.

"FINE!" she hollered, turning aside. "Keep acting like a flat-brained filly for all I care! Enjoy your vacation... just leave me the heck out of it!"

And she went, landing each beat of her harsh trot with an especially hard clop.

"Thanks for the advice!" Rainbow Dash shouted after her sarcastically. Then the pegasus smashed her forelegs onto the table, knocking a few party favors off with the jump it caused, and she grumbled to herself sternly while turning her scowl away from Pinkie Pie and Hulahoof.

The pink pony's party horn gave its last, dying tweet. The flittering cry fizzled out into silence as the stiff paper tube, bobbing lightly out from her mouth, slowly went limp. It flopped down against her chest and hung there for a moment before it curled back up in shame.

"Welcome back!" Till greeted Applejack. His face was still stamped with the same friendly but smarmy look he had worn when she had left. As promised, he had a fresh glass of cider waiting at her stool. "So, patched everything up with your-"

The thunderstorm crashed right up to the bar, parked itself on the stool, and guzzled down the entire glass of cider in one go, nearly smashing the glass back into the bartop.

"Erm," the startled bartender dropped all his goofy tomfoolery and pulled back slightly. "Is... everything alright?"

Applejack hoarsely muttered something down into her empty glass. Whatever it had been, if Till had even heard it, was too encrypted by the vulgarest of countryisms to have been intelligible to the uninitiated.

The bartender tenderly tried to pry into her again, "Did things not go well?"

"What was your first clue?" the farm pony brought up an impolite glare and remarked.

Aghast for a moment, Till turned sorrowful and bowed himself low over the counter.

"I'm really sorry, Applejack," he pleaded earnestly. "I didn't mean for-... I mean, when I suggested that you smooth things out with your friend, I know I was acting sort of, well, ridiculous, but I was serious about clearing up-... I didn't think that things were so-"

"Ain't your fault, Brown Sugar...," she answered, picking herself up some out of her grisly funk. "You don't know Rainbow like I do. You couldn'ta seen this coming."

"But-"

"No," the farm pony firmly but stiffly shut him down.

His woundedness had her feeling genuine remorse, and it was enough for her to prop herself up and keep a lid on her nastier feelings. She sighed and took off her hat, laying it again on the bartop.

"You were right, sayin' that we should straighten everything out," she assured him. "That's real friendship advice you can tie to; I'm sure Twilight'd tell me the same. But Rainbow's still got her head too deep up her own tail to see the spots on a checkered cow. I shoulda figured trying to break through to her wouldn'ta worked. I was right to keep my distance and let her sweat it out."

Again she sighed, and again she inspected her empty glass. She pushed it over to Till, nodding towards it.

Diligently he filled it back up, and when he returned it to her he asked gently, "Are you going to be alright?"

She took the drink and immediately gave it a hard guzzle before she responded.

"Yeah. Course." The farm pony was bland. And dismal. "She'll get over herself. Eventually."

All was quiet at the bar for a brief time while Applejack went at a few more sips and the bartender waited patiently. Nosedive, still sitting on the farthest stool and nursing his own drink, remained entirely invisible to them.

"You know who's fault this really is?" Applejack spoke up at Till.

She was venting. The heat inside was still too much to be cooled by the cider alone, and she spoke just to blow out all of the hot air which lingered in her head.

"Beanstalk." She rapped the bartop, lightly hammering her blind accusation in. "Boy rolls right over for her! Anything she wants: 'Sure! Let me just go belly-up for ya!' Never has the gumption to tell her no! And all cause he smiles and eats anything she dishes up, it's got her thinking she can act that way with everypony! Or at least, certainly it don't help her rein in her natural inclination towards thinking herself the center of the dang universe."

Another deep guzzle, and her drink was finished again.

"Ain't a wonder she gets along with HIM fine as apple gravy."

Nosedive perked up. Fidgeting with thought for a few seconds, he then pushed his unfinished drink aside, got off his stool, and flew away quietly.

He didn't escape unnoticed. Till went to say something – to catch him before he departed – but Applejack called to the bartender first.

"How 'bout another one?" she tapped her empty glass.

"Uh..."

He looked back, and Nosedive was already gone.

"... Sure," he decided. "Right away."

Giving the farm pony another frothy mug of cider, he let her nip at it some more before he finally (though quite hesitantly) suggested, "If this... tall friend of yours is part of the issue, maybe you should talk to him about it instead?"

"Ehhh...," Applejack gave an unenthusiastic, uncertain sigh.

She pondered, sipping some more, but ultimately frowned upon the idea. After all, she really had only been blowing steam.

"Nah," she decided glumly, "Beanstalk is more or less a stand-up guy. He ain't doing nothing that isn't himself, and he's definitely not trying to be any trouble to nopony. It wasn't right of me to pin it all on him like that."

"But... if he knew how you felt, wouldn't he at least help?"

"I... reckon he would," was Applejack's stilted admission, but she still shook her head. "He's... got some problems of his own, though; don't need to load him up with this, or make one of his good friendships any harder."

She twisted her glass of cider in place and thought to raise it up for another go, but she was finally beginning to hear the complaints of her drowning stomach. Without a rest, before long it would be her bladder begging for mercy.

Choosing to wash herself of the whole affair, at least for now, she dismissed, "Really, Rainbow's the center of the whole kit and caboodle. I gotta wait on her. She's just a pill sometimes. And I was never very good at taking my pills."

Stumbling upon the way out just like that, she smiled simply and storied herself away, "In fact, when I was littler, Granny Smith always had to turn up ways to trick me into taking my medicine. Whether it was hiding it in the applesauce or telling me it was candy, she got me good every time. And no matter how much I'd figure her out she'd always just come up with something new. Course, that was all when she wasn't just right fed up to here with me; then the funnel came out and we did things the hard way..."

On and on she went, spinning her yarn.

And Till, legs folded and leaned on the counter, listened and enjoyed it. Only in odd but irrepressible flashes was he occasionally distracted with thoughts for Nosedive, or the shaky friendship between the farm pony and Rainbow Dash, and how unhappy they all were with the state of things.

Chapter 32: Music

"... I'm sorry, what?"

Reality had just hiccuped. It felt like all the world had paused, and when it had resumed playing it had glitched ahead through a few corrupted seconds. No matter how much James squinted over his memories he couldn't recall those few vanished moments.

Twilight groaned low and uncomfortably, and the heavy strip of color already bulging across her sunken nose deepened in its redness.

"I'm ready to talk about s-s-sex," she reluctantly repeated.

James nodded, hearing the words without trouble, but he understood them not one measly bit. One eye scrutinized her, then the other, then the first again; each went in turn as his head spun. A menagerie of little hints shined from her ungraceful body, and he tried to read every possible clue he could out of her angles, colors, quivers, and expressions. He took them all in and analyzed them thoroughly.

And then he said, "... I'm sorry, what?"

This time Twilight's groan openly sparked with frustration, set off by all the unnecessary difficulty being added onto what was already a very difficult thing. But she channeled that anger into sterner self-control.

"I've decided that I'm ready and capable to talk to you about"—for a flash of a moment she snapped her eyes shut and concentrated hard—"sex... so... let's just get this underway... (while I still feel ready for it...)"

No fast response came from the man. Not even a slow one. But it wasn't as if he had nothing to say. There were too many dangling threads before him, each more frayed and absurd than the last, and in his effort to grab at any of them he wound up making several clueless, false starts.

When at last he got a hold of himself it was with a sudden crash back into reality. He glanced from table to busy table, up to the lively stage with its ongoing performance, and then back to her whereupon he uttered, quite startled, "Wait... right here? Right now?!"

"Y-Yeah," the unicorn weakly muttered. And she was very quick to justify her choice, "This is one topic where I don't know if I'd be able to handle talking about it in-, ah, in p-p-private. T-That is, I think it might make me very, v-very uncomfortable to talk about it one-on-one... all alone with somepony else... just me and them... b-b-because, y-you know, it's so-, uh... so... intimate... But out here, in the middle of this party, we actually have the best of both worlds: it's public so I won't feel very trapped, but there's so much noise and activity going on that nopony could possibly overhear us."

"I-... um, okay," James scarcely believed what was going on, "but... why? I mean, you've already made it pretty clear that the subject is off-limits. WAAAY off-limits. 'Ponies don't ever talk about it,' I believe were your words. And I'm good with that; I can abide; I genuinely don't want to make anypony uncomfortable. Besides, I even already promised you that I wouldn't speak a word of it ever again!"

"I know...," Twilight stumbled, "but I've done some thinking on it since then and... I guess I finally realized that... maybe ponies don't ever talk about it (uh, as far as I know), but..."

She looked a him with new, old eyes.

"... you're not a pony. You can talk about it. Somehow. So, while I do appreciate your willingness to avoid the subject and live by our culture – and I think that's very wise – maybe-... maybe there should be at least one of us whom you can talk to about it. If you need to. And-... and... uh..."

There was the shyest shrink of her body and the most delicate glance back at him.

"... I'm willing."

James still didn't understand.

"It's really not a big deal," he tried to back away from the topic casually. "You're making yourself so flustered over a whole lot of nothing. This isn't necessary."

"James."

Twilight inhaled solidly before casting the solemn breath back out with her hoof.

"You're my friend. I believe you when you say you don't want to make anypony uncomfortable. But more importantly, I trust you to be able to handle a discussion about such an... uneasy topic... in a way that is respectful to me and my sensibilities. Just as I hope that you also trust me to be a ready and capable ear for things that maybe you can't always talk to just anypony about. I want to show you that if there's ever anything – anything at all – which is important enough to you, then you can always at least talk to me about it, no matter how awkward it might make me feel. You don't have to hold it inside you, and be alone."

Earnest; sage; effortless. It was the most natural thing she had said since the very start.

"We can do this together."

The man released a gasp so sticky that the stretching saliva between his lips snapped apart like tearing fabric. He had to pry his tongue from the roof of his mouth with a crowbar. And even afterwards it still took him a lifetime to say anything back to her.

But finally he gave a thankful nod and answered, "Well, Twilight... that's very-, uh... very-... you know. I really do appreciate the sentiment of it. Really, I do. It impresses me how much consideration you've put into this little matter, and-... I mean, that's enough for me."

"James-"

"Listen, it's the thought that counts, right? So thank you. But it's fine. I don't need to talk about sex. This is silly."

"'Silly'?" she remarked. The word almost bothered her as much as it intrigued her. "Isn't there anything about... s-sex which is important to your kind?"

"Yeah, sure, but not... that important. Especially here. I'm the only human around for a billion miles, after all. It's not worth dragging you-"

Dude. Dude, listen.

Prism likes snuggling.

And kissing.

And God only knows what more...

Yeah?

Yeah??

Go get'em, tiger.

"... James...?" Twilight called to her abruptly frozen friend. Her horn clicked and there were pops that went off before his eyes, like fingers snapping loudly. She couldn't even read his face very well. Perplexed? Intrigued? Disturbed?

"I guess...," he eventually mumbled, waking up from his stupor, "... maybe... we could... talk a little and see how it goes? It... can only help me understand ponies better, right?"

"Absolutely," the unicorn smiled. "It can help us both understand each other."

And then their table went silent.

Laughter and chatter was bouncing about at all of the other tables, occasionally broken by piercing hoots or resounding cheers for the stage show. The huge speakers still thundered with music, and there was a bit of a hiss from them as Gallowayo hit a powerful crescendo, screaming out about a passion so burning it put the summer sun to shame. Every square inch of the boardwalk was jam-packed with vibrant noise.

Except for that ill silence between man and pony. They only spoke through distracting coughs and clumsy glances.

"So...," Twilight eventually opened the conversation again at a complete dead-end.

"So...?" James helplessly echoed.

"Well... aren't you going to... say something? Or ask me anything?"

"You're the one who came to me."

"Uh, yes, that's true, but... um... shouldn't you start it? Aren't you supposed to be able to talk about s-sex freely?"

"Okay, I guess, but... I don't even know where to begin! I mean, I know what sex is to me, but I don't really know what it is to you; uh, as a pony, that is. You dropped some clues before but... you were being purposefully vague to avoid crossing the line, right?"

Her tongue flopped about in her mouth before she finally answered uncertainly, "... Y-Yes?"

The man's knuckles gave his forehead a disgruntled rapping.

"Okay, how about I lead with a few questions then," he restarted.

"Right," Twilight took a hopeful breath.

"Alright, so, first: maybe you could explain why, for you and for everypony, it's such a big deal that apparently it can't ever be talked about, or even mentioned?"

Her lips trembled, "W-W-Well th-that should be obvious."

"N-... Not really," he said, quite amazed and disheartened.

"It's-... it's something incredibly private!"

"Private, sure, but that only means sometimes discretion is advised. Not 'always pretend it doesn't exist.'"

"W-We don't pretend anything!" she groped for any resistance. "It just... shouldn't ever be talked about because it's such a gross violation of personal boundaries!"

James wanted to pound his forehead so hard that it would open up and get his brain some fresh air.

"Again," he said, "if it's so personal that just means it's my business if I want to talk about it or not, yeah? It doesn't mean I should never talk about it."

Struggling still, Twilight reminded him, "But you went on about Venus and Vesuvius!"

"Alright, fair. I did," he conceded. "So instead, let's stick to me now. If we just talk about sex and me, then it's okay, right? Because the only personal boundaries involved are my own?"

She strained to answer, "... N-No..."

"'No'? Because...?"

"B-Because-... because..."

The empty space which followed ran so long that the man pretty much had to accept it as her full answer.

"Alright then," he said.

"No, listen," the unicorn hastily returned, "it's because... it-... it's something so important. It has to be treated with delicate hooves and oceans of respect. Any sort of casual treatment is too careless."

The man let the reasoning process for a few moments before he replied, "I guess I just don't see the link between that and the overly-thorough censorship of it."

Maybe Twilight didn't either. He saw such a searching look on her.

"Hey, let's try something else," James suggested. "I mean, I'm still trying to get a hold of where exactly it fits into Equestria, so maybe we should get a little more fundamental. Now... for ponies... (God, it feels so weird to even have to ask this)... is sex still the biological process by which a pair of ponies have foals?"

"Um..."

The question occupied the unicorn's thoughts for way longer than it should have.

"Yes."

"Okay...?" one of his eyebrows crawled upwards.

Dear Lord, this was not looking good.

He went on, "Now I have to ask: is having foals... the only purpose sex has for ponies?"

"... 'The only-'...?"

Her eyes dodged the question.

"Yeah," he said, "like, um... if-... if I were sitting in the park and saw a family of ponies walk by – two parents and two foals – then would it be an accurate guess to say that the parents had only ever had sex twice?"

Swiftly a ghastly color flooded Twilight's face.

"Why would you even think about them having s-s-s-... um, d-doing that?! T-That's t-their p-p-private-"

James simply covered his eyes, shook his head, and sighed.

Game over. Done. No more.

Seeing this, the unicorn immediately tried to reassert her better self, to little good. She squirmed in her seat, her forehooves rested nowhere on the table without tapping away a nervous tune, and steady streams of sweat poured down from under her bangs.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she begged. "I'm-... I'm trying as hard as I can. Um... could you repeat the question?"

Reluctantly the man obeyed, "I'm only trying to feel out the exact place... it... occupies in your culture. So don't think about what I think, just... if you have an answer: do ponies only have sex when they want to have foals, and at no other time?"

This time she really concentrated hard, mustering together her every last drop of focus. No matter how difficult or agonizing, she was determined to scratch her way over that hill, and bit by bit she went crawling up it. At last, when all the math had been solved, and all the data collated, and all the history reviewed, annotated, summarized, and sorted; she had a delicate answer for him:

"Um... m-... m-maybe?"

"'MAYBE?'!"

Thank high heaven his loud gasp stole his voice away from him briefly. He was only able to mouth his foul vow to have sex with himself.

Embarrassed in more ways than one, Twilight shrunk.

No matter how badly James wanted to be understanding he couldn't manage it. His mind was positively, absolutely, unequivocally blown. On one hoof she could acknowledge a reality, and with the other she could deny its every implication! And this was from Twilight! Twilight! One of the smartest ponies!

"How much do you know?" he dared to ask.

The question haunted the unicorn. The remaining purple drained away from her face, leaving behind ghostly white except wherever anxious red swelled.

"H-H-How much do I k-know...?" she wanted to be really, really, really sure that was what he had asked, because she was hoping it wasn't.

"Yeah, about... it."

"W-, W-Well... I-..."

And she only grew worse.

Shame enslaved her. The silent lashes of its whips and the clanking of its frozen shackles brought her low. Shame for how ignorant she now appeared; shame for how she had dared to speak aloud about so vulgar a subject; shame for her foolhardy boldness and false confidence which had led her to approach the man to begin with. And above all, shame for how fast her defeat had been. Shame for how obvious and wrong it had been of her to have believed.

Like the unlearned, failed student who reaches far beyond their capacity out of their own stupid pride.

The many shames mixed into a monstrous soup, physically painful to swallow as it poured itself down her gullet and devoured her from the inside.

Desperately she clung to her last light: her unbeaten curiosity; the only grace within her which was still unshamed.

"... How much do you know?" she questioned him in turn, not at all as a retort but instead very withdrawn and earnest.

"In the past I would have said, 'Enough,'" he responded harshly, too flabbergasted to properly restrain himself, "but now I feel like the answer should be, 'A whole heck of a lot!' I mean... how do you avoid the consequences of knowing nothing? In my few months, I haven't seen any signs of the problems I would expect! I had to be taught this in school!"

And, completely subverting the man's primed expectations, his unduly strong attack didn't deal Twilight much damage. No; if anything she picked her sorrowful self up a little bit, rising firmer in posture and surer in voice.

"'In school'?" she almost didn't believe him.

"Yeah, I can still remember the teacher wandering about in the front of the class yammering on about sex while waving around a wooden dildo."

Again, instead of sending the unicorn running for the hills the strange comment only pulled her in closer, by just a little bit.

She peered at him, and she stumbled over the curious, unusual word, "A wooden... dil-... doe?"

"Yeah, it's a-"

Oh. Oh, Christ. What had he done?

He was finally getting some control of his bewilderment, sweeping it out of his tired, slightly-drunken mind. Unfortunately discomfort was fast to fill in the freed space. Maybe Twilight was getting stronger because he was somehow absorbing the embarrassment out of her.

Meekly he finished, "... it's a wooden model of-... of an... erect penis."

At first she merely squinted oddly, understanding the legitimate purposes of an anatomical model. It was only when her mind went further that the indirect damage laid into her. The description of his memory conjured in her a twisted mirror-memory; a fantasy film reel manufactured from her recall being distorted by his lewd suggestion. The projector clicked and whirred and cast its image into her mind all before she had any opportunity to resist it.

There was an old classroom; a familiar one which had always felt like a second home no matter how many years it had been since her last lesson there. Before the chalkboard was Princess Celestia, wise and powerful, strutting about while giving one of her lectures; so far identical to a thousand of Twilight's real memories. But then the wrinkle came. Her apparently prurient mind inserted something new:

Encased in the Princess's glowing, golden magic; being swung about as if it were a pointer stick for all the equations scrawled in chalk; was a long, gigantic, firm, wooden-...!

Every last drop of blood which had earlier ebbed from her face came flooding back, like a geyser erupting.

Silence again crowned itself ruler of their table. The only sounds which moved between them was the music of the stage show still rolling through the air. Gallowayo was coincidentally also singing about about a rush of blood, though naturally from tender excitement rather than heated dread. And when the chorus kicked in, energetic and excited for the feeling, Twilight slunk down further.

"I think that's enough," James said at last. He himself was actually fairly far down on his sitting-post, preferring the uncomfortable feel of a wedge up his butt to any uncomfortable flush in his face.

"W-What?" the pony jerked up.

"This is too much for you, Twilight."

"N-No!" she nearly climbed up onto the table and protested. Yet she hardly made a good case for herself: her legs were shaking terribly, her voice squeaked in half-murmurs, and she was still more red than purple! But she insisted, "I-... I can do this!"

"Maybe; I don't know," the man fidgeted while scratching his forehead, "but... whatever sex is, it is definitely not important enough to put you through all of this. We're done."

"No! I can-, I can handle-..."

She stopped.

She shut her eyes.

She searched inside herself and grabbed it all; every big glob of panic; every last shred of apprehension.

She threw them all beneath her hooves and pounded on them, packing them together into an uneven, oversized clump. She smashed and smashed them down until she was standing unbalanced on top of her hill of inadequacies.

The effort left her no less blushed, but far more calm.

"James, listen... This thing that you can do... How you can be so nonchalant and direct about something that is so-... so... ineffable... It's really-... it's-..."

"... Yes?"

Her voice buried itself under ten tons of cottony whispers, leaving behind only noiseless lips to be read. But what they spelled out came strong and unmistakably clear, and it wasn't anything offended or perturbed.

"... It's very fascinating...," she said.

The man backed into a dead-end of almost literal despair.

"Uh, okay? But how are supposed to even talk about it when-! Ugh! Twilight, this gap between us is so gargantuan! I cannot begin to wrap my head around your worldview on this subject! It sounds like you—like all ponies—legitimately know absolutely nothing about sex! Like you're scared of knowing anything! And I can't even grasp how that can be real!"

The gloom he presented had a strange effect on the unicorn. She was struck right in that odd place between confusion, amusement, and discomfort. The man, after all, was the very same fellow who had earlier been so outrageously flippant as to run down an endless chain of sexual euphemisms right before a whole crowd of ponies! He had sprung his indecent trap out of the blue, even delighting in his audience's lack of forewarning. But here, now, all that juvenile mischief of before was absent entirely. The level he was on now was so very different from before.

"I guess there's no sense denying that I'm much more ignorant about it than you," she said. But then, a little mischievous herself, she poked at him, "So, aren't you going to needle me about how quaint and in-the-dark I am?"

He was aghast.

"What? No! This is serious!"

"Really?" Twilight lit up in realization. "So, despite your impish display before, and your disregard for precious privacy, sex can occupy a profoundly serious, important place for humans?"

"It-...? What? Of course it can!"

"James."

Her magic lifted their empty drinks and carefully set them far aside. The plates and other particulars, too. Everything was put aside, leaving wide room on the table for an open discussion between mature adults.

"We can do this," she promised him, more sure than ever. "When you first displayed such an unbelievable willingness to even talk about sex, and especially after your cheeky hailstorm of vulgar colloquialisms – something so incredibly distant from every expectation of respectable manners and polite decorum that I know of – how could I have possibly guessed that sex was something you gave any serious regard to? But here we are! You're pulling back and hiding, and it's for something more than just to spare my feelings! So I've learned something new about you! Ultimately, no matter how wide a gap there is between us, it's going to be like everything else we've ever debated: if you can't grasp my views then don't you just have to try again until you learn something about me, too?"

The unconquered part of herself – the studious, tireless, intrigued scholar – had gained complete control. She was excited.

"We can do this."

...

Christ.

"Uh... okay, I guess...," James just barely changed his mind, wiping the sweat from his neck.

This was ridiculous, though. She could hardly speak the word 'sex' without turning into jelly, but now suddenly she was fine? One step away from the topic itself, into its mere periphery, was enough to eliminate all her troubles? He had no reason to expect she wouldn't just slide right back into distress the very instant they directly touched upon any sticky detail.

But he had been wrong to have doubted ponies before. Again she was helping him see the difference between wisdom and arrogance. He knew what he knew, but of ponies he knew only what he thought he knew. Already he had admitted to being dumbfounded by their worldview. To assume that he couldn't understand it because he had better answers was the height of hubris.

What a selfish and conceited dick he had been to have even thought about exploiting Prism's cultural feelings.

"Excellent," Twilight said. She was disappointed she hadn't brought a quill or paper for taking notes, but nonetheless was primed if still a bit wary. Nodding for the man to once more take the lead, she sat up straight and listened.

Quietly he thought, then slowly he came out with his next question, "Alright, so... again, maybe it will help to get a better idea of how much you really know. So, carefully now: if you had to describe what sex is, how would you?"

This time she didn't crumble, but she did take a long moment to steel herself.

"It's... the process by which ponies... mate."

"Right. We got that far before. But do you know any more than that? I mean, could you explain the physical process as far as you understand it?"

Some of her dread returned. A cold sweat came over her.

But before she even opened her mouth in an attempt at an answer, James appended quickly, "Using whatever words you are most comfortable with! Just: to the best of your ability, and going into no more depth than you feel safe... could you describe it?"

"Ah, right. Yes. I can. Uh. O-One m-moment."

To herself she sighed, and then she gathered her wits. After a short pause she did it again, taking two deep breaths instead. Finally, she started to answer.

"... When two ponies love each other very much..."

Already James was shaking his head and biting his lip.

The pony nervously went on, "... that is, they are very... very, very, very much in love. So in love. And when they're alone! Very, very, very much alone. AND they are one hundred percent certain they will not be disturbed by anypony! Ever, without exception. Yes. Yes, that's it: when they're in love, and in privacy... once both those things are true... then-... well, then, ah..."

She swallowed a boulder.

"... then their b-bodies... e-engage a-and... ah... t-they... ex-ex-exchange essence."

Her sentence hit a hard, unfinished stop, and in her head she was very obviously double-checking her answer; dotting her i's and crossing her t's as judiciously as possible. There was a huge stumbling block though: she was no teacher of this subject and had no answer key to reference. There was only one way to verify her work.

Cautiously she gave the man an incomplete glance and asked, "... I-Is that right?"

"Uh... yeah," James confirmed halfheartedly. "Yeah, more or less."

To be fair, while less specific than he had needed, her response had honestly been more detailed than he had hoped.

"Is there... more?" Twilight was concerned by his reaction to her ignorance. "I-... I think I could be a little more detailed."

"How about this," he offered instead. "Outside of, like, the magic of love, do you know if there is any actual magic involved in the process?" Her phrase 'exchange essence' had been so unhelpfully vague, but it had triggered a new avenue of thought in his mind.

"I don't... think so?" she replied. But her own dim answer convinced her, and she shook her head. "I guess I don't know."

The admission was intriguing.

The man leaned forward, almost laying himself on the table, and he asked, "How do you even know the things you do know? I was educated in school, but you...? I'll confess: I've looked through the books in the library before specifically for details on sex – just in idle interest, I swear – and I never found anything. The closest thing I ever found were biology books with very sober and fast details on anatomy, but no mention of, you know, certain specific functions."

Twilight's nerves again found all of their ordinary strength. She straightened up like she was sitting down for an unremarkable breakfast: a hot coffee waiting to cool, a plate of ready food which needed minimal attention, and the morning news floating nearby where it casually flipped through itself one page at a time. All specks of terror had fled.

"Of course you wouldn't have found anything," she said. "Not in a public library, anyway. Research on such a topic, if any exists, would be stored where it wouldn't be generally accessible; probably, I'd guess, in the archives of Canterlot in the forbidden section."

"The 'forbidden section'?" James incredulously remarked, though really he shouldn't have been surprised.

"Sure. It's where any knowledge is kept which isn't for public consumption: the manifestos of history's villains, the lore-keys for any magically-stabilized but critical systems, doomsday spells..."

"Oh, so they just lock it right up with the world-enders," the man pushed back, happy with sarcasm. "Forget that one of the big purposes of sex is the exact opposite of ending life."

Even Twilight found the quip funny.

"I don't think it'd be kept there for any reason of danger," she chuckled.

"Then why?" he immediately asked.

"For the same reasons as before! It's private! Ponies don't need to know about it."

"Ponies don't need to know how to bake a cake either," he returned to sarcasm, "but they don't throw all the recipe books into the forbidden section."

"That's a poor analogy," the unicorn dismissed.

"No, I'm serious," he said. "What would happen if anypony could just waltz into a public library and read a book about sex?"

Her red-faced embarrassment and wobbling-lipped worry suddenly returned. Her security had been toppled so fast there hadn't been any good indication of what exactly had bowled it over.

"Th-Th-They w-wouldn't read it, e-even if it was t-there! O-Of course they wouldn't!"

"Then why bother hiding it?"

"B-Because-... because... it-... it-... it's too important!"

The man was again flabbergasted by her same, desperate, lacking excuses.

"Doesn't that stress how it should be studied, then?"

"W-What? No!"

"Well then why do you study friendship? Because it's not important?"

"No! That doesn't-... that doesn't follow! T-They're completely different things!"

But by that point even Twilight understood how badly she was rambling, throwing out gut answers in place of thoughtful reasoning. She rubbed her face in disappointed frustration.

"I've... never really thought about it much, okay?" she surrendered.

"Right, I know, I'm sorry. I'm just trying to understand," James pulled back. "So, maybe again: how exactly do you know any of the things you do?"

And again, the more she earnestly thought about his question the more she wandered away from whatever it was that had the power to flare up her crippling anxieties. Before long she became relatively normal once more.

"Some things you can just assume," she eventually replied.

"Can you really?" the man tried hard not to sound so disrespectfully doubtful. "I mean, understand: I really want to agree with you on that. I really do. But now, after the back and forth we've had here, I'm not sure how much can actually be taken for granted anymore. Like... are you really just completely guessing? You have no direct, or even indirect, source of information?"

Twilight gave herself an even longer time to think.

"... No," she answered at last, "I don't. I've never read anything, or been taught anything, or spoken with anypony about it before. Ever. The closest thing I can think of is the regular checkups I had with my doctor when I was reaching the age of maturity, but even then we only sort of talked around it. It never came up directly. We just... seemed to know enough to understand the things we had to allude to."

James sighed, pressing his fingers into his eyes. For him, that was confirmation of his new guess.

"Magic," he said.

Now that she had been forced to review it, the evidence seemed strong to Twilight also.

"I suppose that's a logical conclusion..."

It was a little disappointing for her, even. Magic, so she wanted to study it; but sex, so she felt compelled not to.

And even the man was disappointed.

"I guess that's the end of this, then?" he asked. "If magic is playing some mysterious role, but any study of it is 'forbidden,' how much could we really figure out?"

"Plenty," Twilight mounted an immediate resistance. She didn't understand at all his despondence. "Our goal isn't to uncover any great secret. We're just trying to learn a little bit."

He dismally replied, "It sounds like you're not supposed to be learning about sex, though."

She shook her head and clarified, "Trying to learn about each other."

Once again, James sighed.

But he nodded.

Starting anew, Twilight decided it was her turn to lead the way, "... You said something about how you wanted to agree with me that... certain things should be self-evident?"

"Yeah." It took him a moment to recognize that she was looking for more. "Oh, uh... okay, so... for people – for human beings – it's... such a fundamental part of yourself. It's such a fact of life. It seems impossible to imagine not knowing something about it instinctively."

"You've also been educated on it formally, though. As a matter of course, even," the unicorn pointed out, "and therefore—correct me if I'm wrong—you likely come from a culture which is simply flush with that kind of knowledge. (Not the smallest clue I had was your cavalcade of euphemisms. Are there really that many ways to speak about it?)"

"(Yes, and I was barely scratching the surface too. But then again I was also making a lot of them up off the top of my head, so that's why many of them probably sounded so terrible.)"

"(Right... well...)" She coughed to break off the aside and return to the real conversation. "My point is, it honestly sounds like your society is saturated with sexual information, so maybe all of the things which you imagine are assumptions are instead absorbed through that thick cultural atmosphere? Observation, not intuition. Maybe total ignorance of the subject is something you can't actually perceive because you come from somewhere its influence is unavoidable?"

James reviewed his memories, scanning for what would have been his earliest exposures to sex. Thankfully his childhood had contained no upsetting real world experiences, not as a witness or as a victim. But as he thought about it he realized he had been receiving sexual clues as far back as his earliest youth, when he had been just barely aware enough to take in the world around him.

The utter importance everyone had placed on clothing, particularly for below the waist.

The hard rules on touching others, specifically when and where it was not okay.

The conspicuous ways adults had disguised some things they had talked about in his presence; to an impressionable youth it had always been easy to accept as 'just the way big people talk' but even then it had felt like something obvious was being kept from him.

However, maybe the most significant stream of information in all his childhood had been from the television; the portal to culture at large.

There was the weird way folks on TV had sometimes hugged and kissed, which had not been at all like the way mommy and daddy had hugged and kissed him. In cartoons, too, the interactions between romantic partners had born comically-rendered hints of lust that had only become much clearer to him as an adult; cartoonish double entendres. And, by God, the commercials! People in them hadn't seemed like real human beings sometimes because of their extremely exaggerated preoccupations with an unnameable something.

True that he had never had an outright moment of sexual enlightenment from any of those sources, but the ever-steady drip had ensured that the basin hadn't been dry when the time had come to dip his toes in...

Perhaps Twilight was right: his ability to see the line between known and unknown was poisoned by one simple fact: humans behave like humans.

"Hmm..."

"Yes?" Twilight encouraged him to share.

"You have a point, I think," he said, "but it makes me wonder. As you've said, you don't have that cultural foundation. But there still is a side of sex which is instinct. And I mean literal instinct; the things innately felt in response to something. You know, like hunger."

The idea didn't seem to take with the unicorn, and she studied it with a disfavorable glare.

"Like a nutritional need?" she ruefully questioned.

"No. No, not quite," he replied, though he sounded unconvinced of himself. "I just mean those physical and mental sensations that grab you and try to steer you. Like being hungry: you feel something in your stomach, and in your head you get sort of occupied with it."

"Oh. Oh! Hm..."

But she still didn't relate.

"What kind of sensations?" she asked.

"'What kind of-?'"

The man's forehead crashed into his waiting palm. He could feel the burning of his brain right through his skin and skull.

"So you've really-? You've... never felt anything... you know... hot inside? When, like, you're looking at somepony?"

She shook her head, "Felt what? You're going to have to be more descriptive."

"No, no, no. I was only going to ask because there's-... there's got to be something!" he said, and then he pointed towards one of the other tables specifically. "I mean, I swear I've seen Rarity checking out the tall, dark guy there. Like, a lot."

Twilight looked, catching sight of Rarity with her unusual entourage at their table. When she came back she shrugged, "I'm sure Rarity doesn't mean to be so impolite by staring that much, but even I admit that Mr. Sweet Nothing is a remarkably handsome pony."

"'Handsome'? No, no; it's not always his face she's looking at," the man disclosed. "I'm pretty sure I've seen her eyes kissing his butt whenever she's gotten the chance."

The claim startled Twilight and she looked again at the other table.

In Equestria, fate must have been a magical thing too because the unicorn couldn't have peeked at a more perfect moment.

Sweet Nothing stood up and walked off, on his way to loyally retrieve yet another something-or-other for Rarity. Right away the dressmaker proved James' assertion: she let her gaze be pulled in by the dark stallion's hypnotic hindquarters. Her eyes bulged to every flex of his trim muscles as he went along.

Even Twilight's stare lingered. When she finally broke herself free she came snapping back, and a tender strip of color was on her nose.

"H-He...," she felt a certain difficult obligation to be honest, "... does have quite a shapely rear."

It was a humorous moment so normal in its nature that it took James a long time to realize the discrepancy he had witnessed. But, like a hunter come upon baited quarry, he pounced.

"That!" he pointed at her, and her flushed cheeks, and her nervously delirious gaze which was leering inwards at the delicious memory it had just absorbed. "That right there! That's it! You're having a sexy thought!"

"What?! No I'm not!"

And all over again she crashed into the deepest ends of her embarrassment. Face a tomato, steam rising from her cooking scalp, eyes so far retreated into her head they had come out the other side; it was perhaps her worst case yet.

She squealed desperately, "I-I-I'm n-not th-thinking a-a-about-...! I-I'm-...! I w-wouldn't ever th-think about another pony in that-...! W-Why-... why would you even s-suggest that?!"

"I dunno! Because to me it looked like you were! If not that, then what were you thinking about? You know, what was going through your mind while you were staring in slack-jawed lust at his 'shapely rear'?"

"Lu-Lu-Lu-Lu-Lu-Lu-Luuuhhhsssss—?!"

As her teeth sealed her mouth shut, crushing her tongue and lips in the process, she was left hissing out a spray of saliva.

His accusation of unforgivable mental impropriety had been scandalous to be sure, but somehow it had been his follow-up question that had really disturbed her, and not straightforwardly. In every way, shape, and form it had seemed to be a dig at her; an attempt to excavate a little more mortification out of her. Every way, that is, except for the fact that he had asked it with such an innocent face.

The context of their whole conversation came back to her. He may have been speaking in his usual way, as his usual self, with his usual idiosyncrasies... but he had genuinely meant it as a part of their discussion.

He honestly wanted to know what had been in her mind.

She tried to work her way up to a coherent response.

"Ah, w-w-w-well... I w-was-, um... I was j-just..."

Yet, for another time, the movement into her own headspace was like emerging from a thick fog. That was not to say that she was no longer flustered; she was still being made to talk about her private attraction to strong, honed haunches. However, any impossible thoughts of sex which may or may not have been in her head had all but put there by the man's suggestion. Her return to self meant the banishment of all that foreign filth, and what remained was only her tender, innocent reflections on one of her secret appeals.

But confiding to a friend about the things which made her heart awkwardly flutter was at least something she could do, however embarrassing.

Twilight cleared her throat.

"I was just... a little mesmerized by how well-developed his gluteal muscles are," she admitted sheepishly. Pushing herself further, she faded a bit but went on, "... And I was thinking about how-... how if I were to ever... fall in love... then... I hope my special somepony might have a backside like that..."

"... 'Fall in love'...?" James echoed in wonder.

She squinted suspiciously at him.

"When you see somepony very beautiful," she pried, "and stare longingly, what are you thinking about?"

Caught unprepared, the man burbled something meaningless, too certain that any frank reply would've sent Twilight diving under the table in fright.

His drivel was enough though. It was the little string Twilight had needed to sew together all the facts she had learned so far.

"You think about sex?!" she gasped.

"N-Not always... but... it happens," he tried to respond.

"You see a butt and you think about sex?!"

Then the next horrific leap of logic hit her.

"Wait a minute..."

On the very first night she had met the man, months ago, they had spoken at length about human society and its supposed need for clothing. 'Modesty' he had credited it to awkwardly. She had thought it a very interesting if strangely delivered answer. It was different, especially compared to ponies, who...

"... we're naked all the time! You can always see our butts!"

Though the table blocked much of his view of her, it was obvious to James that she was crouching lower in her seat and curling her tail tightly around her bottom like a shield. Her forelegs tucked in to guard her chest and abdomen. Really, any lady might have reacted in the same way if the shower curtain had flung open unexpectedly.

"H-H-Have you been st-staring at our butts?" she almost didn't want him to answer her outrageous question.

His delay before responding didn't help, but he was again dumbfounded by her visceral and almost out-of-place reaction. On the one hand the way she protected her body was such a natural response to her embarrassment, for a human. But on the other, the abrupt appearance of that defense was very jarring. All her life she had wandered naked in comfort, because she was a pony, but it was only in this specific moment that it had suddenly become such a mortal issue.

Like Adam and Eve biting into the fruit of knowledge and suddenly realizing their nakedness...

"No, I haven't," he said, and thank goodness he was able to be fully truthful about it.

Mostly.

Thank double goodness her horn didn't allow her to steal peeks into his head, since she would have briefly seen the image of a braided rainbow tail swishing to and fro, attached to the seductively swaying rear of Prism.

"I mean, not particularly..."

Twilight's stare shifted from shock to leer.

"Really," James put forward a stronger effort, "I don't go looking for butts to ogle. I'm more respectful than that."

"... Yes... you are," she acknowledged, and she slowly eased down some of her guard. "But... you're suggesting that you can feel innate... sexual sensations... just by looking at others?"

"To me," he said, "it doesn't seem any different on the outside from the way you and Rarity blush over a chiseled tush. But I guess something on the inside is pretty different."

"I'll say," the unicorn agreed, shaking her head in amazement.

And then lament infected her voice.

"What a terrible curse."

"Now hold on a second," James objected. "I don't call it a curse, and I would not give up my sexuality even if presented the option."

"But you're saying you feel some sort of sexual urge, like hunger, simply as a reflexive response to casual visual input. That's fine on Earth where everypony is clothed all the time, but here in Equestria where we don't wear many clothes, everyday you have to suffer such a filthy reaction when-"

"Woah, woah, woah," the man nearly stood up from his offense. "Hold on. No. No, no; disgusting and sexy are not remotely the same thing. They're very opposite things, in fact."

Her hoof came up, and her mouth opened to return fire, but she caught herself in time.

"I'm sorry," the unicorn humbled herself. Little effort was needed to be sincere about it, too; she knew how unfair a judge an unthinking gut was. "We suspect now that, because of my culture and my magical physiology, I actually have some sort of hard set aversion to it; and that's my nature, not yours. It was wrong of me to call any natural part of you filthy."

"It's alright," he calmed himself quickly, and offered, "I apologize for getting a little angry over it."

"That's part of your nature too," she smiled, "but you've been getting a lot better about controlling that."

The similarity struck her.

"I suppose," she said, "if you can manage your anger then you probably have some ability to manage this... response of yours. You know, to visual stimuli."

"Yeah. It's not anymore uncontrollable than your tittering over a pony's butt."

The unicorn thought, then nodded as everything fell into place.

"An instinct," she explained aloud to herself. "A complex responsive behavior. A triggered sense, felt inside. But where one goes once the instinct has activated is their own decision. Like... choosing to suppress your hunger because you have too much studying to do. Or"—she snorted in amusement at herself—"being conscientious enough not to stare at somepony's butt, no matter how nice it is."

"Ha! Yeah, exactly. That's me and pony butts. All the prancing around in the buff hasn't bothered me at all."

He entirely declined to mention that he had only begun to feel real impulses of that nature ever since meeting Prism, and he still wasn't sure how he felt about it, or if he had control of it.

But Twilight believed what he had said wholly, and it was a big relief to her. The last of her fears scurried away into the darkness and her tail went back to its natural resting position.

"Come to think of it," she said, "in all these months I haven't seen a single thing from you that was untoward or... suspiciously sexual. Except that episode in the garden, but that was really the very first thing that had ever happened. So it was pretty ridiculous of me to assume your species was so completely sexually unmannered. (Sorry again, by the way.) But, that does lead me into something else I wanted to ask."

"Oh? Let's hear it."

"It's obvious to me now that though there are sexual things humans feel very easily, even on Earth there are times and places where expressing those feelings, or acting on them in certain ways, is improper. Just... less rigid than compared to us, right?"

"Right."

Now very far into her curiosity, she said, "What I want to ask is: was it rude by your standards, when you announced to us your take on Venus and Vesuvius' relationship? You know, when you declared to all of us, out of their earshot, that they were 'banging'?"

Her nose twitched from a tickle because of the funny phrase.

The man thought it over. Then...

"Yes, actually," he was surprised and ashamed to learn. "On Earth it wouldn't have been the worse transgression, but it was still unsolicited speculation of their personal affairs, which is kind of rude in any situation. So, I'm sorry again, too."

"So that was just you being incorrigible, like usual," she snickered.

"Well, if I can weakly defend myself for a moment," he smiled back, "outside forces slightly encouraged me to act in such a devilish manner. I had never seen ponies behave like Venus and Vesuvius before, so I was sort stuck between 'I really want to know what's going on here with ponies and sexuality' and 'it's just us friends, so let's talk about things we shouldn't normally talk about in polite society.'"

Twilight chuckled, "Ah, gossip. That is pretty rude!"

The bizarrer bits of his reality happily flummoxed her, but there was more on her mind.

Carefully, and not without a bit of remorse for violating the law of respect they had just pointed out, she asked, "So it was something about how they acted? Venus and Vesuvius, I mean. Something they were doing seemed sexual to you? Because I can tell you, even to my observation, they are both... kind of eccentric."

Briefly James held back on answering, caught instead by something he saw behind the shimmer of the unicorn's amethyst eyes. There was a glow in her fearful, bold spirit. She knew what kind of 'vulgar' response he could have given to her question but she had come forward virtuously anyway.

Finally the idea of her complete trust made sense to him.

"Yeah, they were acting weird," he told her plainly. "It really reminded me of some human couples who are in that kind of physical relationship, which... is the first time I've seen that sort of thing in ponies."

"Interesting," Twilight said. "And your guess that they aren't married?"

"Oh, that was much more of a baseless guess," he assured her. "I suppose the thinking goes like this: if they were married then they'd have probably been together long enough to be a little more comfortable with each other; enough to be a little less obvious about all the... you know."

"Ah. Hm," she was again intrigued. Yet she pointed out the glaring flaw in his comparison, "But these are ponies, and not people; your intuition is probably misleading you. It was a bit of a guess on my part—(okay, a big guess)—that unmarried pony couples don't... h-have s-sex... but the most likely possible explanation is that Venus and Vesuvius are just... unusually brazen about the physical affections they do express."

"They don't care who knows that they snuggle and cuddle twenty-three hours a day," he laughed.

And the same thing for Prism, too, the disappointed thought flitted underneath the man's laughter.

"So," Twilight was keen, if a little nervous, to ask, "that's the way people behave when they're... 'in such a physical relationship'?"

"Some, yeah; again, if they don't really care who can read their hints. Others are more discreet. Others... less, heh."

She blushed, but stayed in control. She also looked inwards. It seemed to the man that she was probably reviewing years of her own innocent observations of pony couples; comparing, contrasting, reevaluating.

"It's sort of like this:" James decided to elaborate for her, "they look at each other and they feel those instincts inside, like we were talking about, but instead of getting all shy or cagey about it they open up and let themselves enjoy it. So... it is kind of shameless, in a way."

Twilight pondered what he had said, though with some difficulty. Her face squirmed. She weighed and she wondered. She consolidated and she considered.

And then...

"... Really?" she said, mousy but marveled. "I find it so hard to imagine that those instincts can feel... nice... but..."

"Yeah, they're... good feelings," he answered. "Even if our heads go different places, it probably isn't much different from when you look at a hunky piece of flank."

"... But," she intruded, so shy for the knowledge, "we don't actually know if it's any different or not..."

"Yeah, but-..."

He would rather have avoided trying to describe immeasurable feelings. It would be like evaluating colors for the prenatally blind. More personally, it was embarrassing because he didn't have any good, ready words, and he hated his moments of ill confidence.

But this was sort of what he had signed up for by joining the conversation, wasn't it? And Twilight had been brave enough to have shared with him her love of pony butts. That alone had earned her an honest effort from him.

"Ooooogh," he groaned.

But he gave his best.

"So... like... when you, say, look over a sweeping vista... it makes you feel different inside. Your breathing changes, there's this well that springs up in your chest, and an easy wind sort of caresses your thoughts. You've felt that, right? Those good things? That all happens cause you're looking out at something and you're witnessing beauty.

"Well, the same principle applies to witnessing... sexy. Just... things feel different, I guess.

"You-... you feel... your blood move inside; you really feel it. And... your face gets warm; it-... right at the tops of your cheeks, especially. Warm like... coming-in-from-the-cold kind of warm. There's also this tingling tension that-... it comes over you, sort of like when you can sense something exciting is just about to happen. It's not... electrifying exactly, but the... energy that sort of buzzes over your skin; here and there at first, but then everywhere; it's hard to describe. And-... and-... all in your head there's this lightness, and... your mind wanders a bit more freely and happily than it would otherwise."

Digging deeper and deeper into his own thoughts he fell into a focused silence, closing the door on the world around him. In his workshop he crafted diligently the next pieces of his message, trying to figure out how he could speak about the more desirous elements without troubling Twilight.

She spoke first though, startling him out of his ruminations. Very suddenly, and with thin breaths, she said, "That-... that is... not at all how I imagined it might feel..."

"Oh. Yeah, it's something else," the man replied.

"And that is as a preliminary reaction to just seeing something?"

"Someone, yes," he specifically corrected her.

The unicorn had to know, "So then... pr-presumably the r-response g-gets... concordantly greater the cl-closer things m-move to-... to-..."

Led on helplessly by her hint, James couldn't stop himself from giving a big nod and a hearty, "Oh yeah."

And that one reaction – with the satisfied shiver in his voice, the far-off look to his eyes, and the warmth with which he sat up straight – finally clued Twilight into something that she simply never would have guessed otherwise.

"W-Wait... You-... You've-..."

"Hm?"

"Y-You've h-had-...? B-Bef-fore...?"

She knew already that he had never been married, he realized, so therefore her natural assumption as a pony was that he-...

"Uh, yeah," he answered for her slowly and plainly, hoping to keep any more unintentional physical hints to a minimum. "It's not uncommon for sex to be a part of a dating relationship, and I've dated so..."

The pony just stared at him from behind her bright, burning face.

He coughed into his fist and then held up some fingers.

"Three," he said. "I've been in a few relationships, but three of them got to the point where we... you know. I don't know about ponies, but for people it's for more than just having foals."

Twilight sizzled. Her blood-rich cheeks became so lit up that they hid the entire rest of her face behind their crimson shine. With a swift drop of her head she brought her mane down to cover as much of her ripening bashfulness as possible. There was an endless stream of uncertain twitches from her body: jitters in her legs, shuffles in her hips; like she was getting ready to run but was too discombobulated to fire the starter pistol.

James pinched himself in punishment for his bad behavior. Although he thought they had been dancing around the topic respectfully, obviously he had slipped up. His failure became clear to him belatedly:

Ponies usually keep everything sexual at a distance with a thirty foot pole.

He had made her realize just how much she had shortened that distance without knowing it. He was the literal closest she had ever been to sex.

It must have been like waking up from a nightmare only to find herself already inside the dragon's closing maw.

Or maybe not.

Faintly her eyes came up. Radiantly her the tip of her nose glimmered red hot. Softly her voice crept out.

And she asked, "... What's it like...?"

Right away she buried herself under her mane again, aghast that she had even dared to wonder such a thing. But her ears stayed up and alert. Her invincible curiosity still listened. She was braced for what she knew would be a trying response.

"There's... no good answer," James stalled. "There's not any one simple thing to compare it to." This had already gone too far! It would have been a dumb idea to push it any further!

"... But...," she again scarcely roused herself, "... what's it feel like...?"

"Geez, God, Twilight! With no point of reference I don't know how you think you can-"

"... Just...," she came up again to beg, "... describe it... Describe it in whatever way you're most comfortable with..."

The music from the stage still pulsed explosively, but it wasn't nearly as loud as the man's throbbing blood. His own moisture made the air about him so thick that he was drowning in it.

"Okay... okay... okay," he covered his face with his hands. "Just... stop me if-"

A weak nod from her let him know that she understood.

Oooooh, no way in hell was this what Princess Celestia had in mind when she had said there were perhaps things Twilight could have learned from him.

"... Alright, okay... so... there are... physical sensations involved. Uh, physical stimulations. Pleasurable stimulations, ah, of... your body. It just... happens... when you touch, and get touched. Not like a massage feels like but... it's-... it's... kind of like those other sensations we talked about before but... much more intense, and immediate, and direct. Like... something crashing into you slowly at first, then quickly; all of it just... good.

"Certainly for some people, just chasing that stimulation is enough, and for them that might be all there is to it. But... that can be like... reading only the climax chapter of a book. Exciting, sure, but... there's so much more there, you know? If-... if you want to bother with it...

"And... much like a book, well... there are good reading experiences and bad ones, right? Sometimes a book is so terrible that you feel worse for having read it; like, you can't even finish it, it's so bad; you put it down and walk away, and you're sad, or upset, or angry, or-... Right, and, uh... sex too, I guess. Not-... I mean, the emotions it can make you feel, like how a... bad book stirs all this... negativity and awful feelings. That-... that kind of thing can happen with sex.

"One of my relationships kind of ended because of that. It-... yeah, things weren't made better by the decision to get more physical. Cause it didn't matter how our bodies felt; there's got to be more than that in a relationship, I think. I... don't know how it works for everyone, but we-... um, we... couldn't build something on just that. Where there should have been some heart we-... I, I guess... I just left my body to handle it and... it ended badly not long after that.

"So... I guess what I'm trying to say is... it's... easy to think of it as just a thing of biology... like bodies and senses, but... there's a big connection to your emotions too. There's hardly a part of yourself it doesn't affect. So... you can shut the door on those emotions as much as you can, if you want; some people do, cause... some of those feelings can be pretty depressing, or scary... but-..."

He glanced Twilight's way.

Though she was still very warm in her face, the man's winding trail had left her utterly confused. He'd seen that look before: her trying to piece things together when he had given too few pieces to make it possible. And certainly he now saw how badly he had veered to one side.

He hastily tried to correct his course.

"... Uh, but-... um... so, bad books, right? Well, of course, a good book-... uh... Some are so good to read that it's... incredible. Right? Like, they can be... life-changing. They make you think and feel so many... things... that you never knew you-... Ah... And-... and anyway, uh, at its best I think that sex is... kind of the same. If you can really... let-... Um... There aren't... the words to sort of... explain it... Um..."

He had moved too quickly and his ramble fell apart.

The silence he gave left plenty of space for a particularly strong burst of singing from Gallowayo, which came pouring down from the stage:

It's not just a kiss that loves you
There's more that I miss without you
A feeling of bliss above you
In rain, showers this about you

Every sight, every sound; perfection!
Everything you surround; an obsession!
I'll breath only you
Just breath in me too
We'll be whole; one, in our connection

"Sort of like that!" James borrowed the song. "But-... but more, if you can believe it."

He had in mind one particular moment of his life. A magic moment, where he had been certain all crooked fears had been smoothed away, and all ambiguities had be made bright and clear, and the way to a perfect, golden, inevitable future had been laid down before his feet. Things had come apart painfully sometime later, of course; such was romance and life. But that moment had an eternal life of its own in the quietest beats of his heart, sharing the space so peacefully with the heartache it was bound to.

Something incorruptible. Engraved in stone so imperishable it could not be weathered down by time or pain. Perfect words he didn't quite have, but those feelings he had memorized down to the tiniest detail.

"There's a connection; you connect with you partner... Something happens. You... get close to each other; so close; closer than is possible... The barriers just... go away, and then... you can-... everything you both are can just... mingle...

"... It's not just her skin you feel... That touch; her heat... her heart... The warmest... most powerful feeling...

"... And the sounds... The noises you hear... Her breathing, and whispers... Just... unreal secrets being told without words...

"... You look at her and... she's not the same as ever before. You see every beauty: outside, inside... Everything, without a veil...

"... Close enough, too, that... you can smell her sweat; her body... It's... beyond any flower... or garden... or vast wilderness...

"... Ah... and... each kiss... Each taste... nourishes somethings untouchable but essential...

"All of your senses get filled with each other... You become full, because there's nothing else you can feel but each other. Nothing but you and her. You... become each other. I-... I don't know any other way to describe it. It-..."

He, really and truly, for a short and divine moment, forget everything of where he was; who he was; how he was; why he was.

"... It's the closest thing to a transfigurative experience that I have ever felt, by far."

His numbness to the world quickly faded after the moment had passed. Surprised to find himself back in the warm island night, he looked up to find that his distant glimpse of Eden had made quite an effect on his pony friend.

She was somewhere else, though he couldn't tell where exactly he had sent her. All that remained behind in her place was a ball of glowing heat and silently blazing imagination, in the form of a frozen Twilight. So thoroughly petrified, it seemed like she might never return. The only sign that she wasn't some luminously red statue was the tiny crack in his lips which opened now and again to exchange soft wisps of air.

When eternity finally came to a close some of her brightness started to fade, very gradually like a slow-setting sun, and she spoke a loud whisper:

"... Wow..."

"Yeah, that... might be a better way to describe it," the man said gently.

"... That's what it's like...?"

"That's what it can be. When it's perfect. And I don't know how often that is but... it's happened."

Twilight was conflicted. Horror; wonder; she alternated between the two states constantly. Each shudder she suffered for having invited in such unthinkable thoughts was followed afterwards by her muscles relaxing to warm sighs of imagination.

Eventually she became visibly frustrated with herself; with how every time she tried to focus on her amazement she found herself stumbling into unclean and guilty sensations.

"I can't grasp it," she complained with a sour grumble bouncing from her lips. "I want to think about it, but I don't want to think about it. And I also don't want to think about why I don't want to think about it, even though I really want to think about it!"

"Well, hey...," James didn't know what to tell her. Trying to be jovial and sympathetic, he settled on echoing, "... the more magic goes into the world, the more magic gets taken out, right?"

Even as a bit of friendly snark, it was a good band-aid.

She brightened and said, "That's still nonsense. But... I suppose this is a fairly concrete example of your idea. I cannot—I CANNOT—get it all the way through my head, no matter how much I try."

Once more she gave it a go, closing her eyes and concentrating furiously. But once more she quickly hit the same brick wall, pounding up against it with disgruntled moans.

"When I try to think about sex," she explained, "I get overwhelmed by how personal and intimate it is. From every busy corner of my brain I'm shouted a thousand deafening reminders of how important and private it is, and there's this crushing dread that I'm doing something I'm not supposed to be doing and I'm going to get caught; like if I were digging through a pony's drawers for their darkest secrets when they weren't at home. I can scarcely think at all once the tidal wave of uneasiness, guilt, shame, and so many other paralyzing feelings washes over me."

A light came from her horn; a soft, faintly glittering one. It drew a small, sealed box in the air which Twilight regarded with a sense of sad mystery.

"When I really quiet my mind, it seems like I have this... something... that's so special that I can't even take a peek at it. To open it up just a crack would expose it too much and it would spoil."

As the shimmering image faded she sighed.

"Do you think," she asked the man, "that ponies just aren't able to grasp it the way that you can?"

"I don't know; not with magic being what it is," James said. "Like, I can understand simply being a little shy of sex and wanting to avoid being very public about anything sexual, but I can't quite wrap my head around how... immune you are to it. Or it is immune to you, maybe. That's all too unreal for me."

He gave her perspective another chance, trying to weigh it as fairly as he could, but it was out of his reach. The failure only made his resolve more stubborn.

"In fact," he objected, "I have to believe that deep down inside, somewhere, ponies must to be able to feel the good, special parts of it, even if they usually can't. Like... do married couples turn away from each other in shame when they talk about having a foal? When the time comes do they cower, and blindfold each other, and just get it done as quickly as possible while weeping the whole time and then are too embarrassed to speak to each other for days afterwards? Do they feel resentment for everything they went through, each and every time that they coddle their beautiful newborn foal?"

He shook his head.

"I don't think so. I don't care if I'm wrong; I don't think so."

"There could be a hundred other answers...," Twilight mulled.

Another warmth came into her; not of embarrassment.

"... but... I really want yours to be the right one."

The kind remark tickled enough that the man scratched behind his ear, and he said, "Ah, well... I'm only guessing. Maybe I'm just clinging to home, right? See, to me, irrespective of magic, the whole thing isn't just about personal relationships but is also a matter of species survival. On Earth—"

Confident, intelligent, lecturing like a professor; the unicorn took over for him, "—things are, at times, broadly chaotic and dangerous. Without magic to offer solutions, ingraining an instinctual inclination towards sexual activity into a given species would result in strong reproductive numbers to act as a bulwark against any large assortment of deadly environmental pressures. I've been able to piece together that much myself."

James was surprised as much as he was impressed, and immediately sorry for doubting her (again). He gave a praising bow of his head.

"Hehe! So," Twilight continued, "I hope you're wondering about how that applies on the Equestrian side of the threshold. I know I am, now. Ponies have no such instinct (apparently), yet we've been perfectly fine without it."

"So this magic must be substituting for instinct, somehow."

"Or compensating," she molded his theory a little. "In the past I may have demanded more proof of such a thing, but after today I think the strongest hypothesis would assume a link. What exactly that link is... hmm. I don't know if any Equestrian scientist will ever be able to answer that, given that the subject may be impossible to study rigorously."

Her smile lit up.

"However, we're free to conjecture!"

"So what do you think?" the man rubbed his chin.

And Twilight, being Twilight, of course already came forearmed with all the facts.

"Well, the birth rate of ponies in Equestria has been at a very stable 15.0 for a thousand years. Probably longer, but we don't have much older data; more accurate census data was one of the reforms implemented as part of Princess Celestia's Renewed Dawn initiative shortly after the banishment of Nightmare Moon. However, of what data we do have, we've seen that the trend line hasn't changed once; not an inch, not even for a single moment in recorded history."

"Uh," James politely intruded, "I'm not up-to-date with how birth data actually works, so...?"

"A birth rate is defined as births per 1,000 of a given population annually. Another way to interpret things, which might be more useful here, is the fertility rate. Perhaps not unrelatedly, that rate also hasn't changed in a thousand years, sticking to a healthy 2.025."

"You mean," the man summarized, partially to himself as well just to make sure he was keeping up, "the population barely grows year after year."

"That's a matter of other factors as well, including the mortality rate," she informed him, but confirmed, "however, you're correct. Population growth is incredibly steady, but slow. I'm sure that's a bit of a shock to you; 'healthy' for us is probably pretty low for humans."

He wavered, "Depends on the circumstances, really... but that makes it a bigger shock that the Equestrian numbers have been so stable for so long. I guess it explains why all the old maps I've seen in the library haven't changed much in forever: the frontier probably hasn't moved in a long time."

"No, it hasn't," she said. "Ponies migrate around within Equestria, but there's never been much need to expand. Moreover, marriage here perhaps isn't as common as you are used to (now that I have Earth to use as a point of comparison). It's hardly rare, but many ponies are too busy following the call of their cutie marks to settle down into marriage."

"So," he interpreted her, "a fertility rate just barely above two, but when families happen it isn't unusual to see three, four, five foals?"

"Correct."

"Probably also the occasional oddball number, like when a pony comes around who has a cutie mark of a crib on their flank and so they go off and have ten foals."

"The current record of foals from a single mare is thirty-six, set 189 years ago by a pony named Baby Factory."

"I-..."

Okay. Yeah.

Wow.

So unnecessary... but so... astounding.

"... I am feeling so many things right now," he said.

Those heroic hips! And she was a pony too, so of course she had probably managed to perfectly love each and every one of the little soldiers in her personal army.

And he could have assumed that she had only earned her record due to promiscuity, but no. No, these were ponies. Every one of the rascals had the same father, for sure.

That stallion! What a disappointment if he hadn't had a cutie mark of an enormous bowling pin flanked by two humongous bowling balls, because that stud had to have been rolling strikes every day!

James had to hit his head to knock the distraction out of it.

"Anyway," he blinked away the stars and narrowed on Twilight, "before today you really weren't prepared to call an iron fence's worth of straight lines in the population data the work of magic?"

"Things have been that way for a thousand years, at least," she said casually. "Why should I have assumed anything was being influenced out of the ordinary? Technically even influenced it isn't out of the ordinary, for Equestria."

The man opened his mouth and raised his finger, but stopped short of objecting.

"... Fair point," he realized.

"Given that we now know how a world can work without magic," she pointed at him, indicating Earth, "it leads us to the biggest question of all..."

If their entire conversation prior to that point had been serious, then Twilight suddenly crossed the line into profound and world-shaking.

"Magic is many things," she said. "Powerful. Complicated. Vast. Mysterious. Infinite! But one thing it is NOT... is ignorant, and purposeless. So..."

She asked the question which most consumed the universe entire...

"... Why?"

Chapter 33: Absence

Clouds of Twilight's purple magic rolled over the table, reorganizing everything on it. Party settings were put back in their proper places, spent plates were stacked on top of each other, and both empty drinking glasses drifted back into place. Each dropped gingerly before their respective owner, making hardly an audible clap. No words passed between herself and James.

Twilight gazed down into her bare cup, and the little swish of bubbles napping in the basin.

Maybe downing it all right at the start had been a dumb idea. More right now would have been great.

Humming in irritation, she looked up at James.

The man was likewise inspecting his drink, lightly sniffing up whatever faint traces of alcohol lingered.

Up on stage, the current song finished out with an intense, shivering vocal layered over a hard, lengthy chord, and quickly it all faded into a small crowd of hoof-claps and cheers. Then immediately the next tune started; yet another love ballad, gentle but powerful.

Twilight sighed.

"Anything could have caused the islanders' disappearance," she broke the silence between herself and her friend, resuming their conversation.

"Sure," though the man leered questioningly, "but if it were to be discovered that something with magic screwed up and caused it, it would be a big boost to your theory, yeah?"

"It would demand a huge investigation into that hypothesis," she accepted. "But you've got it all backwards. You don't scour the island specifically for clues to some... remotely possible, completely unproven theory and then backfill the details. The first step is to figure out what actually caused the island's collapse. Then you can see if reality points in the direction of the unsubstantiated theory. And right now," she sighed again, "there's no clues as to what ended the civilization here. Trust me, I've been going over everything I can get my hooves on. No clues at all."

"Well, no clues that Venus and Vesuvius have found, anyway," the man threw up his shoulders and spun his eyes through a wacky loop, dismissing the owners' efforts quite cruelly, "but by their own admission they aren't archaeologists, or historians, or professors. Frankly, I think they aren't even very good entrepreneurs."

The unicorn groaned in agreement.

"They're out of their depth for sure. But maybe the Island Society will find some solid clues they've missed. They are shipping so much back for study, after all."

Yet her hopes weren't much brighter than a distant sun behind gray clouds.

"Until such a lead is found, though... I think that probability alone dictates a more mundane calamity wiped out the island culture."

James smirked, "Don't have much faith in your micro/marco theory?"

"It's overly-generous to call it a 'theory,' really. It's just something I've been kicking around in my head ever since I met you."

She looked into her drink again.

"... And... I've never really liked some of the things it implies, anyway. I'd rather it not be true..."

"I can tell," he said delicately. "You would have brought it up a long time ago if it was something you were really excited about."

"Hm. Well... regardless... let's not get carried away with elaborate, bush league hypothesizing. Just because there's a mysteriously empty island here doesn't mean we should throw all reasonable doubt into the wind and assume that something magically traumatic must have-"

Instantly her jaw stopped whirring, locking open. The last sound dropped right out with an incomplete thud.

"Uh... Twilight?" James asked.

Plainly gears were churning behind her eyes; a sight very familiar to him now. But even for such deep thought, she was unusually unresponsive. She was so buried that there wasn't a hint, good or bad, of what was going through her mind.

A badly traumatized mare recovered at sea.

"... No... No, it... probably isn't-...," Twilight began to wake up.

"Isn't what?"

"Uh, r-relevant. To anything," the unicorn came back with a start. She slapped her tongue against the sides of her mouth to beat some submission into it.

"What isn't relevant?"

"Nothing," she shook her head. "It's just some more wild speculation."

"Right," he acknowledged, confused, "but wild speculation is something that we—you and I—something that we do."

He added a cheeky smile.

"For fun, sometimes."

"I know," Twilight allowed some brightness back in, "but all of this is getting a little grim, I think. Definitely too grim for a vacation, which I'll remind you is what we're doing here."

"Fair enough," James concurred.

The unicorn gave one last faded glance down into her empty drink.

"In any case," she said slowly, coming back up, "I don't believe Equestria is in any actual danger or anything. Even if my theory were coincidentally completely true, things have always worked out for Equestria in the end. Every ultra-magical fiend has been met and beaten by goodhearted heroes, and every ultra-magical disaster has been averted by the wholesome goodness of those who wouldn't let it happen."

The man shrugged, "That's true."

"Actually, it would have to be that way, technically. The logic might appear a little circular," Twilight reasoned, "but it goes like this: if creatures adapt by responding to environmental pressures, and one of those pressures is regular macro-evils, then highly adapted creatures will develop an appropriate response."

"Ah. Like natural selection, but with magic. (Magical selection?)"

"That's a good comparison, you know, for your own understanding. I'll remind you that magic is natural here, thank you very much."

"Heh."

Twilight buzzed with a little laughter as well, and then the conversation fell away from them for a few uninterrupted bars of music.

"So...," James picked up, "... you want to have more back and forth about sex, or...?"

"Well... do you?" she asked. "How do you feel?"

"I'm great," he said, easy and bordering on enthusiastic. "I feel kind of enlightened, really."

"Well that's good! The whole reason I brought it up was for you."

"Yeah, but I never wanted to drag you through anything like that...," he still felt her initial reasoning had been somewhat spotty.

"No, no," she assured him, "it started out a little... terrifying, but... I found it incredibly interesting in the end."

Thinking back on it made her blush swiftly and strongly, enough to turn her cheeks a very rich red, but quickly she shook it off.

"Really," she said, "thank you for trusting me. I hope I've proven that you can talk to me about anything, if it's important enough to you."

He tipped his head to her, saying, "If I ever doubted before, I was a fool."

"That's right!" she laughed. "So... you're good, then?"

"Yeah. Good talk."

She returned a kind nod to him.

And really, the man was supremely thankful for it. She had advanced him significantly on Equestrian sexuality without the need for him to have re-endured adolescence, only more awkward for its cross-cultural, cross-species difficulties. He was now in a much better place to keep some of his fundamental humanity from harming ponies with erroneous assumptions.

Better yet, their discussion had given him a superior position with which to understand the strange behaviors of his assigned pony-

He suddenly sat far up, nearly standing, and he threw his eyes all over the boardwalk.

"What?" Twilight questioned his odd search.

"Where's Prism?" he said. He failed to find any hint of her around, and grew disappointed; worried, even.

"Your pony partner? I don't know," the unicorn answered. "Was she with us when the party started?"

"No, yeah," he mumbled almost incoherently, half his broken attention given to his friend and the other half to the pony who wasn't there. "We were talking and then she dashed just before you came."

"Ah, I thought I saw her," Twilight recalled, "but when I looked again you were all alone, which is why I imagined it was a good time to approach you."

"No, she had just run off to... quickly grab me a chair or something."

There wasn't a flash of silver fur about the party. Not a flare of a pastel mane. Not a sparkle of a bracelet.

Sitting back down, he murmured, "You and I were talking for a long, long while. It really shouldn't have taken Prism this long."

"Well, she does work here," Twilight tried to be helpful. "Maybe she suddenly got swept up into some other duty?"

"... I guess..."

He wasn't appeased.

"She could come back any minute," the unicorn stayed optimistic. "Why don't you just enjoy the party until she returns? Some of the others look like they're having a lot of fun."

"I... should probably wait for her."

Twilight eyed him skeptically, amused.

"I don't think she'd have trouble finding you if you were to get up and enjoy yourself at another table."

"Yeah, but..."

Suddenly his thoughts ran dry and he didn't say anymore.

"Okay," Twilight conceded pleasantly and politely. "But is it alright if I go and explore the party? I'll sit here with you if you want."

"Oh, no, no," the man's regretful humility came right forward. He smiled and waved his hands to shoo her off. "You go have a blast. It's not like you're going far if I need you."

"Alright."

A little twinkle of magic and then her empty glass stood up at the same time as she did.

"Don't be afraid to have some fun," she recommended earnestly, "and, 'good night,' if I don't talk to you before it's all over."

"Enjoy. Night, Twilight."

Away she went, merrily looking about the boardwalk while deciding what she wanted to do next.

James watched the far side of the stage platform, where Prism had vanished from existence. Yet for all his endless staring, she didn't come bolting back around with a floating chair tethered to her by white magic. Not after a minute; or two; or five. Gallowayo collected his applause for another song and proceeded on to the next, and still the colorful mare did not return.

The man rubbed his eyes and looked down into his dry glass, not a drop left behind.

Man, he did not feel drunk at all.

He lifted his hand before his face and counted his fingers deftly and accurately. He wobbled his wrist, easily tracking his palm as it moved in and out of his vision. He rocked his head side to side, feeling precisely the sloshing of blood in his brain down to the last drop.

Oh, the faintest fuzz was there, but it wasn't going to jumble up his backwards-alphabet anytime soon. Either pony alcohol was underpowered compared to human-brewed (and it would not have surprised him), or there was some sort of miraculous sobering power to discourse with Twilight.

He glanced towards the bar. Applejack was on a stool, plainly visible in the light spilling out of the little shed's open face. More liquid courage was available, if he so wished.

Actually, after everything he and Twilight had talked about, he felt he needed it more than ever before. If Prism were to have come back while he was so dry, there was no way he'd be able to keep it together. It wasn't as though he genuinely had a plan to get too sloshed to care, but a little tipsiness went a long way towards greasing his many misshapen gears.

Groaning, he pulled at his own hair.

There was still no sign of Prism.

Groaning again, he stood up and yanked the back of his pants out of the depths of his butt. Glass in hand, he scooted his way towards the bar.

Applejack and Till were chatting away, albeit in a very quiet, almost confidential manner, when the man came upon them. Mostly the chocolate stallion was listening as the farm pony controlled the conversation. Certain key words kicked up her gentle voice as they came out again and again: 'apples', 'Apples', 'cousin', 'niece', 'aunt'... Almost certainly Till was getting the Apple family's unabridged history. Both ponies were happy to pause when the man arrived, but James was too rushed and agitated to do any more than quickly and politely order a refill.

Till was again wary and concerned; he was surprised at the man's intact constitution after even one whole glass. However, service wasn't outright refused; he just issued yet another careful warning while he poured, this time making absolutely, positively sure that the man knew to take it slow and easy. After a fast 'thank you,' James departed with his fresh drink, catching one final friendly urging of caution from the bartender.

Before the man had even sat back down on his butt-post he had gulped down a quarter of his new drink.

Prism was still nowhere to be found.

He spent the time between his searches attentively nursing his drink. It was like delicately guiding a boat into harbor: he wanted to dock himself perfectly between the relaxed warmth and the sloppy inebriation. It took until he was halfway through his drink before he finally began to feel the party about him turn blissfully sluggish.

Once more his lifted his hand before his face. When he counted his fingers it took a few extra blinks and some squinting to get the correct number. When he waved his wrist he felt the movements before he saw the wobble, and there was a blur to everything which gave him an unexplainable tickle of pleasure. When he rolled his head back and forth it felt more like it was the whole world which was teetering.

Yet when he sat perfectly still and took a breath, everything seemed crystal clear, like he hadn't had a drop of alcohol.

Bullseye.

So long as he didn't sink any deeper, he felt sure that he wouldn't wind up on his face for the rest of the evening, or more importantly that he wouldn't be a volcano of vomit the next morning. From then on he kept his glass at arms length, using only a sip here or there to maintain the precise buzz.

But Prism still hadn't returned. He was beginning to doubt that she ever would before the party was over.

He held his head in his hands, nearly missing the table when he tried to lean on it.

A brilliant master plan, wasted! Drink some something to do the something without all the something something in the way.

He felt smart, at least.

Now what was he going to do?

There was a something... with the something...

A something...?

Wait, which something?

He looked about the boardwalk.

Adorable Fluttershy, alone at her table, was certainly enjoying the show. The man didn't care much for the music; not badly produced or performed, but Gallowayo was just spitting out standard-grade pop material again and again. Rarity had her worshipers, of course. Twilight was floating between tables, her mind elsewhere it seemed. And then there was a very noisy table with Rainbow Dash, Hulahoof, and...

... Pinkie Pie.

Oh yeaaaahhh...! That was one of the somethings!

He had made a promise.

To Rainbow Dash.

He needed to tolerate Pinkie Pie for a few minutes in order to please Rainbow Dash. And no problem now! Even Pinkie Pie's frightening power couldn't pierce a shield of alcohol! Maybe he could tell that one joke where the priest, the rabbi, and the magical sun princess all walk into a bar!

"... Ah-ha! I've got it! I know where we are!" Hulahoof built towards the climax of his humorous anecdote.

In another voice, he answered himself, "Where?"

"Tartarus!"

His second voice flew straight past skepticism and right into deadly hostile disbelief.

"... How do you figure?"

"Well... read the clues! Everything is hot to the touch, though then again, it is summertime. There's also a stinging scent of sulfur in the air, but I suppose that could be all the trash bags rotting by the curb. Oh, and no matter where you listen you hear the moaning cries of eternal suffering, though I guess that could also just be because traffic is really bad today."

"THAT'S ALL BECAUSE WE STILL HAVEN'T GOTTEN OUT OF THE CITY!! What could possibly make you so sure this is Tartarus?!"

"Well, here's the cincher: that's my mother-in-law over there!"

Being cliché might have cost the joke a few points, but his carefree delivery more than made up for it. Pinkie Pie and Rainbow Dash went spinning with laughter; the pink pony especially. Her hooves drummed on the table until she couldn't hold back anymore, and she leapt up with a loud smile.

"Okay! My turn!" she announced. With a solid twist she cracked her neck once, though instead of limbering bone it made the sound of a squeaky bicycle horn.

“A baker and her assistant made an enormous four-layer cake for a royal wedding on the other side of the mountain. However, before they even wheeled it out of their shop, the baker realized, "Oh no! The cake is too tall to fit out the shop door!"

"Well then," the assistant suggested, "if WE eat the top layer of the cake, it will be short enough to fit through the door!"

"But the cake is for the beautiful couple being wed, not for us!" the baker said.

"Better that we show up with a three-layer cake than with no cake at all!" the assistant replied.

It was a good point, so the baker agreed. They ate the top layer of the cake and pushed it out the door.

When they started to push the cake up the mountain, it wobbled and rocked, nearly sliding off the cart. The baker stopped pushing.

"This is not good!" she said. "The cake is so top-heavy that it is going to tumble over on this steep mountain trail! What ever will we do?"

"I know!" said the assistant. "If we eat the top layer of the cake, it won't be top-heavy enough to fall over. Then we can push it up the mountain safely!"

"But-!" the baker tried to object.

"Better that we show up with a two-layer cake than with no cake at all!" the assistant said.

Again it was a good point, so the baker agreed. They ate the top layer of the cake and pushed it up the mountain.

Even with two layers of the cake now eaten, the cake was still very, very large. When the baker and her assistant came over the top of the mountain trail and hit the slope down, the cart was so heavy that it almost rolled away them! The baker set it safely on the flattest part of the trail she could find.

"Oh dear me!" she said. "The cake is so weighty that it is going to go speeding down this mountain and crash at the bottom! What ever will we do?"

"I know!" said the assistant. "If we eat the top layer of the cake, it won't be weighty enough to escape from us. Then we can guide it slowly down the mountain! Better that we show up with one layer of cake than with no cake at all!"

And again the baker felt like her assistant was unfortunately right. So they ate the top layer of the cake and wheeled it slowly down the mountain.

At last they made it to the royal wedding hall on the other side of the mountain.

Exhausted, the baker asked her assistant, "I need to rest. Could you please handle things with the royal guards at the front and bring the cake inside?"

"Sure!" said the assistant.

So the baker left to take a load off her hooves, and once she was rested she returned just in time to join the wonderful wedding. Afterwards, with everypony at the reception, it was finally time to unveil the cake. The assistant wheeled the sheet-covered cart out, the baker made her grand introduction, and then...

... she threw off the sheet to reveal nothing but crumbs and the cake topper!

"What happened to our cake?!" the baker gasped.

The assistant explained, "The guards wouldn't let me in because they said we were supposed to have a four-layer cake. So, to prove to them that our cake was the right cake, I let them have a taste and eat the last layer."

"But WHY?" scolded the baker. "Now there's no cake left for the reception!"

And the assistant said, "Well, obviously, better that we show up with NO CAKE than-"”

"Is this spot taken?"

James nearly stumbled into the table right across from where Pinkie Pie was standing. He steadied himself against it before he, giggling loudly at his own wobbly balance, tossed his drink down onto the tabletop. Even half-full, the liquid inside almost popped out of the glass as it clacked down. Then the man spun in rapid circles, looking for a chair.

"Well-o, hello, new face!" Hulahoof happily greeted him. "Have a seat!"

"I'm trying!" James laughed. There wasn't anything stool-worthy in reach, however. When he stopped spinning, his head kept going, and he teetered just shy of taking a spill. Clasping his head to get it on straight, he laughed again and simply sat his butt on the floor.

His nose didn't even clear the tabletop.

"Nope, that's not going to work!" he said.

Rainbow Dash wasn't sure if she was aghast, concerned, suspicious, amused, or what. For all her days chilling together with the man, this was something completely new, and what's more, his arrival had brought a cold silence over Pinkie Pie. But bit by bit the man's absurd antics slowly chipped away at her more touchy senses, and it became harder and harder not to laugh at his ridiculousness.

"Geez, what's up with you?" her chuckle spilled out.

James upgraded from a sit to a kneel, enough to bring his whole head above the edge of the table. But it also disrupted his already-handicapped balance and he almost fell over again. He popped back up with a smile.

"You see, Dasher Doodle," he waved an aimless finger at the pegasus, "our two species had segregated evolutions and now I'm suffering the consequences of that. P.S.: humans rule, ponies drool; we invented chairs."

"We have chairs," Rainbow Dash snorted from her gut.

"A bold but false claim!"

"Hehe, wow! Why are you such a numskull tonight—Oh! You need something to sit on!" she realized. "Haha, why didn't you just say so? Hey Hulahoof! Do you have anything the Pants Master here can sit on so he doesn't come up so... short?"

"Hm. I think so...," one of the blue stallion's wings rubbed his chin.

"No, it's cool! It's cool!" James defended himself. "I think this'll work!"

He planted his chin on the table's edge; just three ponies and a man's head, all sitting around a table. Then, as if he had no arms, he futilely tried to grasp his drink with just his tongue. Scarcely he managed to lick the side of the glass.

"Pff, hahaha! Wow," Rainbow Dash shook her head. Any genuine distress she felt became completely buried under her amused bewilderment.

"What? I'm just doing my me thing," he said.

"This isn't a you thing! Like, not at all! You're never this wired and goofy!"

"Aw, how would you know, Rainbow Rumpus?"

"Uh, a few ways," the pegasus contested him merrily. She counted her reasons off on her hooves (but since she only one hoof per leg, she just kept tapping the same hoof over and over again), "First off: these nicknames aren't your best material, okay, Captain Carnivore? Try harder. Second: I think I've seen you take enough midday naps to know that this isn't like you. And lastly, I have two words for you: 'QUIET. PARTIES.'"

The man, eyes wide and lips puckered, fiddled his fingers through the air.

"Well, maybe I have amazing hidden depths that you don't know about!"

Again he used only his tongue to reach for his drink, but this time he overplayed his drunken effort and his balance finally gave way. His hands slapped the table as he grasped it to stop his fall, nearly pulling the whole thing over, but he was no less cheery when he came back up.

"Yeah," Rainbow Dash laughed, just a little dryly, "that's pretty amazing."

Hulahoof came around next to the man, and he wheeled with him a sturdily-made but lovingly well-polished cannon. It wasn't at all the actual size of a piece of artillery – a dwarf by comparison – but it looked like a real piece of equipment: two sizable, spoked wheels supporting a fat barrel, and in back a small pig-tail of a fuse that – it seemed to the man – might have actually been a pull cord instead. There wasn't any reason to doubt the device couldn't have launched a heavy shot put over a mile.

"I never go anywhere without my extra-special party cannon!" the stallion said. "Here, you can sit on it."

"You sure?" James blinked, grasping the pony's statement in perhaps not the intended way.

"No worries! It'll be fine! It's a-hundred-crabs-with-washboard-abs tough!"

The man bumbled aside so that the pony could roll the improvised seat into place and lock its wheels. Once positioned, James mounted it by straddling his legs about the barrel. The small cannon took on his weight without effort, and it gave him the perfect sitting height to match his tablemates.

"Hey, thanks!" James said. He bounced on his new seat like a toddler on a parent's knee. The rounded metal shape might have been a little uncomfortable and solid, but certainly it was a thousand times better than that post that had been up his butt.

"Treat him gently!" Hulahoof requested. "I've had him since he was only a super-little party popper!"

"Trust me. I'm gentle with everything between my legs!"

James was the only one who laughed. He looked down at the massive, thick, rigid cannon now poking out from below his torso, and he gave it a feel with both his hands. Along the hard, smooth shaft he rubbed his palms up and down.

"Well," he snickered at Rainbow Dash, "this is a naughty metaphor waiting to happen."

She squinted cluelessly.

"So!" the man clapped both his hands together and leaned onto the table, "What'd I jump in on?"

Hulahoof, back at his seat, said, "Pinkie Pie was just getting to the punchline of her joke!"

The blue pony turned to the pink one, and his enormous smile listened for the finale like it was going to give him the hilarious, gut-busting death-by-laughter that he had always dreamed of. He sparkled eagerly, like a bundle of wet balloons under sunshine.

Pinkie Pie, still frozen as a hare being hunted, ticked her pinprick pupils the tiniest notch to the left to look at Hulahoof. Then two notches to the right to look at Rainbow Dash. Then, slow as the boulder rolled in front of a tomb after the final internment, they came back to the man. Either her eyeballs started to expand or the rest of her head started to shrink; it wasn't obvious which.

"Well?" Hulahoof obliviously encouraged her.

Her nose wiggled. An inch this way, an inch that way.

Then suddenly her neck stretched long, her mouth flapped open like a screeching train whistle, and booming to nopony in particular she squawked quickly, "TO GET TO THE OTHER SIDE! HA HA HA!"

Instantly afterwards, her mouth shut dead silent and she slunk down in her seat. Her mane clumped down to mop up her fearful sweat, and she hid everything behind her big, toothy, crazed smile, itself trapped behind frowning lips.

"... I get it! Heh," Hulahoof broke the silence somewhat generously.

The sudden, unhelpful remark made James snerk.

All the amusement had finally stopped tickling Rainbow Dash, though. The man's oddities might have been trying to invite them all back, but the barely concealed panic in Pinkie Pie's outburst had scared away every last laugh in one heck of a hurry. Anxiously the pegasus looked between her two friends.

Now instead of something being wrong with one of them, there was something wrong with both of them!

"That was great, probably!" James rushed to compliment the joke he hadn't heard, but then he immediately began bouncing on the cannon and exclaimed, "I got one now, though!"

"Super! Let's hear it!" Hulahoof excitedly invited.

"Right! Right! Okay! Right! Yeah! Okay!"

The man kept slapping the air before him, like he was feeling an invisible wall for the hole he must have left his joke in, or perhaps like he was bargaining with an invisible dog to drop the joke it had fetched for him.

"Okay, right!" he at last began. "So! A priest, a rabbi, and a moon-butt all walk into a bar, and-... —? Oh, shit, I already screwed it up!"

While he kept choking on his own laughter trying to restart the joke, Rainbow Dash winced at the casually deployed extreme vulgarity. Nervously she glanced at the others.

Pinkie Pie stayed frozen behind her false and terrified grin, with only the occasional suppressed-twitch jolting her. Hulahoof – bless his kind soul – endured, but each moment more of the man's unhinged and drunken fumbling made the blue pegasus transform further into a clone of the disquieted pink pony.

"A ha ha ha ha...," Rainbow Dash sadly, helplessly laughed.

Giggle after giggle flitted out from Rarity's rosy cheeks. She insisted mirthfully, "Oh no no no no no no, I couldn't possibly have any more!"

"My fair and beautiful lady, don't be so restrained," Sweet Nothing serenaded her. "Tell me: which did you enjoy the most?"

The dressmaker's chin nuzzled her own chest. Her eyes turns gayfully aside. She blushed.

"... The chocolate-and-caramel macadamias were quite sinful..."

"Then you'll have as many as you please!"

"Oh but I couldn't!" she playfully batted away the suggestion in her deepest voice.

"Here, you're the queen; there is nothing you can't indulge in!" the dark stallion assured her. He crept in awfully close. "I'll train you to be more sinful."

Rarity went wild with more blissful, bashful laughter. Her bright color shone straight through the night-blue of her dazzling dress.

Spike, the whole time sitting next to her on her other side, fumed. He had so far endured every one of Sweet Nothing's thieving advances in outraged silence, but now that criminal had gone too far.

The dragon stood and loudly declared, "I'll go get you some more macadamias, Rarity."

"Nonsense, Spike," the mare sobered up in an instant and shot him down immediately.

Crestfallen, the dragon shrunk back into his seat.

But then Rarity softly picked up his chin and presented to him a smile that was more divine than the deepest-buried gem.

"You must remember," she said vibrantly, "we're the guests here. We send the lowly servants to do our fetching. I need you to sit right here and keep me company, my wonderful Spikie-Wikie."

Every scale on Spike's body stood on end and tingled, from the ends of his frills all the way down to the very tip of his tail. He also got a kick of bonus pleasure when he looked past the beautiful mare and saw Sweet Nothing grinding his teeth.

"Well, servant? You heard her! Fetch!" the dragon commanded the dark stallion. "And while you're at it, get me some more of those chocolate ruby cordials."

Sweet Nothing seethed, baring his fangs, but he turned it all into a tense smile the very moment that Rarity looked his way.

"Yes. Right away, sir."

"Oh, thank you very much, Mr. Nothing," Rarity said politely. "You continue to be a host par excellence. I'm almost ashamed I won't have the chance to show you an equitable service in return."

"No, no. It will be my pleasure," he said back. Then, with all the formal mendacity of a bouquet of plastic flowers, he hastily bowed and departed.

Summer Wind, also at the table with them, noted the whole exchange. It pleased her to no end to see Rarity and Spike immediately continue to enjoy each other's company once Sweet Nothing was gone, as if he hadn't been there at all.

Yet she watched them with only half-interest. It seemed like it had been less and less necessary for her to run interference on Spike's behalf ever since the bell moths. Obviously Rarity had still enjoyed all the exaggerated doting that Sweet Nothing had been offering, but now it was plain to see that she wasn't confused at all about who was selfishly charming her and who loved her. Even if the dressmaker was reluctant to admit anything, if it ever came down to a single moment of choice then there wasn't even a question about whom Rarity would choose.

In fact, it really felt like hovering over the dragon and the mare was a waste of Summer Wind's time. At the moment, anyway. Without saying a word she started to slip away from the table, but stealth had never been a strong attribute for such a large pegasus.

"Where're you going, Summer Wind?" Spike asked. There was still a warm glow in his cheeks, glittering right through his scales. It didn't sound like he assumed anything was wrong.

"Just to... you know... check out the rest of the party," Summer Wind excused herself.

"Dear me, we're not making you feel unwelcome, are we?" Rarity worried. "You've been so quiet all this time."

The large pegasus put on a confident smile.

"Not at all! I'm only here to help, but it seems like you two have each other well taken care of already." She gave a bow, and she especially assured Spike, "I'll see you ponies later! Enjoy yourselves!"

"Alright. Later, Summer Wind!" the dragon waved.

Rarity likewise wished a happy goodbye, and then the pegasus left.

Summer Wind's steps started carefree, for as long as she thought the others were still looking her way, but once she felt unwatched then she became slow and thoughtful. She stopped when a tender, almost envious shiver moved through her. She let the cold run its course before casting it out, and she put the innocent dragon-and-pony couple out of her mind.

"Hmm," Rarity said, looking at Summer Wind's empty seat, "she hardly seems to have touched her food."

"She didn't really eat any of her breakfast this morning, either," Spike remembered.

"Is that so? Oh dear, I wonder if she's not feeling well?"

"Gosh, you think?" the dragon took the concern seriously. "Now that you mention it, there has been something... miserable about her. I hope she feels better soon."

"Spike, darling, are you thinking of doing something for her?"

"You think I should?"

Summer Wind still felt a chill. By the time she had reached the far end of the party she was stiff, dreary, and dragging herself on like a long winter that wouldn't yield to spring.

She set herself down somewhere that she had a good view over the entire party and went back to what she had been doing in between all the many distractions before:

Searching, and failing, to find any sign of Humble Herd.

All the way down the hills from the bell moth spectacle she had stuck by her meek friend, but no sooner had they reached the boardwalk had he gotten lost in the mishmash of the starting party. After vanishing, she hadn't caught one wink of him anywhere. And now, able to give her search her full attention, she still didn't spy mane or tail of him.

She sighed.

Again she looked at the table Humble Herd should have been at. She had kept one eye on it all night: the lonesome table, big enough to seat four ponies comfortably, where Fluttershy sat alone with a basket of untouched party favors.

Besides some fast chitchat with a passing Twilight, not a single pony had joined the animal-loving pegasus. Apparently though, the isolation hadn't bothered her at all. In fact, she seemed more approachable than ever. The combination of the bell moth spectacle earlier and the concert now had done something to her.

She was at the edge of her seat, practically being pulled up and over the table by Gallowayo's hypnotic singing. Each bump in the music jolted her body, and she followed along with happy little bops. The boardwalk beneath her was swept clean by her tail's dancing back and forth. There wasn't a single light coming from the stage which could compare to the dreaming sparkles in her own wide eyes as she watched the performance, enraptured. And every time a chorus repeated – every time – she mouthed along in sync with Gallowayo, having learned the words perfectly with only her first listening.

Every love song he performed, whether soaring or sorrowful, she followed with the utmost adoring dedication. She worshiped the music; studied it as a sacred scripture; copied the words onto her heart.

It was a far cry from the entirely shy, almost invisible mare of before. Probably Fluttershy was so lost in the music that she didn't know how marvelously, adorably goofy she appeared, and she would have shrunk out of existence from embarrassment if anypony were to have interrupted her. But still, all her timid defenses were down; she was warm, inviting, and happy; and anypony soft enough could have just walked right up to her with a quiet 'hello' and would have been welcomed.

Really, it was the perfect opening for a cripplingly reserved pony like Humble Herd.

If only he were actually around!

The whole situation made Summer Wind outrageously sad. Humble Herd was a wonderful, attentive, remarkable, caring, sensitive, and goodhearted pony, in the most pure way. He was so kind that he never took a single second for himself until he was sure that everypony else around was taken care of. He showed that same kindness to every animal too, down to even the smallest little bug.

In every way he was Sweet Nothing's opposite. Sweet Nothing, who only put on friendly disguises so that he could achieve his own selfish ends. Sweet Nothing, who only saw kindness as a disposable currency with which to barter treats to satisfy his own greed. Sweet Nothing, who walked all over ponies like Humble Herd.

Humble Herd was easily the most deserving – and least rewarded – pony Summer Wind had ever met.

But, as much as Spike was a good fit for Rarity, Humble Herd was a good fit for Fluttershy. If Fluttershy was as soft and gentle as her dossier had suggested (and as she so nakedly appeared now that they had met her), then she was a pony who could appreciate all those things about Humble Herd that Summer Wind herself appreciated, but she also wouldn't be very imposing or threatening to him at all. With Fluttershy, there was finally a pony tame enough for Humble Herd to share the full, incredible depth of the island's magic with. He could at last have that beautiful experience, like he truly deserved.

An experience Summer Wind herself hadn't been able to give him.

She hadn't been right for him. Or rather, her needy body had been all wrong for him; too much for him.

After the island's magic had failed, she had spent too many days in the sky assembling the clouds while huffing in thought over how everything about Humble Herd was wonderful, amazing, and perfect...

... except for that one enormous, painful incompatibility...

A mismatch which had turned a miracle into a malignancy...

For her, only that jerk Sweet Nothing had the stamina to give the intensity her body needed under the island's magic; to bring the storms that she craved to ride.

How sickening. And unfair.

It was a very cold fire which had angry and shivering. She groused to herself so intently that she lost track of her search, the party, and absolutely everything going on about her. All she could think about was her misery, and the misery her misery had caused Humble Herd, and it made her want to get up into the sky and smash a stormcloud until it cried lightning.

The music stopped abruptly; just a song coming to a sharp but normal end. Gallowayo bowed and there were adulations from the audience, including some soft, peppy cheers from Fluttershy.

It happened suddenly that it jarred Summer Wind into awareness. She sighed as the tips of her large wings rubbed her throbbing, icy temples. Trying to let all her troublesome feelings go, she took one more intent look across the party, and she gasped.

Unbelievably enough, there was Humble Herd.

He wasn't in the party proper, and quite plainly he was trying not to be seen. He skulked wide around the boardwalk, more interested in the bushes and the trees at the beach's edge than in the music and the ponies in the torchlight. Whatever he was up to, he moved with fairly pressing business in his hooves. If Summer Wind had to guess, he had probably abandoned the party right at the start and had only just now returned for some reason. If so, she thought it was likely that he wouldn't linger for long.

Her great wings bolted her right over to him, nearly flipping a table she buzzed by.

"Humble Herd! Where have you been?" she tried so hard to thread herself between relief and frustration.

Predictably he was startled by her sudden appearance and her raised and tense voice, almost shouting. But like usual he flinched smaller for her than for anypony else.

"Oh! Uh, Summer Wind. Hi. I-I'm just here to make sure t-that our animal friends a-aren't bothered by all this n-noise. That's all. W-We don't do this every n-night, s-so it kinda b-bothers them."

"But what about Fluttershy?" the large pegasus groaned. She threw a hoof at said pony, still tenderly partying by herself in her seat.

"Oh. H-Her. Um..."

Humble Herd could scarcely give more than a glance in Fluttershy's direction before he crumpled in shame and cowardice.

"I-I-I'm not... um... Well, that is to say-..."

"Humble Herd," Summer Wind begged.

"Sh-She seems really great, and I w-wish I had courage like her; w-when sh-she stepped up and introduced th-the bell moths and everything... I'm... r-really happy there's s-somepony else who c-cares about the animals l-like that, too. B-But... I would n-never be any g-good for her."

An utterly dismal pain came into his eyes when he looked at Summer Wind.

He added, "I mean, just like I-... I wasn't any good for you."

That simple mention of the disaster of a magical experience they had shared caused Summer Wind's freezing shivers to hit her again hard. She pushed her heart down into her stomach to get them to stop.

"Humble Herd," she pleaded, "you have to at least start spending time with Fluttershy if you want to-"

"N-No!" the terrified stallion actually retreated a few steps. "I-It doesn't m-matter anymore, anyway," he said, resigned. "I-It's already over. The r-romance can be left to the p-ponies who are actually good at it. L-Like Sweet Nothing."

"Oh, don't even mention him!" snapped Summer Wind.

"I-I-I-I'm s-sorry!" Humble Herd cowered.

"No, I-"

She swallowed her bitter rage. One of her wings came up, and she tried to get it around her friend softly; to hug him in apology.

"I'm not angry with you."

He ducked out of her wing.

"... Just disappointed...?" he asked very quietly, with his broken stare still lingering on her.

"No!" her voice cracked. "N-No... never, Humble Herd. Never, ever. Just... don't talk like Sweet Nothing is anything good. He-... he doesn't care anything for anypony, except himself."

"Th-that's not true," the other pony meekly objected. "He did t-try to help m-me with Fluttershy."

"What? I doubt that," Summer Wind scoffed.

"I was gonna-... well, I m-mean, because I got assigned to Fl-Fluttershy, I was t-thinking about what I could do to maybe m-make a g-good first imp-impression," Humble Herd embarrassed himself just thinking about his own shameful efforts. "I t-thought maybe-... I mean, I was gonna leave an an-animal in her r-room for her when she f-first got there; you kn-know, a personal f-friend for while she's on the island. M-Maybe Henry, or P-Peter, or Barnabas; they're all v-very friendly. She l-likes animals, s-so... it would have b-been kind of l-like... a p-pet away from h-home, for her."

Summer Wind was pleasantly stunned; not just at the kind gesture, but at the initiative.

"That was a wonderful idea! Why didn't you do that?"

"W-Well, I asked Sweet Nothing," he explained, "a-and he told me that i-it was a b-bad idea. He s-said that leaving a g-gift for her in her room like th-that would look really d-desperate. A-And he k-knows how to please m-mares, so..."

Summer Wind's fiery gaze blasted back over to Rarity's table.

Sweet Nothing had returned, brining trays upon trays of more snacks. Rarity was still secure by Spike's side, but the dark stallion's efforts to ply her were having their usual charming effect. Her merry blushing could still be seen through the veil of the dress she wore.

One of the three gift dresses he had left in her room for her.

The large pegasus' teeth ground together loud enough to spray dust.

She growled back to Humble Herd, "He didn't happen to say anything to you today, did he?"

"T-Today...?"

"Yeah. Offer you an apology?"

Genuinely Humble Herd didn't know what she was talking about.

"For knocking you into the bushes yesterday?" she reminded him.

"Oh," the meek pony remembered.

"N-No. W-Why would he do th-that? I-... I really shouldn't have b-been in his way l-like I was..."

"That son of a-!"

The dark stallion had said that he would apologize. She had traded him a night together to get that apology for Humble Herd, but it had been just another one of his deceitful, self-serving ploys. She should have known! He had stolen Humble Herd's rightful apology, and in the same theft had stolen some of her dignity.

But were his broken words ever going to be worth some broken bones!

Her wings spread huge, like a wasp gesturing in threat, and she started to stomp back towards the party.

"I'm going to rip out his tail and string him up by it!"

Humble Herd bounded up alongside her, too timid to actually try blocking her or holding her back.

"P-Please d-don't!" he implored her as if it were his own tail being threatened. "D-Don't m-make a sc-scene, S-Summer Wind! I-, I don't w-want to c-cause anyp-pony tr-trouble!"

She stopped, but she absolutely boiled in her upset anger.

"Humble Herd! He said he was going to apologize!"

"It d-doesn't m-matter. It w-was my f-fault anyway. I don't w-want an apology, a-and I don't want to b-be trouble for anypony."

"It's not just that! He-! I-!"

She had intended for her little sacrifice to have been no more than a simple trick on Sweet Nothing; something to have baited the dark stallion into doing a nice thing for Humble Herd (which the meeker pony had been owed anyway). Just something small, and secret. She had never wanted it to have been known.

She really had to punch herself to admit it to Humble Herd.

"... I opened my passion for him, so that he would apologize to you."

She had, more or less, effectively ripped off Humble Herd's tail.

He withdrew a step, hurt so badly in some inner place that his legs wobbled and his voice was bound and dragged back into the corners of his throat. Quietly, weakly; he secured his footing, never quite looking Summer Wind in the eyes.

"... I don't want to cause anypony trouble," he at last whispered again.

"Humble Herd, I was just wanted him to-"

"M-Maybe it's really not s-so bad. H-He was the one y-you were p-passionate with be-before I arrived, r-right? I-It's... good for you to t-try it a-again since I know th-that you r-really want-... and-, and h-he can actually-, um... y-you know, with you... a-and I-... I c-can't..."

"Humble Herd... I want to share it with you."

"W-We tried, and I-... I can't do what h-he can d-do to m-make you h-happy."

"He's a-! With him, it doesn't make me happy!"

She could cry and scream at the same time, if only there were nopony around to hear it.

"Humble Herd... you're a better pony than him."

What hurt the worst was that he clearly didn't believe her at all, even if he didn't say a word of it. Like her, he had also spent too many days in miserable thought over what a dear and perfect pony she was, and how she had been so incredibly excited to have shared the ultimate magic of the island with him, and how on that night her opened passion had been welcomed by his open fear and cowardice.

He remembered her crushing disappointment.

He was such a worthless waste of a pony that not even the island's magic had been able to stop him from breaking her heart.

"... Y-You're my b-best fr-friend, Summer Wind," he managed to say, yet his gloom made it sound so dark. "T-The only pony who's b-been my friend. I r-really w-want you to be happy, but I c-can't-... I'm j-just the s-same trouble f-for you as I am for e-everypony. P-Please don't l-let me bother you..."

He ducked back more, and then turned about and began to leave in defeat. He abandoned whatever he had come out to do, heading straight back towards the Passion's Embrace.

"Humble Herd...," Summer Wind called one more broken time.

He paused only to inform her quickly, "It d-doesn't m-matter about Fl-Fluttershy. I al-already told V-Venus and Vesuvius that I-... I c-can't do it, a-and they're assigning s-somepony else for h-her now."

The news of his preemptive surrender – that he wouldn't get to feel all the joy she had been wishing for him and had so faithfully believed he could have earned – slugged her in the chest. Worse, she couldn't keep the painful disappointment off her face.

Humble Herd saw it immediately, and couldn't bare to look at it. He had be right; so terribly right. He scuttled away, neck down and tail between his legs.

If Summer Wind had any voice to give she would have called after him again. Instead it was Gallowayo who sang heartsick words while Summer Wind's feathers scratched at her face to claw the tears off.

She took to the sky, looking for a lonely, remote cloud she could pound the lightning out of, or cry into.

Chapter 34: Polarity

"Oh, that's good!"

"Am I great at this or what?"

"Yeah! So great! More, more!"

"Okay! Fillies and colts, don't try this at home! I'm a got-the-skills-to-make-the-thrills professional!"

Poised perfect.

Precision unerring.

Dialed in down to the millimeter.

Hulahoof placed the bowl of chips onto his back using only one wing, setting it down between his shoulder blades without spilling so much as a greasy flake.

"Ta-da! Awesome-tight wing-eye coordination, right?"

"Yes! Hahaha!" James couldn't cease his lung-crushing, hand-clapping laughter. Nothing about the silly pony's antics was anything less than eye-wateringly amusing!

Especially so since the chip bowl had brought the total up to six. Six full bowls of snacks were placidly balanced upon Hulahoof's calm body: three down his back and three on his outstretched right wing.

"And now," he said, "the coup de finale!"

His free wing grabbed the last remaining bowl from the table. He made a show of carrying it, humming epic music while purposefully loosening his grip to heighten the drama. For the climax he hoisted the bowl high, tossing up some salted pretzels with the thrust but catching every last one of them, and then he placed the bowl on the very top of his head, nestling it safely into his puffy mane.

Seven bowls.

James again erupted into claps and cheers.

"Flawless victory! Yes! Glorious! The champion!"

"Thank you! Thank you!" Hulahoof's free wing bowed for him, to avoid the obvious mistake.

But even in the middle of all the adulations from the man, the blue pony bounced his eyes away to get a fast read on Pinkie Pie.

She was watching, and there wasn't any indication she had missed a moment of it, but all her interest seemed cold, or maybe just unwarmed. And every few moments, for a split fraction of a second, her eyes twitched over to peek at James.

Hulahoof mentally sighed and scratched another item off his checklist.

"Now the other wing! Go for eight!" James excitedly requested.

Hulahoof's free wing flexed into a question mark's curl, and he somewhat-halfheartedly, somewhat-bemusingly replied, "Uh, my wing doesn't bend that way...? Also, we're out of bowls."

The man, not really thinking too hard about it, offered giddily, "Okay, okay! I'll put something on you then!"

What truly made his statement alarming was all the subsequent problems he had simply trying to stand up. One leg knocked against the party cannon's barrel to the sound of a painful iron thunk. His other leg didn't stabilize him well and he nearly tripped to the floor. He was saved only by some whirling of his arms and some hopping on one foot. And he laughed the whole ordeal off brightly, of course.

Around the table were plenty of justified doubts that he'd be able to balance so much as a bottom-heavy egg.

Hulahoof kept his seven bowls safe with a deft dodge (still expertly spilling not a crumb) when the man came stumbling up next to him, and then James drunkenly leaned over the table. His hands shot out to search for another bowl to use, wandering here and there as if his vision couldn't reach beyond elbow length.

"Ugh," Rainbow Dash groaned, but it came out amid stifled laughter, "there are no more bowls left! What are you doing?"

The blind search continued, and in childish mockery the man copied her, "What are you doing?"

Rainbow Dash snorted. This strange new man was ridiculous beyond even her awesome powers to describe, and the whole time she had been unable to determine if it was concerning or hilarious. If only her laughter could have stopped for five seconds and then maybe she would have had the clarity to decipher him.

Her only stable source of sobriety had been her occasional glances at Pinkie Pie.

If these shenanigans had all been part of the man's big plan to "try something" then it didn't look like he had landed within a hundred miles of success. And, moron that he was, he hadn't noticed.

"You know," Rainbow Dash said, though she immediately halted to suppress another bout of laughter. She restarted, serious, "You know, you're being weird."

James plucked a salted pretzel from Hulahoof's head-bowl (again the pony prevented any spills with some lithe maneuvering) and flicked it at Rainbow Dash. It bounced once off the table before bopping against the wing she shielded herself with.

"Hey!" she shouted, but again a giggle interfered. "You trying to start something?"

A light bulb went on.

"Ye-heehee-ah!" the man tossed up an indiscriminate pointer finger. "This gives me an idea! Think you can compete in an epic game?"

The throw down – the challenge – twisted up Rainbow Dash's insides in all the right ways. Especially so because, between her and the man, it had always been up to her to toss the gauntlet to the floor.

Suddenly it was almost like she couldn't risk another glance at Pinkie Pie lest her competitive spirit take a handicap.

"Now you have my attention," she dared James.

"Then it's time for us to test our constitutions in a game as revered as it is fabled," the man proclaimed as if reading from the very scriptures of legend, holding his arms heavenwards to capture the glory. "A rite passed down from generation upon generation of frat house imbecile! It is the true determinator that separates the boys from the still-really-also-boys-but-now-I-guess-also-ponies! Beer-!"

Dude. Dude! I know you're going to have a hard time hearing this right now, but think about it:

Alcohol.
Pinkie Pie.

No, man. Just... no.

(Now, Rainbow Dash and alcohol? That would be hilarious.)

"Beeee-, belblbublb-, befrfrfff-..."

He threw in as much slobber as he could to garble the message of his runaway tongue.

"I don't think I've ever played Beebelubfrf before!" Hulahoof smiled eagerly. "How's it work?"

"It's- It's- It's... basically... ball tossing, and cups, and you drink, and stuff."

"Oooooooh, Fruit Punch Pong," the blue pegasus fast recognized the game, and only with the tiniest disappoint that it wasn't something new. "Mega-classic."

"Yes. That." James lied not-at-all nonchalantly.

"Wait, so how does this game work?" Rainbow Dash asked.

Hulahoof, setting down all his bowls one at a time (still no spills!), explained, "Cups filled with fruit punch are racked up and then you take turns tossing ping pong balls into them! Every shot made means somepony has to drink that cup. It's number twenty-four on The Definitive List of Equestria's One Hundred Best Party Games For Party-type Occasions and Other Frivolous Affairs, Vol. IV!"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah; how do you win?" the other pegasus cut straight to her point.

"That depends on the exact ruleset you want to play by. Would you prefer Saddle Arabian Traditional, Feedport Competitive, or Ironpony Extreme?"

"Hm. Ironpony sounds pretty good-"

"Last pony taken to the hospital for a ruptured bladder wins."

Rainbow Dash's throat dried up.

"... Is there a hospital on the island?" she finally asked.

"Nope!" Hulahoof answered cheerfully. "Personally I recommend Feedport rules with some house adjustments."

"... Does anypony have to go to the hospital in those rules?"

"Nope!"

"Then let's do that."

"Okay!" announced Hulahoof. "Two teams, then! First team to make the other team drink all their cups wins! We'll need a whole bunch of cups, some fruit punch, and a ping pong ball! We can grab most of that from the snack table but I'll have to run inside to grab the ball."

James, who by that point had tottered back to his cannon-seat and was bumbling about trying to sit upon it, pointed across the table at the pink pony.

"Pinkie's got a ping pong ball," he said.

By the way Pinkie Pie shot up stiff, the man's finger might have been a weapon. She bit her lip, her eyes began a panicked search for escape, and bead after bead of sweat made frightened dashes for her neck.

"I do?" she squeaked.

"Yeah! Of course you do! You're Pinkie Pie!"

Pinkie Pie shrunk as the enormous pressure of everypony's attention squeezed her down, most especially from the man so terrifying and jolly. But yet very quietly and slowly she turned her head sideways, leaned over the table, and knocked her hoof lightly against the side of her skull.

On the third hit, a ping pong ball popped out of her mane and clacked its way across the table, landing in the pretzel bowl.

James tumbled off his cannon, clutching his stomach and laughing uproariously.

"I knew it! I knew it! You totally had one!"

Though the others had plenty of delightful praise for the pink pony's extremely prescient preparation, she could only hear and feel the man's endless, belly-deep laughter. It poured over her like a sweltering summer heat. She melted, nearly slipping under the table.

But then, from on the floor and still choking on his laughs, James said, "You have everything for no reason! That's so ridiculously awesome!"

Pinkie Pie poked up from beneath the table edge, a few less streams of nervous sweat rolling down her snout.

"It-... It is?"

Though Twilight had repeatedly insisted their stay on the island was only a vacation, she had somehow made herself quite at home.

In minutes she had cleared every last party favor from one of the tables and covered it instead with a library of paperwork. Records, accounts, histories, summaries, bibliographies; they blanketed the table in stacks, ordered indecipherably except through whatever system existed only in her head. Gallowayo's performance continued on the stage, but another whole show was taking place below: papers danced back and forth, slid over and under, twirled to and fro, and came center stage to take bows before the studious pony's scrutinies. Her quill scribbled notes feverishly, filling pages before filing them away faster than a ravenous paper shredder.

The study session had been spurred by her close conversation with James. She had tried to avoid withdrawing from the party and had been drifting between her friends, but they had seemed to be enjoying themselves plenty. Without any guilt to hold her back she had jumped straight into scratching her itch, and sweet Celestia had she ever been scratching the callouses clean off her hooves.

None of the chatter and cheer of the party had found a way into her tuned-out ears. The most she had ever felt of the outside world was the physical pumping of the music, though only as a distorted blare lost somewhere behind her intense focus. Sometimes when that distant noise had stopped for the interval between songs she had actually found enough awareness to clap her hooves, but never enough to have taken her eyes away from her scrawling.

So when the music stopped she idly clapped as always, but didn't notice how it quite unusually failed to start up again. The extended cheers of the audience passed her by, the grateful remarks from the stage speakers were no different than the background rumble of the surf, and the dimming of the stage lights might as well have been the sun setting on the other side of the world.

Naturally she didn't acknowledge anything at all until the very moment that Gallowayo was besides her.

"Twilight! Hey! What did you think?"

Papers flocked away like startled pigeons as Twilight bounced in surprise, and her magic fumbled to catch and shuffle them back into order.

Gallowayo was still coated in sweat from his hard performance despite all the soggy towels he had left behind backstage; constantly he had to swing his head to get tangles of soaked mane out of his eyes. He was coming down from the high of the limelight, noticeable in how the exhaustion was fading from his breaths and how his voice remained louder than normal. However, his smile hadn't quit the show at all; it was more eager and energetic than ever! Based on just his smile, the whole performance on stage could have been a warm up leading into this very exchange with Twilight.

The purple pony got the last of her disturbed pages back in order before turning to face the enormous smile.

She blinked, "... I'm sorry, what?"

"The show," Gallowayo didn't dim. "My music. What did you think? How did it make you feel?"

"Oh!"

Her magic abruptly dropped her pen and it struck an ugly blot onto the paper it had been hovering over.

"I-, uh... I-..."

Mouth ran one way; eyes dodged another.

"I really... really... absolutely listened to every word and... uh... I... enjoyed it...?"

Sometimes it took the biggest smiles to hide the biggest lies.

Gallowayo's own earnest smile dribbled away more enthusiasm with each of his slowing pants.

"But," he asked, "did any of the songs reach out to you? Was there anything that really struck you? What did it make you think about?"

Absent any answer, Twilight giggled in awkward courtesy.

For a brief moment Gallowayo didn't have any answer either. His mouth hung half-open, a voiceless hollow dry and frozen for a winter's worth of months. Eventually it wobbled, spilling out slow, hurt confusion.

"I've-... I've been working so hard to translate all these new feelings into-... into something that other ponies can absorb; can understand. I've needed somepony who could-, could-... could listen... Somepony who could really see and try to parse it. You-... you were supposed to be-... W-Wasn't there anything you heard which made you-... you-..."

At last a remorseful Twilight took off her pathetic disguise.

"I'm sorry, Gallowayo. I-... I wasn't paying attention to the show."

He was crushed.

No. He was flattened.

No! He fell from the glorious heights of the spotlight, off the stage, down through the boardwalk, and into the sand where he was buried.

He mumbled, "I've been-... been waiting for somepony who-... who-... who could-..."

"I know, I'm sorry," Twilight said again. "You even asked me to listen to your music and I didn't. It just wasn't on my mind. I'm so sorry, Gallowayo."

"But your essay," he sputtered on almost as if he wasn't talking to her but instead arguing with his own despair, "your essay was all about ponies, and their feelings, and-, and-, and coming together, and-... I-... You-... I have been trying so hard to explore the same thing but on a deeper level! And you were supposed to-... You and I-... We-..."

Twilight didn't know if she could possibly make herself any more sorry. She clapped her hooves, bowed her head, and apologized again, "I really meant to pay attention. I'm sorry that I didn't. It's just that... this mystery with the island and its history has really absorbed me."

He choked on whatever it was he wanted to say. Instead of words, the sound he made was a laugh, a scream, and a cry; all in little bits and sort of mushed together.

Plainly Twilight's open shame and many apologies weren't doing anything to glue the shattered pony back together.

Gently she offered to him, "How about we arrange another time for you to sing, even if it's just for me? I mean, I imagine your voice is a little too sore to sing any more right now, but I want to spend some time with you to make it up to you. In fact, if you're not busy right now, I'd really enjoy it if you could sit here with me—"

She floated a few of her many papers up to show him.

"—and help me study more of this history."

"‘History?!’"

Hurricanes of his magic blasted the floating papers away. The skin of his face stretched like somepony had seized the top of his mane and pulled back with all their might. A web of red veins filled his enlarged eyes.

"Who cares about the past?!" he yelled. "Who cares when there's such an incredible future that this island is creating for all ponies! And we have to understand it, Twilight! We have to!"

Even if his outburst was flavored more by an upset mania than by any burning anger, the wave of aggression that came flowing with it shocked Twilight. She leaned back as he leaned forwards.

He looked wild, a fevered appearance which seared right through the tangles of wet mane fallen before his face, and he shouted desperately at her, "How can you not understand?! You're the one that needs to!"

"Gallowayo, please calm down! I don't know why you think this island is so important to the future, but that only makes its past more important. We can understand the future better by understanding the past."

"No! No, Equestria has seen nothing like this before! Equestrians have... felt nothing as amazing as this before!"

Suddenly he was uncomfortably close, throwing the smell of his gasping body over her.

"I need you to understand it with me. I'm-... I'm supposed to show you the secret-..."

"Um... excuse me?" the littlest voice came from behind him.

He turned, and the fast movement swirled all the blood that had been swimming in his head. When the dizziness passed, there was Fluttershy before him. Her face was very warm and withdrawn, and she was meekly rubbing one of her legs.

"I didn't want to interrupt," she said, "but I was hoping I could – I mean, if it's okay – I could ask you some questions about your beautiful songs?"

The abrupt shift in tone from boiling exasperation to Fluttershy's softness left Gallowayo struggling to recognize where he even was. All he could do was use magic to pull the twisted strands of mane from his eyes and blink at her.

"Um... Please say, ‘yes.’" Fluttershy requested, growing more embarrassed with each passing second of silence.

"I-... Uh..."

"Well!" the profoundly disturbed yet relieved Twilight said, at least too loudly but certainly far too forced. "It looks like you found a partner to talk about your music with so, ah, far be it from me to disturb you! I'm going to take my things and go over"—she pointed randomly without direction—"there, where it's... far, far, far away from right here! Have fun, you two! Uh... Bye!"

Quickly magic shot out of her horn and enveloped her research materials, table and all! She turned and dashed, running not remotely close to the direction she had pointed out, and the whole airborne table stampeded after her. Latent lassos of magic snatched the trail of spilling paperwork and carried it along.

Gallowayo called after her, "Twilight, wait! I-... I didn't mean-!"

She wasn't coming back though. She vanished around the corner of the stage, and the flying table after her.

His extended hoof, raised to chase, went limp. He hung his head in shame.

"I'm sorry if I interrupted you," Fluttershy said, and she was dampened by shame worse than he was. "I really didn't mean to be so rude, and forceful, and arrogant, and pushy. That was very terrible of me. But I just couldn't help myself. I really, really was hoping that I could ask you about-..."

Her voice trailed into fleeting whispers, the folds of her wings moved forward to cover her disgrace, and she began to turn away.

"Never mind. I'll go."

"W-Wait."

She peeked back to see Gallowayo standing with a nervous twitter in his legs, oddly intimidated.

The uncertain singer asked, "You-... You want to talk about my music?"

"Oh yes please!"

Like a puppy woken up by the familiar sound of pouring kibble; like a bird on the first of spring bursting into their long-waiting song; like a young gazelle discovering their power to leap for the very first time. Bright-eyed, breathless, overjoyed; Fluttershy zoomed back to Gallowayo.

The singer hesitated, looking over his shoulder at the looming Passion's Embrace. Something about it was projecting fright onto him. The tremors in his legs worsened.

But it took only a long and slow breath as he turned away to make him much more stable. He returned to the happy, eager pegasus.

"Alright, I guess," he said. The furtherest corner of his eye took one last uncertain peek at the building, and a little bit of defiance rose up in him. "I really would like to talk with somepony about it. So... what did you want to ask?"

He opened the door a crack. It was Fluttershy who ripped it off its hinges.

"Wherever did you come up with such amazing songs? Are they based on your experiences? Does-... Does it actually feel like that to be in love? Have you ever really been kissed like you said, where it-, it-... it makes it so you can't breathe but it's-... it's wonderful somehow? Or when you sang about your chest breaking open, and your love becoming a waterfall, and there was so much it filled all the valleys between the mountains, oh I was moved to tears thinking about how a pony can have all that love inside but nopony special to swim in it! It's kind of sad, isn't it? But... do you really feel like that sometimes? I mean... do you think-... do you ever wonder if other ponies feel that same way? W-W-What would you... s-suggest those ponies do? Have-, have-.... have you ever fallen in love before? I mean, for real? How-... How did you know it was love? (Um, actually... don't-... don't answer that, please. I'm sorry! That was very rude of me to ask!)"

On and on it went, a train of back-to-back questions and remarks which refused to stop at a single station.

Gallowayo couldn't get a thought in edgewise, let alone a word.

Hulahoof's remarkable accuracy was apparently channeled into him by some kind of spell which worked through closing one eye and poking out his tongue sideways. Time after time he aced his shots, and his latest turn was no different. The ball bounced once off the table and made a perfect cup.

"Aha! Drink up!" he told the other team.

Rainbow Dash glowered, but only a little. The whole game was all in good fun of course, but she still hated to lose, and things were looking rather dicey for Team Rainbow Pie.

She nudged her inattentive teammate.

"Pinkie, it's your turn to drink."

"Huh?"

Pinkie had been present for the entire time, yet also absent because of her puzzled gazing at the strangely behaved man. Many times he had in fact caught her staring, and each time there had been a icy fright which had gripped the pony's back. But always he had simply, casually, and effortlessly smiled at her with a brainless smile.

"Oh. Right," the pink pony spoke blandly as reality came back and patted her on the nose.

Slowly she took the made cup and, without any real thought or consideration, chugged it down sluggishly.

"Uh... Pinkie?" Rainbow Dash tried to warn her friend.

Halfway through, the sound of Pinkie Pie's gulps changed substantially. They went from smooth thunks to the gurgle of a clogged drain.

But she finished and set the cup down. Unconcerned, nothing amiss, and without batting an eye, her cheeks bulged to several soundless heaves before one of them finally squealed like a squeaky toy, and out of her mouth popped the ping pong ball.

A single tak and a plop later, it was in one of the other team's cups, made without so much as caressing one of the sides.

"Woah! Nice shot!" Hulahoof remarked.

James, after a perfect beat, cracked up (again). His words couldn't fight successfully for space with his chortles, but of what he was able to squeeze out it was clear that he was trying to give her some sort of lively praise. The wide, toothy smile and the skewed thumbs up helped to sell his feelings as well.

A little tingle hit Pinkie Pie's hoof. It ran through her leg, across her chest, up her neck, and into her cheeks. The tiny tugs of electricity pulled her mouth into a small, light, short giggle. It was like the lift of air which picks up a collapsing tent, giving a hint of its proper shape. She felt better able to breath.

Still, she couldn't figure out what exactly it was about his laugh which she didn't like.

While Hulahoof drank the made cup, Rainbow Dash shook off her brief astonishment and congratulated her teammate, "Alright, Pinkie! Keep landing shots like that and we're sure to catch up!"

James scooped the ping pong ball into his hand.

"Catch this!"

He tossed, it bounced, and he made his shot, though with quite a bit more nail-biting suspense than Pinkie Pie's smooth attempt. The ball hopped around the lip of the cup before it decided on a whim to fall in.

"Yes! Chug it down, Rainbow Rash!"

The pegasus took a fast fall from competitive optimism to sore bitterness, and she gave him a sour roll of her eyes. She couldn't tell what was more frustrating: the threat of her first loss to him while he was in such a stupid state, or the extreme staleness that had come into his nicknames.

She took the ball out of the cup and drank her medicine.

But in the middle of it, the man teased her, "Hey, tastes like defeat, yeah?"

There was a gurgling snarl followed by furious, faster gulps.

"I mean, I can barely stand and I'm sinking shots!" he gloated. Then, "What's your excuse, Rash?"

The plastic cup crinkled as Rainbow Dash mashed it down.

"You know, I don't get it," she narrowed her eyes at him. "We play like a million rounds of wall ball and every time you play the whole thing like you're in warm up, and you lose every time acting like you're going to get a medal for it! But this is the one game where you act like-... like-... like-...!"

James slapped his hands onto the table hard enough to bounce all the cups, and across the divide he pushed a smile at her which was too vacuous to be vicious and too pleased to be polite.

"Like you?" he pointed out.

"What!?"

An insulted wing folded over her chest and guarded her heart; the universal pegasi for ‘How dare you!’

"I do not act like such a flankface!"

The man howled with laughter.

"Maybe I am secretly a pony," he said, "and my special talent is turning into you when I'm sauced!"

"You-! Just... sh-shut up!" Rainbow Dash seethed. And she angrily defended herself, "I'm the most admired pony in Ponyville! And reason number three for it – out of a ten point list maintained by the Official Rainbow Dash Fan Club; you know, cause I have one of those! – is that I'm crazy humble in victory and super gracious in defeat even though I never lose!"

"You're also a flankface," James stuck out his tongue.

"I am not!"

"Totally are!"

"Am not!"

"One hundred percent flanks right in the face!"

"Pinkie," she sought backup, "tell him! I'm not a flankface, right?"

"No," the pink pony affirmed.

But the man quickly clarified, "How about when it comes to sports?"

"Oh! Then yeah, you kind of are," Pinkie Pie giggled.

"What!? You're taking his—!!"

Her shout was struck dead the moment she laid full eyes on her friend.

Looking at Pinkie Pie was like looking at a pony in soft focus. There were sad glints in the corners of her eyes, but hopes lifting her brow. There was a nervous wrinkle in her nose, but warmth filling her cheeks. There were only weak tugs from her dimples, but a smile underneath bright with the beginnings of laughter.

When Pinkie Pie noticed her friend's pondering stare, she brought out an injured but recovering levity and asked, "What're you looking at, silly filly?"

A realization broke through to Rainbow Dash, brining with it a slow change in her snarling mouth. Fresh confidence pulled up her grin on one side; absolute cockiness on the other.

James teased Rainbow Dash, "So... are you going to miss your shot now or what?"

The pegasus, sure-hooved as a devil on a bed of hot coals, asked her teammate quietly, "You ready to win this?"

"Like a piggy on chocolate!" Pinkie Pie declared.

The game saw a lightning fast turn around.

And the rematch after that was very one-sided.

And the re-rematch also.

And the re-re-rematch too.

Then again, those results were to be expected when one team had literally never missed another shot the entire time.

Together Rainbow Dash and Pinkie Pie had trounced the bullseye-accurate Hulahoof, hampered as he was by a man whose successful shots had more to do with luck than anything else. When all had been said and done, there were still cups standing on Team Rainbow Pie's side, and on other side was nothing but two losers with thighs squeezed shut.

After an incredibly long bathroom break which could not have come soon enough, James was the last to arrive back at the table. As usual he approached his cannon-seat in a stilted shamble, and he nearly tripped over the heavy thing when he tried to sit down.

Rainbow Dash puffed her chest and flaunted her superiority, "So, Micro Muzzle, what do you have to say now? Beat you at your own game!"

But the flat-muzzled man was still all smiles.

"Ya sure did, flankface!"

"Gr!"

"D'aw, don't make that face! No wait! I got a better one! I'll... flank you very much not to make that face!"

"You're just using the same lame put down over and over again!"

"Don't mess with a winning formula!"

"You didn't win! You're not cool!"

Pinkie Pie didn't even try to stifle her laughter at their back and forth. Her happy giggling and unrestrainable snorts caught Rainbow Dash's attention, and the pegasus really did her best to swallow her anger.

It was a spicy pill though, and she couldn't resist a final proud barb, "Whatever. Whenever you're... normal again, I'll make sure to remind you that the one time you grew a pair of wings and challenged me for real, you lost."

The pink pony's laughter winded down awkwardly quick. She slowly released the amusement in her heart and took in the whole scene with serious consideration.

‘Whenever you're normal again...’

"Alrighty-o! What now?" Hulahoof said, clapping his hooves like a camp councilor looking to build enthusiasm for the next activity.

"I'm actually a little hungry...," James moaned.

His stomach backed him up with a sound that did not indicate hunger. He looked more poisoned than hungry, with his paleness standing out strongly against his cheeks still flushed from all the recent activity. One hand was on his tummy and the other helped his forehead to rest. The change into such a state had come incredibly swift.

"How can you be hungry after all that stuff you ate? And all the fruit punch?" complained Rainbow Dash.

The man scrunched his eyes and waved his hand to shoo her away, murmuring under his breath, "No, you're a-... a-... flank-..."

Hulahoof's hoof came down on the man's shoulder and James looked the wrong way at first before he managed to lock his skewed eyes with the pony's.

"Woah-ho, friend," Hulahoof caringly consoled him, "I've seen this before. Looks like you got a real case of Party Hardy Syndrome. It's okay! It's not fatal! But it'd be good for you to take five or ten, and then later if you feel a-million-bits-of-golden-grits better, you can join us again."

James waved him off too, mumbling, "Just-... just a little food. God, my stomach."

Suddenly he looked to Pinkie Pie.

"Can you pull any food out of your mane again?"

The pink pony twisted her head.

"Again? What?"

"No, I didn't mean... literally this time... but-..."

"I have an extra cupcake?" she offered, producing it from her mane but positively uncertain if she was fulfilling his request.

"No," he said again, and he started to wave her away too. But still he rambled lowly, "I mean... dinner, like before. This one time, back at Ponytown-placeville I mean, I was hungry and you were there and... hay and zucchini..."

She had no idea what he was going on about.

But she did chuckle softly, "Hehe. ‘Zucchini’ is a funny word."

Seeking clarity, the man rubbed his palms deep into his face, covering the whole thing. But then in an unexpected moment a single laugh burst out from between his hands.

"Heh. Yeah. It is."

He slouched down on his cannon-seat and kept rubbing away.

Hulahoof, perhaps more crafty with his insight than one would expect, conjured an empty bucket from under the table and wedged it into the ill man's lap, afterwards giving one more friendly pat to the shoulder.

A thumbs up was returned.

"Well now," Hulahoof turned to the others, happy and cheerful as if nothing were wrong, "is there anything you ponies wanna do?"

Rainbow Dash was still a little too miffed to have any answer; she sat with folded legs and twitching wings, grumping quietly to herself. Pinkie Pie didn't react either. Her gaze was on James but looking through him, and her mind was somewhere else completely.

"So...?" Hulahoof vainly asked the empty air.

In the stillness of the moment there was a sudden unexpected flash of change which overtook Pinkie Pie. Between moments she had become somepony new and different, but at once still the same as her old self. The famous smile was there, just not quite as wide and large. The eyes were bright and blue, but not cloudless. The realization she had found was of something which remade the world in all the same colors as it had been before, but just a little more muted.

And there was peace.

Unhappy peace.

But peace nonetheless.

She turned to the island pegasus.

"I'm sorry, Hulahoof. I haven't been a very good friend to you at all. And especially not about your great party," she said, plainly sincere but, more than that, straightforward. "You put so much into it and I've been too distracted to notice."

"Oh! Oh, that's alright!"

Even if he hadn't noticed the new change in her, some sensitive part of himself must have detected something; he shined in a new way in return. It was as if all of the effervescent joy he had shown thus far had just been an act and now the real sunny pony was breaking through.

Lit up, bending his knees endlessly up and down in excitement, he said, "I never give less than one-thousand-and-one percent to every party I throw anyway, cause I love to do it whether other ponies notice it or not!"

"That's a really great party-throwing attitude," Pinkie Pie replied, again truthful though speaking rather plainly, "but still, you worked so hard to make me feel welcome here, and to throw this party for all of us. I should have told you the truth about my problems right away instead of letting you try and try and try and try, again and again and again and again, to be a good host to me even though I was being such a party pooper guest. I know how much being ignored can hurt a pony, and I shouldn't have pretended I could get along fine when I was really so distracted. I'm sorry..."

He looked at her, not very sure at all if he understood the specifics of what she was apologizing for. But he got the message, and a thankful smile came out; one of a pony who felt ignored no longer.

"It's really mondo-alright! I just want you to have a good time here, and maybe get to know you a little better!"

He looked around, surprisingly nervous for a pony of his outgoing nature, and then he extended a hoof across the table towards her.

"Would you like a tour of the party and how I set everything up?"

Pinkie Pie swallowed all the air on the island with her gasp.

She screeched, "Would I ever! That'd be great! No wait, I mean, that'd be ultra-great! We can compare party notes!"

"Yeah! I'd love to hear any advice you have for my future parties!"

"Ahhhhhhh this is going to be the best party tour ever!"

Rainbow Dash had to cover her ears to keep her eardrums from shattering. James dropped his head into his bucket.

Hulahoof stood up and, like a young colt proudly picking up their very first date, bowed to the pink pony and invited her to follow.

And she did, skipping along after him in her usual bouncy way.

Smashing the high-pitched ringing out of her brain, Rainbow Dash took stock of her situation and realized she had a choice to make: be an intrusive third wing on Pinkie Pie's party tour (a path no doubt ending in her inevitable death when her brain would melt from all the mind-blasting squealing), or she could stick around with James.

"Hey, Pinkie! Wait up!"

The pink pony lagged a few bounces back, not that the speedy pegasus had any trouble catching up. When Hulahoof saw that an extra pony would be tagging along, he was nothing but delighted.

"The more the merrier!"

There was a unified look from the group back at the man slumped on a cannon with his head in a bucket.

"Well... maybe not him," Hulahoof said a little awkwardly.

"Pff, yeah," Rainbow Dash told Pinkie Pie, keeping alongside the pink pony a few paces back from Hulahoof so that he wouldn't overhear. "What a dumb game of his, am I right?"

"Aw, come on, Rainbow! It was a lot of fun!"

"‘Fun?’ You have got to be-!"

At last the pegasus caught on to the recent change inside of Pinkie Pie.

"So," Rainbow Dash cleverly intoned, "you had fun, huh? And he was right there the whole time! See? I told you it would work out!"

"Hmmm," the pink pony hummed thoughtfully from the very base of her chest.

Her next bounce shrank in size compared to the one before. And the same for the next bounce. And the next. And soon she was just walking along like any ordinary pony; from soaring high to normal walking in a transition as smooth as a wide grin slowly shrinking into a gentle smile.

The voice she next used had no qualities positive or negative. It was simple; direct; clear; docile; honest.

"I finally figured it out," she said. "You were right, Rainbow Dash."

"I was? I mean, of course I was! But... I was?"

"Yeah."

The pink pony sighed.

"I can't Pinkie Pie my way into a friendship with him. Heh. Oh well. Can't be friends with everypony, right?"

"I-... Wait wait wait, no," Rainbow Dash suddenly and desperately objected. "I know I said... something like that, but come on! This was progress, right? I mean, you were having fun! And if you're having fun, then you can be his friend!"

The same sad, sad, peaceful smile stayed on Pinkie Pie's face.

"I did have fun," she answered, "but this is what it took," and she looked and nodded back at the strange, unusual, almost unrecognizable man; the ill-looking fellow who face was in a bucket and whose behaviors had been uncharacteristically silly; the guy whom her good friend Rainbow Dash certainly didn't seem to like, or get along with, or consider a friend at all.

Awash with tranquil fatigue, she reemphasized to her pegasus friend, "Pinkie Pie wanted to be friends with James."

James dry heaved again. The smell it pumped into the bucket was unfavorably bilious, but thank goodness nothing wet had come out. He picked up his face to let some fresh air into his tiny metal prison, but as soon as he did his stomach only started to rumble and threaten him again. The quakes changed into more foul heaves as they rose, recurring regularly enough that he could use them to count the passing minutes.

Finally things seemed to settle. He carefully lifted his head up a few inches, half-expecting to suddenly spray a hose of vomit across the beach, but there was nothing. He was fine, if quite weary and woozy.

He turned to the empty table position next to him.

"I think I'm alright. So anyway, are-? Oh."

He set the bucket aside on the table, sat a moment, then thought the better of it and put the bucket back into his lap.

Maybe his plan hadn't been the best plan. And maybe his plan hadn't gone according to plan either. Really, he didn't much know, or remember, or maybe even care.

At the moment what he cared about was whether whatever he had done had really been worth the current state of his head and stomach. He hadn't gulped down that much booze, he thought. But then again he didn't really know what was in pony-made alcohol, so maybe he had in fact overdone it. Truthfully though, when he sat still and quiet for several long moments to check himself out, he didn't seem too drunk, or not anymore buzzed than he had usually gotten amongst friends back on Earth. Maybe he had just gotten into the act and hammed it up? Sort of like giving an inexperienced teenager alcohol-free beer without telling them, and they start to go wild anyway?

Drinking all that punch after the booze had still been a stupid idea though.

He kept himself steady, holding his bucket in place while focusing intently on getting more of the fizzy nausea and uncomfortable weight in his stomach to pass.

Only one time was his sickly concentration broken, and that was when he remembered about Prism. He looked, and the colorful, bracelet-rich pony still hadn't returned.

In time the man felt confident enough to abandon the bucket, leaving it under the table. His buzz was falling too, bringing a bit of a crash to his head but nothing he couldn't walk away from (yet). It helped that the party seemed to be dying down: no music on stage, less light because the show was over and also a few of the torches had burned out, and less noise from the much fewer ponies about in general.

Actually, the only pony still sitting at a table was Rarity! Spike was seated with her. That dark stallion whom the island had assigned to her wasn't seated though; he was standing nearby slightly off from the table.

James didn't think much of it, except at that very moment he heard Rarity call for something.

Like a royal servant, the dark stallion attended to her, treating the seamstress like some kind of princess. Spike clearly was not happy with the stallion's behavior but it only took the dragon a moment to assert his superiority by adding several items to the fetch list which Rarity was already dictating.

The stallion's mannerisms struck James, though it wasn't the first time that the man had caught sight of how rehearsed the pony was around Rarity. Sometimes showy, powerful, and domineering, like some kind of conceited noble certain they had the right to mold the whole world around themselves, but other times almost comically sycophantic with a reserve so shy that every parent on the island should have been rushing to protect him. The dial between the two modes was screwed on so loose that it seemed to spin freely (and obviously it had been sabotaged to be exactly that way). All those strategic behaviors were perfectly encapsulated in one single action the man saw him take: he boldly approached the sitting seamstress and seized her hoof without invitation, but then suddenly he became unworthy garbage and needed her explicit permission twice just to kiss the top of her hoof.

Regardless of how insulting the man felt the performance was, Rarity obviously enjoyed such biformed worship.

After he marked Rarity with his kiss, Sweet Nothing left to perform his duties. There was a stop at the food hut first for another small plate of desserts, he added to the plate afterwards during a trip to the snack table, and he grabbed two cups of punch while he was there. Once he had the scrumptious load safely on his back, he made his way again towards Rarity's table.

"Hey buddy. Got a sec?"

Sweet Nothing stopped mid-stride. It seemed like the man was speaking directly to him though he couldn't imagine why.

"Yeah, come here," James definitely was summoning the dark stallion.

The pony hid how annoyed he was beneath only the thinnest veneer of formality: a polite scowl, a breath out his nose not quite hot enough to see, and eyes that quickly and efficiently massaged his own brow. He made the calmly frustrated detour to the man's table.

Before he even arrived he addressed James with a bored, stringed-together facade of respect, "Sir, if you need something then you should request it from your assigned-"

"No, I just wanna talk to you for a moment."

Again Sweet Nothing released an invisible burst of steam from his nostrils, but he swallowed his displeased growl.

"Yes sir, how can I help you?"

"Hey, it's great that you're making Rarity happy and everything," some of James' syllables were still drunkenly slipping into the wrong sounds. "Like, that's awesome. She's just gives and gives and asks for nothing, so she deserves the queen treatment. So thank you for giving her that."

He leaned closer and started to whisper in friendly caution.

"But... you're laying it on kind of thick, don't you think?"

Sweet Nothing stared. His polite scowl did not improve.

The man continued, "Like, I get it. We're at this tropical paradise; you're hired specifically to do this ‘handsome slave-slash-prince charming’ performance; it's just for show; yadda yadda. I'm not criticizing your job or how you do it. I just think you're getting a little too into it, is all. I mean, remember, we're only here on vacation. You're not trying to romance her. So could you do me a favor and ease it up a bit?"

At the mention of a "performance" Sweet Nothing's expression took a slightly hostile turn. But then he glanced away briefly.

He glanced at Rarity, and the iron collar of a dragon he had so far found no good wedge to pry at with. He glanced away and his hostile expression changed in entirely the opposite direction.

He put on a smile.

A pleased smile.

A sickeningly sweet, self-satisfied, surreptitiously sensual smile.

"Oh I am so sorry, sir," he spoke to James in a bold and grand apology, even bowing his head to the floor. None of the sandpaper sentiments he had been coating himself with were there anymore. "I see now just how right you are: I've let myself get a little too swept up in my duties. How unprofessional! I promise you that from now on, for my part, I will keep a more respectful distance from Rarity."

"Alright. Great," James said, a little like he was tenderly inspecting a new bruise. There was just enough alcohol left in him to make the oddness of the pony's fast flipflop seem normal-ish.

"Is there anything else I can do for you, sir?" Sweet Nothing played the part of a perfect professional.

"Uh... No, I think. And hey, thanks."

"Oh-ho! My pleasure! Thank you!"

The dark stallion took his plate and cups, and he made a dignified retreat towards Rarity's table.

When he arrived, he did nothing more than any extra server at a diner would do. The plate and cups were set down in spots where they would be obviously and immediately noticed, and not a word he spoke doing it. Nor one fawning glance for beautiful Rarity; nor one forward promotion of his impressive body. He made his delivery in silence and then he immediately turned and began to leave.

The silence and withdrawal couldn't have pleased Spike more, but it was an alarming break in pattern for the detail-oriented dressmaker.

"Mr. Nothing!" a worried Rarity called to him. "Is something the matter?"

Sweet Nothing stopped and collected himself. He put on a brave face; the bravest face; the face of somepony stout under a heartbreaking duty, with a well of tears just waiting patiently at the corners of their eyes for the first sign of weakness.

"Not at all!" he smiled for Rarity only in mere courtesy, and his voice had the kind subtle shiver most dramatic actors could only dream of achieving.

And like that, he reeled her in an inch closer.

Her sympathy reached out to him, and he responded in kind. He let just a little bit of water flavor his eyes; a few leaks in the dam. He let a colorful amount of fright paint his attentive stance; a weakness in his professional poise. He brought his phony shield a few steps lower; a silent cry for help.

In regrettable, shameful, sorrowful whispers he told her quickly, "Your tall friend pulled me aside a moment ago and gave me some stern words about my behavior towards you. He demanded that I stop."

Rarity snapped up and looked over towards James. The man was at his own table, still awkwardly seated on a small cannon, but that uncomfortable arrangement made it all the more obvious that he was stealthily trying to monitor the interaction between her and Sweet Nothing without being noticed.

"Oh he did, did he?"

A suspicion squeezed her eyes; a vice which had been on top of the toolbox for a long time, almost too ready to finally find use.

"I am so sorry, Madam Rarity," Sweet Nothing continued his nervous confession. "I never imagined I was being so rude and disrespectful towards you, as he said. I was just so overwhelmed by your breathtaking-! No. No no, he'll get angry again. Please accept my apologies and... I will not bother you anymore. Goodbye."

And he left, moping straight towards the front door of the Passion's Embrace.

"But Mr. Sweet Nothing, wait-!"

Rarity actually began to trot after him, but he made sure to outpace her. Yet right before he slipped inside and shut the door, he did glance back at how far out she had come from her table and Spike.

"Good riddance," the dragon said to himself.

But Rarity didn't immediately return to her table. She stood still for a time exactly where she had stopped when the front door had clunked closed, watching it in one sense but looking elsewhere entirely in another sense. Her gaze pierced right through the back of her skull and contemplated over the man at his table.

The curls in her tail suddenly stiffened. Her nose lifted like an affronted lady taking charge.

"Hmph!"

Compulsively Twilight reordered her paperwork over and over, usually not even watching but rather keeping her eyes behind her. Eventually some sanity evicted her restless anxiety and she started to recognize what a mess she had made of all her research. She grumbled to herself as she got the pages back in order and laid them correctly across the stolen table, only occasionally lending nervous peeks to the shadowy corners she had escaped around.

The unicorn had fled somewhere into the work-area maze behind the stage. The table looked awfully out of place tightly nestled in the middle of the small tool sheds, stray scaffolding, unused equipment, and piles of trash. The area was pretty dark too, with only one guttering lamp straining to counter the night. It wasn't any light to be reading by, that was for sure.

Swiftly she tired of squinted and she brightened her horn, better illuminating her research but also incidentally revealing amongst some nearby stacks of stools a shadowed pony.

Once more papers flew in surprise. All her organization, ruined again!

"Ahhh!" Twilight jumped.

The other pony didn't flinch. Or so it seemed anyway; it was hard to tell with so much darkness still cast over them.

"Uh, sorry," Twilight apologized, scrambling to collect herself and her papers. "I didn't see you there at first. I mean, I didn't intend to suddenly come charging in on anypony. I hope I didn't interrupt your... um... work?"

Again the other pony didn't give any readable response, but perhaps in this case no answer was a good answer?

"A-Alright then," said Twilight.

The air went still.

Twilight coughed.

The other pony did lift and turn their head an inch, so they were at least alive.

Shrugging, Twilight spent the next few moments slowly and uncomfortably resorting her many pages of research. Every now and again she took a breath and glanced at the shadowed pony, but there was nothing new to see.

Whoever they were, they were familiar though. She was sure of it. Yet after her hysterical escape and careless barging into what was technically a non-guest space, it felt too rude to shine her horn brighter just to verify.

As she finished getting her work in order, Twilight mindfully asked, "Is it alright if I... you know... stay here for a little bit and do some reading?"

Nothing from the other pony.

"... Should I go?" Twilight further asked.

This time the other pony shook themselves as a kind of answer. It wasn't quite any yes or no with their head, but more of a gut response with their whole body.

Twilight couldn't discern what emotion exactly had powered the reflex. But she hadn't been shooed, she reasoned.

"If it's not too much trouble," the purple pony requested as politely as she possibly could, hoping to solve a simple dilemma before leaving well enough alone, "is there anything here I can use to sit on? It's just that the mix of sand and dirt back here is really itchy on my, um, posterior."

Another short shake hit the other pony; again immediate, and sort of hard and fast.

But then the other pony's horn lit up and grabbed one of the dozen excess stools stacked near her. She floated it over to Twilight.

In the momentary wash of light, Twilight thought she saw reflected in the other pony's polished steel eyes a look that she could have been mistaking for the sharp stab of a glare.

The purple pony's flicker of quizzical surprise made her almost miss catching the stool when it abruptly dropped. Her magic snagged it just before it broke one of its stumpy legs against the ground.

"Uh. Thank you?" Twilight said.

The other pony said something in return, though low and to herself. Then she immediately got up to leave. Abandoning her collection of stools but staying in the shadows, she went further into the darkness between the sheds and heaps of rubbish, away from the stage and front boardwalk.

Distinctly Twilight heard accompanying her clops the light jingle of jewelry.

Chapter 35: Sour

Through homely tale after homely tale Applejack and Till had stuck together. Sitting at the bar; loitering in the lobby; lagging their way down the hall; standing before Applejack's guest room door. The farm pony had been midway through yet another family story and so Till didn't interrupt her to let her know that they had arrived. He wanted to smell more of the fragrant apple orchards and walk upon the creaky floorboards of the old farm house which she had been talking about for so long that it already felt like home.

Only when the latest story finished did Till open the door. The squeak of the hinges jarred Applejack back to the present, like the sudden opening of a portal to a less colorful world.

"Thanks for all the family history. I enjoyed every bit of it. But," Till sighed, "here's your room. I'd be glad to get you anything you need before you retire, though."

The disappointment also brought a sigh out of Applejack. A good night, ended too soon.

"I reckon I can handle myself from here," she said.

"I don't doubt it. I mean, bucking a whole orchard by yourself? Sheesh."

"Heh. Maybe next time I'll let you get a word in edgewise so I can hear a lick about the Old Commonwealth, 'stead of me hoggin' the conversation like a spoiled puppy with a new chew toy."

The stallion smiled, "Whatever makes you happy."

"There you go again. You're a real dollop of cream, Brown Sugar."

She gave him a very formal, very official country genuflection, hat doffed and all. She even kept the hat off, holding it against her chest.

"We'll see if I can convince my dad of that when I write my letter of apology tomorrow," Till said, wary and reluctant but otherwise committed.

"You'll do swell, I'm sure."

"Thanks."

There was a pause as the stallion, lips half-open, considered whether or not to mention Rainbow Dash and the farm pony's own personal trouble. In the end he decided against it.

"I'll come around with a wake-up call again tomorrow morning," he said.

Applejack inched closer, bearing an eager smile.

"What time? Crack of dawn?" she hinted.

"Uh, no...?" Till didn't catch her clue. "The same time as today."

The farm pony only brightened and hinted more strongly, "Ain't nopony on this island who gets up at first light?"

"Well, the orchard workers do of course but not-"

Her subtle request penetrated the stallion at last.

"Are you suggesting," he laughed even as he leered in realization, "that you want me to... get you up to work in the orchard?"

"Boy howdy, Brown Sugar! You don't need to give me that two-headed pony look!" Applejack let out her own deep laugh. "I'm just angling for some honest work."

Till couldn't shake off his radiant surprise.

"You really want me to ask you to help out around the orchard tomorrow, on your vacation?"

"See now, this is what happens if ya spend a dog's age letting other ponies have all the fun. You forget things. Brown Sugar: when you work on a farm, every day is a vacation! I can't think of nothing more relaxing than being at home, and nothing would make me feel more at home than getting my hooves dirty."

To say that Till was impressed wouldn't have been inaccurate, but neither would it have been quite right. Something lifted inside his chest. He felt an invigorated push come from behind his heart.

"Alright. A wake-up call at sunup it is," he promised.

"Thank you kindly for the opportunity," Applejack bowed again. This time she returned her hat to her head. It was a shame that daybreak was on the far side of so many long, slow hours of sleep.

"... Good night, Applejack," Till said.

"Good night, Brown Sugar."

They didn't break. The traditional evening farewells just weren't enough to split them. They stood, and they grinned, and sometimes they peeked at the open doorway as if something was supposed to happen. For all the unnecessary and uninterrupted delay, there wasn't a moment of it that was awkward.

Finally Applejack gave a grateful nod and hauled herself into her room. Till gently dragged the door closed thereafter.

His hoof eased down onto the floor without a sound, and then he merely stood idle; going nowhere, looking nowhere, and saying nothing. The work day was now officially over and he had nothing more to do except jump into his own bed, but he felt no rush to get to it. Even carrying a long day's worth of exhaustion, he wasn't tired in the least.

Eventually he started down the hall, but oh so slowly. Each of his hooves stepped to a dance of their own. He hummed; not a practiced tune, but something pulled from the air. His neck swung about here and there and everywhere, but not to the music. It was as if his smile had a mind of its own and was roaming like a newly walking toddler, leading his face on a lazy chase down the hall.

But gradually he came to a quiet stop when he happened to glance at one particular painting on the wall:

There was a corcandeo tree sitting atop a parabolic lump of green hill. One of the branches was curled from immense strain, weighed down by a comically enormous berry of corcandeo, fatter than the tree trunk itself. Just below the giant fruit waited a stallion, and he was inviting to the hilltop a mare who was racing up it.

Silently Till absorbed the painting. Individual strokes poured into him, but the whole of it – the sum total of every color, line, thought, and idea – washed right past him.

He didn't bob. He didn't dance. He didn't sing. He didn't hum.

Gallowayo, bless him, was only an amateur painter and could hardly be faulted for the painting's crudeness. But nevertheless some of the coarse details spoke to Till in a unified voice of unhappiness.

Particularly the two ponies' faces.

Did they even care about where they were or what they were doing? Why go to the tree at all if they didn't? They hardly looked like they would have cared if the stem of the oversized fruit had snapped and they had been crushed under its fat meat.

When he looked away, Till immediately felt his happy music start up again. He walked on down the hall bobbing and humming, ignoring the painting on the wall, and also all the rest of them.

Outside the Passion's Embrace Summer Wind drifted around one listless flap at a time. She was terribly drained, and not in the sweaty way she liked. If only there had been more fatigue in her muscles and less in her sorrow.

She circled the building, mired in her dismal thoughts, never quite feeling the urge to carry on her sulking in the comfort of her bed. Evening had long ago gone deep and most everything across the entire island had darkened, but there were occasional glows coming from the building itself. Every few balconies had curtains which pulsed warmly with the lamplight coming from behind them.

Floating around, the pegasus passed one glowing room from which she heard a two-pony parade of giggles; the comical symphony included a squeaky balloon choir and the soft drum slaps of a pillow fight, and even sometimes the happy bang of a party cannon; a few a strips of adventurous confetti slipped out from under the curtain to explore the night wind. Another lit room offered no noises except for the rapid shuffling of paper and the vigorous racing of a wet quill. One of the end rooms overlooking the ocean had only a very dim glow which barely escaped through the balcony curtain; perhaps some quiet pony who was in bed but not yet ready to shut their eyes and dream.

When Summer Wind floated by Spike's room she noted that there was no glow. She hadn't escorted him back like she probably should have – she hadn't returned to the party at all after she had left – so she had no idea if he was actually there and asleep or if he had gone elsewhere.

She then realized that she was about to pass by Sweet Nothing's room and she immediately darted up higher. She made every effort not to even peek to see if his lamps were on, and she tried extra hard to suppress her guilt and shame that she had spent the prior night there. Again she vowed to herself that she would never share the island's magic with him going forward, but from somewhere inside her there was a desperate, lonely, uncomfortably hot pushback.

Once beyond the hated balcony she almost immediately regretted that she had not checked it. In midair she froze, sinking steadily as her weakly flapping wings absorbed some of her terribly worried thoughts. She couldn't bring herself to turn around though, so instead she quickly but quietly rushed forward around the Passion's Embrace. Up to the level of the top floor she zoomed, and she swung around to the topmost balcony on the ocean side; to Rarity's room.

There was no glow.

Summer Wind dipped closer to the balcony; as close as she could get without landing her hooves or swaying the curtain from gentle wing beats. She turned her ears and strained to listen, stretching hard enough that the cramp it placed in her neck doubled in pain for every further moment of silence. She heard not even so much as the whispers of a light sleeper, but couldn't tell if that was because the room was empty or she simply wasn't close enough.

It agonized her, being stuck between a curtain and her grim concerns. She could flutter closer, but that carried more risk of fumbling into an embarrassing situation which she was certain she'd never be able to explain her way out of. Ignorance, however, cursed her with a distressing fear.

The indecision paralyzed her long enough that she nearly thumped onto the balcony. She swiftly flapped higher to avoid an awkward, noisy landing, and she cringed at even the low gusts which her controlled retreat made.

Still no lamp came on behind the curtain. There wasn't any sign of a pony inside stirring, if anypony was even there.

Summer Wind groaned and shuddered, casting off some of her cold sweat. This suspicious skulking about felt both silly and reprehensible. She had another, more sensible way of achieving the same end.

Gradually she lifted herself away from Rarity's balcony until she felt safe enough to soar over the Passion's Embrace. She touched down on the highest terrace garden, quickly folded her wings, and trotted inside.

The hallway happened to be rather dark (no singular pony was assigned to keeping the inside lamps lit, so at nighttime the brightness indoors was a mixed bag), but Summer Wind knew her way around blindfolded. The very first room was Venus and Vesuvius' suite. She slowed to a pause as she neared it, hooves locking mid-lift.

Knocking on the large set of double doors would have been a gamble. Everypony who worked under the island masters knew what those shut doors meant, especially at night. Then again, she didn't hear any boisterous creaking from the other side. It might have been safe.

Eventually she decided it wasn't worth the risk until she had at least checked elsewhere.

She moved on, heading briskly towards an archway streaming with light. Along the way she breezed by a small number of shut doors – other guest rooms – and one of the two main stairwells. She didn't hesitate to pass through the archway, and she blinked as her eyes adjusted to the lights of the modest common area.

Fortunately that was the end of her search: there was Venus, sitting almost curled upon a short plush stool, admiring one of the larger paintings in the whole building.

The island lady wore a completely different lava-lava from before; different than the one she had been wearing when she and Vesuvius had, after the bell moth ceremony, raced inside so blazingly fast with a trail of fire behind them. The first lava-lava was probably in a laundry basket; Venus looked like she had recently freshened up. A wetness lingered in her mane, enough to make it shine, and her manestyle had been greatly simplified (brushed straight, flowing down one side). Her coat likewise had a dewy sheen to it, making her as silky as her skirt. The shower had washed away all of her sweat and the only sign left of what she had been through was the energetically rosy color which filled her cheeks, like a runner still catching their breath an hour after a marathon.

"Excuse me, Ms. Venus?" Summer Wind opened, meanwhile glancing about to see that the room was otherwise empty.

"Hm? Ah, Summer Wind, a wonderful evening to you!"

The island lady turned on her stool, keeping her relaxed seating. About her was an aura. It offered little to the eyes, but it bombarded every other one of Summer Wind's senses. There was a mesmerizing discomfort to it, like discovering the aftermath of a pony drowned, but not from water. The large pegasus wasn't surprised to sense it. The most telltale sign was Venus's eyes which were still bright blue but had in an uncertain way lost their luster, though not with any sign of drowsiness.

"Are you here... alone?" asked Summer Wind.

Venus chuckled and said, "My dear Suvi has tired out and is sleeping now, of course." She further added, still amused, "I know he can get grouchy sometimes but you don't have to be so afraid of him."

"Yes ma'am. I just think this would be easier to discuss with only you."

"Oh?"

Even that vague opening was enough to tip Venus off. Several fair guesses immediately came to her mind.

"What can I help you with?" Venus remained friendly, but she didn't disguise the expectation that she might have to push back with soft authority.

"It's about Sweet Nothing."

Venus nodded; one of her top three guesses.

The large pegasus continued slowly, testing words almost one at a time as she watched the island lady's reactions.

"I'm not so sure it's a good idea for Sweet Nothing to be attached to Rarity. I don't think he has our mission at heart."

Venus took a stoic moment to politely smile before she closed her eyes and sighed.

"I sincerely hope," she said, "that this isn't actually about your own difficulties."

"Ms. Venus, please...," Summer Wind was hurt.

The island lady was annoyed, but only in the same motherly way as one who has to lecture a dear child about their repeated errors. She advised, "Summer Wind, you're a very wonderful and tenderhearted mare; you'll find somepony who can match your passion. I am sorry that the dragon is much, much younger than any of us anticipated. But you'll only hurt your progress, and ours, if you let your disappointment and frustration get the better of you."

"Ms. Venus, it's-... it's not that..." Yet even thinking about her unlucky lack of success caused all her knots to tighten. She persevered, "I really believe that leaving Sweet Nothing paired with Rarity will only turn out for the worst."

"Dear, I know Sweet Nothing often has to be endured more than anything, but he is on board with our cause as much as anypony. He has always succeeded in bringing pony's around to our way, and he does so swifter than anypony else!"

The large pegasus sprinkled grumbles onto the floor, "He hardly means to. The real reason you keep him around is for his family's money."

"Summer Wind."

Again like a fussy child and their parent, Summer Wind took her scolding with a lowered head and hooves shamefully scrubbing the floor.

"This has nothing to do with profit," Venus admonished. Every word which came out was unnecessarily adamant, almost defending pride more than purpose. "Money is an unfortunate necessity if we are going to spread our passion, and we thank Sweet Nothing's family for their contributions. What I need you to always remember – to accept; to believe – is that this is love, Summer Wind. Love, of the most far-reaching and profound nature, beyond any understanding ponykind has ever had before except perhaps for our blessed ancestors from this very island! We're uncovering something sacred which the universe has meant for us to discover. If Sweet Nothing's behavior were to ever jeopardize that, then of course it wouldn't matter how much his family offered. We would find another way."

Summer Wind nodded through the whole speech, still a foal regretful of their outburst.

Venus asked of her meaningfully, "Do you understand why you can't let petty feelings be more important to you than the mission we are fulfilling here?"

"Yes, Ms. Venus. I'm sorry."

The island lady slid off her stool and hugged the pegasus, tightly embracing the larger pony. She rubbed as much of her warm body against Summer Wind as she could.

"I know you are, dear," she said. Then, opening herself to the possibility, she asked, "Now... is there really a problem with Sweet Nothing?"

The hug was uncomfortable for Summer Wind. It wasn't the friendliness of it, rather something about its physicality which felt unnatural. She could hear the thumps of the island lady's heart, and sense its pulses even in the the very tips of Venus's hooves. What's more, even though the sweat and smell of passion had been washed away there was some ungraspable essence of it which lingered behind and attacked Summer Wind's mind.

It was like a bud of unhappiness planted in the center of her head which bloomed every time it felt that warm sunlight.

She didn't want to share her honest reason for stopping Sweet Nothing.

She would rather that Venus thought of her as petty and selfish than for the truth to come out.

"I think," Summer Wind very reluctantly admitted, "that there is a romance between Rarity and Spike."

Venus gently let go of the large pegasus and took a step back.

"Between... Rarity and the dragon?" she asked, and already her immediate skepticism skewered Summer Wind.

"Yes," the pegasus answered painfully.

Again a stoic delay, during which Summer Wind felt more scrutinized than considered. Then closed eyes. A restrained smile. A weary sigh.

"And you're not just saying this to deny Sweet Nothing the chance?"

Summer Wind nearly teared up. It was almost like Sweet Nothing was right there in the room with them, viciously gloating over his betrayed promise to apologize to Humble Herd.

"Ms. Venus... please..."

"I won't make any guesses or judgments about whom a pony chooses to love," Venus said seriously, "but I don't think there can be any true passion with such a young creature, if the magic even works the same way on a non-pony. We can't rely on the dragon to bring out Rarity's true passion."

"But-, but... Rarity doesn't need to experience it, right? The princess's pupil is the only one we need!" Summer Wind argued desperately. "If it might be love between Spike and Rarity, then-... then we can't risk letting Sweet Nothing harm the passion they might one day share, can we?"

The realization hit the island lady hard, and she was quite displeased by the facts. Uncharacteristically, she snorted.

"I suppose so," she relented. Nevertheless she had to justify out loud for herself, "Though every pony we leave out is a risk to our cause because they won't understand without experiencing the feeling themselves. But our cause is love. Hm."

Her gaze again studied Summer Wind's intentions.

"You're pushing awfully hard for this, Summer Wind."

"Spike has been incredibly kind to me," the large pegasus said after a thought. "He's been the kind of pony I wish I could share my passion with. I-... I just want to do right by him."

She wasn't even sure anymore if she was just saying things to seal the deal.

Venus mulled, and pondered, and turned back to gaze at the painting on the wall. At last she sighed again, this time with true fatigue.

"Let me give some thought to how we might handle it," she said. "There's still some time until we're going to open our guests' passions."

"But Sweet Nothing-!"

Summer Wind clenched her teeth hard, stopping herself. Any reveal of the dark stallion's theft of corcandeo would have also admitted to her own Pyrrhic complicity in it last night. If that had been her goal, why not have just dropped some distrust onto a silver platter and handed it to the island lady? She would never be believed if Venus had even the smallest reason to think that her motive was revenge.

"... Thank you for listening, Ms. Venus."

"Of course, dear," Venus said. She gave another hug, much faster and more tired than the last. More than anything she simply wanted to relax on her stool, and she hurried back up onto it. "Now go get some sleep, hm? It's been a long day, and we still need your hard work to help our mission succeed, even if this time unfortunately you won't have your passion opened."

A sigh of agreement wiggled its way out of Summer Wind, but then immediately a second sigh came out; a distraught and pitiable one.

"Ms. Venus," she knew she was now pushing her requests a little far, "about Humble Herd..."

No surprise there; he had also been one of the island lady's guesses.

The large pegasus continued, "... I know he's already requested that somepony else be assigned to Fluttershy, but I really believe he can do it if we just help him along."

"Summer Wind," Venus lectured more than she sympathized, "I want him to share the joy of passion just as much as you. I can't explain why he's been unable to embrace it, and I agree that he needs help and time. Everypony must share in this! But-"

"Ms. Venus-"

"But! We're at a critical juncture. We must succeed in bringing the princess's pupil over to our side, and every friend of hers that joins us only encourages her. This opportunity is too important for us to spend time experimenting for Humble Herd's sake."

"He deserves a-"

Venus cut short the argument, "He's already given up, and I'm not going to waste the time or energy convincing him otherwise. Somepony else has already been assigned, and that's that. I'm sorry, Summer Wind."

Summer Wind felt tugged on from both sides, leaving her at a place which could only be described as heartbroken anger. A quaking rage took her hooves and a fierce grinding took her teeth, enough to prevent any harsh words from escaping, but she also suffered from misty eyes and drooping wings.

The display rather reminded Venus of her dear Vesuvius and his flare-ups, only with less fire and more smoke.

"Since you both will not have partners this time," the island lady thought she was being helpful, "you'll be free to try again with Humble Herd, if you like."

The burning dissatisfaction inside the pegasus was smothered as her damp sorrow quickly grew. She said nothing.

Venus felt tired in her very compassion. She was truly remorseful over some of her ponies' inability to find passion like she had so perfectly and easily found, but it had become quite grating how little faith they sometimes had that all truth and magic would be revealed in time. By definition, destiny could not be avoided.

"Go to bed, Summer Wind," she advised maternally.

Slowly, steadily, and exhausted like she had taken on a thousand bruises of fatigue, Summer Wind turned and began to creep away, too withered to even use her wings to float off.

"Good night," Venus said.

The large pegasus moved her head like she had an equal valediction to return, but nothing came out of her. She wandered out of the common area, heading down the dark hall she had first come in from.

Venus hummed a long moan before she went back to losing herself in Gallowayo's large painting. For the time being, still high on passion, she didn't want to trouble herself over Sweet Nothing, Summer Wind, and Humble Herd. She wanted to wrap the painting around her mind so hard that it would leave an impression, and then she could curl up next to her beloved Suvi and have it all appear in her dreams.

"... Ms. Venus?"

The new voice came from the opposite hall Summer Wind had left through. Venus looked to see Prism cowering in the archway.

The pony was shuddering in agitation. Some low distress inside her had been softly boiling for some time, and only now was she seeking somepony to help her manage it.

Right away the island lady slipped off of her stool. She didn't need to be pulled, dragged, or cajoled off in the slightest way.

"Prism, dear, what is it? Come here."

Though she quivered, Prism didn't hesitate to enter. She approached Venus immediately—intimately—though without making any eye contact.

"Well, what is it?" the island lady tenderly tried to draw the concerns out of the upset mare. She hadn't ever truly seen Prism so riled, and bothered, and displeased. Prism was one of her flock who had so swiftly and completely embraced beautiful passion.

The shaken pony tried to speak up, but every time it was like her fears and her furies were at war, holding each other back from rising out of her throat. She still couldn't lift her face.

At last she managed to say, "I overheard them speaking..."

"The human?" Venus guessed.

"Yes... And the princess's pupil. They-..."

Prism just didn't have the faculties to process the emotions. She couldn't make the hots burn and the colds freeze in the way which she wanted them to. The way that, in an altered state, she knew they could.

"... they were... talking about it."

"What do you mean?" the island lady questioned suspiciously.

"They were-... they were talking about... passion," she said, as if their language lacked more accurate words for it. "They were talking... candidly about it."

Venus became profoundly troubled.

She demanded to know, "Did they already have some of the corcandeo? Who gave it to them?"

"N-No. I don't-... I don't think so," Prism shook her head.

She didn't share the island lady's worry at all. In fact she was surprised by it, and scarcely understood it. Her mind clutched a much worse fear. She buried her eyes in the floor and nuzzled herself closer to Venus.

"Do you think...," she whispered, "... that-... that... James and her... that they've already..."—again her vocabulary just didn't have the power to speak the concept plainly, and so she skipped over the words—"... with each other?"

In the depths of her mind, where there should have been the imagination of a biological act, there was only a void. Her time on the island meant that she knew what belonged there, but without assistance she couldn't picture it. Yet regardless a fearful cold radiated from that patch of nothingness. She shivered and shivered, right up until the void began to take on a new shape; a real shape; one she could see; a recent memory:

Twilight's face, lit red and with her eyes shyly diverted away from Prism's assigned man.

The cold shivers became a hot bristling, her frown closed as she gnawed indignantly on the inside of her mouth, and her burning hoof raked the floor. Her jewelry jingled hard.

Venus, however, suddenly had an altogether more calming thought enter her mind. A hopeful thought.

Indeed! What if the princess's great pupil already had one hoof in the water?

One would think that for all the packed bags she had made Spike carry, Rarity would have had absolutely everything she needed. But no. Or so it felt like it anyway.

After the party she had returned to her room to clean up and then go to bed, but in practice she had only removed the gorgeous blue dress and then had spent most of her time trapped in a vicious cycle bouncing back and forth between her chamber's bathroom and her opened luggage. In the bathroom she would stare blindly at the mirror until she realized that she needed this-or-that beauty tool, and would go to retrieve it. At the luggage she would stare at all of her things, having forgotten completely what she had wanted.

It was her fuming that had her so scatterbrained. For the final stretch of the party she had kept her temperature down – an unladylike eruption simply would not have been acceptable – but once she had been left alone in her room then all the steam had come sizzling out. Her circuit between bathroom and luggage had really been secondary to her constant stream of low grumbling.

That man...!! This has been a long time coming...!!

Rising above the dressmaker's grousing came a soft knock came upon her door.

It was a surprise given the late hour, but not a surprise sharp or frightening. Rarity presumed it was for something important – one of her friends in need probably – since otherwise such a late disturbance would have been terribly rude.

Thankfully her seething delays meant that she was still rather presentable. The immaculate dress was off, but underneath that she was still Rarity. Rather than ask the door who was there, she simply wandered over and opened it with her magic.

Sweet Nothing bowed all the way to the floor.

"I hope you can forgive a poor fool," he said while prostrated, "who is not strong enough to pry themselves away from your beauty. I had to see you again."

The dark stallion's visit was, for Rarity, more unexpected than it should have been. But far beyond that, it wasn't remotely unwelcome at all.

"Mr. Sweet Nothing!" she greeted. She fanned herself, though of course she was suffering no case of the vapors; it was just hard work being that good looking. She led on in obviously feigned ignorance, "Oh my! Have I done something to summon such a gentlecolt caller so late in the evening, hm?"

Sweet Nothing wanted to test her first.

"It was worth any risk," he said, and he turned his gaze into an intrepid explorer, losing it in her majestic face. Then suddenly he withdrew his attention, instead nervously checking the dark hallway behind himself. He chattered skittishly, "I don't care what that tall creature threatens to do to me."

Immediately Rarity scowled, and for certain it was not directed at her visitor.

Sweet Nothing was viciously delighted, though of course he betrayed not a single blink of it.

Rarity harrumphed, "You don't mind one word of what that crass man says, Mr. Sweet Nothing. You've been naught but an exceptional concierge with a stupendously well-practiced personal touch that would make any lady feel like she was the princess of the palace! If that bothers my atrociously reticent human friend, well then, perhaps he should take some time to develop his big colt voice and simply take his concerns to me instead of arrogantly assuming that he knows best!"

"Dear lady," Sweet Nothing acted shocked at her thunder, "I'm sure your friend respects you greatly."

"One would think, but a word of advice from one professional to another, Mr. Sweet Nothing: tact is about when to bite one's tongue; respect is about when to loose it."

And then, really for no other reason than to spite the absent man and his unwanted orders, Rarity stood aside and invited, "Please, come on in."

"Oh ho, gorgeous and divine Rarity! I couldn't!" Sweet Nothing melted on command like an ice cube marine. "It'd be much too scandalous for me to be in a lady's room at such a late hour! I only came because I needed to bask in your radiance for a few moments if I wanted to survive the night."

He started to slip away since he had successfully thieved one succulent drop of her perfection, though as he went he kept himself attracted to her, fighting her magnetism. Each step further eroded his resolve until very soon he couldn't continue on with his escape. He turned back to Rarity, weak from defeat.

"But maybe...," he said bashfully, "... if instead... you could come with me?"

"To where?" Rarity asked. She was intrigued, though at his unexpected invitation she actually felt a tug of uncertainty.

Like a magician luring their audience into the magic, Sweet Nothing whispered, "I have something to show you...." Then, smoothly but completely contradicting his nervousness of before, he began to back away into the hallway shadows.

The dressmaker took two chasing steps after him but cautiously held herself back from crossing the threshold of her door.

"Oh, but Mr. Sweet Nothing! S-So late at night! Are you certain it can't wait until morning?"

He blended right into the darkness which was swallowing him, still withdrawing. Time was running out. Once more he called to her, and he twisted his voice in just the right way, like pulling a trigger.

"I don't want him to catch us."

Rarity stiffened up and snorted again. Defiantly she tossed her mane, and in one pass her magic rolled over it, weaving back into place any hairs that her evening winddown had sent astray.

"Very well, Mr. Sweet Nothing. Lead on!"

She stepped out of her room and followed him boldly.

When she was close enough, the shadows about him pulled back. He was again fully charming, dashing, and eager.

Sweet Nothing guided her down the hall, moving quickly but stepping softly. They turned into the first stairwell they could, just before the common area. It wasn't that long ago that Sweet Nothing had seen the common area lit, and furthermore he wasn't going to take the chance of having to pass by Venus's and Vesuvius' suite. The two sneaking ponies descended only one flight down to the fourth floor, and then Sweet Nothing led Rarity the rest of the way through the hall until they emerged at the terraced garden for that floor.

The hallways and stairs had been so dim that Rarity had to have closely followed the silvery swish of Sweet Nothing's tail. It had been a bit like a fishhook in the murky depths of a lake, transfixing a fish with its shimmering dance.

But in contrast to the inside, the rooftop garden was oddly a much brighter place. Moonlight and starlight sprinkled down together to make a blue night. Earlier at the party the rest of the world had only seemed so black because of the blaring torchlight and the overpowering stage lights. But those plainly lit tables and that light-blasted boardwalk from before couldn't compare to the silken shades of the flowers and the subtle performances of shadow across the long stone planters. What would have been a rainbow menagerie of petals in daylight had instead been turned into an astonishing palette of blues from the softest periwinkle to the most swimmable navy, laid together on a canvas which breathed with the gentle touch of the ocean wind.

The space wasn't terribly large for a public garden; certainly not even close to a tenth as gigantic as the Pleasure Gardens, and not really any bigger than the backyard of a comely little home in the suburbs. The flowers were mostly arranged around the outside of the terrace, though still with plenty of room to approach the balustrade, and there was one hefty pot right in the center which had a very young tree ringed by a carpet of flowers. The stairway down to the next terrace was at the far end while the stairway up passed just over the archway the ponies had come through.

Such a beautiful blue gradient reminded Rarity of the lovely dress she had worn earlier that night. This was now two stunning nighttimes her concierge had gifted her.

"I must say, Mr. Sweet Nothing, being out in this breathtaking beauty does create a wonderful feeling inside me."

He seemed to smile at her remark, though it was hard to tell between her angle and the way the blue night deepened his darkness. It could have been some kind of smirk, if she had said something funny.

Without a word he gestured over to the side of the garden which overlooked the beach and ocean.

Floating there next to the balustrade, in the space between two planters, was a tiny point of light flickering orange.

For a moment Rarity was transported back to the sublime wonder of the glowing glade, and she silently gasped. But right away it became clear that the glittering light was no magical bell moth. It wasn't anything more than an ordinary candle lonely atop a very small portable table.

Sweet Nothing approached and stood next to it, and he invited the dressmaker over with his hoof by giving the air between them a few slow, possessive tugs.

Rarity noticed upon the table a serving plate with a cloche over it, and at last she caught on.

"Mr. Nothing," she said, trembling with a detectable amount of reserve, "a candlelit rooftop dinner? I appreciate the trouble you've gone to, and also the elegant simplicity of your presentation, and certainly the ambiance, but..."

The last thing she wanted to be was impolite, especially after she had worked up all that anger for James over this very sort of thing.

"... isn't this a little... too romantic?"

"Romance?" Sweet Nothing chuckled lightheartedly, though with the strangest harsh texture underneath and likewise only after a bizarre delay. "Why, this gesture is of course no more than a small showing of the personal paradise we try very hard to offer each guest on our island. And, perhaps, just a tiny apology for anything unappreciated I might have done."

This time his reasoning didn't quite sell to Rarity. But she was ever the lady.

"Oh my no, Mr. Sweet Nothing, you've done nothing which would require you to apologize, and this is quite the surprise and delight. But... well... you see... that is... er... I'm... not terribly hungry! Yes! Not hungry in the least! Aheh, certainly not after that splendid buffet! I couldn't possibly have another dinner."

"Ah, well," intoned Sweet Nothing devilishly, "this is no dinner." He gripped the handle on the cloche with his teeth. "Just a special treat which I guarantee you're going to love."

The cover lifted and revealed a mostly empty plate with only a few tidbits of fruit in the center: two oddly-shaped berries slightly smaller than apples, each diced in half to be served.

Rarity recognized them as passionfruit; the diced halves were like little bowls filled with fruity seeds. Yet normally the pulp around the seeds of passionfruit was very yellow. The dressmaker had never seen one where the pulp was so many faint colors. Underneath the yellow it looks like there were faded rainbows moving about, desperately trying to break free.

Surely just a trick on her eyes because of the blueness of the night.

"I suppose there's no harm in a teeny midnight snack," Rarity felt relaxed again, and she sat next to the table.

"None at all!" Sweet Nothing agreed. "This is no more than a beautiful treat, on a beautiful night, for a beautiful mare. Then we can take you back to your room."

He had, after all, already confirmed that he could get her to invite him inside.

"My, you certainly know how to sell the experience!" the dressmaker said. She gave a few taps to her warm cheeks, happy to be indulging in the princess experience again.

"Of course," said Sweet Nothing. He scooped up one of the berry slices. "I want show you the very best of what we do here."

He offered her the fruit.

Rarity's magic took hold of it, brought it to her mouth, and she opened wide so that she could rake in the sweet flavor.

Her tail twanged in shock. The hairs on the back of her neck distastefully stood on end. The squishiest lumps formed in her throat.

Disgusting!

She set aside the completely untouched fruit, dropping it back onto the tray without having taken so much as a nibble.

How could anypony eat in the presence of such grotesque and uncouth sounds?

Something was coming up the stairs from the terrace below, and by the gnarled noises it made it must have been some kind of bloated gasbag with legs. Instead of hoof clops, every step was a foul stomach burp. Each one of them felt like an oozy little worm trying to wriggle into Rarity's ears. Her offended spine wanted to slither right out of her back and flee.

Both ponies looked to see a distinctly non-pony shape rise from below.

One palm against his forehead, the other rubbing his stomach, James dragged himself over the top step. Before he was able to go any further, he suddenly turned colors and swooped to the nearest planter, throwing himself down in worship of it. His shaking fingers clutched the stone lip while he held himself just above the dirt and flowers, fighting the heaves which pounded on him from the inside.

Rarity's disgruntled anger couldn't think of any act which would have better epitomized the man than vomiting upon some beautiful flowers.

"Ahem!" the dressmaker cleared her throat like the strike of a furious ruler upon a desk.

The man hadn't been expecting to see anypony on his late night, stomaching-settling stroll. He tried to leap to attention at Rarity's call and he mostly landed on his feet, but he had to swallow a nasty gallon of recycled air. It took a host of willpower to keep the bubble down, especially since the burn of half-processed alcohol still clung to it.

"Oh shit," he said casually as he noticed the ponies.

"Oh shit," he murmured when he saw that one of them was a particularly displeased Rarity.

"Ohhh, shit," he muttered grimly when he noticed Sweet Nothing and the candlelight dinner setup.

Rarity, hostile but nevertheless composed, said, "Out for some fresh night air, are we?"

"Uh, well-..."

"Or," she hardened with accusation, "is this some... clandestine espial of my affairs?"

James patted himself down as if Rarity's offense had been drawn by some distasteful item which was mistakenly on his person. He floundered trying to form an answer; this level of rage was something he hadn't ever seen from the generous dressmaker before.

Meanwhile Sweet Nothing had a difficult time containing his own bitter anger.

Of all the interlopers: the man! The stallion was confident that he could have deflected any other troublemaker, even Rarity's precious little manure-stain of a dragon. But no, the intruder had to have been the very individual he had used as a lever.

More outrageous than that though, this plan hadn't even required a trip out to the garden terraces; the stallion had simply thought it was a masterful touch. He could have avoided all the trouble if he had just delivered the fruit straight to Rarity's room! For Celestia's sake, she had invited him in! He almost kicked the table over in frustration.

But, restraining himself and clenching his jaw, he tried to salvage his chances for passion.

"Madam Rarity," he wore his servile face, "perhaps we can just go inside and-"

"Now now, have no fear, Mr. Sweet Nothing," the dressmaker didn't even look at him. Her blazing eyes didn't leave the man. "You're not going to get in any trouble with my tall friend here, no. I'll make sure of it."

"B-But my beautiful Rarity-"

"The night is spoiled, Mr. Sweet Nothing, but it's not your fault. Thank you for your lovely gesture. You may go."

"But-!"

Oohhhh, he could have slapped her.

A clean buck to the man's stomach would have been satisfying too.

But he didn't want to ruin his future chances for passion over some hotheaded but well-deserved justice. He went inside, hardly restraining his stomps and departing so immediately that he left the fruit and dinner setup behind.

James humbled himself to try and soothe his friend. He all but groveled, "Rarity, I-"

"Oh don't you ‘Rarity’ me like that!" The dressmaker pointed back to the archway Sweet Nothing had left through. "He acts that way because it's his job. A little more forthrightness is required of you."

"I-, I-, I-...," the man still struggled, having no defense against somepony he revered, "... I don't understand."

Rarity bowled on, "What, did you think I might not be able to handle the fawning performance of a hired actor? That I needed somepony to protect me from the chartered charms of the resort staff? Is it a crime to you that I enjoy myself a little on our paradise vacation?"

"N-No!"

"Yet you thought you needed to go around me and curate the experience yourself."

James at last made the connection for why she was so angry.

He regretted so spontaneously defending himself, "That guy, he was really being... a little, you know-"

"Yes, he does try overly hard. But at least it can be said that he tries. You, on the other hoof..."

The knife went deep.

Rarity stormed right up to him, bold beyond fear. The fact that her first memory of the man was him killing another of his kind didn't even register anymore. She had learned who he truly was, and she was furiously disappointed.

Very intentionally she said, "The nights here are quite blistering, aren't they? I couldn't help but notice that you're still not wearing your summer outfit?"

The knife twisted.

"I-... I'm-..."

Not inside, not outside, not anywhere could he find the right thing to say.

Rarity waited impatiently for his answer.

"I'm-..."

Some manner of response trembled on his lips.

But by the way he shrunk, he admitted to the whole world that it was such a poor, pitiable, pathetic answer.

"... I'm comfortable," he surrendered.

"Hmph," the dressmaker snorted. "What I find most insulting is that you'll insert yourself unwanted elsewhere, but whenever I ask for your opinion you outright refuse it and lie about refusing it!"

The man stood there like the failure at friendship he was.

"Go ahead," Rarity invited disdainfully. "Tell me that the summer clothes I made for you are ugly. Hideous. Abominable."

He couldn't pick himself up an inch, let alone look her in the eye.

"... They're not ugly...," he said. The worthless words weren't even sloppily disguised as truth.

It was another insult to Rarity. She rolled her eyes. She clicked a hoof against the stone floor.

"So now you believe that I've never handled criticism before either?"

No firmer than a naughty, guilty child, the man teetered in place before he admitted sadly, "... I didn't want to get in your way."

The squeak of honesty was worthy of a small reward, so the dressmaker did ease back on her overwhelming pressure. She was still miffed though.

"I asked repeatedly for your input. Why did you never simply tell me you were unhappy with my work?"

"You've... already made me two great outfits, free of charge. And then you were going to make me another one? I-... I already owe you so much. I couldn't dare be unhappy with you, no matter what I thought."

"(Ignoring for one minute that an important piece of professional pride is in making clients completely happy,) you could have at least told me even that much, or said something about your true feelings. Do you understand what it says to me when I'm not worthy of your honesty?"

James cringed.

"I didn't mean for-"

"I feel diminished and ignored."

"... I'm sorry."

Again Rarity showed him some relief from her attack though she was still quite riled.

"Thank you for that, at least. But let's take it one step further: can you tell me, right now, what exactly is the problem such that you can't be equitable with me?"

The man felt the inadequacy seizing his chest, crushing his lungs every time he tried to begin a sentence. Had she been an official authority higher on the chain chewing him out sternly like he was familiar and comfortable with, then he could have stood at attention and barked proper replies without breaking a sweat. As it was, he had her up in a place of such high moral superiority that her enormous dissatisfaction kept him squashed.

"We're not equal," he weakly muttered. "I just... wanted to show you the right kind of thanks and respect for all you've done..."

"Well you've done a poor job of it, haven't you?"

That time even Rarity felt she had given the knife an unnecessary tug across.

But she wasn't in any mood. The only thing that was going to adequately cool her fires was some long overdue beauty sleep.

"Ugh," she sighed heavily, "of all the times and places, this had to come up on vacation. I suppose I should also share some of the blame, for having been too generous with my patience and not forcing it sooner but... hindsight and all. It's far too late tonight. Can we agree to sort this out another time?"

James' hands came up. To apologize more? To plead for more time right then?

He shrugged and they dropped.

"Alright...," he said.

"Then good night," Rarity gave a swift, shallow nod and turned aside.

But she stopped, facing half-away from the man. The thoughts waited to be spoken, and meanwhile her horn shined with just a dab of diamond light. It snuffed the candle out.

"You know," she said to James, much more softly than everything she had snarled prior but not holding back on any of her seriousness, "as long as we're here on this quiet, faraway island, I recommend you spend some personal time reflecting and getting your act together. I'm hardly abreast of everypony's private affairs, but I know that I'm not the only pony who has been hurt by your ill-considered disregard. Others are not as dumb, ignorant, and unobservant as you might like to believe. And... certainly you're a better fellow than treating others that way."

She finished turning away and then went, heading inside. But again she stopped, this time under the archway.

"I apologize for my curtness," she said quickly.

And then she became no more than shrinking clops in the dark hallway.

The man was left standing there, but not for long.

He threw himself down, gripped the nearest planter, and vomited onto the flower bed inside. A second, smaller bout of acid rose up after the first, but after that he felt finished. He gave a few strong, harsh coughs to clear away as much of the vile flavor as he could.

Disgusting—and not in reference to the half-digested mush which had come from inside him.

James turned over and rested himself against the large planter, letting the sweat of nausea run down his neck and back, and taking deep controlled breaths. He needed a silver lining after everything that had just happened, and finally feeling stable enough in his belly to actually eat was going to have to be it. He was hungry.

He picked himself up, stretched his clothes to shake off some of the sweat caught inside, hobbled over to the table, and grabbed one of the forgotten berry slices. The pulpy seeds went into his mouth, the empty skin went over the terrace edge, and the man went inside.

Tra-La-La Dee-Dah Dee-Dah!

Vrooooooom!!

That's the sound a car makes!

Vroom! A nice and soothing vroom over a perfect asphalt road!

But there are different kinds of roads! And different great car sounds for them!

When the road is really old and hasn't been paved in a long long time, sometimes cars will make a vr-craklcragkrak sound!

Or if it's a soft dirt road then cars go vr-thffffcrggthff while leaving an awesome trail of dust!

James loved the noises! He loved them and listened to them as car after car went by! He loved the vroom's of the cars sailing smoothly over the town's sparkling black asphalt! He loved the vr-crakl's of the cars as they bumped about his childhood suburb! He loved the vr-thff's of the cars spraying clouds of dirt down the streets of Ponyville!

What a wonder! The sounds of something so complex functioning efficiently! Combustion and turbines and pistons and belts and axles, all to wheels which ground their way along on the roads! Those glorious sounds!

Vroooom!!

Vr-craklcrag!!

Vr-thffcrgthff!!

From the wheel, to the road, to his feet, up his legs, and through his body! He felt those fulfilling sounds of a system in order! A system working in harmony!

"Ahem. Please forgive my intrusion. However, if I may say... this scene is most—hehe—entertaining."

James walked!

He walked along with big bounces in his steps as the cars went by! He walked past the timber-framed cottages and said hello to the ponies in the windows, whether they were putting out a pie or saying hello to the birds or just catching a faceful of beautiful sun! He walked on the sidewalk and called to the neighborhood dogs who barked at him from their lawns, teasing them a little just he always had for years! He walked under the clouds and whistled up to the pegasi flying between them, asking them about the day's weather! He walked across the driveways and nodded to the parents who were out washing their cars and his many childhood friends playing basketball at the short basket!

Everywhere he walked, it was all great!

Except sometimes.

Sometimes he walked by a cottage and somepony had left their hay bales in very unneat stacks! He stacked them!

Sometimes he walked past a driveway and there was a mailbox left open with no mail in it! He closed them!

Sometimes he walked and he had to go around the pony-drawn wagons which had not been parked very flush to their owner's homes! Not very flush at all! He flushed them! (Tee-hee!)

And even once – one time, as he strolled by the old house where lived those mysterious neighbors he had never seen or known, whose lights had always been off every Halloween – he walked along a white picket fence where one of the boards was sticking out badly!

It was not straight!

Well, he straightened it! He put it back in line with all the others, the way it was supposed to be! He put that fence back into wonderful harmony!

"As amusing as this is, I should press on. First, I do apologize sincerely for having entered uninvited. I was cautioned to avoid contacting you in this manner, for several reasons, and until now I have abided. Perhaps this first meeting between us would not be so awkward if we had both taken the advice we were given and introduced ourselves earlier in a more even space."

James whistled!

Not a song which he knew or remembered! It wasn't even his own air! The song came from the whole world!

The cars helped, of course! Their engines and wheels very much liked to hum the bassline! The steady clip clop clip clop of hooves joined the melody as well! But they weren't all! The wind itself chimed in, and so did the wind chimes hanging from the neighbors' porches! From the bazaar came the market hawkers in their stalls singing like a choir while they vended their bottles of mane wash and bags of caramel daisy treats and customized clips for safely preening pegasus wings! Even the hamburgers on the grill of the annual neighborhood cookout sizzled away to the tune!

James went to the park with the glimmering lake where he had always gone swimming every summer while growing up, and right next to the lake was the gazebo where Ponyville's many musically talented ponies liked to gather for their weekly practice! They were all too happy to be a part of the great tune, and they played away to it like they had been doing it their whole lives! What a zoo of instruments! Each their own voice, but melting together like a rich cake of a symphony!

Whistles and words and whooshes and woodwinds and whumps! A music so breathtakingly perfect in its sound filled the sky to every corner!

Except somewhere.

At the gazebo with all the Ponyville players James saw little Poppy! Beautiful, beloved Poppy! She was whacking away wildly on a drum just like she had done the other day when they had been trying to earn cutie marks for some very courageous crusaders! Oh but beautiful, beloved Poppy must not have heard the song which the rest of the world did, because her hooves crashed on the drum to the sound of a broken guitar torturing an amplifier!

It was all disordered!

James rushed over right away to help his sweet and extraordinary filly! He picked her up, gave her a hug bigger than the lake, kissed her smile on each cheek, put her down, and started softly patting away on the drum himself in time to what he knew absolutely to be the world's rhythm!

Poppy watched his hands go a-bum bum bum, a-bum bum bum, a-bum bum bum! And the beat joined her! She started bobbing her head! She snuggled up close to her drum, raised her hooves, and took over from the man!

A-bum bum bum-da-bum tiddily-bum bum rump-pa bum!

Her drum sang operatic! Magnifico!

James smiled at his cherished filly! His astounding prodigy! His beautiful, beloved Poppy whose love was so massive that it didn't matter where he went; all directions led to her love's center!

With Poppy joined in, everything played together just right! The tune had come back to gorgeous harmony!

"Regardless, let me explain why I am here now. The draw you are experiencing at this moment is... enormous. I don't have any sound idea what it even is, but I have never seen anything like it before. Do not worry; I don't believe it is dangerous. Or at least, I have seen no signs of that yet. But I thought it inauspicious enough to risk warning you. Is this native to your species?"

James danced!

Not in any way he knew how! But what was there even to know? Sometimes he was a joy! Other times he did a happy! At the biggest heights, right at the very peaks of his dance, he was a love! That's really all there was to dancing!

And there wasn't anybody, anypony, or anything that didn't dance with him!

The dandelions in the grass knew how to shake it, just like they had done in the field during every breezy spring day of his youth! The fireflies were choreographed like fireworks, lighting the very same field as they had always done during the great summer nights! Around the little stream with the small bump of a bridge before the lovely woodland cottage, every type of animal from little critter to humble giant performed a ballet! And just over the fence was a vast farm orchard where each tree swayed about, rolling their ripe, plump apples in a happy sort of hula!

James skipped right over the fence, flying so high that he might as well have been a pegasus! Back down in the orchard he found a particularly bountiful tree (but of course, they all were bountiful!), scooted a basket under it, a gave its trunk a playful tickle! Juicy apples rained from the branches and filled the basket! He hugged up his basket-load in his arms like a beautiful baby and carried it out of the orchard as a treat for the rest of the dancers!

But maybe he hadn't needed to! No matter where in town he went, every dancer already had a basket of apples with them! In the park, in the square, downtown, uptown, lefttown, righttown! They danced, and they ate, and the juice flowed like golden rivers, right down into the smiling storm drains! Nobody and nopony danced without an apple!

Except someones.

Down by the schoolhouse there were many fillies and colts, and girls and boys, who didn't have a basket of apples! Not one basket! Not one apple! Not one stem! Bless them, they still all tried to dance, but they couldn't joy! They couldn't happy! They couldn't love! There wasn't any dance they could do; not with their hungry little tummies!

It was not right!

James carried his basket right on over and ploped it down amongst the foals and children! Here an apple, there an apple, everywhere a tasty apple! He scooped them up by the armful to give them away! No one got an apple with a bruise or a brown spot, because of course every apple was red, shiny, crisp, and delicious! He used his bare hands to pull the apples apart into perfectly shaped wedges; wedges shaped just like the smiles they put on the little ones faces!

And when there was one apple left, he split it with three eager, admirable crusaders! They all got a little practice in at dancing and chewing at the same time! The world danced again in fantastic harmony!

"... Hello? Are you ignoring me? Understand please that I deeply and truly apologize if I have trespassed unwanted."

James read!

Oh, but the words didn't make any sense, though it didn't matter! Book after book he spun the pages, devouring all the nonsense in an instant! He was a nonstop nonsense reader! The only time he ever paused was to flatten the creases out of every page, and to undo every dog ear, and to stitch up every binding, and to wipe clean every dusty cover, and to rub out every mistaken ink blot, and to dot every ‘i’ and cross every ‘t’! When he was done he shelved every book back into its proper place, no matter where he had found it!

But James was only one James! It was probably going to take a very very long while to read and sort everything! The libraries together were super big, after all! Every school, every town, every tree; they were just one mega library!

Thankfully he had help!

James tossed many of the books to his dragon buddy! Faithful Spike always knew where everything went, and he was always eager to help! Faithful Spike didn't question, or doubt, or balk, or do anything off-kilter at all! Always helpful, always faithful Spike, who from the very first hello had always believed in James!

And so around the libraries the two went! Reading books! Putting books away! Reading more books! Putting more books away! James straightened any crooked stacks which Spike sometimes had trouble carrying! Spike surfed on top of the book cart which James pushed and navigated the way for them both! James hoisted Spike high to get at those hard to reach shelves! Spike gladly took every book from James that belonged in those down low places!

There wasn't a moment without teamwork!

Except somewhens.

Now and again Spike didn't do his job quite so well! It happened kind of randomly! Sometimes at different rooms! Sometimes at different shelves! There was no pattern that James could see!

Faithful, faithful Spike would act glum or gruff, and he wouldn't want to put a book away! Faithful, faithful Spike would act quiet or withdrawn, and he wouldn't want to ride the cart and lead the way! Faithful, faithful Spike would act upset or scared, and he wouldn't allow James to pick him up!

James worried very much that something was wrong with Spike! But after awhile, when he couldn't see who or what was causing Spike to change, James started to worry that maybe something was wrong with himself! James started to worry that he was making Spike not right!

It was not balanced!

He took Spike over to the kiddie room! Toys and children's books were scattered everywhere waiting to be put back on their tiny shelves and in their toy chests! A nice stool was in the corner where many times the friendly library lady had read to crowds and crowds of eager-eared little foals and children! James brought Spike over to the stool, sat on it, put the dragon on his lap, and asked what was wrong!

Was Spike hurt? Had James hurt Spike?

Was Spike angry? Had James angered Spike?

Was Spike sad? Had James sad-ed Spike?

Spike did not think James had hurt him! James was very happy to hear it because a friend is someone who tries to fix every hurt big and small! And because a friend is someone who tries to fix every hurt big and small, he asked Spike again what was wrong!

Spike reached out and grabbed a book from the nearest shelf! It was a children's picture book with big thick cardboard pages, and it had the dragon's own face on the cover! But more than that! As Spike showed James, every page had a picture of the dragon on it!

But they were all wrong! Every Spike in every picture was wrong somehow! One was too tall, and not just tall but distorted! One was too wide, and not just wide but lopsided! One had a tail way too very short! One spat little clouds of ice! One was pockmarked by many missing scales all over his body like a frightening bout of dragon-acne!

Something was different on the very last page! On the very last page was not Spike! Instead there was a lovely lady of a mare, with a mane curled like a violet ocean wave! She was looking back at all the pages in the book, and it sort of seemed as if she didn't like any of the ugly things she saw inside!

Spike frowned!

James closed the book, set it aside, and then himself pulled a book out from the shelf! The new book had his picture on it! And, as the man showed Spike, every page of course had a picture of the man on it! And yes, they were all wrong somehow!

Hilariously wrong! A nose way too big, but the man laughed because it reminded him of his dad! A body way too out of shape, but the man laughed because he knew he had eventually proven to himself what his body could be! A walking gait which was bent over in the most ridiculous way, but the man laughed because he would happily walk like that to make a friend smile!

On the last page of his book was not a picture of a lady! Only a picture of himself! Himself, happy and carefree!

James closed his book and put it on top of Spike's book, and he told Spike not to worry! Sometimes a picture wasn't worth a thousand words! Sometimes all that was needed to capture a picture of someone was only a handful of true, important words!

Faithful! Brave! Trustworthy! Purple! Green!

Spike smiled!

Together they got up, put their books away, and then worked in unison to clean the kiddie room! They got the books on the shelves and put every toy neatly back into its toy chest! They tidied up and got the whole place back into united harmony!

"Are-... are you even lucid?"

James waved!

He waved to everyone, no matter who they were, or how he knew them, or how he didn't know them! He waved to the ponies plowing the fields! He waved to his friends who were sitting about on one of their cars in the fast-food parking lot! He waved to the mayor of Ponyville and all her staff working hard at the town hall! He waved to his comrades as they jogged past him, neat and ordered!

When James got downtown there were many, many, many, many people and ponies to wave to! He had to use both his hands if he was going to wave to everyone! The movie theater had a crowd spilling out the front; they all needed waves! The bowling ally had a line going out the door also; waves for all! Even the barbershop was overflowing! That's what happens when a busy barbershop is run by just one old man and one little manestylist! Oh well, a sea of waves for them all!

And all the folks were happy to wave back at James right away! There wasn't anyplace where they weren't!

Except some—the ice cream shop.

The ice cream shop was very busy like everywhere else, with every table at the outside patio full! Ponies shared bowls of ice cream with people, and people shared cones of ice cream with ponies! Most of them did wave right back at James, even when they had their hands or hooves full, and even when they had melted ice cream on their noses and snouts!

But there was one single table where no one waved!

Right in the middle of the patio was a table with four very lovely, very adored, very sexy, but kind of upset ladies! They weren't mad; not really anyway! But they weren't at all feeling good! Something was unsettled!

Something had been left wrong!

James knew who they all were of course! In fact he recognized three of them very intimately! He knew what had been left wrong, and he knew what needed to be done to make it right!

He went to the first girl who was the youngest; high school aged! He apologized for how it hadn't worked out between them! He had been young, and rushed, and stupid! Where a man would have made decisions with his heart, a boy hadn't known the difference between his heart and his hormones! It didn't matter how much of what had happened had made him feel hurt; if he had been wiser and less selfish, he wouldn't have hurt her so badly!

But it was alright! She apologized to him too! After all, had she not also been young, rushed, and stupid? Had she not also been eager to prove that she was a woman and not a girl? That was all water under the broken bridge now! She had moved on and was happy to see that he had as well!

James went to the next woman who was just a bit older than the first; the longest relationship! He apologized for how it hadn't worked out between them! He had really tried to take their relationship very seriously, so that it would have lasted forever! But things had sometimes gone wrong, as they do, and every time that had happened he had been a terrible person and had pinned all of his frustrations on her! He had thought that because he had been trying so hard, she had been at fault! There were plenty of mistakes he had made though, and he should have admitted to them! Most of all, he was very, very sorry for having yelled at her a few times! His temper made him very, very sad!

But it was alright! She apologized to him too! She had been bothered sometimes but how super serious he had been sometimes, with many useless rules and many strict arrangements, like their relationship had been a math problem he could have solved with all the right steps! But never once had she tried to sit him down and let him know about her frustrations with him, except of course when it had been too late and things had started exploding! Maybe if they had done more talking through their mistakes then they could have taken their relationship to a better place! She was glad at least for all the lessons they had learned together! Even the painful ones!

James went to the third woman who was only just a smidgen younger than him; the relationship that had failed really quickly not long before he had enlisted! He apologized for how it hadn't worked out between them! He had been looking for a fast recovery after his longterm relationship had fallen apart, and he had really felt like his experiences had taught him everything there had been to know! Whoops! Maybe they could have had a real relationship instead of just some mutual sex, if only he had been a better, more honest, more humble person!

But it was alright! She apologized to him too! Honestly, she hadn't been that serious about the whole thing! And hey, it had been fun!

And finally James went to the last lady; the pony!

All the three previous girlfriends watched him very eagerly to see what he would do! The pony herself nervously twiddled the many bracelets around her legs, wondering also what the man's plan was!

James stood before the sitting pony, rubbed his chin, shrugged, and then he bent down and kissed her on the cheek!

The flushed pony rubbed the blessing happily while the three past girlfriends cheered and clapped their hands! They wished the two of them good luck! Maybe all the hardships and lessons had been to make this one work! They even stood up and got everybody and everypony there at the ice cream shop to give applause and shout encouragements!

With everyone there waving excitedly the whole place was lit up, brought back to terrific harmony!

"Hm. Very well. I would be grieved to know that I had grossly intruded upon somepony against their will, so I will depart. However, allow me to leave an impulse behind with you, just in case. Forgive the spell; it is only to ensure persistence beyond this world."

“Remember my sister.”

"Thank you. Farewell."

James basked in the wonderful harmony!

It was all around him, as it was supposed to be! Nothing was crooked; it had all been made straight! Nothing was out of rhythm; it had all been put in sync! Nothing was still; it had all been given life! Nothing was out of sorts; it had all been brought together in cooperation! Nothing hurt was left behind; it had all be swept up in forgiveness!

Friendship was magic!

Except... there.

Beyond all the joy and life and friendship and love about him, James saw the sky surrounding him in the distance. And it was wrong. It was bright and blue, and that was fine. But painted on it was a huge rainbow. And the rainbow...

... the rainbow was wrong.

It was not in harmony.

James wanted to stay with all the bliss around him. But the rainbow had to be brought to harmony. So he walked over to the horizon. He had to hoist himself over the first house in the way. Then he had to take a very big step over the forest. At the mountain he only had to lightly skip over. Then he was there, standing next to the horizon.

Behind him the whole world – his home, Ponyville, and the rest – had shrunk down to the size of an ant colony. He still heard all the sounds of harmony coming from it, but it was so distant. The joy, life, friendship, and love were like a parade which had gone far, far down the road, almost out of sight.

James looked at big rainbow right in front of him. The colors on it were not quite right, though he wasn't sure how exactly. There were six colors in all: purple, yellow, blue, pink, orange, and violet. The order felt right; something else was wrong.

Then James realized it: the colors did not shimmer in the way a rainbow should.

Four of them flickered, sometimes weakly but sometimes greatly. They were like old neon lights in the dark which struggled to stay fully lit. Sometimes they held strong, for a few long moments at least. Maybe those colors had something which was just a little loose that he needed to tweak? Maybe he only needed to make a few adjustments in order to get them back into perfect working harmony?

The violet also flickered, much worse than the four others. Whatever the others needed, it needed much more.

The sixth color though. The pink.

It was not lit at all. Not even a flicker.

James could only tell what color it was supposed to be by looking at it very closely. He reached a hand up and gently tested the purple by laying his palm upon it. It was warm, especially when it flickered brightly. He felt the warmth not on his palm but in his heart. Next he moved his palm to the pink.

It was cold like steel. Frost covered his whole body.

James was very, very worried. He looked back at the small and distant harmony going on behind him, all of it blissfully unaware of the broken rainbow.

Everything needed to be brought back into harmony.

James braced himself, digging his heels against the mountain. He steadied one hand against the orange, and then with his other gave a hard push onto the pink.

The pink swung open, hinged on its top to the blue, and when it hit the limit of its swing it reverberated with the jangle of a thin metal door.

Inside the pink was a room so dark that James couldn't determine how big or small it was. Sunlight streamed in through the door he had opened only to wither into black nothingness mere inches inside. After a moment of staring into the room James began to think that it wasn't a room at all, but simply just an endless darkness. Simply just the nothing outside of harmony.

There was only one thing there, plainly visible to him despite the darkness.

There was a pony an unhappy distance away from the door. She was pink, but like the rainbow she was not lit. She was sitting with her back to James so that he could not see any identifying cutie mark, and there was nothing unique about her incredibly straightened mane and tail. She drooped where she sat, and now and again he saw her shiver.

Each shiver was accompanied by a loud, loud sound which filled the whole darkness. Each shiver, a single drop of water broke the stillness of an unseen pond.

James tried to call to the sad pony, to know who she was or what she needed, but like the sunlight his voice quickly dissolved in the darkness.

He bit his lip and looked back at the distant, distant, faraway echoes of harmony behind him. Dandelions danced. Poppy drummed. Books slid into their proper places with satisfying thunks. All of it was so faint in his ear now, so separated from the rainbow and the pink.

The sad man lowered his head.

A drop of water broke a still pond inside him.

Everything needed to be brought back into harmony!

He gripped the top of the orange and climbed inside the open pink. The pink shut behind him with a metallic clang.

Chapter 37: Anew

Thump thump thump.

"Snrgk! Guh! What?"

Rainbow Dash shot up, sitting bent and disheveled on her bed. Each of her legs were folded or twisted in a contorted configuration not unlike a squashed bug. One wing was spread and flattened under her like roadkill while the other wing poked out crumpled, twitching as it slowly stretched back into its natural shape. Her mane had taken on a strange mold like the side of her head had been blasted by a cannonball of hair gel, and each of her eyes blinked independently without regard for the other.

A few of her wits gathered together quickly: she was in her room at the Passion's Embrace, and that headache she felt was all that was left of last night's party.

Thump thump thump.

"Oh. Right. Wake-up call."

She shook her head and it rattled like a rolling tin can with a single bead inside. Slowly she dragged herself out of bed, but she had a hard time of it. Her bedsheet had been twirled into a rope overnight and had to be detangled from her, she had to wave her stiff and prickly legs until they finally began to obey her, and every crinkle had to be pushed out of her feathers one at a time. All the while she piled yawn on top of cavernous yawn.

The funny thing was: if she had actually gotten in a good nap yesterday then she wouldn't have been nearly this discombobulated now.

Thump thump thump.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm-... Be right-... Whatever."

Between four disorganized legs and two fidgety wings, she had some trouble hauling herself over to her room door. She nearly cracked her skull on it when she arrived, and she raised a hoof to open it when...

Thump thump thump.

The sound almost patted her on the back of her head. She looked with confusion at the silent door.

Thump thump thump.

Again the blunt sensation of the noise patted her from behind.

She gave her head another hard shake but there wasn't any sleepy cotton left stuffing her ears. Mystified, she turned to look back at her room.

From under her balcony curtain came fresh morning light and, though it was soft and mellow, it still felt like a beam of fire being shot straight into her freshly opened eyes. Immediately she shielded herself with a wing.

Thump thump thump.

"... What the...?"

It was a stumble to reach the other side of the room. Every effort to peek around her wing-blindfold only got her a sting of light. She knew she had made it to the curtain when she felt herself slap right into its heavy fabric.

Thump thump thump.

Much louder than at the door. Definitely something against the outside wall.

"Alright, what is going on?"

She squeezed her eyes shut to keep them safe and then flailed her wings and hooves about, catching the curtain in several places and little by little clawing it open.

The Carriaggean sun spilled in and smothered her face, though mostly by its hot reflection off the balcony's white stone floor, and this time she shielded herself with both her wings. Her first attempt to open her eyes was simply fire, and so was the second. By her third attempt her sensitivity had softened and she managed to endure for a few moments, reading the scene through the meshed vanes of her feathers.

There was somepony standing there on the balcony.

"Who're you?" she asked.

Nosedive didn't say anything, but his very next breath did come out of him rather hot.

He turned away towards the balcony edge, offering not even as much as a "good morning." Rainbow Dash could hear the brush his wings spreading.

"Breakfast is ready downstairs," he finally said.

"Uh... okay? But why did-"

"However," he cut her off with an edge of cold steel in his voice, "you're only going to get any if you win!"

And he took flight, soaring skywards.

"What?! Hey!"

Rainbow Dash popped her eyes open and powered through the bright agony. She could see the other pony ripping upwards towards some kind of marker floating in the sky, and there were other markers following it. She stapled her eyelids open so that she could focus on her target, absorbing the oodles of searing pain.

Nosedive leveled out as he blew past the first marker. It was a short bamboo post snuggled into a tiny puff of cloud, with a big fat leaf tied to the top to serve as a facsimile of a pennant. A crude design, yes, but technically it comported to all the requirements of an official race marker as laid out by the Association Regulating Aerial Competitions and Events.

Swoop! He banked hard around the markers which highlighted the first curve!

Vroosh! He dove but then pulled up, whipping through a tall loop and blasting out of it like a whizzing bullet!

Whirr! He spun in a corkscrew through a series of cloud-rings, deftly threading each shrinking needle!

There wasn't one zip of speed he spared; he sailed along the sky-track like tomorrow was chasing him down to devourer him! Not once did he look behind himself, instead always facing the razor-sharp winds as they tore into his wings and mane. The rushing air roared in his ears.

But somewhere under the screaming air he heard behind him a very different kind of roar.

Again he swooped low and tightly arced through another hard curve. He zigzagged with all his skill through a few camelbacks, daring to nearly shave some fluff off the staggered cloud markers. Afterwards he swung down sharply towards the next vertical loop, and he drew his wings in close to build speed.

The roar behind him grew louder; louder than even the ear-piercing wind.

Nosedive stayed focused. He tunneled his vision. He saw only the tube of air he was going to shoot through to start his perfect loop.

More precise than a hawk diving from the clouds into a white river and coming up with a fish, he nailed his entry and flawlessly slashed his way upwards. Cutting through the curve so strongly started a fire on his belly. And at the very peak of the loop, when he could see the upside down island above him, with early workers out in the orchard and blue waves lapping at the beach, he heard an explosion like a boom of thunder bursting in his ears.

A rainbow streak blazed by him. It existed for only a moment, blinking through the rest of the loop like a flash of lightning, and in its wake there was a loud shock wave of wind which nearly knocked Nosedive out of his arc. The mighty roar which had been haunting him followed after, panting and gasping as it tried to keep up with the rainbow trail.

Nosedive recovered and finished his loop, having lost only a little bit of speed from the error, but even as soon as he hit the bottom he saw how hopeless the rest of the race was. Strokes of rainbow were being drawn through the rest of the course, curling and cutting like cursive skywriting; an essay composed faster than the most quick-tongued race announcer could have possibly read.

If only for his own pride Nosedive tried to push himself back to full speed, but he had already conceded.

The finish line banner was of course just a checkered tablecloth wrapped between two shafts of bamboo, and even though Rainbow Dash blitzed under it at top speed she still managed to snap to a dead stop upon the small cloud it had been placed on. There was a moment of near-complete stillness, the only movement being the brushing of her mane and tail by a trailing wind. Then suddenly the surge of adrenaline gave her a latent kick in the rear.

"Aw heck yeah!"

She bounced up and unloaded a victory parade of heroic flexing. One fast race had been the only thing needed to have banished her tired, drowsy self to the forgotten oblivion of one minute ago. Goodbye snoozy, snoring Rainbow Dash! Ultimate winner Rainbow Dash was up, awake, and here to stay!

She must have been triumphantly kicking and posing and hyping herself for nearly half a minute before Nosedive at last glided over the finish line. He touched down on the cloud, folded up his wings, shook the sweat from himself, and put on a stoic face for what he now well knew was going to follow his defeat.

Right on cue Rainbow Dash pointed at him and crowed, "Boo-yah! Make my breakfast, lead-wings! Haha!"

"That was pretty amazing," Nosedive worked hard to take her bellowing in stride, and it wasn't too difficult; he was genuinely impressed. "I had a head start and foreknowledge of the course, and you still won by a huge margin. On a quick D length point-to-point, no less! I wish we had a timekeeper; that might have been some kind of record."

Chuffed, the winner lauded herself, "Ha! I set the record for number of records set by a single pony! Now then: I want pancakes, extra chocolate chips, and enough syrup that I can go swimming in it! Chop chop, slowpoke!"

"... Breakfast was already made. You've just won your share of it."

He then held back cautiously for a moment. The scales of risk went back and forth in his mind.

"It's Nosedive, by the way," he finally said.

"Well, Nosedive," Rainbow Dash retorted, and then she actually adopted a chummy and rather sportsponylike air, "better luck next time!"

Tweep tweep tweep!

"Oh, that's very good to hear," Fluttershy replied. However, her expression took a small but gloomy turn. "I mean, I was worried after all the trouble I had even finding one of you, let along getting one of you to talk to me..."

The friendly parakeet hooked his feet more securely to the balcony's stone railing and let his chest plumage puff a little.

Twee, twee tweep tweep!

"Yes, you are very brave," Fluttershy agreed, "and such a handsome shade of green, too. I'm very lucky to get to ask you so many questions."

An untrained eye would have read the bird's up-and-down bobbing as some kind of dance, and the hoisting of his wings as some kind of threatening display, but the experienced animal handler knew a showboating bird when she saw one.

She pressed on, "So, if everything is mostly nice on this island as you say, why do all of you hide from everypony?"

The parakeet waved a wing dismissively; he wasn't a hider, of course. He tweeted about his fellow animals who weren't quite so courageous, but only generally about the reasons why.

Fluttershy was shocked.

"‘They've seen some—’ what?" she echoed, and then she tenderly but sternly scolded the feathered foul-mouth, "Do you kiss your mama bird with that beak?"

It wasn't very bird-like to snort so instead the parakeet buzzed his beak to make a very grumpy sort of sound. Regardless, he reluctantly re-answered her question, this time using more politely chosen chirps.

"That's better, thank you. Now, what kinds of things?"

There wasn't a single peep from the bird. More strangely, his bravado greatly and rapidly shrunk. He idled away the time, peeking here or there, or just by pecking at the inside of his wings. If his biology had supported it, he would have intentionally coughed into a fist a few times.

"Well?" the pegasus pushed gingerly.

He was still unable to summon a detailed answer, but this time he at least summarized his thoughts in a few vague cheeps.

"I see," said Fluttershy. The explanation sat on her uncomfortably, and she shook her head. "I don't know. They all seem like very nice ponies to me."

Tweep! Tweep tweep tweep, twee tweep!

"W-W-What do you mean, ‘only H-Humb-ble H-Herd?’"

His name still made her stomach turn over nervously. The only reason she had even gotten out of bed already was because she had woken up and been too antsy about his upcoming wake-up call to have gone back to sleep. And that had been over an hour ago! The dread had only grown worse since; she felt by the weakness of knees that he was only minutes away from being at her door.

Not that she blamed him for any of her jitters.

"I mean, I d-do think he's a-... he's a-... r-real sweetheart... t-t-t-to be t-taking care of you all like he does, I mean! B-But, um, anyway, what do you mean only him? He had said something to me about how all of you would be friendly and talk to me so long as I was ‘nice.’ Are the other ponies somehow bad? Are they mean? What do-"

Tweep!

It wasn't what the parakeet had said about the stallion. It was how he had said it which tripped some unclear alarm inside of Fluttershy. Her head slowly listed to one side.

"‘Different’... how?" she asked.

Tweep tweep!

The answer left Fluttershy gobsmacked. Uneasily she glanced about the area, worried that somepony might have overheard the tweeps and been offended.

Sufficiently alone, she hesitantly replied to the parakeet, "... None of them seem ‘crazy’ to me."

The bird shrugged the tops of his wings, but in a superiorly dismissive way. He didn't have the time to educate somepony who didn't want to listen to what was obviously some very wise advice. She'd find out soon enough anyway.

"Well, I still don't understand," the pegasus pleasantly entreated. "What makes H-Humble H-Herd... not crazy?"

A bobble started at the bird's head and worked its way down through his whole body as he mulled over the reply he wanted to give. He clicked his claw against the stone railing a few times in uncertainty.

Tweep! Twee tweep tweep! Twee twee, tweep tweep!

"Oh. That's alright," Fluttershy said. And like the kind pony she was, she didn't need to put any effort into balancing earnest appreciation with honest-to-goodness cheeky chiding. "I can't blame you for not having all the answers, even when you're such a smart and eagle-eyed parakeet. I think though that if you animals spent a bit more time getting to know the other ponies as well as you know Humble Herd, then you'd discover that they're not so crazy after all."

The parakeet gave her a such a stare. It was all he could do since the only counter-tweet he had in mind wouldn't have passed her vulgarity test.

"You'll see," the pony asserted. She shut her eyes and in her head played some of the inspiring music from the night prior. Her heart swelled with confidence. "I'm going to get to know some of them better, and they're going to turn out to be very wonderful ponies!"

Tweep!

Fluttershy again turned her head at the bird's bizarre comment.

"No, I'm very young. I won't have ‘my funeral’ for many, many, many years."

Suddenly from inside her room came a knocking on the door.

The parakeet flinched, losing a few feathers in his frightened flapping. Quickly he got himself back in order, seizing his claws on the railing and transforming his fluttering into a suspiciously casual brushing of his beak. He muttered a few uneasy, forced cheeps; something about practicing an impersonation of a chicken.

He had no reason to have saved face, though; Fluttershy had flinched too. All that warm confidence hadn't done a thing to have stopped her back from arching like a cat caught in a dog kennel. It took an icy moment before she was able to get her body straightened out down the last hair and feather.

"I g-guess that's H-H-Humble H-Herd with my wake-up c-call," she said. "T-Thank you so much for answering my questions, mister parakeet. I hope I'll see you later?"

He huffed, as much as a bird can huff anyway. There was a dim, doubtful quality to his final chirp before he took off; not the kind of grim tone one wants to hear in an, ‘I hope so.’

Fluttershy returned inside, but she took every excuse to go as slowly as she could. She stopped to gently tug the balcony curtain closed. She double-checked her neatly folded bedsheets to ensure that they didn't have a single crease. (Even if the resort had ponies for such housekeeping, what a nice surprise it would be for them to have one less task!) Lastly she came and stood nervously before her nightstand.

On it laid her sapphire heart necklace, cold and blue.

She tried to remember the words from some of last night's songs, but suddenly they didn't play back clearly and her shuttering hoof could only click on the floor out of time.

The door knocked again.

Softly Fluttershy moaned. But, though the music couldn't find a center in her, she did remember the bold encouragements of her human friend and also the glorious bells which had filled the night brightly.

Standing before her door, just before she opened it, she paused to straighten the sapphire heart so that it wasn't hanging askew on her chest.

"Um, good morning, uh, Miss Fluttershy!" greeted the mare on the other side of the door when it opened.

"G-..."

The unfamiliar, unexpected face caused Fluttershy's jaw to lock shut. Every effort to get out a greeting failed before it began. She simply stared straight ahead as if nopony were there, dropping little g's onto the floor out of her broken, trembling lips.

The mare on the other side of the door was obviously a little flustered, though not just by the guest's strange behavior. She stood with hooves misplaced, never finding solid ground to stick them to, like a new understudy thrown onto the stage on opening night without a script.

She tried her best, "So, uh... this is your wake-up call, and... um... I'm your new valet. Anything you need, I'll take care of it; just ask. I really hope we'll become great friends! My name is Trivial Pur-"

"Where's Humble Herd?" Fluttershy asked. She looked past the mare, searching the empty hallway in confusion.

"Well, um... he's-, ah...," the other mare stammered uncomfortably. The utter and total absence of preparation couldn't have been more painfully obvious. "... I-I'm taking over for him for the rest of your trip."

"Why?"

"I-... w-well, you see... it was thought that, uh... I might be a better fit for you-... um..."

Fluttershy stood quietly, blindly in the doorway. The fumbling words from the other mare washed over her like freezing rain, and she began to shrivel from the cold.

"A-Anyway," the other mare soldiered on so awkwardly, "it's breakfast time, so why don't I take you down to-"

"He didn't want to bother with me anymore, did he?" interrupted Fluttershy. There wasn't a single light coming from her crumbled, withdrawn face. "He decided I was a hopeless cause?"

The other mare, utterly lost in the face of Fluttershy's seemingly inexplicable despair, wished she had been somewhere else. Not that she truly blamed the odd guest for the incredibly weird first meeting they were sharing. It was more that Venus and Vesuvius could have done a lot better than to have sprung this new assignment on her so suddenly.

She smiled weakly, repeating, "I-It's... time for breakfast. S-So..."

Fluttershy sighed. Buried inside the delicate sound was a brutal defeat.

"Just a minute," she requested quietly.

Soft in her steps, she turned around and went back inside her room. Before her bed she lowered her neck, and one of her wings slipped off her necklace. The feathers on the end surrendered the necklace slowly, letting it slide off onto the covers of the bed, making not one limp effort to save it.

Tak tak tak.

Summer Wind blinked her eyes wearily. Had she been awake, or asleep?

Every part of her which bent or moved felt like she had spent the whole night running around a maze of stairs. The aches had found their way in deep, clinging to her like a crust of dried mud, and when she pushed herself up they only squeezed together tighter. There was a slimy blanket of moisture stuck to only one side of her face, and she looked down to see a wet stain on her pillow with an indent the size and shape of her cheek. The salt had turned the once-soft pillowcase stiff.

She rubbed her moist, puffy cheek. Not enough sleep, however much she had gotten.

Tak tak tak.

This time the rapping struck her consciously, patting her ear drums. Each hit was a sharp, sudden, intrusive click of a sound. She sat up fully.

A good-sized spill of light was bleeding in from under the balcony curtain, and it wasn't the orange of an early morning. Her eyes leapt to the clock on the wall; it was indeed well past the scheduled time of her first duties for the day. What an unhappy un-surprise.

For the second day in a row she had missed giving Spike his wake-up call. Not that it really mattered...

She groaned and crawled out of her bed, going right into some fast but very unenthusiastic stretches, quickly and lazily cheating her way to limberness. Meanwhile she noticed her collection of figurines on her dresser. Even without any eyes they watched her silently, and she felt the uncomfortable pressure of their judgment; over a dozen tiny, fake ponies built by Humble Herd from twigs and dirt and feathers and leaves, all of them standing heroic, or powerful, or proud, and all unsympathetically disappointed in her.

With all the endless aches puncturing her, for once her immensely strong body felt as weak as the rest of herself always did. It was the least of her concerns that some other island pony was at the door waiting to reprimand her for being late.

Tak tak tak.

Though, that noise... didn't really sound like a hoof.

Just in case, she began to clean up her room and make it presentable, or at least as swiftly and minimally as she could anyway. The bedsheets she pulled up but left mountainous with wrinkles. She grabbed the discarded, unwashed towels and threw them carelessly into the bathroom without looking. All the scattered wing-weights she heaped up into a messy corner, flinging them one at a time; there were heavy thumps as each one landed.

The noisy activity summoned a voice from the other side of the door.

"... Summer Wind? Are you in there?"

Tak tak tak tak tak.

Summer Wind stopped in place, immediately caught by the higher, crisper register of the voice, and she lowered the last wing-weight onto the pile gently.

"Hello...?" she asked.

"Hey! Summer Wind! Open up!"

Tak tak tak!

The sharp clicks excitedly tapped on the wood of the door that time. The sound was way, way more precise than any broad hoof; more like the tip of a pen bouncing eagerly on a desk.

The answer to ‘who?’ became clear to Summer Wind, but what she didn't understand at all was ‘why?’ She trotted over and opened the door.

"Summer Wind! Good morning! How are you feeling?"

"Spike? What're you-...?"

The dragon was very oddly dressed: a pair of shorts that even in the casual lighting of the hotel hallway shimmered like nylon, a plain white top without any sleeves, and sweatbands snapped tight around his wrists and forehead.

"I asked around and nopony said they had seen you this morning," he explained to her. Either he was not seeing any of the stress and fatigue which soaked her so thoroughly down to her bones, or he was simply not put off by her haggard appearance and demeanor at all. He was the friendliest dragon on any of the islands in the Carriaggean. "Fortunately one of them told me where you room was and said I could check; real quiet guy; I think he was on his way to feed some animals or something. Anyway... here I am! I guess this is your wake-up call!"

"But...," the large pegasus was still so confused, "... I'm supposed to-... I mean, I should have been the one to-"

"Nah, don't worry about it," the dragon forgave her with no more than a claw thrown in easy dismissal, and then with his other he extended an invitation. "So," he asked welcomingly, "do you want to hit the gym?"

None of it made sense to Summer Wind.

"You... want to...," she murmured, giving the thought no finish.

Had she been awake, or asleep?

Spike generously gave her a fuller account, "You looked pretty unhappy yesterday. I mean, you seemed really deep in your own thoughts. I thought maybe it would be nice just to do a little something for you. You had said something about how much you like putting together the big, intense storms but, I mean, I can't fly or anything and I don't know the weather schedule here. So, I asked around and they said you guys have a little workout room down on the first floor. I figured you probably work out, so why not be your partner for a morning? What do you say?"

It was like a drop of worldly warmth plinked into Summer Wind's core. Like a little candle of dragonfire pleasantly shining inside.

Yet she protested, "Wait, you want to spend the morning with me? But... what about Rarity?"

"Hm?" Spike couldn't grasp her objection at all. "Rarity's the one who suggested this, actually. She even made me these great workout clothes last night!" He took a moment for himself, basking in the lovely dressmaker's amazing radiance through the fruits of her labors now hugging his body. The tingles made him scratch the back of his head. "She's really pretty incredible..."

"I-..."

The messy mix of emotions was so strange. It wasn't exactly like the storm of uncontainable, wild-running feelings that swamped her whenever her passion was opened, being both less overwhelming and more controllable. But the current tempest inside her was made from the same dark clouds as those more turbulent storms. It was only now that she wasn't in passion's embrace did she feel at least somehow afloat, like she knew the direction to go despite being tossed and turned dizzy by the tumult.

It was a terrible conflict. She felt her angry sadness lingering from last night, wrapped around her wings like heavy iron chains. She felt the wholesome hooves of friendship embracing her heart all because this stranger she barely knew was showing so much genuine care about her well-being. She felt frustration because the dragon was again inadvertently taunting her, presenting himself as a perfection in every way except for his inaccessibly young age. She felt the hope that came with seeing a faithful smile unconcerned with the unsightly flaws that bled openly during moments of weakness.

But above all else, she felt worried for Spike and Rarity because the dressmaker would be left unguarded.

"Don't you want to spend your vacation with Rarity instead?" she asked, this time being quite a bit more direct.

Her resistance still boggled Spike. The real answer she needed from him would have exposed his most tender feelings a little too much, so he kicked his feet softly into the floor and quietly gave away only as little as he believed necessary.

"I... like every moment I get to spend with her. But I don't need to be around her all the time. It's not like that dumb Sweet Nothing holds a candle to me- er, I mean... it-it's not like she can't take care of herself. And this is only a vacation after all."

Then, as if he had somehow sensed her anxiety, he said plainly, "I'm not worried. Well... except about you, I guess. I just want to help make you feel a little better since you've been so nice to me since I got here."

"I've hardly done anything to-"

The little voices of conscience, squeaking loud but inaudibly as they always did whenever her mind wasn't submerged in an ocean of passion, spoke to her; lifted her; gave her direction.

She chuckled, "I guess you wouldn't be worth Rarity's time if you weren't the sweetheart of a dragon that you are."

"What'd you say?" he croaked, having missed most of her mumbling.

Summer Wind gave him a crooked eye, sizing him up.

"So," she said, grinning mischievously, "you want to hit the gym, little guy? I gotta warn you, I do some pretty mean workouts; none of the other ponies can keep up."

Spike, feeling defensive, flexed. The scales on his arms and tail bristled as he folded himself, revealing absolutely no defined muscle; less of a gun show and more of an over-inflated balloon stand.

He pointed at himself, "I'll have you know, we dragons are one of the most powerful species in Equestria, and you underestimate us at your own peril."

"Haha, I guess we'll see! Come on! I'll show you down to the gym!"

She scooted around him out her door, already feeling the tired bindings coming loose.

"Really, Rainbow Dash?" Rarity sniffed the air distastefully. "You come to breakfast smelling like sweat and soggy linens? Did you even shower this morning?"

The colorful pegasus lifted herself in her seat and boasted mightily, "I smell like victory!"

"I should think victory might have an aroma that was more aspirational and less... euh... perspirational."

Meanwhile, heedless of the quibbling guests, Till unloaded tray after tray from his serving cart. Breakfast that morning was a bowl of bran sprinkled heavily with slices of various well-known tropical fruits, and on the side was a cup of milk for mixing and a tall glass of juice. It was of the same meager, almost store-bought quality as yesterday's breakfast, hardly able to compete with the superior caliber and expensive taste of the prepared dinner Till had made the first evening.

When all six guests had been served he wished them a happy meal and began to push his cart back towards the kitchen.

Rainbow Dash looked down at her not-pancakes rather glumly. It wasn't the breakfast of champions, that was for sure. But her stomach growled a little and, hey, any port in a storm. She lifted the bowl with her hooves, ready to throw it into her face.

"Rainbow Dash, come on," Twilight scolded her friend. "We should at least wait for Applejack and Spike to get here."

"Oh," Till overheard and stopped his cart halfway through the swinging kitchen door, "Applejack won't be joining you. She got up much earlier and had breakfast already. She's out working the orchard right now."

"You put her to work?" Twilight was bewildered.

Till shrugged, "Well... not quite like that. She asked."

He rolled the rest of the way into the kitchen, fondly reminiscing over the very early morning he had spent showing Applejack the basics of the orchard. He was not all that terribly concerned with the unanswered questions he left behind at the dining table.

"Great," Rainbow Dash huffed, and her sarcasm seemed suspiciously thin, if present at all. She dryly pouted, "Applejack's not spending her vacation with us. Oh no. What a shocker."

Rarity added, "We won't be seeing Spike, either. No worries though, Twilight; he's off handling some rather worthwhile friendship business."

"Oh. Okay...," Twilight accepted, but she was certainly dismal about it.

The whole vacation was specifically for her many friends! She had invited them all along so that they could relax, enjoy themselves, and use the reprieve from their everyday pressures to clear their heads and fix some of their small interpersonal sticking points. This was supposed to have been about polishing the edges off of their little friendship problems! After all, had she not already been able to use her time here to have grown a bit closer to James? They had talked honestly and bravely about their species' mutually different takes on... intimate engagement; a topic very, very, supremely difficult to discuss! How would the vacation help her friends if they weren't even spending time with each other?

Even missing only two of them made the breakfast feel empty. Perhaps it was an illusion caused by the overly large dining table emitting an inescapable sense of isolation; there were six of them clustered around the tiny end of a table for forty or fifty. She perused her gathered friends.

Rainbow Dash seemed unusually cranked up, and not in a good way. It wasn't like one of those days she had circled weeks in advance on her calendar, such as a Wonderbolts show in Ponyville. Her breakfast bowl was over her snout like she was five years old, devouring her food in some sort of sloppy race against... nopony, apparently? Actually, it was very clear that she was being a slob entirely to pester Rarity.

The dressmaker used her sturdiest grace to shield herself from the flying flecks of fruit juice, the bouncing crumbs of bran, and the obnoxious snarfing of Rainbow Dash's open mouth chewing. Rarity's glower alone turned her eye shadow the dark color of a moonless night, and every few moments there was an ear-scratching groan as she dragged her seat another inch away from her disgusting neighbor, too proud to admit defeat by freely and quickly vacating her space at the table. Twilight however didn't doubt that she was only seeing a grouchy symptom of something deeper; it was a cry for help that Rarity looked like she had spent less than an hour grooming herself that morning.

Fluttershy meanwhile was much more invisible than usual. The last Twilight had seen of her at the party, she had been glowing brightly! Not only had she witnessed a miraculous and musical display from one of the rarest insects in all of Equestria (a once-in-a-lifetime treat for an animal enthusiast such as her!), but she had also sat through a concert whose songs she had apparently absorbed in some very meaningful way. But now, the very next morning, she sat amongst friends but was somehow lonely and vanquished. Even her untouched breakfast bowl was looking up at her wondering what was wrong. It was like those two grand, inspiring events last night had actually been a thieving housefire which had left her suddenly homeless and friendless.

And Pinkie Pie? Pinkie Pie laughed, and smiled, and cheered, and joked, and bounced, and giggled, and wiggled, and wobbled, and hobbled, and cuckooed, and woo-wooed, and loo-looed, all without a single sign of unhappiness! She looked and acted so... Pinkie Pie. The real problem was that there suddenly wasn't a problem anymore, as if she had just turned her back on all of her troubles and they had vanished like an imaginary monster.

But the monster was right there, across the table from Pinkie Pie, seated next to Twilight. And compared to his usual self, something did seem monstrously wrong with James. He had drifted into the dining room like he had been floating on an inner tube down a lazy river, far far far more into the vacation spirit than he had been previously. He had sat down next to Twilight, folded his hands behind his head, and leaned as far back as he could have without taking a spill. The whole time he had been sitting just like that, eyes closed and breathing so gently that he wouldn't have disturbed the thick dust on a shelf in an one-thousand-year-old abandoned castle.

There was just the dumbest-looking little smile cemented onto his peaceful face.

Twilight used her magic to push her own untouched breakfast bowl aside.

"So...," she threw the lure out onto the middle of the table for anypony to grab.

There were no bites. Nopony looked up.

Twilight fought off a gloomy scowl and tried again, "... How is everypony's vacation so far?"

The few replies which came back were uncommitted and inattentive, save for Pinkie Pie's fast and favorable outburst, but even her speedy attention jumped elsewhere immediately. The man didn't give any response at all.

"Right... Me too...," the unicorn murmured back at her mess of friends.

Her strategy formed quickly: divide and conquer. Take one problem at a time. But who first? Who was she most ready to deal with?

She turned to her neighbor.

"And how are you doing?" she asked James.

At last the man opened his eyes, and they cracked apart slowly like a fissure breaking the earth. He looked down at Twilight without any answer; maybe without even having heard the question. A faded brightness reflected off his irises; it struck Twilight, as it wasn't the same gleam as his naturally bland brown. A trace of illness?

"Are... you alright?" Twilight asked.

The man yawned enormously, stretching his back and arms together before reseting himself into the same comfy position. The awful, serene smile stayed stuck on his lips like a fly caught in a spider web.

No illness, the unicorn decided.

"You look tired," she said.

"I guess I am," he responded. "I was tossing and turning all night."

"Oh. Are you going to be okay?"

"Yeah!" And the unnatural smile grew in power. "I mean, aside from being tired, I feel great. Like... great great. Everything is just so... mmm... perfect. Everything's right."

"What? What do you mean?"

"I dunno," he gave the happiest, plainest shrug, still with his hands locked behind his head. "For once it feels like everything's just how it's supposed to be."

Twilight gaped at him. This was not the man she had seen muddle about in confusion when he had first been delivered to Ponyville. This wasn't the man whom she had seen break down in hopeless tears over the loss of his old life. This wasn't even the thoughtful man who had gone back and forth with her in endless debates just to pass the time. This was...

... well, she had no idea what this was, besides being too fast to be a believable a cure, just like Pinkie Pie!

"Not hungry?" James suddenly interrupted her thoughts, and he tipped his head at her bowl.

"Oh. Uh. Not so much. What about you?" She pointed at his own untouched bowl.

"Nah, not with this stomach. Maybe should've controlled myself better last night."

"Well, do-"

"Hey, what do you think Celestia's having for breakfast?" the question just fell out of him unrestrained.

"What?"

"I dunno," he shrugged again. "I think she ate pancakes when I was there last time. Celestia seems like a pancake lady, don't you think?"

"H-How is that even-?!"

It was a good thing Twilight had forgone eating her breakfast because she might have started choking on it.

Indignantly she thrust a hoof against the tabletop and berated him, "First off, it's Princess Celestia, and-"

"This again?" James chuckled heartily. "If my butt wore a tiara, it'd be a princess too."

"Y-Y-You did not just compare Princess Celestia to your rear end!"

He smirked at her, "My human butt not ‘shapely’ enough for you to be princess-worthy?"

His echo of her reluctant admission from last night made Twilight withdraw into red-nosed silence. The glare she gave him was unpleasant, but more than that, hurt.

Immediately the man sat up proper in his chair and leaned close to her, bringing their conversation into privacy (not that the others had been paying much attention anyway).

"I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't mean to fluster you like that."

"It's... fine," Twilight recovered.

She noted instantly his quick sincerity. It was his habit to needle her about many things, and his apologies for his mischief were always earnest especially whenever he went too far, but for this instance in particular he was exceptionally fast and almost innately attuned to her sensitivity.

She instructed him, "Just, please, show a little more respect for Princess Celestia. She's-"

Calmly James rested his hand on the unicorn's shoulder. She was unprepared for the touch itself, but even more unprepared for the warmth and relaxation that dripped from his palm. It wasn't a jolting shudder which hit her, but she was jostled by the smooth, even sensation it put through her.

"Twilight," even his voice was gentle and swollen with comfort, "don't get me wrong. I understand completely the idea of respecting a title or authority." His free hand gave a tiny, fast salute. "But like I said the last time we discussed this, she's not really my princess, you know? Trust me when I say that calling her by her plain name is just... part of how I show my respect for who she is to me."

Here and there, now and again, between this and that and all the other busy thoughts which always occupied her, Twilight had been putting some thinking into the matter since they had last spoken on it.

And she still didn't understand his position.

"... Do you address her like that in your letters?" she meekly asked, wincing at even the thought of it.

"Sometimes," he admitted. Then he must have recalled something hugely embarrassing, because it painted itself across his red face. "Sometimes I call her... other things," the words leaked out almost unintentionally.

Very quickly Twilight decided that maybe she wasn't ready to hear anything further. She stuck a pin in the very important thoughts, then threw the pinned thoughts into a chained-up lockbox which she chucked into the ocean. Whatever that was, it was for later. Much, much later.

"S-So," she steered things away as speedily as she could, shaking the man's hand from her, "why do you care what she's having for breakfast anyway?"

"I dunno," he repeated his new mantra. Once again he leaned back into his seat and folded his hands into a pillow. "Just on my mind for some reason."

The unicorn again studied him, and his odd behavior, and his exhausted relaxation.

"Are you sure you're alright?" she asked seriously.

James shifted in his seat, then unexpectedly shifted again. He grimaced as his spine creaked a little. His hands came down and he pushed on different parts of himself, working out the aches.

It looked like he just couldn't find a comfortable center anymore; like the last bits of tranquility had finally faded away.

The dumb smile was gone.

"Yeah," he said. "I just need some better rest. We're supposed to have a free morning today, right? I think Prism mumbled something about it when she was leading me down here."

"Yes," Twilight affirmed. "There's nothing scheduled for this morning. They just want us to explore their amenities for awhile. Well... maybe ‘explore’ isn't a great word given Vesuvius'... um... insistent directives yesterday against just that. But I guess that's why they assigned ponies to stick with us."

Brief, nervous thoughts of Gallowayo's tantrum after his concert moved through Twilight's head. His wake-up call this morning had been exceptionally succinct. He hadn't even guided her down to the dining hall.

"Right, well," James said, "I suppose I'll just use the morning to catch up on sleep. I don't know what got into me last night that I was rolling in the covers... The alcohol I guess."

He looked at his hands, turning them over and over while sometimes shaking them. The tiredness was entrenched behind his eyes and in his limbs, but there wasn't the cloud of a hangover anywhere to be found. Not any nauseous bumping in his belly nor anything bothering his brain. Aside from just the lack of solid sleep, he really did feel great, or at least like everything had been great for a little while anyway. The windfall of peace seemed more past than present.

Twilight took a shot in the name of friendly revenge, "So if we have another party do we need to pick a committed carriagepony to get you home safely?"

"Hm!" the man graciously accepted her barb, bowing his head. More earnestly he suggested, "I think all I really need is to sit down and talk with you about what actually goes into pony-made alcohol. Turns out I don't have any frame of reference for what ‘80 Hoof’ means."

If Twilight wore glasses, she would have pushed them up her nose.

"Actually it's a measure of alcohol by volume (abbreviated ABV) based upon the size of a standard cask and how many hooves of displacement it would take to-... Hmm. First really, it's important to understand that a hoof in this case is not a colloquial unit of measure but actually an archaic one which was deprecated when a universally standardized system of measurements was adopted by treaty at the Equestre Convention of 875—"

As she kept her lesson going, James settled back into his seat not quite as supernaturally comfortable as before. He gave back to her the occasional requisite nod, affirming grunt, and listening "yeah," while taking in the information.

But truly, he was mostly just thankful for her help in returning him to a sleepy mood.

Chapter 38: Wild

Warm sunshine, like a blanket. And warm sand beneath a towel, like a bed. The ocean lullaby sang in gentle rolls and heavy drags—now in, now out—rocking in perfect rhythm like the soft sways of a baby's bassinet. There James laid, his mind in that indeterminate place between wakefulness and sleep, where the world remained about him but no thought had any coherent bridge to another, unable to fall into full sleep but unconcerned about staying awake.

None of his friends had been interested in joining him for another morning on the beach. He hadn't taken any personal affront, nor had he tried very hard to recruit them; a nap had always been his plan anyway, after all. At least without them around he had no shame in wearing his embarrassing summer outfit.

He hadn't found Prism either. She had seemingly vanished off the face of the island after his quick wake-up call earlier. There were a bare handful of other island ponies out enjoying the beach though, none of whom he had recognized. None had spoken to him either as he had found a nice spot halfway down to the waves, laid a towel, removed his shirt, dressed himself with sunscreen, and set himself to rest.

And so time had passed. He drifted through a five-minute hour, or a five-hour minute; he had no way to tell.

The morning was flawless.

God bless Celestia's sun.

Yet he didn't sleep. Not even as tired as he was from his night of unusual tossing and turning. He couldn't sleep.

Flashes of an unremembered dream occasionally hit him, but they weren't what was keeping him up. Nor was he disturbed by the unnamed longing he felt inside to return to some supernatural peace he was dimly aware of having experienced, the absence of which made the idyllic beach feel like a pale imitation of paradise. All the magic was gone, and only its imperceptible echoes remained in the background of his mind.

He was held awake only because his body had no more hunger for sleep. Certainly not after a full night of it, agitated or otherwise.

A disturbance roused him. His mouth stretched into a yawn which never quite started or ended, and his eyes blinked against the white crush of sand and sun. Blind, he heard only little swishes of shifting sand heading his way, until in a sudden instant the world's light was outshined and she was revealed in full.

It was Prism, floating a small beach bag.

Her approach was uncharacteristically hesitant, and she stopped five full strides from him; a continent's berth given her audaciously intimate nature. There wasn't one word in greeting from her.

James was still stuck between wakefulness and dreaming, his mind floating like a heavy waterfall's mist. He blinked more, tested another yawn, and then, using nothing more than momentary whimsy, reached a hand out towards the pony and gave the sand besides him a few pats.

Prism thawed, and quickly. Her bag plopped down onto the sand and a towel flew from it. For one final moment the towel hesitated, frozen in the air, but then gladly it swooped down and stretched flat, corner to corner, a few inches from where the man had gestured.

Next the bag produced a bottle of sunscreen. The loud pop of the cap did more than anything prior to snap the man with a small spark of alertness.

When he looked this time he clearly saw the beautiful, sunbathed Prism as she magically coated herself in sunscreen. She was like a pony enjoying a shower, her magic reaching along every part of herself, though instead of a cage of glass and tiles there was free and endless blue sky, and instead of raining water there was a gleaming rain of Celestia's sunshine brushing down her body.

The mesmerizing sight fit naturally into James' dreamy state, and his neck softened until his ear was again resting against his towel. His eyes fell to rest on Prism's towel, rolled out a polite distance from his. But in his jellied vision the tiny reach of sand appeared as vast as a canyon; a desert gulf which would take a trek of blistering days to cross.

That was no sweet dream.

So, no different than any dreamer unhappy with what they saw, he instinctively reached out to mold the scene more to his pleasure. His drowsy fingers found the edge of her towel and dragged it closer, until its fringe overlapped that of his own. As best he could he straightened out the rest of it, drunkenly stitching the towels together, obeying only the bent geometry of his reverie.

When not one speck of sand was left between them, he again invited the pony down with a few soft pats to the empty half of the single bed he had created.

His adjustments caught Prism off guard, and for a long moment she also found herself inside a dream. Not one of her muscles had moved, body or magic, while watching his sloppy work bringing the towels together.

Yet the second he patted her towel—a plush touch which resounded louder than the rumble of the surf—she embraced the dream. She tossed away the sunscreen bottle without a care. Her magic snapped her towel straight and she eagerly threw herself down upon it.

There was a sound she made. The man couldn't recognize it at all despite his months of experience now with being around ponies. It was new. Some sound which her whole body produced.

Some sort of... happy horse noise.

James peeked past his drowsiness and saw her stretching herself out in delight. Her head was against her towel, weighed down by her blissful smile. Her legs were lifted in the air, jingling with her jewelry. Left unobstructed and open was her trim, smooth, upturned belly.

She was a fantastic sight...

... but still too far away.

He wriggled. First his center, then his ends, then his center again, and so on. His whole body squirmed in tiny three-legged steps, journeying towards her, even crossing a little onto her towel. When he was at last so close that he couldn't have jiggled an elbow without bumping her, he finally felt satisfied with his dream. He stretched himself out fresh, letting the happiness run down his legs to his toes, and up his arms where it guided his hands into becoming a pillow behind his head. Lastly it collected in his spine, arching his back and pushing out his chest. Then it left via his lips, emerging as his own imitation of her happy horse noise.

There was another empty moment of stillness from Prism.

But then the man, eyes pleasantly shut again, heard the soft sound of sand grinding underneath a towel. Against his chest he felt the touch of a hoof, so gentle that it didn't provoke a shiver, and so tentative as if in fear that the treasure once touched would crumble and vanish. But he remained, as real and warm as the sun, and tenderly if also indulgently the hoof rested fully on him, rubbing in circles slow and small. Another leg settled against his waist, close and snug.

The softest breaths came from somewhere so very close to him, more sounding to his ears than the passing ocean air above. They delicately massaged the hairs on his body.

He started to melt.

A powerful sleep began at last to take hold, overcoming easily his body's natural reservation.

Inside of his quickly emptying mind, a last question bounced and spun around the funnel which drained into pristine sleep: to what degree exactly did this moment count as a bucket-list item, laying on a beach in paradise next to a gorgeous woman?

The hard backwards stumble almost put Gallowayo on his tail. His cheek was already swelling, and he rubbed it as he cowered.

Vesuvius hesitated. The moment was strange; a freakish and peculiarly empty tick of a clock in which his instincts expected familiar noise but felt only silence. He even took a step closer as if he should have been stopped but still heard nothing inside.

And nothing still, when he raised his hoof to strike Gallowayo again.

"Suvi! Control yourself!" Venus suddenly shamed him.

But the island lady didn't wait for him to obey. Lassos of pink magic grabbed his hoof and brought it safely to the floor. Then right away she was at his side, comforting him by rubbing her whole body against his.

"Such an ugly display," she whispered to him, laying out her tenderness as if it might have smothered the violence he had brought on Gallowayo. "Why would you bring that to our island of love?"

The island master's veins pulsed visibly. His nostrils burst so wide they might have torn his nose apart.

"This worm has jeopardized everything!" he snarled quite viciously. He was speaking to Venus, but the words and flecks of spit were still shot at the frightened Gallowayo.

"Shhhh...," the lady purred.

And again there was a moment marked by its sense of absence. A blink of unusual nothingness. An impossible void.

Then, again, Vesuvius blew through it, only very briefly flinching like he had tried to push through a wall but found nothing solid in his way.

He harshly shoved aside his lady's softness, almost throwing her to the floor, and barked furiously at Gallowayo.

"You have the most important task of all, and you've screwed it up! Bungler! Broken-minded pony! Worthless waste of breath! You're destroying everything we have been trying to build!"

Poor Gallowayo fancied himself many things: a singer, a scholar, a poet, a concierge, and beyond. But then and there he wasn't anything more than a child confused and terrified by a thunderstorm loud enough to quake the earth. Each punctuated scream hit just as hurtfully as the blow to his cheek all over again. He shut his eyes, cringed, and tried to restrain the sobs.

Venus again used her magic to capture Vesuvius, this time by his joints, locking him stiff, though nonetheless he vibrated, and foamed, and growled.

"Suvi, say no such thing! He's made a terrible mistake, yes, but nothing is over. Love can't be stopped."

She interposed herself between her quivering employee and her explosive lover. She planted her nose to his, feeling the flames on his breath. She held his cheek, sensing the grinding of his teeth. She stared straight into his open, enraged eyes.

Despite how disastrously alight they were with fury, somehow the deep crimson color of his irises had lost all of their luster. There was no bright glow like magma.

Just... a dull and dry red. Washed out. Empty.

Venus gazed into the desaturated color.

"Your passion still paints your eyes. Look into me. Do you see how passion still paints mine? My love. My Vesuvius. My love... Why would you soil this passion with anger?"

"My love..."

The island master tried to heed her – to wash out the fire eating away at his bones and see only his lover.

But no focus came. She filled his eyes but he couldn't see her.

He saw through her. Through beautiful eyes, through soft coat, through sensitive, electric, gorgeous skin. All the way through, to that miserable, worthless, execrable, garbage dump of a pony hiding behind her. That embarrassment to life.

Veins rose up his throat like cracks in a breaking dam. The muscles in his legs bulged with blood to try and snap the magical bindings.

And then Venus wrapped her lips over her lover's and jabbed her tongue down his throat.

The kiss paralyzed Vesuvius at first, briefly leaving him wide-eyed as her tongue greedily searched the inside of his mouth. But her familiar, irresistible taste quickly condensed his boiling fury into a tsunami of raw passion. The fire inside flared hot still, but now as lust instead of rage. Venus's magic dissolved and frantically the island master pushed himself back into his lover, tongue and all.

Things got rather sloppy from there. The ponies staggered around as if drunk and glued together at their lips, moaning and heaving through the seal. When for any single instant there was a smack of their lips breaking apart, they only redoubled themselves into each other. Their moist voices rose and rose, even well beyond what the most salacious of ponies would have considered odd. Oversold even, like a reclusive, amateur foley desperately trying to figure out the soundscape of their first love scene.

Gallowayo's red, throbbing cheek didn't bother him anymore. Not with his every last instinct redirected into forcing him to avert his eyes from the obscenity before him. It was the same restraining sensation that came if one tried to walk straight off a cliff or to drive a nail straight into their own hoof, only overwhelming beyond belief. No worldly force, no matter how ancient or powerful, could have pried his closed eyes away from the floor.

It was so odd, though. His reaction was perfectly natural, except that he himself had by now become intimately familiar with the behavior the island masters were indulging in. He had experienced it himself many times. In an altered state of mind he would have felt nothing but envy for Vesuvius. But right now...

Eventually a few loud, clear gasps from Vesuvius broke through.

"Oooh! My love! My love!"

Venus suddenly pulled away, though not without teasing him by offering a final, unobtainable kiss, out of reach no matter how far he stretched his neck.

"Shhh...," she cooed as she planted a hoof over his still open lips.

At last he was pacified. Gently he kissed and licked the bottom of her hoof.

"Oh, my Suvi," squeaked Venus in delight, "you're so energetic for having shared your love once already this morning! Mm, that's why I love you: you always give me more..."

She sobered in an instant however, yet kept her flushed face.

"... But let's sort out this serious business first, hm?" She let her hoof drift down into his chest where she punctured his dream with some playful sternness. "And I don't want anymore grouchy growling from you."

Vesuvius was still vibrating tip to tail, almost in pain. But, breath by hot breath, he got himself back under (enough) control.

He nodded to her.

"Good," Venus smiled. "Now then, Gallowayo..."

As she turned back towards their mortified witness she put some extra effort into cleaning herself up. Magic tucked back in all her hairs which had been thrown awry, and it picked up her lava-lava in the places it had started to slip off. She dedicated an extra calm into slowing her racing heart.

The flustered Gallowayo wobbled as he tried to stand at attention, still frightened, and teary-eyed, and with a red light on his cheek. He opened his eyes as haltingly as a peek at the midday sun.

"Y-Yes, Ms. Venus?"

The island lady came at him with nothing harsher than a parent's stern sympathy.

"Why did you yell at Twilight?"

"I-... I don't know..."

He winced a little, either afraid of his poor answer or simply in fear of another outrageously pornographic tryst.

"Gallowayo," Venus still showed no anger, though her authority was absolutely clear, "that is not good enough. You're the one who's supposed to bring her into our fold. All of our success is riding on you. How did your outburst help?"

"I'm s-so s-sorry, Ms. Venus," Gallowayo hung his head. "I just-... I didn't mean to. I couldn't believe that... she was more interested in the island's forgotten history than in-... than in everything that ponies can be and feel. She said she was a student of everything, and the essay she wrote-... I thought for sure she'd understand! That she'd care about everything I've worked so hard to explore. But she didn't even listen to one word of my songs! She didn't care at all! I thought she-... I thought-..."

He slumped in selfish heartbreak.

"... I thought she was going to be somepony different," he said.

Venus stepped forward to comfort him.

"Dear Gallowayo, you have a good heart, but you're projecting your own desire a little too much onto-"

However, the instant her hoof came up to touch him tenderly, he flinched hard. The clap of his backwards step on the stone floor was piercing even to the back corners of the room.

"... I'm sorry," Gallowayo mumbled after a frozen moment passed.

"You don't-," the island lady started, but never finished. Her hoof stayed hung in the air and she neither retreated nor approached further.

Vesuvius advanced however. His fury was safely contained, if only barely.

"Nevermind why you had your pathetic outburst. How are you going to fix things?"

"I don't know," Gallowayo cringed.

"Not good enough," warned the island master.

"Suvi. Temper."

Vesuvius snorted but checked himself.

Venus implored, "You must do something, Gallowayo."

With his eyes often darting in fear towards the explosive island master, the cowering pony begged Venus, "I was hoping, maybe, that-... I mean... There's this other girl who was really interested in my songs, and maybe... instead of Twilight, I could-"

"Absolutely not," the island lady said. "If this were any other group of guests I would let you have Fluttershy instead, but Twilight is too important. If needs be we could forget all the rest of them just to get Celestia's pupil."

"But Twilight is never going to forget how I blew up on her." Gallowayo touched his swollen cheek and looked at Vesuvius again. "Besides, I don't know how I'd even-... I'm... not so attracted to her anymore..."

Despite her desire, Venus restrained herself from trying to touch and comfort him.

"You're going to have to dig deep and find some attraction," she sighed and told him.

Vesuvius said quietly to his lady, "What if he can't? This louse will have cost us our best chance."

"He doesn't perform better with your name-calling, Suvi."

"Hmph. I apologize, my love. But still, if Twilight is too resentful of him? What then? And if we assign another pony to her, she might be too suspicious; it might take too long to open her."

A light came to Venus's eyes, and a crafty smile to her lips.

"Maybe not so long as you might think," she said.

Both stallions gave curious cocks to their heads. Gallowayo even stopped cringing.

"What do you mean?" Vesuvius asked.

"Prism caught them. Twilight and the man. They were speaking to each other about their passions in some detail, she said. A student of everything indeed, Gallowayo. She's already curious, if not directly knowledgeable."

Vesuvius was nearly flabbergasted.

"But how could that be? We're the first. If she already-..."

"It's something to do with the man, I'm certain," Venus replied. "He's different somehow. His passions might not be the same as ours. But it's worth exploring him; Prism is being kept on him."

She looked back at Gallowayo, himself standing awash with unresolved confusion.

"This gives you an opening, Gallowayo. Try to hold back your indulgences. Guide Twilight into exploring her own passions. Deliver her to us."

Gallowayo stammered wordlessly for a moment, but settled and nodded.

Vesuvius, unpolished and grim, confided to his lover, "Several things are coming apart. We should've seen how difficult introducing this many ponies at once was going to be."

He heaved, letting a weighty thought settle.

"We should open them tonight," he determined.

"So soon?" Venus questioned.

"Yes."

"We've never opened a pony's passion so quickly. It's so enormous a matter for a pony to take in all at once."

"But the princess's pupil might already have some glimpse of the truth. Maybe that's our best chance to lean into. And, as you said, she's the only one who matters. The rest we'll catch if we can, and once Twilight is with us we can hold them all here on the island until they join us too."

Venus shook her head, uncertain but dark, saying, "We're no prison. We're freedom from the prison that's always held us. Love is not forceful."

"Only as forceful as necessary to see us through this critical moment. Tonight, my love. Tonight will be the beginning for all of Equestria."

Venus sighed thoughtfully and then turned her gaze about the room, stopping again and again to look over Gallowayo's paintings hanging on the walls. Every painting had two ponies somewhere in them, showing love or sharing love, or preparing for love, or presenting love. All the depictions were crude and experimental, risking imperfection to reach towards an ever greater truth.

"Alright. Tonight then," the island lady smiled and drew close to her lover. She said further, speaking into his mouth, "Love is destiny..."

Gallowayo uncontrollably closed his eyes and then tried blindly to edge his way out of the room.

"No quesadillas? Really?"

"Uh-huh," Pinkie Pie assured Hulahoof. "Too cheesy."

"Crazy-interesting."

He diligently copied the pink pony's remark into his file on Twilight, already a few pages thick thanks to Pinkie Pie's sharing. A pile of incredibly similar folders were stacked at his side, one for each of the island's current guests. In the end they would all be deposited into the file cabinet he had wheeled out (still resting on the trolley!) from his secret party laboratory. Every drawer was dedicated to some segment of the alphabet, and a label affixed to the very top read ‘Guests’, appended of course by a very happy pony face.

This was all separate from the other file cabinet he had brought out, dedicated to all of his fellow island ponies. Many of their folders were out also, spread on the floor like a fan.

Pinkie Pie for her part had out her travel case; it was unbelievable exactly how such a large desk could spring from the unfolded suitcase, but there it was. Many of the umpteen drawers were opened all the way, hanging out by their very last ball bearings, and her most critical friendship files were likewise on the floor of the hotel common room the two ponies had chosen for their little party-particulars-pooling-powwow.

"So," Hulahoof casually continued the conversation as he scribbled, adding a tiny, crossed out picture of a tortilla monster foaming at the mouth with delicious cheese (just to make the note extra clear,) "when did you find that out?"

"Pretty quickly, actually! Before her first Nightmare Night in Ponyville. She didn't have a costume ready yet, so I offered her a surprise quesadilla costume to use; homemade, real cheese and everything! Anyway, after the doctors got her breathing again she said, ‘No thank you.’ So that took care of my lunch for the day."

Her tongue still tasted the wonderful flavor on her lips.

"Anyway," she said, and then her every molecule vibrated in excitement, "now one of yours!"

Hulahoof cast an open hoof over the spread of islander folders.

"Pick a pony! Any pony!"

After a full cycle of seventeen thinking-faces, Pinkie popped a hoof forward and proclaimed, "Prism! Let's do Prism again!"

Aside went Hulahoof's folder for Twilight, and out came Prism's.

"Prism party factoid number three hundred thirty-two:" the blue pony announced. Dramatic pause. "She has a very mild allergy to jelly beans; only the red ones. Yeah. Gotta pick'em all out."

"That poor pony!" Pinkie Pie added the note to her file, complete with diagrams and a wave function which precisely described the complex relationship between red and non-red bean-states.

Hulahoof agreed, "We live in an inequitable universe."

"And sometimes it isn't fair, too."

"Like when the foil star falls off the party hat before you put it on."

"Or when the ice cream shop has every flavor except double strawberry."

"..."

"Next?"

"Next!"

For her turn, Pinkie again dexterously shuffled the deck of her most decorated folders and then held them forward in a spread.

Hulahoof's thinking cap went on; not an imaginary one but a legitimate one he always kept available for just such occasions. And in the middle of his ruminations the light bulb on top suddenly blinked with a new idea.

"Let's do the human guy!" he said. "We haven't done one for him yet!"

Pinkie Pie giggled, entirely at ease, and she recollected her folders into a single stack.

"We haven't done him," she said brightly, and then spread the folders again, this time like a chain of paper snowflakes, revealing all of them fully, "because I don't have a file on him!"

There were six uniquely stylized folders: Applejack, Fluttershy, Rainbow Dash, Rarity, Spike, and Twilight.

"Oh," Hulahoof said.

The light bulb guttered and then fizzled out with a final click.

He tossed the cap aside and asked, "Why not?"

"Because he's not my friend."

Pitch perfect Pinkie Pie. Crystal clear, high-as-the-sky voice. Round, open, glittering blue eyes. Happy, eager, energetic, laughter-filled smile.

"Oh," Hulahoof said again. "Really?"

"Nope! See?"

She played the folder-chain like an accordion before tossing them like pizzas, catching them in a pile one at a time, demonstrating distinctly again that there were only six. She then showed the blue pony the open drawer of the travel case/mobile desk where her dearest files were usually kept while on trips. Several folders for other non-present ponies remained inside, but none of them were marked ‘James’.

Yet Hulahoof's attention for detail did silently take notice of one thing: there were all the signs of a recent disturbance—a file removed—right between ‘Gummy’ and ‘Limestone Pie’; none of the files she already had out would have fit there.

"Well, right on then," Hulahoof chirped, off guard but not otherwise uncomfortable. "I guess hit me with another Twilight."

He brought out his folder for Twilight again, and tossed down Prism's folder back to its place with the others, though when it landed it hit the floor with a bit of a wind under it. A smaller, red folder kept within it drifted out a visible inch or two.

Pinkie Pie read aloud her next Twilight party fact (she “believes light blue frosting tastes better than all other kinds” despite it having been scientifically disproven by Tasty Cakes over two hundred years ago) and Hulahoof again copied it down faithfully (“honey-bees-with-vinegar-knees weird.”). But while her island friend was busy copying, she eyed the fallen folder and the hint of vibrant red peeking out.

It wasn't the first time that screaming color had caught her eye. A few, though far from all, of the other island ponies' folders had the exact same kind of red subfolder inside. They had been easily noticeable whenever Hulahoof had been handling his files.

Seeing as they had been trading their knowledge freely all morning, she casually reached for Prism's folder, picked it up, and flipped it open. The red folder had no label or any other identifying information on the front. Shrugging, Pinkie Pie opened it and began reading the pages within. There were only a few, and every one presented nothing more than line after line of simple, albeit confusing, statements.

Her eyes went increasingly wobbly as they read through the contextless, bizarre items, one by one, one per line, until finally she cocked her head, squeezed her brow, coiled her tail, and read the next entry openly in a dubiously loud squeak, "‘Favored snuggle: from behind, hold her across belly, attention to ear – no more than nibbling’?"

From his ongoing notation, Hulahoof responded without looking up, "Yeah, and like no whip cream or—!!!!"

A blast of pages erupted from his hooves, and in the midsts of the paper blizzard Pinkie Pie found Prism's folders ripped from her grasp. The outer folder sailed up into the air and added its contents to the storm. As the last pages flipped and flopped onto the floor Hulahoof was revealed again, now seemingly a pony so red that the red folder he clutched tightly to his chest blended right in. He had a liar's smile, like a crooked diamond stamped over the front of his face, and it held frozen towards Pinkie Pie as his extra hoof fumbled about the floor for Prism's manila folder. When at last he found it he didn't bother to recover any of Prism's wayward files; he sleeved the red folder away and continued to awkwardly hug it, chittering an uncomfortable laugh.

Pinkie's empty hooves dropped to the floor with two gentle clops.

"What kind of party is that for?" she asked.

"N-Nothing! A nothing p-party! Eheh!"

"Is it for cuddle parties? It kinda sounded like it, but I don't think ponies cuddle in some of those positions..."

"Well it's r-really sort of bigtime-impossible to ex-explain."

"... Or with any of those body parts."

"I can't really, uh, t-tell you about-... Well... You see... T-There's a v-very special kind of party, uh, on this island, f-for just two p-ponies, and-"

"A ‘very special’ party?"

Anypony who looked deeply into those wide, shimmering blue eyes at that very moment might have caught a glimpse of the beginning of all creation.

Before the bumbling Hulahoof could stop her she ground her whirling hooves through his pile of folders for all her friends; a hurricane whipping about papers. Applejack, Fluttershy, some human guy, Rainbow Dash, Rarity, Spike; all were ordinary files devoid of any red insets. But at the very bottom: Pinkie Pie.

And inside?

A partylicious red folder!

With a hoofful of currently empty pages, sure, but that was expected.

The folder was already there though! And that meant...

"We're going to have a party!!"

The pink pony became an old-fashioned Las Pegasus slot machine hitting the jackpot. Lights, flashes, sirens, whistles; the brightness of a billion bits gushed from her as she started to skip around the room, large leap after large leap, each one high enough to fully contain one chorus of her simple song.

"We're going to have a party! We're going to have a party! We're going to have a party! We're—"

"Y-Yeah, w-we are," Hulahoof said.

"—going to have a party! We're going to—"

"Eventually."

The blue pony tried to regather and reorganize his scattered notes.

"—have a party! We're going to have a party! Come on, Hulahoof!"

The papers exploded in another geyser as Hulahoof was seized and forced to join the merry-go-round, though less as a galloping horse and more as a fallen rider with one leg caught in the stirrup.

"L-Later! The special party can't be right now! It needs some of the-! Pinkie!"

He might as well have been trying to stop a stampede of wild partybeasts.

Yet before long the happy carousel got to him first, and he giggled. And the further and further his mind traveled from the profane specifics of ‘special parties,’ the more at ease he felt laughing. Soon each bounce was popping a cheerful laugh out of him, making him light enough to turn himself right and bounce about under his own power.

And there the two ponies sprang together, pogoing about the room and singing their single refrain in unison.

Applejack couldn't shake the feeling that the other ponies had been staring at her a lot. The dutiful, productive island ponies assigned to work under Till's direction plainly weren't dutiful or productive at all if they had so much time to stop and grope her with their eyes. It was always when she had been in the thick of it as well: carrying, pulling, heaving, ho-ing. The more sweat she had thrown at a problem, the more attention she had gotten from the ponies who should have been offering her their help instead of standing about idle, eyes all ogling like mice mesmerized by a mystical self-slicing cheese.

That was some mighty fine appreciation, seeing as she was the guest who had been doing their job for them!

She had supposed at first that their gawking had been only natural: a surprise newbie on the team was perhaps owed a discerning look or two. But that explanation quickly hadn't held up to how frequent and lasting their unmannerly stares had eventually been, which had turned out to be, respectively, often and all morning.

Yet... oddly enough...

Their discourteous curiosity hadn't been the strangest thing about her volunteer work.

Not in the least.

Till had woken her and brought her out to the corcandeo orchard at sunrise, as he had promised, but then she had immediately been put under the direction of his deputy manager while Till himself had gone back to the Passion's Embrace to meet some other duties of his. From there, very little of the work Applejack had been asked to do had involved the orchard in the slightest!

They had asked her to assemble a few things, so some of the morning had been piddled away on knotting lengths of rope, binding wooding beams, and bolting together sheets of corrugated metal, among other things, all in service of building up more of the shoddy sheds which littered the hotel's back lot. She had worked on one of the more finished structures as well, to no better joy: over an hour had been lost patching up some poor piping in the sauna while many lazier ponies had come and gone for their mid-early-morning break, watering the stones and keeping her work environment polluted with sweltering steam. The one item of true constructive productivity she had gotten done all morning had been convincing (with great tail-twisting) some of the islanders to build a small outhouse to her superior specifications instead of their slipshod standards.

More than anything else though, Applejack had been directed to carry things. ‘Bring this here.’ ‘Put that there.’ ‘Take these up that way.’ ‘Lug all of these way, way down to that place.’ Sometimes short distances, across a room. Sometimes great distances, like a lap from the orchard all the long way to the dock. Her back had gotten ten times the workout any other part of her had.

By far the most troublesome item she had carried—bar none, and in no small part because of all the spineless gawkers who hadn't lifted a hoof in help—had been a hefty wooden crate maybe about one and a half times her size, covered on top in a bound tarp. The task had been to drag it from just outside the Pleasure Gardens all the way up to the largest storage shed in the back lot. Alone and with a half-split hitch tied to a wheel-less pallet, the job had been a real drag but, tenacious as termites, she hadn't quit until she had gotten it done.

Whatever had been inside had really rattled around unsecured though. It would have been worlds smarter to have moved it all individually, but she hadn't been allowed to do that because...

... well, because no dang good reason at all, honestly.

The other ponies had been adamant that they never take the tarp off those crates because it was ‘Island Society stuff,’ whatever that meant, and Vesuvius would ‘destroy’ them (their word, not hers) if they had peeked inside.

Nuttier than a squirrel convention in fall.

Anyway, none of it had been exactly what she had in mind when she had offered her services to Till. She had hoped for a bit of farming paradise, or at least farming in paradise, or maybe any kind of farming at all.

Fortunately by the later morning Till had returned and things had begun at last to turn around. Where the brown pony had been, beyond preparing breakfast, he hadn't said even when pressed; an uncomfortable knock to Applejack's good sense of honesty, but nothing that hadn't been easily patched over by his sincere promise that he had been up to nothing more than uninteresting, private business.

With him around, actual work in the corcandeo orchard had followed, but only after Applejack had informed him that his team wasn't just a chicken without a head, but several chicken without heads all recklessly piloting the individual renegade limbs of a gigantic robo-chicken also without a head. Till, in reply, had dropped more apologies than an apple tree in high harvest season; the island just wasn't getting the ponies with the expertises needed for all they wanted to do, so everypony had to sort of improvise as best they could, making the best of the worst of a bad situation.

With respect to all the staring Applejack had endured, his apology for that had been given much less qualification.

That is to say, it had been given none at all.

"So, can I finally give Bucky and Kicks their chance to shine? They've been itching for a taste of this new wood," Applejack waggled her respective hooves and stretched her hind legs.

"Maybe," Till answered slowly. He kept his eyes in the branches and on the vines of corcandeo.

"Still?" the orange pony complained. "We've been up and down the orchard taking notes on each and every tree ya got, and sure as sunshine it's been a fine lecture, professor, you've learned me plenty on your magic fruit, but some things come best with good old-fashioned practice."

"I just want to save every piece of corcandeo that we can, and-"

"Ain't gonna be any from this tree, Brown Sugar. I've seen composts with better looking fruit."

Indeed, if an apple tree at Sweet Apple Acres had fruit which looked as withered, twisted, and shrunken as the corcandeo in the tree before her, she would have ordered young Apple Bloom to look away while she dragged the tree into the barn for a tearful goodbye before mercifully putting'em down.

She continued, "If ever there were a tree where you had nothing to lose, this'd be it."

Till insisted, "I'll say again—"

"—‘Looks can be deceiving.’ Yeah, I know," Applejack completed the phrase he had oft repeated that morning. She glanced again, hard, at the hanging-dead fruits Till was still diligently scribbling notes about. "Pardon if I have a hard time believing just yet."

"Usually for fruit that looks this bad, you're going to be right," Till said. "But sometimes you still get one or two perfectly serviceable fruits out of it, despite appearances. There's so little total yield from the orchard, so... we have to be judicious."

"I hear ya," Applejack relented.

The tour through the orchard had proved true a lot of the things Till had told her about yesterday. There just hadn't been any rhyme or reason behind the state of the trees. Some looked like the ideal she easily pictured in her mind while others, seemingly at random, were crooked or clinging to life. The corcandeo fruits themselves fit the same pattern of arbitrarily healthy or sickly, though bizarrely they weren't always matched to a given tree: sometimes strong trees had awful fruit and sometimes sick trees had healthy fruit.

Everything else about the orchard, from the state of the earth to the care of the trees, met Applejack's rigorous requirements for good stewardship. (At least, when Till was present to give direct orders to his underlings.)

Day to day Till had somepony or himself inspect every single tree, charting their individual history, health, growth... anything they could think of to track. He was meticulous about it, too; Applejack had never seen a shed with more filing cabinets than tool racks. According to Till all the data hadn't been much use so far except to clearly demonstrate that no two trees fit the same patterns.

They were all unique individuals.

Something Applejack had likewise felt while there.

Just as Till had told her, she had felt intimately watched in the orchard. She had been especially keen to that sensation, given her morning of being so watched by the island ponies, but only her and Till had been there for the orchard tour, and Till had kept his nose down in the notes or up in the trees.

It had been the most unplaceable sense of nakedness she had ever felt, like being caught on the unplowed fields of a haunted farm without her hat.

"Still," Till broke into her thoughts, "I don't think we'll be at a loss if you want to give this guy a buck. He's the grumpiest and unfriendliest of all the trees. He despises us and has never dropped even one good fruit."

"There you go with them personality words again. (One to talk, but still, you know what I mean.)"

The orange pony tipped her hat up and looked at the tree another time.

And if it wasn't the darnedest thing, the tree was staring right back.

Or it felt like it. For just a moment she shivered from the cold.

"I'll give it a shot, so long as you're sure," Applejack said.

"Maybe just a gentle hit," Till gestured to the gnarled roots and loosely clinging bark. "I'd like to keep him around if only for more experimentation. The lovebirds didn't work to bring him around at all—he detested them more than anything—but maybe something else will finally make him useful."

"Alright then."

Applejack turned herself around and backed herself into bucking position. But then she stopped, stayed thoughtful for a pause, and suddenly flipped forwards again. In no small amount of courteous caution she grabbed her hat and held it politely to her chest, then spoke to the tree.

"Ain't nothing personal, sir. Only like a fruit or two, if you'd be so generous."

Hat atop and turned around again, the orange pony let go a shallow breath to keep her strength low and then tucked her legs.

Buck.

She gave the easy hit to just Kicks (Bucky had been a little sapthirsty last harvest season and still needed time to mellow), and it was hardly a tap more than pushing open the barn door.

Two weak snaps came from above as the buck popped free some fruits from their vines. A third vine jostled loose from the branch it had been so ambivalently clinging to, and at the bottom of its swing there was a flicking crack; yet it held. The corcandeo fruit at the end dangled by its split stem, and its ugly skin sagged enough to let it slosh about like a wrinkly water balloon. The two fruits which had dropped immediately turned into a sour smelling mush when they crashed, splitting apart and spilling their insides over the grass.

"Soft as summer cream," Applejack clicked dismally.

"Yeah, no surprise," Till sighed. "A good fruit has all the heft and strength and bounce you would imagine. This is an ordinary failure. Shame you didn't get to see one of the spectacular ones, like when the skin boils."

Applejack grimaced quickly in response and then moved on and brought her nose low to one of the piles of pulpy goo. She sniffed.

"Don't taste it!" Till quickly warned, popping with a spontaneous urgency.

"I'm curious, but I ain't that curious," the farm pony raised an eyebrow at her islander friend.

She returned to the ruined fruit and gave a few more sniffs. There was nothing unfamiliar. It smelled the same as any rot. Though by the height of the sting in the scent she might have expected it to have fallen days ago, not moments.

She poked her nose just a bit closer to try for one last big sniff when a sudden small splash came from the goop pile and caused her to flinch.

Two flies burst from the remains and buzzed off right past her face, ramming each other constantly as they flew away.

"Fruit flies got in, I reckon."

But, in a doubt so serious it was absurd, Till mused, "Probably."

A buzzing sound shortly returned and Applejack tossed her head about, ready to swat as soon as she could lock onto the target. But the buzz fast rose to a roar which was much too loud to be any fly, and more clearly sounded from behind her. She turned just in time to see a streak of rainbow come in low through the lined trees of the orchard and air-brake hard only a short toss from her and Till.

"Hey, you made it," Till greeted Rainbow Dash, stepping towards her.

"Huh?"

The pegasus was startled out of wherever her head had been just moments before, and she looked back up into the sky. Another pegasus—one who had been tailing her in a race—floated gently above, having not followed her down. He was none too far but well enough out of conversation range.

Till looked up at Nosedive also and gave him a thank-you wink.

"I'd hoped to get you out here," he then said to Rainbow Dash, welcoming and casual.

"Uh... Yeah... Alright..."

The pegasus landed and brought in her wings. Every slow step of it was cautious, and she took in her surrounding suspiciously.

It didn't take her long to spy Applejack, and immediately her wings came back out.

"Whoops. Made a wrong turn somewhere," she muttered bitterly.

"No, wait, please stay," Till pleaded. He invited Applejack over as well.

Reluctantly Rainbow Dash folded her wings.

"Alright. But what's this about?"

Applejack wasn't any more enthused, and as she stepped into place across from the pegasus she moaned to Till, "Why do I get the feeling you're about to tell me something I ain't gonna like."

The chocolate pony, feeling like a referee between two fierce-eyed players in a face off, explained, "I'm just trying to help. I promise. I want everypony to have a happy vacation, and beyond."

"You set this up then?" Applejack asked.

"Yeah."

Rainbow Dash groaned.

"Super," she swirled a hoof in mock celebration. Then she dropped Till a flat stare. "Seriously, why do you care?"

"I mean it," he insisted. "I just want to make everypony happy. Applejack: you helped me out by encouraging me to try harder to mend things with my dad. I realized just how right you were, when I was inside working on a letter to him today. I realized how much I miss him, despite everything we always disagreed about, and for the first time I think I really grasped how it probably felt to him when I decided to stay here, like I was abandoning the family and everything he had always hoped for in me. And while maybe I can't live the life he planned for me... I can plan my life with him still in it. If I don't close him off."

He gave a heartfelt bow of thanks to the farm pony.

"I want to help you in the same kind of way. So I got a little bit of help from a friend so I could have you both here to try and work things out."

Applejack was genuinely moved, but nevertheless she sighed, "That's sweet and all, Brown Sugar... but like I said, ain't nothing to work out. Just got to wait for Rainbow here to get right."

"Me? As if! I'm the right one! You're the one whose... uh, you know... left!"

"There's that stellar intellect at work, as always, Rainbow."

"Well, you're-!"

"Ladies, please," Till intervened. "You both need to speak your piece, but you won't be able to if you're always at each other so quickly. Let me mediate. Is that alright?"

He looked between them for approval but didn't get much more than dour glares and cold shrugs.

"Right." He took a hopeful breath. "Why don't you go first, Rainbow Dash? I haven't heard the story from your side yet."

"What's to hear-," Applejack began to gripe, but held her tongue when Till politely hushed her, giving an earnest look.

Rainbow Dash skewered her counterpart with a much less courteous look, but then she actually did stop and think about what she wanted to say. She looked about. She stamped the ground lightly. She unfolded and refolded her wings.

At last she opined rather wearily, "Applejack used to be a lot more awesome."

This time Till preemptively motioned for Applejack's respectful silence, catching the farm pony as she already had her mouth halfway open.

Leading Rainbow Dash, the chocolate stallion asked, "And what changed?"

"She just doesn't want to hang out anymore," said Rainbow Dash, and she turned openly hurt and sour, "and she lies about it, too."

That affront was too far, and Till didn't have any power to stop the farm pony from boiling over.

"Now just wait a cotton-pickin' minute! Don't you go spreading lies about my behavior!"

Any injury Rainbow Dash had been showing flew right out the window, and she snapped back, "Oh, I'm the liar now? So what, are we just here for another round of I Know You Are But What Am I?"

"That was your line last time."

"There you go again!"

Till beseeched them both, "Wait, wait! Please! I know there's hard feelings, but you both need to tough it out and listen."

"I'll listen when Applejack does!" Rainbow Dash sneered.

"She did! (For a little bit, anyway)," Till reminded her.

The farm pony crowed, "There! Ya see!"

"Oh, yeah, what a champ listener! ‘Applejack wins again,’ huh? And you call me competitive."

"What now?! I ain't on my high horse like somepony here!"

"Coulda fooled me!"

"Please, please!"

Desperately Till begged them for peace, and he had to hold Rainbow Dash back from marching up into Applejack's face. As soon as the pegasus relented, still growling, he had to turn and give the fuming farm pony the same restrictive treatment.

He implored, "Both of you! Settle! Please! And Applejack, I can't believe how clearheaded you seemed about all this last night! But now Rainbow Dash has been here for only a minute and you can barely control yourself!"

She scowled.

"I'm fed up, is all, and frankly I ain't going to take it no more."

"Yeah," Till argued, humble and polite and sincere and hopeful and caring as he could possibly be, "but she is one of your best friends, right? Even if it's difficult, it's worth-"

"I respect ya for what you're trying to do, but I didn't ask for your help, Brown Sugar."

There was enough careless acid in her words that it stung the chocolate stallion into silence.

Applejack felt some of her own venom also, and the bad taste nudged her into a slack concession, "She is one of my best friends. I don't enjoy being at loggerheads one bit. That's why I wish she'd get over this quicker and jus' apologize."

Simple words, like dominoes.

Rainbow Dash furiously moaned, "What? You're the one who should apologize to me!"

"Like hay! For what?!"

"How about avoiding your friends, spoiling their vacation, and—oh yeah!—not being honest with them about it!"

"You winged weasel! You're the one what's causing all the trouble! Beanstalk's got you all riled up and it's intolerable!"

"James? What?! Oh, wait, I get it! Of course it has to be somepony else's fault somehow! No way could honest Applejack be the problem!"

For not enjoying being “at loggerheads,” both ponies didn't hesitate to grind their foreheads into each other. This time Till was too despondent to get in their way.

"I didn't say nothing like that!"

"Uh, yeah, you did! Like, right now!"

"No! I'm saying you're a bucking bronco and he ain't helping!"

"Yeah, that's totally not blaming somepony else at all!"

"Gr! Well maybe it ain't my fault! Ever think about that?!"

"Only every time you've lied to me!"

"Thick-skulled ninny!"

"Stuck up hat-head!"

"Blue brat!"

"Orange farmer!"

"Slouch grouch!"

"Lame brain!"

The back and forth, increasingly playground-grade verbal fencing, complete with pushing this-way and that-way into each other like a metronome, escalated rapidly into a shower of shouted spit for the grass below. At fever pitch it was finally Applejack who had enough. She suddenly backed away, leaving Rainbow Dash to almost tumble, and she pulled her hat on tight enough to almost rip the brim from the top. With a small, dismissive kick of dust from the ground she turned about and angrily hiked away through the orchard.

"If I don't see you again on this vacation it'll be too soon!"

"Suits me!"

Rainbow Dash turned around as well and popped her wings, but then she slumped for a moment.

"... Whatever...," she mumbled.

And off she flew. Quickly she linked up with Nosedive who had been waiting for her in the air and she didn't hesitate to snort steam about the whole affair to him as they glided away, no race this time.

Till ambled a few weary steps about, head down, until in sad frustration he dashed a hoof hard through one of the rotting piles of corcandeo fruit. He gave a hot sigh.

His eyes were still sunk into the grass when he heard a hard plunk.

A healthy looking piece of corcandeo rolled to a short stop just a step away from him. It was full and heavy, not at all like the sagging fruit which the disagreeable tree had always grown. The pony looked up to see the hanging vine from earlier, which had almost rewarded Applejack's buck with a third fruit, and it was now empty, swinging softly with the breeze.

But more spectacular than that, all of the fruits in the tree looked a little firmer and hardier than only minutes ago.

Aghast, Till glanced nervously at Applejack's backside and the harsh stomps she made as she blew past tree after tree, and also at the departing silhouettes of the pegasi as one of them flapped their wings with claps of storming thunder. And after a few curious, neck-jerking looks between them, he stared again at the tree.

Pondering.

Mystified.

Serious.

Till took several more steps around the immediate area, peeking past the other trees, watching Applejack disappear, and verifying that he was totally alone.

"Stupid tree!!"

He suddenly rammed a shoulder right into the trunk of the troublesome tree, and he clawed at the bark with one of his hooves, tearing some off.

"You're such garbage! Do you know how much trouble you are?! You're worthless! I wish you were never planted in this orchard!"

More tearing, both hooves this time. Harder strikes with his body.

"I'm so tired of putting up with you! You're the worst tree here, you make everypony furious, and I don't think we're going to bother keeping you around anymore! You stupid—"

Bam.

"—useless—"

Bam.

"—waste of wood!"

Bam!!

Teeth clenched and fire now pouring from his eyes, Till turned his tail to the tree trunk.

"I hope you fall and rot!!"

BOOM!!

He wasn't sure he had ever delivered so hard a buck in his life. It actually cracked the trunk, if only a little.

For what was only an experiment, he was impressed with how well he could trick himself into being so genuinely angry. It was easier with this tree, a real source of some of his frustration. All the trick took was opening the valve a little and shutting out the many voices of his better angels.

He had worn such a true mask of fury that he would have needed several minutes to cool and ease out all the tension he had built up, except the rainfall of corcandeo shocked it right out of him.

Scores of fruit fell, more than he could immediately count at a glance. The entire tree might have emptied. None of them—not a single one—smashed into the earth. They all struck with hard thuds and small bounces, each surviving intact.

Trepidatiously Till approached the nearest fruit and, not daring to pick it up, he rolled it about the ground to get a good look at it.

Not a bruise anywhere. The skin was colorful and healthy, not to mention shining and tight. Normally he was very happy, and more so lucky, to collect a piece of fruit that looked half that good.

He pressed his hoof down, pinning the corcandeo tightly to the ground.

He gave up one nervous breath.

Then he quickly used another hoof to rip the fruit open.

The seeds inside were vibrantly pulpy, glistening in beautiful colors he didn't even have the words to describe.

It was the single healthiest, juiciest corcandeo he had ever seen.

The shock was enough to make him jump back, and he stared at the fruit with one leg up before his face as if he needed to protect himself. The leg didn't drop, not even when his mind finally came back to him and he looked around to see if anypony else had seen him.

He left without bothering to have gathered up any of the corcandeo. It stayed right where it had fallen; every piece, including the one he had torn open. He had many backwards glances for that one especially as he briskly walked away, terrified.

Warmth. Even, snug, wholesome. Warmth over every limb and tucked into every fold.

From sun.

From sand.

The first touch to every part of his body was pure warmth, and it roused him slowly. Almost imperceptibly, the man found himself awake again, steeped in a bath of easy, simmering joy.

He was still on the beach. By the position of Celestia's timely sun it was close to midday but couldn't have been past noon yet. And in taking in the world, at last other feelings broke through to him besides the massage of warmth: the moving breezes, the salt of the sea, the brightness pressing on his eyelids, the stiffness in his back...

Then another particular sensation, right on the top of his hand resting on his chest:

The soft, gentle strokes of a hoof.

More subtle touches awoke: down his side, along his other arm.

Prism was still besides him, closer than ever. One hoof rested on top of his hand, the bracelets dropped against his chest but delivering not one tickle of cold. Much of her body was pressed up to his side. And for his part James had at some point dreamily draped his other arm loosely around her, as if she had fallen accidentally into his sleeping embrace.

Each tender breath of hers moved into him through every place where they touched, and the lowest whispers of her napping voice spoke louder delight than any words of celebration.

Earthly paradise.

Though not quite heavenly paradise.

The flavor wasn't like the magical aftertaste of the bizarre night he had experienced. Whatever his unremembered dream had been, in it there had been so much... perfect harmony... that it had left him exhausted.

Softly he turned his hand over and held Prism's hoof, and he sent a small shake up her leg. She woke quickly and easily, perhaps having been no more asleep than he had been.

"Almost lunch, I think," James said.

"You're hungry?"

"No. But maybe I will be by the time it's ready."

She smiled and with a shift of her body reminded him of her closeness. It was only several seconds, but a whole happy day passed.

At last she reluctantly disentangled herself and stood up, rolling and twisting out the few kinks the nap had put into her.

Looking up at her now, James saw something entirely new. Physically she was all the same as before; all the same as every pony he had ever seen before: a cute critter of an almost silly build, pulled straight from the imagination of a child; a little girl's lifelike toy which walked and breathed. But this time... this time... all those lines, and those shapes, and those motions...

She was a woman.

Of a different form undeniably, but strip away the insignificant and there it was: the undefinable, organic beauty of a woman.

Even the bed head on the side of her mane was now beyond adorable and into beauty.

She invited him up with just a look.

Her eyes. The color in her cheeks, joined together across her nose.

"Give me a minute," he said, and he did roll himself up into a sit and start to stretch.

"I'll get things ready," she offered.

He nodded and promised to be right after her, and away she went, too excited to have remembered to grab her towel and other things. Her body bounced all the way, and many times she looked irresistibly back at him.

And he, of course, watched her the whole way, too excited to have continued his stretches. Frozen, gripping his elbow pulled incompletely across his chest, he watched every effect her steps had on the whole of her: the floating of her bracelets, the churning in her hips, the swipes of her tail...!

The man didn't rightly know what had changed. He wasn't any different than he had been before. There wasn't anything left behind in him from the colorful, queer episode he had maybe-experienced over the night.

But nonetheless it had provided him with a new perspective. One which had him easily questioning his overly cautious defenses. One which had him easily doubting his overthought fears. One which had him wondering why he had ever clung to such ridiculous and painful restrictions.

And, feeling that new freedom, taking full control of all his faculties better than he ever had in his entire life, he watched the mare walk away and he made a simple and solid decision in his head. In fact, it didn't seem to surprise him at all how swiftly and simply the choice came to him. How suddenly and completely he settled on it. There wasn't even the tug of a flea in regret.

He was going to kiss her.

If the right chance arose then, by Celestia, he wasn't going to wait and was going to kiss her.

Chapter 1: Divide

The blades of viridian grass waved in synchronized motion, just barely, as the slowest of breezes moved through the park. The fading strength of the sun with the turning over of the seasons could be felt as it sat full and bright in the dusty sky yet able to cast no more than simple, brisk heat. Though the friendly animals that scampered from hole to shrub to tree were obviously quite busy preparing themselves for more brumal weather, the same frantic labor wasn't present in any pony who passed through. A trot down a path here, a sitting in the grass there, even one young couple out in a boat peacefully adrift on the lake; there was no sign of concern for tomorrow from the citizens of Ponyville who were only there to relax and enjoy themselves today.

Twilight Sparkle, personal protégé to Princess Celestia, ambled down one of the paths in a jaunty trot, her only baggage an easy smile. Her day had taken her from one end of Ponyville to other, driving her from place to place as her daily business had demanded. She was still running through her schedule when she had made that small detour through the park for leisurely pleasure; she wouldn't have fallen behind even if she took ten minutes to indulge in the atmosphere.

Or, perhaps, took time to attend to other things...

Her attention wasn't caught by the rabbit couple who were preparing a warren under a huckleberry bush, or the gang of fillies and colts who charged by her while teasing each other, but it was the sight of someone laying under the shade of a hearty sycamore tree that stopped her trot. With his head nearly against the trunk and resting on his own hands (and not hooves), his unique appearance made it a trivial task to pick out Ponyville's only human resident. Although occasionally other monikers for him had come up, the oddly simplistic name of James was how he had usually been addressed.

The destructive kerfuffle that had ripped open the dimensional door through which he had come was weeks in the past; so many so that they had comfortably piled up into months now. It had been quite a shock for Twilight when shortly after the unexpected chaos a sudden order from Princess Celestia had come that she, personal student as she was, had been tasked to watch over the man who had come through; the literal world traveler. Those first three weeks of having a stranger living in her library had been an experience that stuck to her mind; an ordeal that had been full of many fascinating ups and cruel, bothersome downs.

The time beyond that, though, had been different. All of her closest friends had jumped on board with the job of overseeing the man's transition into Equestria. Like hitched ponies driving a wagon, they had all been pulling together to do more than just welcome him to a new world; they had been rallying the best of their friendship to combat his melancholy; had been fighting the tragic pain induced by his permanent separation from his old life; had been resolving to be his true friends. As a consequence, Twilight herself had been seeing less of him than she had prior. Five days each week he would spend with a different one of her friends, assisting them in their responsibilities. Sometimes it had only been on the one day each week he would spend with her that she had seen much of him, particularly if he had chosen to spend his seventh day – his free day of rest – elsewhere. Though because this all involved her closest friends there had been plenty of occasions where their paths had crossed midweek. Like today.

Asleep under a tree wasn't where she had ever expected to find him. But there he was, and there weren't any questions about how relaxed he was. She spontaneously decided that as long as they both didn't seem to be under any immediate pressures then she might as well check on how his own day had been going.

In no hurry, she cut across the lush carpet of grass and passed into the shadow of the sycamore, standing right over him. The soft ground had absorbed her hoofbeats so gently that her approach hadn't even disturbed him, and she was tickled to see how peacefully he was spending the gentle afternoon.

Dressed as he most often was, in an outfit Rarity had designed for him days after his arrival, he really did seem to be sleeping quietly. The tickling touch of the infinite blades of grass which reached up the sides of his plain pants didn't stir him. The more intricate, emerald green vest piece wrapping his chest bounced in the slowest rhythm imaginable as his dreamy breaths came in and out. His palms were clasped behind his head and out of them squirted the tail of his recently cut brown hair (though it was still long enough to be tied back; he had said something about "manes" and "when in Rome"). There was no shifting of restlessness behind the lids of his closed eyes.

The unicorn indulged in perhaps a little too much childlike mischievousness when she at last called with spontaneous loudness, "James!"

"Hm? Oh, hey Twilight," he responded slowly. To some of her playful chagrin, it was now obvious that he hadn't been completely asleep. Even if his words were slightly dreary his eyes were fast to open, and he worked through his waking tingles quickly, giving a small yawn. His wits were gathered fully after only a few moments, and he casually asked, "What's up?"

Smiling and laughing to herself, Twilight looked down at the man as he stayed laying on his pillow of hands and she wondered aloud, "What are you doing?"

James shifted slightly to relocate his center of coziness and responded with carefree humor, "Taking a nap in the shade, obviously."

She snorted in delight, "Yes, but why?"

"This is the last pleasant day before they'll be really ramping up on the winter weather," he answered swiftly. He knew that she was more than aware of the town's weather schedule and he had to have raced through that fact so that he could reveal his ultimate response: "Got to enjoy the final gasps of autumn while they last."

The straight truth of his answer didn't address the real reason she had asked, though.

"But... it's Friday," she objected. "You're supposed to be with-"

She broke her words to glance about, however she saw no sign of whom she expected to be present.

"Just where is Rainbow Dash anyway?"

The man let slip a throaty chuckle as he turned onto his side and propped his head up with one hand. With the other hand he pointed straight up.

Cranking her head back Twilight immediately caught sight of her absent friend.

The lazy pegasus was sleeping facedown on a branch above. She snored lightly, one of her foreleg dangled, and there was just a little sliver of drool swaying from her mouth.

The unicorn's expression flattened. It would figure, wouldn't it?

With friendly sternness she called up, "Rainbow!"

"Huh, wha-!"

Rainbow Dash's limbs flailed as her sudden start caused her to nearly spill out of the tree. Her wings fluttered just in time to keep her balanced, and she corrected her position and secured her grip to the branch almost unconsciously. Shaking her head and sporadically blinking her eyes, she yawned as she took a look down.

"Twilight?"

"Rainbow Dash, what are you doing?" the rigid unicorn officially demanded.

Already looking comfortably sleepy again, the pegasus rolled onto her back and tied her forelegs behind her head, letting one of her hind limbs dangle this time. Melting into a refocused coziness, she had an echo of carefree humor when she answered, "Taking a nap in the shade, obviously."

"Why?" Twilight insisted, now genuinely annoyed.

"This is the last pleasant day before we'll be really ramping up on the winter weather," the still yawning pony returned in yet another echo. Her eyes closed. "Got to enjoy it or whatever, right?"

"But-! That's not-! It's Friday, Rainbow Dash!" the rankled unicorn reminded her friend. "This is supposed to be your day where James spends some time doing things with you!"

"We ARE spending time together," James pointed out cheekily as he squinted and gave a bemused laugh. With his free palm open in self-display he quipped, "We're engaging in an activity we both mutually enjoy."

Again Twilight's face fell flat, and she shook her head doubtfully, saying, "No part of 'engage' or 'active' applies to napping."

"Psh," scoffed Rainbow Dash, eyes still shut. She jested, "Get on our level."

"Rainbow Dash, I know for A FACT that today you're supposed to be clearing the sky for the upcoming winter swap."

The pegasus' eyes opened just so she could roll them. This nap-destroying distraction had officially slaughtered her sleepiness. Turning back onto her belly and shoving a hoof into her cheek, she whined, "There's plenty of time, Twilight! I can afford a little snooze. I'll get it done before it's too late."

"That's not the point!" the exasperated unicorn shot back. "On Fridays you're supposed to be fulfilling your responsibilities while James helps you out!"

"Wait, what?" the surprised man spoke up.

Twilight raised a confused eyebrow.

"We went over this. When I suggested that you spend one day each week with a different one of our friends, the idea was that you would share in their responsibilities!"

"Kind of, yeah, I get that," acknowledged James, "but I never thought we were talking complete employment here. Besides, in this particular case..." He turned over to show his back to her and pointed a thumb over his shoulder. "... Do you see any wings? What exactly is it that you expected me to do to help Rainbow Dash?"

The unicorn ran straight into a brick wall of embarrassment as she realized that for nearly two months she had missed something obvious in her calculations.

She stuttered, "I-, I just assumed-, I mean... I don't know! I thought-, thought that, uh, you'd, uh... I mean-, ah, maybe, uh, you could... direct from the ground or something? I don't know!"

Rainbow Dash burst out cackling, nearly falling out of the tree again.

"What? Come on, Twilight! That'd only make things SLOWER!"

"Yeah," James chuckled in agreement as he rolled back to face the slightly sheepish Twilight, adding, "she knows how to handle herself up there. And I couldn't help directly because even if you got me a jet pack or whatever I can't touch those clouds."

Taking her logical defeat in relative stride, the soft red was quickly drained from the unicorn's cheeks. She asked the man in a mostly genuine fashion, sprinkled with only a shy amount of sarcasm, "So, is this what you've been doing every Friday then?"

"Nah, we do other things," he answered sincerely. But then he slyly tacked on, "Wall ball has emerged as the competition of choice."

Hanging her head down from the branch with a snarky smile, Rainbow Dash teased the man brightly, "And SOMEPONY is a sore loser at it!"

"I don't know what school of poor sportsponyship you come from," James wagged his finger back up at the pegasus, "but where I grew up we had strict elevational rules. If the ball goes higher than the opponent can possibly reach, that's a foul shot!"

"Yeah, that sounds like the kind of rule that a loser would need!"

"If you need to cheat to win, I won't judge, but..."

"Oh, so are you looking for a round two today?" Rainbow Dash asked daringly. She got excited. "Is that what I'm hearing? You want to be schooled again?"

Twilight interrupted, "Okay, alright, enough! I didn't mean to start anything! I just-... I saw James napping and thought I'd ask-" She cut herself off with a light sigh. "I'm just a little surprised to hear that you've been goofing off on Fridays, is all."

Chuckling some more, James said, "Honestly? I'm legitimately surprised it took you this long to ask for specifics about what I get up to."

Again the unicorn seemed flustered and she babbled, "Well, I mean, you tell me sometimes on your own, and I really trust my friends and everything, and I try not to be too pushy on you; I mean I know Princess Celestia assigned me to you but I want to be your trustworthy friend and not-"

"Easy there, Twilight," the man calmed her down. He was slightly remorseful; he knew of her neurotic side but, given how playfully she had originally approached and started this whole conversation, he had never guessed his and Rainbow Dash's aloof and needling behavior would have set her off. He bargained with her, "It hasn't really been goofing off. Horsing around with Rainbow Dash keeps me active, and I have fun. The other days are a lot like working a job; they never run out of things to do at that farm. It's nice to have an entertaining day to engage other parts of myself. And really, what's so different about Dash and I playing games compared to you and I having a philosophical debate like we sometimes do on our days?"

"Well that's-... that's educational!" she countered.

"Heh, Twilight...," he laughed, "this is all part of the experience, right? Each of our friends gives me a little something of what THEY think is important for me to experience, and screwing around and sacking out is Rainbow Dash's particular choice." He stretched himself out again with a delighted, joking confidence that disregarded all the cares of the world, and he said, "And I can't really say that I disagree with her selection."

Despite the unblemished ease which poured out of him, some worried worms wriggled about inside Twilight and, getting closer to him, she asked him quietly, "Are you alright, James?"

His casual smile stopped and he took her concern as sincerely as she had given it. The sudden rising of her worry had caught him by surprise but, unlike in earlier days, he didn't respond with any hostility, either subtle or open, nor did he retreat and hide himself in any way. Looking her directly in the eyes, he brought his voice down and answered in supportive honesty, "Yeah. I'm fine."

She quite clearly had to put in effort to accept what he had said but she forced a general smile out of herself to cover it up. It came off genuinely enough.

Nodding, she said, "Okay... I, uh-... I guess I should leave you two to your napping then. We'll always be able to have one of our 'philosophical debates' about all this tomorrow, right?"

"Actually...," James sat up quickly and asked, "... what time is it?"

"Three fifty-two," Twilight was able to instantly answer, even without a watch or a clock in sight. She was very precise about her scheduling and how much time she had for diversions. "Why?" she inquired.

"Not a lot of time then," he muttered to himself.

From above, Rainbow Dash groaned indignantly, "I'm going to take care of the clouds later. Geez!"

"Referencing something else," the man quipped. "Think HARDER."

"What're you-" But she suddenly snapped up, her supporting branch jiggling and her rainbow mane leaping a little at the shock. With gaping eyes she remarked, "Oh right! Fluttershy!"

Wiping himself off and stretching his back, James ordinarily explained to an inquisitive-looking Twilight, "She asked for some help picking a bunch of stuff up from the market for her animals today. We need to meet her there at four."

"Oh," the unicorn giggled, "well then, good thing I came by! You shouldn't go back to sleep; you have just enough time to get over there!"

"Eight minutes?" Rainbow Dash mused out loud, full of vigorous doubt. After some shallow consideration she stretched her legs out, laid her head back down against the branch, shut her eyes, and tiredly mumbled, "Nah, plenty of extra time..."

Twilight added another disapproving stare onto her growing pile for Rainbow Dash. It hadn't been the first and it wasn't going to be the last.

Rising to his feet, James stretched his arms up into the air before he gave the unicorn a relieving, knowing look; she shouldn't worry about any dallying on the pegasus' part. He would get that postponing pony going one way or another.

"See you later, Twilight," he said with a happy nod.

She returned a equally pleasant farewell and then politely offered a similar departing call to her sleepy, limb-borne friend before she turned and went, leaving the situation in the man's capable hands.

Back on the path she had originally broken from, the unicorn eased into the same jovial trot of before, brushing along the park path one bouncy clop at a time.

That encounter had left her feeling moderately alright. She was happy, she thought. It was certainly a happiness that required some effort to maintain – not as desirable as pure, joyful happiness – but she was steady enough to carry her blissful attitude on faith. After all, trying to assume complete control over James and his experiences, like he was some pet project of hers and not his own thinking, feeling individual, had gotten her into trouble in the past. It had been hard to care for a friend who had been ailing in the way he had been.

She recalled that during those early days after his arrival there had been a certain wounded, withdrawn solitude to him. Only later had she realized how seriously he had been grappling with the understanding that his transition of universes had stolen absolutely everything of his old life out from under him. Most significantly, he had permanently lost direct touch with everything and everyone that formed that foundations of who he was; all that he loved, and all that loved him back. It still unnerved her deeply to remember how utterly devastated he had been at his lowest point; still rattled her when she recalled the profound, aching confusion that had crushed her the first time that she had truly understood what he had been dealing it. And she remembered well the almost helpless despair she had fought with to accept that she didn't have the experience to fully empathize with his pain.

In these past two months since he had opened up and had accepted her help (and she had humbled herself and had accepted her friends' help) there seemed to have been improvement in his hurt soul. Every week she and her incredible friends had spent time with him, and that true side of himself that shined in heartfelt company had come out stronger than ever. In their meeting just now he had been relaxed, had been joking, and had flashed plenty of comfortable smiles. She should have felt happy with how he had turned around... but she couldn't deny the worried part of herself that understood she didn't have the measuring stick necessary to judge the progress of his recovery.

Worse was how sometimes everything felt like she was locked in a battle with her own darkness. Originally the man had hid the hurt parts of himself and hadn't shared them with anypony, let alone her, the Princess's chosen guardian for him. So of course when she had seen him happy just now her mind had secretly screamed that maybe he again hadn't been acknowledging some unknown, worse troubles. But if she were to have believed that voice then it would have been a violation of trust; it would have attacked their friendship. HOWEVER, if he HAD been hiding some pain again, not out of any malice or distrust but out of honest fear, then didn't she have the need to know so that she could act?

Agh!

It was such an easy idea to trust a friend; to care for them; to love them. And in the best of times it was easy in practice too! In these harder times she felt like she needed a lot more practice in trusting his faith, and in letting her faith be trusted, as frightening as it could be sometimes.

Even with concerns bubbling she walked steady, her doubt undetectable by other nearby ponies. Despair wouldn't drown her again because it was her true belief that ultimately the love that bound friendships together would overcome anything. But it was still a simple truth that even when she was backed by her faith and love she had a hard time not worrying about the man.

She had been treading so deeply through her own thoughts that she hadn't noticed she had passed out of the park and into the moderately busy streets of Ponyville. She scarcely even noticed any of the rambling residents rolling by her as she unconsciously ambled amongst them.

Through sheer luck she stopped short of crashing into a gray pegasus who was clumsily making their way through the mildly cluttered streets also. The embarrassed unicorn quickly tried to summon up an apology, but the first thing her waking eyes saw upon snapping back to the world was the leather satchel slung over the other pony's shoulder. Sewn right on the center of the covering flap was the official seal of the local mailpony union.

"Oh, fantastic!" Twilight shouted. "I mean, pardon me for nearly bumping into you but I'm glad I did!" She gave the mailmare a courteous bow and then asked, "Do you have any mail for the Golden Oak Library? I'm the librarian there and I would be happy to take any mail off your hooves right now if you've got it, instead of waiting for you to hit it on your route."

The mailmare peered back at her with an idly confused stare, as if she just couldn't land her eyes directly upon the unicorn despite her best efforts. But then after a blank moment she suddenly lit up with an overly bright smile and nodded her head rapidly; almost carelessly even. She was clearly quite pleased to be of assistance.

Flipping open her mail satchel, she dug her whole face into the bag and rooted around for a few seconds before surfacing. As requested she produced a small stack of letters destined for the library. The pile was clenched between her teeth and they flopped about as she again broke into relentless, positive nodding.

"Yes, thank you!" Twilight confirmed as she seized the mail with her magic. She had to tug just a little bit to coerce the mailmare into letting them go, and she waved them through the air lightly to fling off the drops of saliva that clung desperately to them.

With closed eyes and beaming pride, the smiling pegasus gave what was kind of an odd, off-center bow and then went back on her way; only for a few steps though. Half a dozen times she looked back or turned about, unable to decide which way she had been coming from or going to.

Twilight had no such trouble and continued on her way immediately, eagerly looking over the wad of mail she had just acquired. One by one she studied the letter on the front of the stack, made a mental note of the sender, and then flipped it to the back of the pile.

She hummed in brief amusement when she saw that James had received a letter from Canterlot again; a message bearing the royal seal and marked with an address written in the telltale script of Princess Celestia. He had traded a few letters with the Princess now and again. She didn't know the contents of their correspondence. Friendship reports of his own, maybe? It was another area in which she had deliberately chosen to rise above the wispy, worried voices in her head and had not ask him any questions; a space where she wished to avoid being an overbearing hostess who was more concerned with what he was saying about her to her mentor than with letting him get whatever he personally got out his communications. Still, she just didn't get why he always used the traditional postal system for his royal correspondence instead of taking advantage of Spike's abilities. His insistence on snail mail tickled her.

Cycling his letter to the back, the unicorn ground to a sudden halt when she saw the next envelope. Somewhat thicker and broader than the others, it was made from a less-than-common kind of paper that was sturdier; almost crisp and flaky. The front was stamped excessively compared to all the other letters; many markings indicating that it had passed through several service stations on its way to Ponyville. It was addressed to her specifically, and a wide, anticipating grin came to her face as she read who the sender was.

Without hesitation, she separated the letter from the pile and tore open the back. She pulled out the thick, folded paper that was stuffed inside (again made from a foreign, less common material) and set about reading it in a frenzy. Her eyes darted back and forth as she eagerly blazed through line after delicious line, and when she was finally finished her whole body was shivering with excitement. She pounded her hooves in place happily, practically dancing in the street.

Now too thrilled to stay calm, but still aware enough to feel discouraged from making a scene of herself in public, she quickly and carelessly crammed the letter back into its envelope. Unable to wait; wanting no more than to speed up time and race into the future; she took off in a buoyant gallop, the string of magically-floating letters trailing along behind her like a bobbing balloon that bounced about to some elated rhythm which played only inside her head.

She was quite beautiful, by pony standards. The incredible softness of her baby blue fur could be felt with the eyes alone. Her immaculate mane, colored even brighter than her body, hung down on one side and was organized in straight clusters like the crystal clear lanes of a competitive swimming pool. Only the very tips curled; a row of tropical ocean waves that ran just under her neck. Her hair and tail glimmered as if they were covered in tiny sparkles, like a cold lake under a low rising sun on a pale and misty morning. There was the same kind of gilded shine on her horn, achieved simply by her magnificent radiance and not by any spell. Her cutie mark seemed to be made of much the same; it was either a field of glimmering stars or just a glorious, shining reflection of beauty. And that was to say nothing of her eyes, which twinkled with an infinite depth like looking out into the milky cosmos on a perfect night.

It wasn't a surprise how this classy, lovely unicorn mare drew stares as she went from here to there. Only today those stares didn't seem as stunned by amorous shock as they usually were. Or as filled with fawning. Or as imprinted with indulgence. And that was because for once it wasn't her beauty that was attracting the eyes of everypony on the street; it was her outraged voice.

"No! It's over!" she hissed as she stamped along, heedless of any onlookers and gorged with insult. "Just go away!"

Her nose was pointed up and she swished her head to the side as she marched away from the stallion following her.

"Star Glitter, please, PLEASE, let's just talk it out!" the pursuing pony pleaded with all his heart. He practically crawled along the ground after her.

As a pony, he could have been her reflection, if the mirror used was possessed by a dark magic that inverted all it saw. He was dog-faced, had a short and black mane that was as unruly as it was unkempt, and there was something subtly asymmetrical about his tan body. His begging continued to spill out in a heavy voice that played softly with some of his sounds; an accent from somewhere farther south and a dialect that had all the inflections of growing up a working colt. There was a certain demeanor of his that was very low class, and the plunger stamped on his flank let everypony know just how dingy his blue-collar was.

"No, P.V.! No more talking!" the gorgeous mare shouted back. If there was any part of Star Glitter that had been hurt over their spat, she wasn't showing it. She bit at him with nothing but fury. "I think I've been very understanding of your work, and your responsibilities, and all that you're trying to do. But it's gotten to be too much! And now, forgetting our one year anniversary? I'm not dealing with it anymore!"

"I know, I'm so terrible for you!" the sorrowful stallion candidly declared, though he immediately contended, "But I didn't forget!"

A disappointment befell him; somewhere inside he understood that what he was about to say probably wouldn't help him but his absolute desperation to hold onto her prevented him from restraining himself.

"I know they were just cheap flowers, but they were all I could-"

The mare swished her defiant head again, proclaiming harshly, "You're always giving me just words, P.V.! I said no more!"

The already small stallion shrunk even more, nodding in complete, deferring surrender to her, though he still continued to follow her.

As they passed into the center of town, he frantically entreated, "Glitzy, PLEASE..."

"Don't call me that anymore," Star Glitter responded, much more quietly than her previous shouts. For the first time, she had revealed just a slight woundedness in her voice.

"I'm sorry!" P.V. said. He was falling to pieces right there in the town square, even as he walked along after her. "I'm trying! I really am! Please!"

Star Glitter at last stopped but it was only to stab him with a final, determined, unambiguous, "No. It's over. Goodbye."

Again, for just a moment her own heartbreak shown through, but she quickly brought her nose back up and stomped off, elegant and in control.

The shattered stallion didn't follow her this time. He only watched her go with his tear-filled eyes. The jewel of his life disappeared around a corner and left him as the sole recipient of all the many gawking stares.

In his heartbreak he didn't notice or care about any of the other ponies there. He stood motionless for awhile longer, with no strength to even wipe his face clean of the heavy traffic of tears running down his cheeks. Eventually he turned to the side and pointlessly ambled about, wandering without meaning or purpose, nearly missing several of his steps. Swiftly he landed in front of the large fountain that decorated the square, and the cheerful looking stone pony mounted on it was only a shallow reminder of the endless, joyful beauty of a pony that had once allowed him to call her his. He cast his eyes down towards the water, letting some of his tears dribble out and mix with the gently stirring liquid, disrupting his miserable reflection.

Then, in one sudden motion, he flung his whole head under the water.

Most of the staring ponies moved on in silent discomfort from the disturbing sight of the miserable pony soaking his own head like that. By the way his barrel pulsed erratically it was obvious that he was weeping. Each bubble that came up to the surface popped with the echo of a single tear.

Fluttershy, Rainbow Dash, and James, each of them carrying bags and sacks of assorted foods for a plethora of different animals, were some of the last ones left staring at the disheartening scene. Though the man and the rainbow pegasus gave each other unnerved glances, eager to move on and forget the public spectacle, a phenomenally quiet and sympathetic gasp rose up out of Fluttershy as her own eyes watered.

"Oh my..."

Chapter 8: Imbalance

"Ahem," Canterbury cleared his throat awkwardly. He was very sympathetic. Or attempting it anyway. "You've... all done... very well, uh, for your age."

He walked about his open-air glass workshop, swinging his neck about in broad gestures at everything. Much more sympathetic (to himself), he stated, "And look on the bright side: nopony set anything on fire."

Scootaloo, Apple Bloom, Sweetie Belle, and Poppy continued to roll their blowpipes back and forth over their benches. Three of the fillies were less than enthusiastic about the task. Indifferent pushes were followed by idle pulls, and they lifelessly churned their hooves and swished their pipes with silent creaks like rocking the cradle of the most boring baby foal.

The gathers of glass on the ends of all their blowpipes had cooled significantly, glowing only a pleasantly warm orange instead of the burning brightness from when they were first pulled from the furnace. Each filly was supposed to have crafted a shape fit for eventually transformation into a glass cup; essentially a sort of egg with a bubble inside. However they had instead somehow birthed bloated and cancerous monstrosities; ill-shaped blobs that were bursting with bulbous curves in every bad place, like some kind of mutated, bilious beast from beneath a bog. Only Sweetie Belle's had some partial resemblance to the correct shape, though it was still hardly in the form of a cup; more of a gourd, but the sickest one of the harvest.

Their mentor for the activity, a stallion quite skilled in glassblowing, couldn't lie with his eyes. Every look at one of their unnatural and disturbing creations had him automatically projecting a dread normally saved for incredibly sickly sights.

"So... good work for a first try," Canterbury again tried to let them down gently.

"But... we'll have to start over?" Sweetie Belle blandly predicted.

Again the pony mentor cleared his throat, longer and more awkwardly than before. But when that didn't procure him enough time for a clever evasion he bought a few precious extra seconds more with some stalling mumbles.

"It's not... impossible to reheat and reshape your glass, uh... items...," he attempted, "... but... there comes a point where... you know, um-" The muscles in his neck tightened as he held his lips shut to trap in the very honest, nasty words which were so desperate to be said.

Quickly he bent down next to Sweetie Belle, where he rearranged his thoughts and delivered a still honest but yet much more comforting assessment, "You, little miss. Your start was very strong. You blew a great bubble; you've probably got a powerful set of lungs. But the subsequent shaping just didn't go the right way. So, at this point, it's probably just easier for you to start over. Begin with another strong start, which you know you can do, and try your hoof again at what came out weaker."

He stood up and turned towards the other fillies, with their slightly more grotesque creations. His voice turned cagey once more.

"The... uh... the same...," he coughed out uneasily, "...goes for the rest of you."

And just like that the barbs of failure buried themselves deep into the original crusaders. Their rolling blowpipes, already so slow and lifeless, lost that much more momentum. Even the true compliment given to Sweetie Belle was deflected away by the dejection.

Naturally it was only Poppy who was unaffected by any downward turn.

Every step of the creative process had been fascinating to her, every effort to copy it had been exciting to try, and the final report of defeat was as undiscouraging as it was completely expected. She giggled, slowing her blowpipe only out of practical resignation.

James, however...

By this third activity something different had started to seep into the man. This time it hadn't taken a beloved filly to pull him into quiet participation; no, he had stepped up to the task himself willingly, and hardly with hesitation at all even. He had no memories of ever having witnessed glassblowing, nor had he ever thought about it in his entire life, but suddenly once it was there in front of him he had wanted to get his hands on a pipe and give it a shot.

He hardly felt it, but it wasn't something about the craft itself which drove him. He was unconsciously rich with some kind of new energy. The world was eager to scoop him up, and he felt so ready to attach himself generously to whatever came his way. An indulgent energy – powerful, bountiful, free, and full of life – flowed from elsewhere, straight into him.

He was so engrossed that he didn't even allow the disappointed crusaders the short time needed to lower their heads in shame before he called to Canterbury, "Excuse me! Does mine look right?"

The stallion stretched his neck to catch a glimpse of the shape hanging off the man's blowpipe. His expression flipped through a rapid change and he swiftly trotted over.

"Ah, yes, that's very good! Very textbook!" he stated spiritedly. With his own hoof he took over rolling the pipe while he searched the whirling proto-cup for any fatal flaws, and happily he found none.

"This is excellent!" he guided James' hand back to the blowpipe. "Why don't I prepare a punty to transfer it to so you can try shaping the top and finishing it up? Meanwhile, if you please, just shove your pipe back into the glory hole there to warm up it again."

The pony pointed off to one of the furnaces: a bulky construct with a round portal into a chamber of fire.

The man nodded in acknowledgment, but he also couldn't keep himself from looking away and chortling discreetly. An amused snort popped out of his nose.

It hadn't been the first time he had so reacted to the master glassblower's instructions. It had drawn enough curiosity from Canterbury that the pony finally had to ask, "Why do you keep snickering when I say that?"

"Hm? I-It's nothing," James tried to excuse away his reaction, but the very act of trying to deny it only gave it power. Another small snort leaked out.

Canterbury gave the man a deductive glance, trying to let the diversion pass as he went to grab a punty rod. He drew a choice rod out of a large, heavy barrel which held several similar ones, but he stopped there and suddenly uttered loudly and intently, "Glory hole."

A single laugh burst from James' mouth before he managed to seal himself up and hold in the rest of his cackling, coughing as he did so.

"If you don't already get it," he attempted to explain for the confused and staring stallion, but he could hardly bring down his smile or dial back his suppressed laughter, "then... I don't know if I can tell you what so funny... It's-, i-it's nothing, heh..."

Oh, ponies...

Ponies, ponies, ponies...

Magical, rainbow-shaded ponies who were, in so many ways, purely human. There were differences too, many of which could be enumerated plainly (and mostly pedantically). But... there was ONE difference – one ABSENCE – that the man in particular had begun to notice over the months. One thing he had never, ever seen or heard even a single hint of.

Maybe there was something that didn't quite translate about it? Which would have been incredibly odd... but not impossible, all things considered; magical talking horses, and all. Maybe storks were the real deal in Equestria?

The man felt he had a safe bet in maintaining silence.

The mentor pony, ruffled but unrattled, soon shrugged the distraction off. He proceeded to warn his guests back as he slid on some protective eyewear and readied his punty to gather a dab of molten glass from the hottest furnace.

But the three dejected crusaders hardly needed a warning to avert their eyes from the blindingly bright sight. Their faces were down to the floor, and their minds were consumed by only one terrible thing.

"Aaannnddd strike three," Scootaloo sighed to her friends. "We're out."

"Oh, come on," Apple Bloom attempted feebly to keep them going. Even to herself it was obvious her full heart wasn't in her pleas. "We can't just stop. I mean, we've... failed at a lot more than only three things before. Just today, even."

"That somehow made it sound worse," the sore pegasus shot back.

"And besides," Sweetie Belle pitched her own dry voice in, "what's even the point anymore if everything that WE try, HE'S just going to do better? Why doesn't HE just get ALL the cutie marks and be finished with showing us up? We know it's not luck now."

Apple Bloom, her gasps of resistance fading, repeated her earlier self weakly, "It's not about him... It's about us, and our cutie marks, and our special talents..."

The limp appeal fruitlessly bounced off the other two crusaders. There was nowhere inside hopeful enough for it to have taken hold. It drifted down like a soggy leaf falling from a tree in a storm, the wash of the rain carrying it along the wet road straight into a sewer drain.

"I don't feel very special," Sweetie Belle said in a whisper.

Their collective will collapsed. Altogether the weight crushed them. They were synced in misery.

Scootaloo raised her hoof and officially offered, "All in favor of declaring Operation: Everything! a total failure?"

The fast vote was unanimously passed. They all abandoned their workbenches, letting their barely moving blowpipes coast to their own stops, and they took defeated clops towards the stone steps that lead down into the streets of a hopeless Ponyville.

"Where are you going?"

Poppy appeared behind them, still beaming and still springy.

Though they stopped for her, none of the crusaders responded to her. Their gazes only wandered along uncomfortable paths, crossing over each other sometimes. Their voices shuffled through low groans which sounded like the beginnings of words, each throat almost hoping to trick one of the others into answering.

The grim shame that cloaked them slithered like a silent shadow towards Poppy, and the glorious light which always shined from the little Drypony started to wash away from her face as she felt the wicked claws reaching out for her.

Dismayed and confused she asked her new friends, "Are... we going to the next thing already?"

"Poppy," Sweetie Belle's voice reached out cautiously, "I think maybe we're done. With everything."

"But... we only just started," the other filly replied. Absolutely she felt whatever sour melancholy was radiating from them, yet she couldn't quite understand what exactly it was, or why.

The crusaders again weren't able to offer a straight reply to her; their dark and nearly empty stares were the closest thing to an answer they had.

Poppy sincerely reached herself out to them.

"What's wrong?"

They all baked in the hot air of the glass workshop for several long moments before Scootaloo braved a deep gaze into the Drypony.

"Poppy... why are you crusading with us?" she asked.

The unanticipated question was laced with thicker meanings. The depth of it all was rather hard for the thin-minded, noble-spirited Drypony to fully grasp; she was so much slower with her head than she was with her heart.

"Well...," she looked at each of new friends in turn, fumbling with her attempt at an answer, "... you asked me if I wanted to be a crusader, and... I said 'yes,' and... I thought... that... this is what a crusader does, right? They do things. A lot of things."

"A crusader seeks their cutie mark," Scootaloo reminded their honorary member, wiggling her body to call attention to her blank flank. The pegasus' words then came out more strongly, full of purpose and hidden accusation, "Or... helps another pony earn theirs."

"Oh. Right," Poppy neatly moaned.

The discombobulated thoughts of duty and responsibility bounced around in her head as she grappled with trying to understand her crusader role as seriously as all her other roles in life; her station with the Heartwood Guard, her title as ambassador, her position as the young beacon hope for the ponies who loved her, and so on. In that respect – in her responsibility as a dutiful Prideheart hero – she began to feel very inadequate.

Her infinite happy energy finally found its bottom. She lowered her face in youthful shame and confessed, "I don't actually know anything about cutie marks."

"Apparently neither do we," groaned Sweetie Belle.

But still it was a bit much for Poppy to follow. Her eyes shifted about her face, peeling wide and squinting thin, as she tried to discern the heart of the crusaders' troubles.

"Isn't-... isn't this all part of it?" she asked the three fillies. "Going around, and trying lots of new things, and meeting new ponies who know different things, and seeing how everything feels, and learning, and having fun, and—?"

"'Fun'?" Apple Bloom choked on the word as she tried to get it out.

This hadn't been an afternoon playing in the clubhouse, or some school field trip for the day. It was supposed to have been a day of serious work; of sweating hard as they clawed their way through the muddy trenches to unearth the mastery buried within their bodies. A day of focus; of determination; of SUCCESS. What 'fun' was toiling for NO progress?; was a day where all their efforts were NEVER rewarded?; where everything had been for NOTHING?

Scootaloo agreed, complaining bitterly, "We've failed at everything we've tried." And caught up in the faithless sensation she glared oddly at Poppy before she pointed out, "You've failed at it all, too."

"Yeah, I guess," the still-puzzled Drypony said. But she simply was unable to draw the connection between failure and defeat, especially given the obvious fact that, "I've never really done any of this stuff before. I mean, I think they do some things like this at Hamestown too but I never tried it. This is my first time, just like you."

Then a glimmer of her normal vibrancy flashed.

"There's so much more here in Ponyville, though! I want to try it all!"

For as unable as Poppy was to comprehend the crusaders' pessimistic resignation, they seemed equally unable to understand how she could stride so easily through ultimate defeat and quickly swing back into her usual enthusiasm.

Apple Bloom stammered with both mouth and body before she finally excused, "It's just-... it's just not the same for you, Poppy. On account of you already having a cutie mark! You wouldn't understand what this all means to a blank flank!"

Poppy tried twisting her ears about. She tried tilting her head. She tried her mightiest to get whatever the distraught farm filly was balking about into her simple brain. But it just didn't make sense, and the lost look of her eyes reflected the disconnect between her sympathetic heart and her dizzy mind.

"You know what your special talent is already!" Apple Bloom carried on, actually upset by the other filly's confusion; as if all that sympathy were meaningless if it couldn't morph into true empathy. "You know what a great Branch Dancer you are so it don't matter to you if you're no good at all this other stuff."

"What?" the Drypony croaked. "I still want to try it! And be good at it, if I can be!"

"Why?" Sweetie Belle asked in doubt.

"Because..."

But she didn't really have a reason ready in her head; or not one which she had the wits to intelligibly relate anyway. The message was untranslatable; inscribed so completely within her core being: by Prideheart's virtues, a pony gave the best of all they had to the things which they did, WHATEVER those things were. That's how everything was where she had come from. That's what was expected of anypony.

She reasserted herself, and she put it the only way she possibly could.

"Because... why not?"

Joyful jumping filled her again and, springing in place, she happily expressed, "This stuff has been so amazing to see! And to try! I want to know all about it, and see what it's like to do it all; at least a little bit! Maybe I'll be good at some of these things! Maybe not, or maybe I'll need more practice! But that's okay! It's a lot of fun just to try either way!"

Suddenly the bouncy filly came to a frozen stop, something very evidently clicking in her head.

"And... if you're looking for your special talents... and these things we've been doing aren't them... then... doesn't that mean... that it doesn't matter if you're not very good at them? That you can just enjoy trying them anyhow cause they're not going to get you your cutie marks anyway?"

Her eyes shifted about as she looped through the logic in her own head once more, and she genuinely asked the crusaders for their input with a very unsure, "Right?"

None of the others immediately answered. Unspoken words seemed to pass between them, lobbed around through their off-center stares and sideways glances. There wasn't any desire to fully consider what Poppy had suggested, lest there be any admission that maybe she was somehow right.

Eventually Sweetie Belle found the strength to emit a sore objection.

"Maybe it does matter! It matters if we're terrible at EVERYTHING. These things can't be all THAT hard if there are ponies who can do them... and if..."

A shadow fell about the eyes of the sullen filly, like darkened crevices breaking open upon her lowered face. The dying glimmer they gave off was just enough to draw a bitter line towards James.

"... And if HE can do everything without even trying..."

The whole pack of little ponies turned to look at the man.

He sat at his bench, a big smile on his face, rolling his freshly heated glass back and forth on the punty it had been transfered to. His focus was solid but not otherwise intense or determined; he was merely absorbed with interest in what he was doing. His glasswork had now taken a distinctly cup-like shape.

Canterbury stood next to him, also engrossed in with unburdened excitement, far beyond anything he had shown the flimsy crusaders. In his teacherly thrill the stallion gave detailed instructions which were interspersed with acknowledging encouragements. The man listened, absorbed, and worked.

Though there were disappointed groans from the three defeated crusaders, Poppy took pleasure in what she saw. The impossible connection between the others' unrewarded efforts and his easy success would never have reached her. She saw only another reason to admire him.

"Yeah, he's really good! I don't know how he does it!"

"There's another possibility," the awful words started to cram together and clog Sweetie Belle's throat. "Maybe he's NOT really good at everything! Maybe WE'RE just-... just-...!"

Poppy waited patiently, pointlessly. There was no conclusion to Sweetie Belle's statement.

Finally the Drypony delicately broke the silence, gently echoing, "'We're just...'?"

No answer again.

The cold line which divided the original crusaders from the honorary recruit deepened its frozen chill; enough that, for once, the emphatic filly could faintly sense it keeping them apart. She lifted a timid hoof and pointed it solely at them.

"... YOU'RE just...?"

Their beaten silence spoke their sordid approval. Even though Poppy hadn't been outperforming them in any of their recent challenges they didn't consider her party to their ultimate failure. There was still SOMETHING that she could already do well; AT LEAST one thing.

And that was unlike them.

But the little Drypony was too sensitive a soul. She felt every sad heave in their bodies and every disappointed twist to their emotions; even if she were never to understand it, she felt the bruises on their spirits. To leave them there in that misery... well, that was like leaving the wounded behind! That wasn't the Prideheart way!

And... that wasn't the Cutie Mark Crusader way either! Right? Something about... how a crusader helps others...?

"You're not terrible...," she told them unabashedly. These new friends were still just as amazing to her as they had been when she had first been introduced to who and what they were. They were great and talented CRUSADERS.

"... You don't really know us..." whispered Sweetie Belle.

"I know you're really trying, and that's good," Poppy said. Her smile pleaded with them to accept her support.

But at last some restraint inside Sweetie Belle snapped. Angry pain shook her and she hoarsely shouted, "I'm tired of 'really trying'! And of getting nothing for it!"

The sudden intensity surprised the other crusaders, but right away they yielded to their identical feelings. The cheating man came to their minds instantly. It was so horribly unfair how he had put in so much less and yet had gotten so much more! They were ready to shout about too.

"What's going on here?"

They jumped, finding James suddenly standing over them.

The man's cup complete, Canterbury was busy storing it safely away to cool. Even though it had been Sweetie Belle's outburst which had drawn James over, for some reason his eyes checked in with Poppy first.

But the small Drypony wanted to direct his attention to those who really needed it. She refused to say anything herself, aware of how little she understood the crusaders' problem. If they could explain it to him themselves then he would understand, and he would help.

He WOULD help. Of course he would!

"Everything alright?" James asked Poppy. There was little evident concern; just enough to check if everything was shipshape.

Like a puppy giving a warning the filly squirmed in place, her body becoming an arrow pointed towards the three crusaders.

The man's curious gaze turned towards them, but it only felt to them like being pushed up against a precipice; being cornered by confrontation. They were less than ready for it. It was easy to curse him under their breath for their failures but it was so much more difficult to be straight about it before him.

"James...," Apple Bloom strained herself hard to express, "... I think that... we're finished..." They weren't the words which she had wanted to say but they were all that she had. At least the decaying sound of finality had found its way into them.

"Oh... you're not-... not going to give your cups another try?" the man misinterpreted her.

The lingering pause at the start of his reply had held the promise of possible understanding; a moment where he could have turned down a fork in the road towards embracing them. But somehow he had forgone it.

The three crusaders felt the sharp disappointment plunge deep.

"Have we run out of time? We already have to move on? Where are we off to next?" James asked them in sequence, each inquiry directed at a different crusader as one by one they failed to respond with a swift answer.

Scootaloo finally found enough nerve to carefully correct him, "We're finished... for the day."

"Done with EVERYTHING?" he questioned, almost aghast.

But even though every syllable from the crusaders had reverberated with inescapable conclusion, and every fiber of their bodies shook with surrender, he still – STILL – did not see.

"It's not even lunch yet. It sounded like you girls had a lot more lined up."

Shades of accusation slipped over his sentences.

Sweetie Belle, a little perturbed by his reaction and now even a little intimidated by his presence, daintily explained to him, "It... isn't really working out for us so we're-... we're going to call it quits."

The man immediately became alarmed, quite clearly tensing up. He turned defensive, almost HOSTILE, as if the three little villains were there to snatch something away from him.

But, despite whatever was going on inside of him, on the outside he quickly adopted a face of strong, hard control. A military sturdiness took him. He leaned forwards and towered over the crusaders. His words took on a similar duality. They were wrapped on the outside with conciliatory sympathy, but something else gurgled underneath.

"Poppy really needs to see more of Ponyville. That's what she's come here for. Are you SURE you want to stop now?"

All of the crusaders sensed it. It obviously wasn't supposed to have been a threat...

But...

They couldn't recognize who he was.

Since having met him none of them had ever known James to be imposing, angry, or authoritarian. Goofy and friendly; sure. Always urging them along in their quest or taking an interest in what they did, like an older brother; yeah. Only today had they ever felt threatened by him; first by the shadow cast by his unexplainable talent, but now...

The stranger in front of them with shallowly disguised ire was legitimately frightening.

Apple Bloom halfway answered him, "Well-... well... we-... we ain't sure if-... That is to say, ah..." She swallowed, leaving behind only a sheepish smile.

Poppy was thrown for a loop by the man's reaction, though for entirely different reasons. Nothing that was happening made any sense in her world, and mild panic began to set in. The feeling was actually familiar: she recalled how terribly painful it was to have watched Broken Oak temporarily reject Prideheart heroism; to have watched a pony she believed in get wedged between truth and desire, and ultimately take the darker path. She couldn't possibly understand how so good and strong of a pony could have been so disastrously held back by some smaller, weaker part of themselves.

Tapping faintly at her tall friend's legs she tried to mediate, "James, I don't mind if they want to stop. We can still go exploring for ourselves."

It stung her how even to her he suddenly was harshly resistant.

"Well, they-... they know Ponyville a lot better than I do," he moved swiftly to justify conscripting the crusaders, "and they've already set up meetings with so many other ponies. That's a lot better than just stumbling upon things on our own."

He turned a stare which cut deep back into the crusaders.

"Right? You've already planned things out for the rest of the day?"

"... Yeah...," Scootaloo scarcely admitted.

Instantly she felt the heat of her friends' worried glances, but they had already so foolishly spilled all the details earlier in their eager haste. If the man were to have caught them in a lie then things would have only gotten worse. Still, she shored up her best courage and tried to represent her fellows' interest by putting her hoof down.

Or rather, by lowering her hoof very, very tenderly.

"There is a lot more that we had planned but... we're... not feeling it anymore. So I guess... we're done crusading for now. Uh, thanks."

Valiantly she tried so hard to hold a stare on him, though it wiggled away constantly. Confidently she tried to hold her hoof strong on the ground, though it lightly tapped on the stone. But as he stood herself against she saw not once ounce of sympathy take hold in him.

Quickly she retreated and tried to bargain, "We can, uh, head back to the clubhouse maybe and just... you know... tell Poppy all about Ponyville, or something..."

This time no whiff of concession came to James' tone. There wasn't any part of him acting as the older cousin who was a friendly guardian and guide. There hardly was even the illusion of any of that. He summoned his most disappointed adult; ghostly memories of his own failings before his parents and they way they had always corrected him afterwards, but he grabbed only the most twisted and dark parts of it; all the authority and none of the love. He hid his own desires behind an aura of educational punishment.

"You know...," he lectured them, unleashing a brutal sternness in certain key words, "I think it's VERY RUDE for you to break off your commitments to those other ponies so suddenly. Arranging for them to take time out of THEIR WEEKEND just to mentor you and then you don't show up? That's VERY DISRESPECTFUL."

As if all the crusaders' hurt feelings hadn't been enough they now had disgraceful shame on their plates as well.

A nervous paleness flushed into Sweetie Belle's face, she tucked her body in tightly, her tail folded about her, and she tamely yielded, "I guess... we can try out a few more things..."

Uncertain glances to her equally reluctant partners followed, and they all cowered in fear of resisting.

James nodded.

"Good. That's good. Thank you."

The statement even sounded so washed out and thankless; said only to fulfill some bothersome social expectation and no more. He gave a final look to the silent, buried crusaders before he turned around walked off to inform Canterbury of their impending departure.

Confused, uncomfortable, and almost even sorry for how poorly her intervention had turned out (against something she STILL couldn't quite understand!), Poppy watched James step away with a sad bend in her mouth. Shaking it out of herself, she tried to cheer the other crusaders up with an optimistically bright, "It'll be fun. I just know it."

Nothing good rose in them.

"If-... if you really don't want to...," the Drypony offered.

But the three wounded crusaders only had to peek at the man's turned backside and they felt fearsome shivers pound through them from tail to nose.

"Nah, it's alright, Poppy," Apple Bloom uneasily said. "We're, uh, glad to give it another go and, uh, show you around some more."

The pity-filled Poppy thought on the comment for several long, hard moments before she responded with a sympathetic and appreciative smile.

A few bits plinked down onto the counter, bouncing once or twice.

"That should be exactly enough, I think. Unless I've misjudged the postage," said Twilight. She redid the calculations quickly in her head, mostly confident that her result wouldn't change.

The stallion behind the counter swept the bits together and counted them before he reached over and picked up the envelope that the unicorn had set down as well. Sealed securely, it was thick with paperwork; her laboriously assembled reply to the exciting letter she had received only yesterday.

His eyebrows perked up, aware of how unusual the piece of mail was; by thickness and by the uncommonly high postage it apparently needed for its size and weight. He whirled it about and set it down before himself so that he could read the destination address, which only surprised him more.

Looking back at Twilight, he abruptly remarked, "Woah. Heading there soon or something?"

"Oh, something like that," she replied with a grin.

"Lucky."

Suitably impressed, and not altogether unjealous, the mailpony turned aside and ran his hoof along a chart on the wall to verify the postage. Naturally Twilight's delivered payment was on the money, and so he set about the standard course of his job: stamping her envelope with the correct labels, dumping the bits into the register, preparing her receipt, and so on. When he finished up he simply tossed her mail into one of many bins behind him. It landed with a flat clang; the bin was mostly empty compared to its neighbors which were glutted with mail for more common and local destinations.

"That's it. Will probably go out this evening. Will be delivered by Tuesday," he reported, sliding the final receipt towards her. "Anything else I can help you with?"

"No, thanks!" Twilight answered, taking the paper, bowing her head, and turning to leave.

She had only just started to go when the post office door swung open from a heavy push, fanning away air with its forceful movement and making the bell which dangled from the top scream.

"Pardon," Applejack belatedly called through her teeth as she strode inside. In her mouth she gripped tightly the tied cords of a mammoth sack which bounced on her back as she laid her hooves along. All sorts of prickly edges were threatening to poke through the sack's threaded exterior; it was overstuffed with outgoing mail.

Always glad to see a friend, Twilight stopped and greeted, "Hey, Applejack!"

Smooth enough to walk, talk, and tip her hat all while bearing her weighty load, Applejack responded in happy surprise as she passed, "Hey, pleasure to see ya, sugar cube!"

The farm pony waltzed up to the counter and flung her sack over her head onto it. The bag's mouth slipped open as it crashed and an avalanche of mail surged out. Some letters flooded out into a pile on the smoothed wooden countertop but others spilled onto the floor on either side.

"Mind getting these stamped and sent for me?" she requested of the mailpony, whose immediate response was an annoyed grimace before he reluctantly got to work.

"Just a few letters for the rest of the Apple family?" Twilight approached her friend and asked.

Wiping the sweat off her brow and readjusting her hat, Applejack gaily replied, "Yep! Quarter-annual letters 'bout the state of affairs at the farm and all that, seeing as it's the start of winter. Granny never keeps enough stamps around for this though."

She nodded back at her friend before she was suddenly seized by a missing detail. She peeked about the room, finding no sign.

"Hey, where's Beanstalk? Isn't today your-"

"Poppy showed up at the library this morning so he's spending the day with her instead," the unicorn was pleased to explain.

"That right?" the farm pony lifted her eyebrow. It was such unexpected news that she had to rub her chin and waggle her mouth to draw out the relevant memories. "That springy little filly from way out there? The one he got a real fondness for?"

"Uh huh!" Twilight confirmed. "She's... technically here on a mission to experience Ponyville. But all the more reason to have him be the one to lead her around, I think."

"Well I'll be a rooster crowin' past sunrise!" exclaimed Applejack. She cracked a high smile with one corner of her mouth. "Guess that lets you off the hook from foalsittin' him, heh."

"It's not foalsitting," the slightly defensive unicorn immediately countered. But she was tickled with embarrassment by her own fast defensiveness and she quickly dismantled her impulsively-erected ramparts. All the while her orange friend chuckled in harmless mischief.

Twilight said, "I-, I would have been fine to spend the time with him. I just thought-"

The farm pony's hoof shook away any undue distress and she laughed a jolly, "I know, I know. And a good call that was I reckon. I bet ol' Beanstalk was just plumb shining to see her."

"Yeah, he was," Twilight acknowledged, a much softer control coming into her voice.

A brief thought entered her mind: how much had Applejack foreseen something like this? Certainly James' sincere attachment to Poppy hadn't really been hidden back when they had been at Hamestown. But Twilight herself hadn't ever predicted just how overjoyed the man would have been to have seen the little Drypony again.

Applejack couldn't possibly have witnessed any more between man and filly than she herself had, but somehow the details of this latest encounter all seemed completely expected to the farm pony. Perhaps her friend's homely wisdom had grasped something her bookish intelligence hadn't. Or then again, maybe on his days at Sweet Apple Acres James had shared things with Applejack that he HADN'T shared with her; things that the farm pony perhaps had the brave and plain gumption to actually ask about. Unlike her frequently-surprised self lately.

The partially aimless thoughts faded instantly under the curious questions her friend suddenly lobbed.

"So, how long is the li'l miss here for? The rest of us ponies gonna get the chance to say howdy? Beanstalk gonna drag her down with him to Sweet Apple Acres on Monday? Or should I be expectin' to give up my day too, hehe?"

"Oh, I don't know how long Poppy will be in Ponyville, Applejack. I didn't ask her. I don't expect TOO long though, given that it's the first outing of Heartwood's ambassadors. Anyway, if... you think that there's going to be scheduling trouble on Monday, I can ask James if he can-"

"Nah. He does or he don't... Ain't nothing," Applejack again allayed her friend. Another casually thrown hoof, another amiable grin, and then she elaborated plainly, "Just the changing seasons, is all. The pegasi are gonna finish bringing in the cold air over the weekend here and then that first snowfall comes down Monday morning. Big Mac and I thought we might stick Beanstalk with a bunch of shovelin' and see if he could really handle it like he done told us he could."

"Ah, I see," accepted Twilight.

Shoveling snow? Fair and honest work! And actually something that would be worthwhile for Poppy to see! For multiple reasons even!

She could see that methods of farmwork differed in some ways between Hamestown and Ponyville. Likewise she could have a chance to get a ground view of how pegasi manipulate weather. Come to think of it, there wasn't even an orchard like Sweet Apple Acres in Hamestown! Even buried in layers of snow its beauty was worth a visit.

Perhaps the most important reason to encourage a trip there, though... was that it was another good excuse for James and Poppy to spend some time together.

And that was something the unicorn felt compelled to support in every way which she could. It was both satisfying and relieving to see such ordinary happiness come out of the man; to see what such uncomplicated love did for him. Setting him up with more of that liberation felt especially important now that Twilight knew that there had been hidden troubles with Pinkie—

It was like a snake bite to the back of her mind. Nervous venom oozed in. Buried wiggles wormed their way surfacewards, writhing in anxiety the whole way up.

There were a few shaky taps from her hooves as she readjusted her standing to help maintain her calm. Bigger, deeper breaths flowed in and out. Then, with the specter of her worries largely concealed, she forced a strange, subject-veering question out to Applejack.

"So... there haven't been... any issues with James at the farm, right?"

Immediately the words didn't sound right, if only to her own unbalanced imagination. Unsteady haste crept into her voice as she offered fast alternatives.

"I mean, you haven't had any trouble with him, right? Or rather, nothing has been a real problem? Between you two personally, maybe? It's all good, I mean. And of course it is! Because you would tell me if it wasn't, haha! And... I'm just... making sure, is all. Aheh."

"Uh... okay?" the farm pony reacted with confounded slowness, scratching her head high enough to tip her hat slightly.

"No trouble at all that I can remember," she finally answered, before she leaned forwards and stared into her friend's weak facsimile of a smile. Lowering her voice, she asked, "Everything alright, sugar cube?"

"I'm great!" Twilight forcefully announced. "I mean, if you're great then I'm great! And that's great!"

"... Twilight?"

The unicorn pushed a sighing moan out through her closed mouth as her whole visage dimmed a little. Her guard pulled back as she fidgeted with her standing again and again.

At last she said, "Pinkie Pie... came by earlier, and she was somewhat upset." Through a heavy pause her face fell some more. "Well... really upset. Apparently she feels like... she hasn't been connecting to James like she should be? Like all her usual overtures of friendship have been completely failing and he's not actually even her friend." She shook her head, soaked in bewilderment, rejection, confusion, and worry all at once.

Seriousness poured into Applejack's face, not bringing with it any hard edges but only the softer lines of concern. She gave a tiny, listening nod.

Twilight continued, "I told her that I think she might be blowing her problem out of proportion and all she really needs to do is sit down and talk with James about it directly so that they can work it out. And... there's no reason they can't work it out so... I think that will do it."

Another pause, and then she tacked on quietly, "I hope..."

There was no forthcoming answer from the farm pony. The focus behind her eyes made it clear that she had absorbed everything that had been said, but for some reason she wouldn't offer a window into her insight.

Applejack not speaking her mind? It immediately put Twilight on edge.

The tension in the unicorn only grew as the strangely-silent farm pony sunk into a subtle retreat. An undecided wobbling snuck into Applejack's legs, an agitated swishing slipped into her tail, her eyes started to search out forgotten corners of the room, and a painful reserve replaced the attentive expression on her face.

Being picky with her exact words, she finally shared, "Beanstalk, he-... well... he isn't a DISHONEST fellow..."

One big breath, along with a sideways stare.

"... but..."

The word was so drawn out that it was like a bridge disappearing into an infinite expanse of fog, only hopefully connected to a far off shore.

Twilight clutched to it urgently.

"... Well... his barn door isn't always open," the farm pony at last completed, punctuating her sentence with a fast, "if you take my meaning."

Twilight had certainly encountered that particular side of James in the past. What actually dug under her skin though was the implication of Applejack's reserve: the idea that the farm pony saw fit to lower her hopes about the situation without a second guess. Even without having heard Pinkie Pie's half of the tale, Applejack's real judgment was that the man might very well have never been... genuine... towards their pink friend. For whatever that truly meant.

The pensive thoughtfulness which pervaded the unicorn was swiftly read by Applejack, and in response the farm pony tried to spontaneously turn her opinion fully around.

"I'm sure you're right, though. They'll work it out somehow."

She stopped to nod to herself; to force belief into what she had just said.

And when that didn't feel like enough she added on, "After all, what pony better to pry the friendship out of a stubborn mule like him than Pinkie Pie?"

Twilight's eyes rested on the floor.

'Stubborn'...? Yes, he could be...

But...

Was that REALLY all there was to this?

Wasn't it SHE HERSELF who had been in Pinkie Pie's exact position, months ago? When James' hidden suffering had increasingly emerged and her open offerings of assistance had been turned away repeatedly? When it had come down to a battle between man and unicorn to find to some solid ground of understanding? When she had aggressively tried to place herself on top of everything about him; had recklessly tried to resolve by herself every last issue of his; had thoughtlessly tried to break him down into some puzzle pieces which she could rearrange and solve in an impressive enough way to present to her mentor as a 'mission accomplished'?

Then, she had tried everything she had thought she was supposed to, not having realized for so long that her perspective had been wrong from the very start. Those past actions of hers had been SO headstrong in fact that she had more recently made it a point to back off and leave the man with some of his own space, even to the detriment of her own comfort.

WHO was stubborn? He had been then, but so had she been.

And now, with Pinkie...?

The lack of a response from the unicorn caused Applejack to assume that she needed to do more to hoist up her friend.

"Buck up, buttercup! They'll definitely work it out, just you wait and see." Reaching for a nice remark to cap everything she shot her eyes up with a carefree, dismissing laugh and commented with perhaps a bit too little guard, "Heck, I'd be more worried about Beanstalk's effect on Rainbow Dash!"

Wrongly chosen words.

They instantly sunk their fangs into Twilight.

"What about him and Rainbow Dash?" she questioned with scarcely controlled urgency.

"O-oh, it ain't nothing, heh! Uh, forget-... forget I said anything," Applejack raced to cover it over.

The unicorn only pressed in closer, her mere presence a growling wolf which slavered as it sought to pry truthful meat from its prey.

Backing up a step, the farm pony unevenly protested, "I mean it! It's not much of anything, Twilight! I was just saying something silly-like for comparison; to let you know how ridiculous worrin' for Pinkie is! If-... if it were serious then you know I'd have talked to you about it a ways back!"

"So it's nothing... but it's NOT nothing," Twilight emphasized her concern to her friend.

Applejack sighed and surrendered her resistance. Bringing herself close enough to the other pony so that they could converse more privately, she relayed, "Look... Rainbow has a competitive streak, right? And that ain't no big deal; I have a bit of one too; it helps me and her get along usually. But now..."

Her mouth squirmed with discomfort and hey gaze roamed so badly it wobbled her hat about on her head.

"... Well, I've occasionally had run-ins with Rainbow and Beanstalk together, you know, during her days with him, and I've seen that it's some of the same deal with them. They play and tease and throw themselves against each other, like yappy puppies trying to be top of the litter. Again, ain't no big deal if that's how they want get along; it's all in good fun."

Her voice dropped a level. She still expressed herself casually, but she was dark, and certain.

"Except... well... I think that all this regular amount of extra stimulation to Rainbow Dash's competitiveness has really worked that pony into a cocksure fighting mood lately. Nowadays she's always looking to challenge me at this or show me better at that, and it's not like she's being nasty about it or really any different than her usual self at all. It's just... in her so much more than it used to be. Like she got a tick lodged up her behind, biting her on the inside."

The farm pony waved a hoof with stiff tiredness, almost as if her experiences had left her bruised and aching.

While listening intently, Twilight thought about Pinkie Pie. By the honesty of Applejack's tale it really sounded like the farm pony was enduring through some ordinary irritation. But it had ALSO fully seemed like Pinkie Pie had been fine too, until the bubbly pony had suddenly appeared at the library doorstop in a thousand broken pieces.

"I never catch a break from it whenever she sees me now," Applejack lightly complained. "Every corner I turn: there she is, lookin' ready to tussle; challenging me to some contest; giving me a 'betcha couldn't do this!'"

She could feel the mild harshness which was rising in her voice and, deciding that she didn't want to be angry, she released it with a quick sigh.

Taking a second to breath first she kept her mood under control and lamented plainly, "I imagine in her mind she's really thinkin' things are the same as they always was. Probably don't even realize she's behavin' like she is. Still... it's right frustratin'."

Suddenly she became aware of the unicorn's scrutinizing gaze and she immediately played everything down.

"Like I said, it ain't no big deal, Twilight. Just so much time playing with Beanstalk is making her more... pugnacious-like than usual and she hasn't come down from it yet. I'd have no trouble with it normally but putting up with her like that ALL THE TIME is just making me a mite frazzled is all."

When Twilight's thin-eyed stare didn't change, the farm pony held a hoof over herself and solemnly vowed, with strong honesty, "I'm good. I'm fine! I swear it. And I know friendships ain't perfect things. Sometimes there's a bump in the road what rattles the wagon. Just like with Pinkie and Beanstalk. So I know I just got to give everything a chance to settle and wait it out."

Twilight tried so hard to perceive all the intricate connections. She tried to divine the proper solutions. She tried to balance the bridges of all her friends.

But she wasn't the lord and master of all their friendships.

A sigh escaped her.

They needed the same solution as James and Pinkie Pie.

"If you feel like the problem is getting worse," she requested of her friend, "you'll sit down with Rainbow Dash and talk to her about it? And if you need help, you'll come and get me?"

"Of course, sugar cube. On my honor."

The promise was incidentally sealed by the tingled ringing of the bell hanging from the post office door. The charming jingles announced the arrival of Rarity, who smoothly flowed through the doorway with all her grace echoing in her steps, and she trotted right up to the counter in a bout of singleminded determination.

Her busy brain was so focused that she apparently missed noticing her two friends and, more spectacularly, the massive pile of outbound mail which currently kept the pony at the counter oppressed. With her thoughts entirely on her own schedule, she tapped her hoof upon the countertop and instantly whipped into a prattling tale like an elderly mare would, unfolding her story all over the poor, overworked pony.

"Excuse me, sir! I hate to be a bother but I'm looking to pick up a package? I'm positive it should be here. I had it special ordered and rush delivered, you see. Something for my business; it's very important that I get it as soon as possible. I'd normally be content to let it be delivered to my doorstep on a more usual schedule but the sooner the better in this instance, so-... well, anything I could do to speed it up, you understand. It SHOULD have arrived this morning; I imagine that I can just take it off your hooves right now, if that's alright. It would be addressed to Rarity, at the Carousel Boutique? Sender would be Wonder Weave's Fine Fabrics. Please be a dear and fetch it immediately, thanks."

The haggard mailpony gave Rarity a motionless, dirty stare. A small and organized pile of a few of Applejack's now-stamped letters sat on his one side; the sum total of his loyal, regrettable efforts to fight against an ocean of mail. The runty pile was nothing compared to the undented mountain still left. Several misplaced stamps clung loosely to his vengeful face, their bright depictions of smiling ponies the very opposite of his own appearance. He bristled with a slithering fury under his skin the likes of which only those who've worked customer service could ever know. His mouth opened and out pours a few simple words with all the enthusiasm of a trained killer.

"I'll check the back."

"Good, you do that," the unicorn inattentively replied.

"Gee willikers, Rarity! Too busy to spare a 'hello?'" called Applejack. Her teasing greeting was ripe with affable warmth.

"Oh, I'm sorry!" the busy unicorn's focus immediately snapped to her friends. There was a swiftness to her manners; a compensation for having fallen below her usual ladylike standards. "I didn't see you two there! How's the day been treating you?"

"Can't complain," the farm pony answered.

"Not quite as I would've expected," Twilight had relatively more reserve, but she still managed to sound calmly collected.

She asked of the preoccupied-looking dressmaker, "In a rush to pick something up?"

"Some rolls of fabric; a cotton-silk blend," Rarity quickly sounded off. "I didn't have what I would need to make it myself; a quick order was faster."

"Last I remember hearing, them winter dresses of yours were coming along just fine," Applejack playfully said, leaning in and devilishly creasing her brow. "Bit off more than you can chew?"

Easily encouraged by the friendly prodding, Rarity responded with confidence, "Mmm, no, not at all. I may seem somewhat harried. Perhaps one could say I even appear worked up." Then, holding herself proudly, she raised a triumphant hoof, "But such are the throes of creation! One needs not a deadline to charge hornfirst into the great enterprise of design! So, if you must know, I believe the first dresses will in fact be finished early. Three or four days from now at the most is my guess. Then I won't need to even start thinking about the next designs for two weeks!"

"Wow, fantastic, Rarity!" Twilight congratulated her friend.

Applejack gave praise in much the same vein.

"Yes, I know, I know," the indulgent unicorn said as she absorbed the remarks, glowing with some of her vanity. "And a bigger window for rest is only the proper reward earned for such advanced effort."

Yet she had an easy time letting go of her pride and adorning some unabashed humility.

"But, credit where credit is due. It has only been with the help of others that my schedule has moved so fast, and they deserve the break as much as I."

Speaking of the very help that had made her astounding victory possible suddenly alerted her to a small incongruity in the ponies present. She took fast glances about.

"Where's James, Twilight? Saturday is your day, is it not?" she innocently asked.

"Oh, I'm not spending this one with him," the other unicorn casually dismissed.

But before she could continue on to explain the circumstances – Poppy and such – Rarity interrupted. The swift preemption came without any implication of guilt; no veiled disdain, no suspicious fear, and no hints of dark worry. The quip had a light coating of good-natured humor, if anything.

"Oh my. Have you had some sort of trouble with him?"

That single whiff of a disharmonious suggestion set Twilight off.

What had Rarity seen that she would have jumped straight to assuming that?! What had been going on in the shadows?! Unexpected naps and games with Rainbow Dash! Painful predicaments with Pinkie Pie! Applejack's out-of-balance friendship! Now what?! Why hadn't anypony spoken up about these things before?!

Wide-eyed with dread, full-bodied agitation rocking her enough to give her friends panicked pause; Twilight latched onto the dressmaker's shoulders and practically shouted, "RARITY! HAS there been some trouble with him?"

The stunned unicorn only reacted, "Twilight, dear, what has gotten into you?"

"With James!" Twilight emphasized, pulling herself that much closer her confused friend. "Has there been trouble WITH JAMES?"

Rarity looked to Applejack for any clues to the meaning of this strange behavior, but the farm pony didn't seem keen to vocalize her guesses and only curled her mouth while turning her head to the side.

Falling back upon straightforward honesty, the dressmaker at last stumbled in reply, "G-Goodness no. He's-... he's been nothing but a boon."

"R-... really?"

Twilight seemed almost unready to believe the response as she hesitantly detached herself from her friend.

"Yes," Rarity affirmed. "There was some upfront cost to teach him a few simple stitches, but after that he was just another hoof in the mill, so to speak. He's reliable after he's learned, as I'm sure you know. And the more reliable hooves I get under my direction, the faster the work gets done. His and Spike's support are big part of why I'll be finished early."

She paused, juggling a less certain comment in her head. But she decided to let it out cautiously.

"He's always seemed very eager to offer his support. And not in the same way Spike is. He's almost deferring, even. Though I don't get the impression that he enjoys the delicate trade of dressmaking."

The air quieted, and Rarity tried to read the other unicorn's uncertain and evershifting reaction.

Applejack eventually stepped forwards and patted Twilight calmly, telling her, "There, ya see, sugar cube? Some things work out just fine. The rest ain't so much trouble. Just a bump in the road, is all."

Releasing a tense breath, Twilight bowed her head and decided, "Yeah... yeah. I think... I've just been letting myself get carried away. Been letting myself get... overly worried about things just because they aren't perfect, or the way that I imagined them to be."

She breathed deeply again, trying to let the worries go.

"We're all friends. We can support each other and take refuge in each other. We do the little things that we should to help out each other out, and friendship will guide us the rest of the way and make everything turn out alright in the end."

Rarity wasn't so interested in the specifics of whatever her friends were referencing; not while Twilight still seemed so rattled.

"Are you sure you're alright, dear?" she asked. "You look like you could use a vacation. Maybe – after my own long labors are finally complete and I get these dresses out the door – we can take a little time to do something relaxing together?"

The invitation lit a spark inside of the unbalanced pony. Twilight's head picked up.

"Yes," she mumbled before she perked her body up completely and continued in a full voice, "It's been a LONG autumn. Everypony could use some time away. To have the space to... rest and restore themselves. To have the time to... help straighten everything out with each other! To clear away the distractions and focus on fixing things up! A retreat for everypony to come together and come out stronger!"

The other two ponies looked at each other, sharing their ignorance over whatever had injected so much pep into their now noisy friend.

Twilight whirled around and stood boldly before her fellows. Shining in her eyes and feeling more certain of her future, she said, "We need to gather everypony together sometime soon; I have something SPECIAL to announce!"

Chapter 23: Anticipation

One more to recruit. Four would make a nice square number of players.

Drifting in the air above the beach, one hoof giving her chin a heavy rub, Rainbow Dash pondered some more over her choices. No way was she going to be able to tear an egghead like Twilight away from her study time with that stallion. Rarity was always a natural 'no' for something like volleyball; probably too afraid of getting a little sand on her hooves. Likewise none of the weird entourage which had devoted themselves to the prissy dressmaker looked like they would say 'yes' either. Fluttershy was obviously available, sitting serene and alone, but she wasn't a volleyball player... or a competitive sports player of any type really. Not far from her was some other guy – a real drab stallion with animals or something for a cutie mark – and he didn't seem to be too busy, but he had a real Fluttershy-like funk going on and probably wasn't a reliable choice. Besides all of them, maybe one of the random islanders who busied about the beach could fill in? Honestly though, they didn't feel like worthy choices either.

Dumb Applejack. What was her problem? Dumber still, she had stomped right into the ocean even though it was now clear that she hadn't REALLY wanted to go swimming. She was just sort of hiding out there in the water, taking lazy rolls with the waves as they splashed over her.

It would have been so great to have had her as a player, too! If there was anypony that was awesome to cut one's teeth against it was Applejack. Fun and fair, but also tough and fierce, she was a pony that was way rad to battle. But recently she NEVER wanted to do anything anymore!

Whatever. That killjoy wasn't going to get a second chance. Let her have some stupid fun getting all soaked and salty in the ocean with that chocolate stallion who was also out there. Rainbow Dash had OTHER friends whom she could rely on.

And, speak of the devil, she spotted one such friend at that exact moment!

Pinkie Pie had a snorkel hanging below her chin, water wings on her forelegs, flippers on her hooves, and an inner tube bound around her waist. It was a troublesome sign; hopefully she wasn't planning on going for a swim also. For the time being she was merely standing about, but maybe that blue pegasus next to her was trying to convince her to take a dip. After all, he was also wearing some similarly ridiculous accessories.

Rainbow Dash dove into action, swooping low before she zipped straight between her pink friend and the other pony. Shooting through, she then curved back around and parked herself in front of the unfazed ponies.

"Hey! What's up, everypony?"

"Hiya, Rainbow Dash," Pinkie Pie replied. She definitely hadn't hit peak Pinkie-ness, but she sounded way better than yesterday; healthier, and more colorful in every way.

Yet apparently her current partner, Hulahoof, was more Pinkie Pie than Pinkie Pie. He bounced in place excitedly, all the excessive inflatable swimwear on him screaming rubber screeches as they bobbed and jiggled. Up and down he kept going, and he greeted enthusiastically, "Hey hey! You here to join in?"

"Uhhh... no thanks. I don't feel like swimming," answered Rainbow Dash.

"Swim, hehe?" Pinkie Pie giggled.

"I'm not swimming!" the stallion joined in the laughter. "Are you swimming, Pinkie Pie?"

"I'm not swimming! Are you swimming, Rainbow Dash?"

The now-confounded pegasus rendered a dead reply of, "... No...?"

Hulahoof needled her in merry delight, "You need water to swim, silly-filly. I don't see any water here; just sand. Do you see any water, Pinkie Pie?"

"I see sand, too." She checked her hooves, finding them very un-wet and also covered in the dry micro-scratches typical of such loose grains of sand. "Do you see any water, Rainbow Dash?"

"I-... then-...," Rainbow Dash stammered, "... what-... what ARE you doing?"

"We're hitting the beach!" the stallion proudly informed her. Suddenly he bounded higher, straight up into the air, and then crashed his hooves as he came down in an earthquake of a landing. The strike scattered thin clouds of sand about.

Pinkie Pie grinned and then mimicked him, thumping the sand herself with enough wily energy to kick out even thicker clouds.

He went again, and then she, and before long they were both hopping about and bringing their hooves down like thunder. The grainy swishing of the flying sand nearly drowned out the ocean waves.

Rainbow Dash took a step back in order to dodge some of the particles that were blasting her way.

"... What?" she asked.

The other ponies both stopped their shenanigans, and Pinkie Pie stretched her neck all the way over to her friend.

"We're HITTING... the BEACH!" she said in slow motion. One of her hooves gave the sand another good, punishing thwack.

The rainbow pegasus narrowed her disbelieving eyes.

"... Really? I mean... REALLY?"

"Ya-huh!" the pink pony smiled, snapping her neck back. "It's a lot of fun! You should try it!"

"... If you're not swimming then... why are you wearing... that?" Rainbow Dash wildly gestured her hoof all over their unnecessary getup.

The two ponies glanced at each other, appalled by the absurd question, before they turned back to the doubting pegasus and answered her in clarifying unison, "It's thematically appropriate."

"That's great; look, I don't care anymore," Rainbow Dash groaned. She skittered up to Pinkie Pie, threw one leg around the pony, and then prodded her with a hoof. "I'm putting together a volleyball game, and I need YOU to play, Pinkie."

"Volleyball?! I'd love to!" the pink pony exclaimed. With one vigorous shake of her whole body she detached herself from Rainbow Dash and threw off most of her themed apparel. The inner tube needed a pop of its seal before it could go. It farted out its air and then she wiggled its shriveled husk down her body before she discarded it with a kick. "Can Hulahoof play too?"

Rainbow Dash hesitated, shifting uncomfortably like a spotlight was upon her. She remembered that Prism had offered to play if needed also, so technically a game of six players was possible. But having just witnessed the ferocious insanity that was PINKIE PIE IN STEREO had left the competitive pegasus secretly balking at the thought of including her friend's newest friend.

"I...," she elongated her leery response, looking for the right way to hide her declining intention, "... don't think I could take both of you. That's one too many, uh, players. Sorry."

Pinkie Pie put on a pouting frown and turned towards her stallion buddy, worried.

Hulahoof, dressed still in his ludicrous beachwear, endured a pang of disappointment. But quickly he shrugged it off and displayed a thin smile for the pink pony.

"Go on," he encouraged her. "Have a volley-BALL with your friend. There'll be plenty of time for us to have all sorts of big-time fun later."

His happy humility reversed Pinkie Pie's gloom, turning it into immediate cheer, and she said, "Aw! Thanks, Huly!"

"Nah, a billion thanks to you!" he returned, electric with delight. "I'm just happy-smiles-for-a-hundred-miles thrilled that today you actually came right up to me and I got to really meet you!" Little flakes of unfortunate misery fell from him in a drift as he lowered his head, and he reluctantly commented, "You, uh, seemed kind of power-bummed yesterday..."

The pink pony had no wish to revisit such an unwanted place, and she managed to steer away from any reminiscence via a twitchy smile and an unbalanced shout of, "Pinkie Pie is a happy friend!"

Hulahoof noticed no oddness about her assertion. He only pumped his knees elatedly and shouted, "I can see that now!"

His unhindered joy fast became hers, and it yanked her back to an authentic level of bubbliness immediately.

"I guess I'll see you after the game!" she told him.

"Sure!" the stallion accepted with impossible glee. "Or at lunch if that takes too long. Oh! We should super-definitely see each other at lunch cause I'm not going to be able to join you for the tour later..." A frown came upon him, but everything about it teetered on a pivot of phoniness.

The pink pony understood that something deliciously duplicitous was going on, and with no lack of light herself she responded, "Oh no! Why?"

"Because... I... need... that... time... to..."

Somewhere a drum rolled.

"... GET THIS EVENING'S PARTY READY!"

Pinkie Pie inhaled a hurricane with her gasp of genuine mock surprise.

"YAY!" she bellowed, leaping up and down.

The stallion joined in on her rejoicing dance, once again causing all of the swimwear on him to squeak and cheer as he bounced alongside her.

"Alright, alright, sheesh," Rainbow Dash brought them to a stop with her loud interruption. "It's going to be a great party, yeah yeah yeah. But volleyball first, okay?" To try and break them up faster she wedged herself between them and began to nudge Pinkie Pie away.

"I can't wait for the party!" the pink pony lobbed the comment over her rainbow friend to Hulahoof.

"I can't wait to find out what you think of my party!" the stallion replied.

"I can't wait to think things about your party which I can't wait for!"

"I ultra-can't wait for you to not have to wait to think things about my party which you can't wa-"

"YES, GREAT, NOPONY CAN WAIT!" cried Rainbow Dash, now actively shoving herself into Pinkie Pie with mighty force. "BUT I CAN'T WAIT FOR VOLLEYBALL SO LET'S GOOO!"

Moved only by the strenuous pushes of her friend, Pinkie Pie's stiff legs drew lines in the sand as she was carried away. But she was merry enough to giggle at the situation, and she threw a smile goodbye to her guidepony.

The bright smile left that pony with all the buzz of a pollen-drunk bee, and he was more than happy to return a goodbye in the same fashion. While the other two ponies continued off he returned to occupying himself with nonsense similar to what he had just shared with Pinkie Pie. But as he paraded about now he did so without any show of loneliness, and he hummed a loud song. Each bounce had him lighter than air even without using his wings.

Still being shoved along without lifting an ounce of her own weight the pink pony casually asked her sour friend, "So what do you think?"

"What?" Rainbow Dash grunted.

"Of Hulahoof! What do you think of him?"

"I don't know! I never met the pony!"

"Sure you did! Just now!"

"Oh. He's real whatever," the pegasus let the pointless conversation pass with impressive disregard. In the same moment she finally realized how senseless it was to carry on pushing her friend now that they had escaped. She stopped and, her patience beyond expired, she demanded, "Pinkie, could you like... take over?"

"Okie dokie lokie!"

At last the pink pony made some use of her own legs, whirring them to life. Rainbow Dash sighed, glad to be over the hump of her recruitment efforts, but her relief had only a short life. Pinkie Pie, instead of carrying forward towards the volleyball net, doubled back in the direction of Hulahoof. The freshly irritated pegasus growled her displeasure, but before she even had the chance to turn about and yell she was slammed from behind by a thick ball of curly, pink fuzz.

Drilling her head into Rainbow Dash, Pinkie Pie pushed. She had taken over as requested, swapping the role of 'shover' with her friend.

"I think he's nice!" she continued to talk about Hulahoof as if nothing had changed. "He's fun and happy and silly, and he likes parties and cupcakes and balloons, and he's really into to just being friends with everypony because who isn't into being friends with everypony? An everypony-friend-pony is positively the best kind of pony there is!" The force behind her bulldozing softened, and she more regretfully murmured, "I feel kind of bad about ignoring him so much yesterday. He was just trying to be my friend."

Rainbow Dash, surprisingly conscious of the subject matter being hinted at, tried to turn her neck around and look behind herself, saying, "It's not like you were TRYING to do that."

"Aw, but what difference does that make?" the pink pony whined.

"Pinkie, you were just... you know... not yourself."

The weakest push yet came from Pinkie Pie, and she muttered, "I'm not supposed to be myself to be HIS friend, but not-myself won't be friends with other ponies..."

"What'd you say?" croaked the pegasus. She was still throwing her head about in an effort to get a more direct line of sight to the pony behind her.

"... Pinkie Pie is a happy friend," the pink pony echoed distantly.

Finally Rainbow Dash dug her hooves into the sand, braking the pony train to a stop.

"Look, Pinkie," she spoke behind herself, still fussing with her neck to get a good look, "I know you're bugged about this whole 'friendship with James' thing, so that's part of why I picked you to play! We're going to start clearing that whole mess up right now with some good old volleyball!"

The pink pony froze. When she had been the one being shoved onwards she hadn't bothered to have glanced ahead at where they were going, and when she had become the pusher her battering ram of a head had been too lowered to have ever looked ahead to check. But one dreadful hint from her loyal friend was all that she had needed to spark her deepest fears, and she took her first dangerous peek around the pegasus.

A short distance beyond was the volleyball net, raised and secured in the sand flawlessly. Nearby the other two players were busy with loose warm-up stretches, and only ONE of them was a pony...

There was a sudden rush of collapsing air behind Rainbow Dash; a bursting pop as the wind raced to fill in a fresh void in space. Shaken by the unexpected movement, the pegasus threw her neck back as far as it would go, and she shortly realized that she couldn't find the pink pony anymore. Whether she cranked left or right she saw not a puff or splotch of pink behind her. Finally fed up with all the soreness her awkward position was introducing to her neck she whirled about in a snap.

Pinkie Pie hadn't disappeared at all. She had merely squished herself into a cowering ball, hiding from the volleyball game ahead by ducking behind the shape of her friend.

"Oh, not this again," the rainbow-maned pegasus griped.

"Aaaaaaa-I'm not ready to play, Rainbow Dash!" the frightened pony squealed. She seized the pegasus and held her like a shield, and again the pink pony poked out her head so that she could catch another nervous glimpse of the net awaiting her.

"Come on, this is perfect!" Rainbow Dash tried her frustrated best to thread a needle of encouragement. She pointed back at the man, himself unaware of the watching ponies, and she laid out her plan, "Now you can actually spend some time with him playing a simple game that he'll like, and you can be on the other side of the net the whole time! You won't have to say anything to him or like even deal with him face-to-face! This is exactly the kind of small little thing you should do to slowly warm up to him like I was telling you about! Just relax, don't go all crazy, enjoy yourself, and you'll do fine."

One last time Pinkie Pie stole a short and awful peek around her friend, but again she cringed down in hiding afterwards.

"I can't!" she cried, her pitch piercing so high that it was actually soft.

"Yeah you can! This isn't any different than a normal game of volleyball like we've played a million times!" The pegasus nearly glowered, trying not to be upset with her hurting friend but nonetheless tired of all the silliness. "You go nuts for any game where you get to smack a ball around!"

"I knooow!" the fear-filled reply came. Pinkie Pie's terrified energy shot through her legs and gave Rainbow Dash a powerful shaking, her eyes went wide and hollow, and her littlest voice squeaked with her darkest dream about how the whole event might turn out: "Pinkie LOVES volleyball..."

"Yeeeaaahhhh... sooo...," the pegasus shook her head and at last definitively insisted, "we're going to play. And I PROMISE that you'll be okay." And seeing as all the verbal encouragement in the world wouldn't have brought the crouching pink pony forward Rainbow Dash opted instead to again take over the job of pushing.

Paralyzed with fright the cowering Pinkie Pie put up only a paltry resistance. She leaned her body back as far as she could, hummed silent whines, and let her butt be dragged across the sand. When the two ponies drew close enough to gain the attention of the others even those tiny efforts of hers stopped. She petrified, locking up stiff as a board.

"Alright! Number four, right here!" Rainbow Dash announced, slotting the newest player before the others. Coming out from behind her frozen friend she stood next to the motionless pony and made a grand gesture with her hoof to unveil the last recruit. Not that the pink pony made much of an incredible display; she was sinking into the sand, and she wore on her face only an artificially wide smile.

"Now let's get this show on the road!" the rainbow pegasus said.

"Four?"

Nosedive came forward, having uttered the innocent question. In every way he was professional and deferring, trying hard not to imply any amount of disrespect with his inquiry. Silently he counted the players again just to be sure.

"A doubles game?"

Grinning at both him and James like the wicked awesome devil she was, Rainbow Dash replied confidently, "Yeah. How about girls versus guys? That way Pinkie doesn't-"

Very briefly she choked on her own tongue, though she was able to whip into a decent recovery. Pointing at James she declared instead, "That way YOU can't complain about not having a flyer on your side after I make you kiss the sand."

The man smirked, leveling overtly false accusation back at her, "It's a strange coincidence: YOU always make the rules and somehow YOU always end up winning. Huh, funny that."

"Keep telling yourself that!" the self-satisfied pegasus teased in return. Almost involuntarily her excited wings shot out and got up to speed, carrying her a step above the sand, and she shouted, "Now somepony toss me the ball and let's do this thing!"

She buzzed off to her chosen side of the net, taking a flight route that involved a few unnecessary twirls and loops. Yet in short order she had to return anyway just to drag Pinkie Pie there too, as the latter pony had stayed frozen in place with her unflinching smile.

James tilted an awkward eye towards the pink pony. Such stony behavior was surely one of her innumerable and arbitrary quirks; probably her ludicrous flavor of the day or whatever. What a loon. But whatever; as long as Rainbow Dash was fine with having such a teammate then why should he have cared? Certainly her own behaviors showed that the pegasus believed everything was alright. Twilight worried too much.

A bizarre sensation flitted through him when he realized that he couldn't tell whether the pink pony was actually staring back at him or not. Her blue bubbles were so vacant. He turned away.

Nosedive had the volleyball nestled between his wings, having retrieved it with calm obedience as soon as the word had been given. Wandering up to the net from his implicitly assigned side he used one wing to make an offering of the ball to Rainbow Dash.

"Hey, alright, thanks!" she appreciated his effort in earnest as she eagerly zipped forward and plundered the ball from him, passing it to her wing from his.

"You're welcome," he shot his response out fast, and he raced to squeeze in, "and very quickly I should introduce myse-"

But the guest pegasus was already too absorbed in testing her own dexterity, showboating her skills to herself as a means of justifying her own confidence. She rolled the volleyball back and forth over her wings, gave it a daring toss or two, and even balanced it on her nose deftly. Once finished her wings snatched the ball tight with a triumphant clap, and she directed an energetically cocky grin at Nosedive.

"Haha, you better take your last moments to get ready," she unleashed her most competitive taunting, "cause once this starts you're going DOWN!" Her stare turned frisky and sinister, hungering for the game to begin, and she dared, "Give me your best shot!"

Off she turned, blasting into position. But the stallion only treaded a few loose steps backwards.

"'Best shot?'" he wondered.

Perhaps he had misjudged this encounter. He hadn't soaked himself in nearly enough preparation.

Like driving in railroad spikes he thrust his hooves into the sand, securing himself. One at a time he lifted each leg, giving them purposeful pushes; easing them out as far as they would go before he pulled them back to relaxation. He ran through orderly repetitions of the same action a number of times before he moved on to flexing his wings with the same extreme precision. And so on he continued with each critical part of his body. Every little exercise bore the perfect mark of crisp practice and professional training, light years beyond an ordinary morning warm-up and more like a regiment built for a championship.

Meanwhile James exercised nearly nothing on that sort of level. He had taken an easy walk to his side of the net and then he had started on only little things which were meant to ensure that his muscles were warm. It was a plan no different than preparing for any other playful game with Rainbow Dash; behaviors he had eventually learned over the prior months. The whole affair was, to him, very similar to the roughhousing he had occasionally gotten up to with his friends of old.

But he paused his lazy preparations when he felt the medallion around his neck slap his chest after a small hop. His fingers seized it and he twiddled it about, thinking. It wasn't in his character to value the crystal blossom for its beauty, and on that level he couldn't have cared less about wearing his 'jewelry' for the game. But the item's true worth came from something far more meaningful, and if the necklace were to take any damage because he fumbled the ball or took a poor dive then that would have been a travesty.

"Hey, Prism," he said.

Quite attentive, the mare sitting nearby was already looking at him before he had even called to her.

"Hang onto this for me, please."

Withdrawing the necklace he held it out and jingled it once before he tossed it at her.

As expected her magic gently caught his treasure, and with appropriate care she happily set it down next to herself.

"Good luck!" she smiled and nodded at him. In her seat she shuffled slightly, easing into greater comfort as a spectator set to savor the show.

Once more James returned to honing his readiness through a dozen automatic micro-tasks. Between the tiny stretches of his arms, the popping of his shoulders, and kicking his feet into the sand to test its feel, he thought about perhaps talking the smallest amount of strategy with his stranger of a partner. There was hardly a need to assemble the generals and lay out the war plans, but at the very least it would have been good to know how they respectively planned to space themselves instead of just relying on their instincts.

It threw him through a hoop of surprise when he glanced over and caught sight of Nosedive's intense and methodical warm-ups.

"Relax a little," the man recommended while stepping closer, keeping a moderate tone though otherwise obviously amused.

At first the busy pony scarcely recognized that he was even being talked to. He had to shake his head to snap his mind out the concentrated focus which imprisoned it, and afterwards he halted his stretches and stood up straight.

"I'm sorry," he answered his teammate. Everything he said came out in a mumble stained with such lamentable guilt, half-second-guessing himself the whole way. "This is for fun, right? Not even an exhibition match. Shouldn't take it so seriously..."

"Oh, well, I mean, WE shouldn't, yeah," James chuckled. He tapped his head towards Rainbow Dash and admitted honestly, "But SHE'S going to be serious. She's going to go all out and wreck us, like always. That's just the way playing games with her turns out. So I say: chill, enjoy the ride, and have some fun." There was no mistaking how serious the man was with his estimate, but he showed his ease with his fate through a simple shrug.

Conflicted, Nosedive paused. Some of his posture crumbled.

"... Does...," he at last spoke up, questioning the man with tender caution, "... does she enjoy... winning like that?"

"What? Sure, I guess," James weakly returned. Largely he didn't understand what had been asked.

"I mean...," the stallion was hesitant to articulate, "... would she prefer that, or... would she like a challenge more?"

Still his question resembled an unlabeled box: something undeclared was inside, but it needed to be opened up and dug through to be found. And there was hardly the time for that.

"Good or bad, she'll be happy as long as you don't fake your effort," the man related, as succinct and resolute as he could.

Nosedive seemed to nod with understanding, yet he still tested an uncertain glance at Rainbow Dash.

"... Yes, but...," he tried again, "... is the best course-"

"Look," James said, weaving together apology and explanation, and only delicately hinted with exasperation, "I didn't mean to suggest that you SHOULDN'T give this game your everything if you REALLY want to. Like, if that's the way you enjoy your sports then don't let me stop you from having a good time." He pointed past the net at the pegasus of interest; she was waiting for them to be ready, impatiently juggling the volleyball with supernatural ease. "SHE'S going to go to the extreme cause that's just what she's like. And I don't imagine most ponies are quite the same. So I was just saying: don't fret about going hoof-to-hoof with her if that meant you wouldn't have any fun."

Deciding to exercise his own advice to the utmost degree, the man abandoned any talk of strategy and spaced himself out on his own. It didn't matter to him if he and Nosedive improvised successfully or floundered about in hilarious failure. It'd be a good game regardless.

"She IS a lot of a fun," the man expressed, "and part of what makes her that way is the fact that... well, take my advice: you don't NEED to keep up with her."

It had taken a stroke of keen foresight for Gallowayo to have brought along a box heavy with paperweights. Before long he and Twilight had papers scattered everywhere, organized into numerous related or unrelated piles, and they nailed each stack or folder to their large blanket with paperweights taken again and again from the seemingly endless supply. It kept the wind from stealing away with any of the documents – at least those which weren't bound in books – and there was no shortage of need for the solid weights. The more the two ponies read, the more piles they needed to create in order to keep their volumes of finished history sensibly straight.

Unfortunately, as time passed, it seemed increasingly clear that the paperweights' great utility was being wasted on something so utterly insignificant.

"Gah!" Twilight huffed, scooting yet another paper she had finished into its appropriate pile. "There's NOTHING here!"

Gallowayo looked up from the page he was reading.

"It's like Venus and Vesuvius have always said," he shrugged. "If there was ever any documentation about the old islanders, very little of it survived."

"I know they talked about how sparse any information was," the purple unicorn complained, "but I didn't think that there'd be so... LITERALLY nothing."

The other pony hummed and nodded. His attention was evenly divided between his own studies and Twilight's griping.

"Like this one," her magic grabbed a recent packet of pages from one of the piles and waved it around. "This is the travel log of a trading vessel, and the ONLY THING highlighted in all eleven pages is a single unremarkable mention of them passing by the island on their route. No stop; no observations. Just a recording of their route which swung around the island. That's IT. And the upsetting thing is that records like this are MORE detailed than most of these!"

In a annoyed huff she flung the floating pages down on top of an incorrect pile.

With his own magic Gallowayo picked up the wrongly laid papers and gently moved them to where they belonged, sifting them back under the proper paperweight.

"I've found the same thing so far," he said calmly. "I've never looked through this stuff before, and I'm ALSO surprised at just how... right Venus and Vesuvius were. Hard to believe that a civilization which existed for centuries could have been so insular as to leave so little behind."

Twilight blew out some frustrated air, buzzing her lips.

"Hundreds of years and nopony LEAVES the island!" she groaned. "Hundreds of years and nopony VISITS the island!"

"Well, not quite," Gallowayo reminded her.

"I know," she said, trying to bring back her professional decorum. "Venus told me the story about a mare from the island found adrift, and how they took her to Galloloupe. I actually found that record," again her magic snared one of the already-read items, this time a folder, and she opened it to show him the pages within, "but there really isn't all that much to gleam from it."

Surprised enough to lower the record he was studying, the stallion responded, "I've never heard that story."

Twilight twisted an intrigued eye at him.

"What I was going to say," he continued, "was that it's possible ponies DID visit island; maybe they just never left to write any record of it. Sort of like how so many of us stay here now after we come for the first time."

"That's true...," the purple unicorn mused, casting her eyes down at the blanket and tapping her chin with her hoof. "I hadn't thought of that..."

Gallowayo carefully intruded upon her thoughts, taking the faintest magical tug at the folder her own magic still held.

"Can I have a look at that one, please?"

"Oh! Of course."

The folder's glow traded colors, and the stallion brought it before himself. He shuffled what he had already been reading back into the small pile it had come from, but then he floated that whole stack towards Twilight.

"Here, you might be interested in this," he said. "It's the log from the first group of ponies to set hoof on this island AFTER the disappearance of the native islanders. There's not much I'm afraid, same as any of these, but it's the most extensive record I've found of the ones I've looked through."

Twilight took hold of his offering, cautiously fascinated by the announcement of his find. Their items exchanged, both buckled down for some minutes of dead-silent reading while the beach stayed alive with activity around them.

Since he had the shorter selection Gallowayo finished first. Patiently he waited, taking less scrutinous looks over other papers to pass the time. In only a few extra minutes Twilight had caught up and set down her pages.

"So, what do you think?" the stallion asked in rapid eagerness.

Twilight delayed, and then said, "You first."

A bit humbled that SHE would defer to HIM, he took a fast moment to review his thoughts before he conjectured, "It's hard to say anything except speculation. They brought this pony back to their home but, at least as recorded here, she never gave up a word of her experiences. I don't know... The fact that the lost island mare never mixed in with Galloloupe culture; maybe she wasn't ready to move on?"

"But then why never ask to be brought back to Isla Equufera?" the other unicorn fired the obvious counterpoint.

"It's kind of a paradox, yeah," he admitted, "but that's what I took out of it." He gave a hopeful look to Twilight and asked, "You're a friendship expert. What would keep a pony from making new friends if they got severed from their old ones?"

At first Twilight puffed up, raised high by his earnest praise. However her mood quickly deflated. His question was an unintentional reminder of unhappier times. The image came before her of James at his lowest point, curled up in a corner in the library where he had locked himself away from Equestria.

"The lost mare WAS able to go back...," the purple unicorn churned through her thoughts aloud, "... but she CHOSE not to. Yet she didn't readily jump into the new world she found herself in..."

"Okay... but what makes a pony do something like that?" Gallowayo wondered.

Again she thought of James.

"... A trauma? Bad enough that she didn't go back even though she could've? Even if she really wanted to?"

The speculation squeezed the stallion's face tight.

"That'd have to be a SERIOUS trauma," he said. "Maybe something connected to whatever had left her stranded at sea? Like a fear of the water?"

"Maybe...," Twilight murmured in doubt. "Nothing in there left me with that impression. I feel like it was more about the island itself."

"Huh," Gallowayo chirped. He tilted his head and shook it, poring over his own distantly-related experiences at the island. "Can't imagine why."

"That we even have to use so much of our imaginations is part of the problem here," the other unicorn lamented.

"Hm?" He snapped back to the present, hiding the color in his cheeks. "Oh! Yes, very true."

The jarring inattentiveness inherent in his response pushed Twilight into a dumb stare.

"So," the stallion moved on, racing to inquire about the documents he had traded to her, "what do you think about Captain One Shot's log?"

"It's interesting. Not in an enlightening way," she replied, greatly displeased.

"Well, it really demonstrates just how extreme the old islanders' isolation was," he commented. "I mean, the expedition couldn't tell whether the last of them had vanished five years before or a hundred years before!"

"Yeah..." Twilight hung her head, disappointed with the thought. Yet swiftly she popped herself back up, jolted by a sudden objection, and she questioned Gallowayo, "With all those unknown years between contact, is 'vanish' really the right word?"

He held silent for a few thinking seconds before he only noted, "You're holding a copy of the very first record to have been written by outsiders who actually set hoof on the island and saw it with their own eyes. And they didn't find much at all."

"Much that they WROTE about," she amended his statement, turning his earlier idea around on him.

"That's true...," the green unicorn mused, reflecting identical humility to that which she had earlier shown. "I hadn't thought of that..."

Twilight carefully intruded upon his thoughts, soliciting his wisdom gently, "Any reason you can think of for why they might have concealed their findings?"

Again he stayed quiet as he ruminated. When he at last responded he didn't sound terribly convinced of himself. His guess had an endless number of gloomy shadows murking it, battling the logical light he was trying to cast.

"... They... were disturbed by what they found?"

A dull hum rose from Twilight. She had herself pondered the same possibility, and in some ways had been hoping for him to have casually eradicated her distressing conclusion by producing a more sound one.

"But that doesn't REALLY make sense," Gallowayo already tried to dismantle his guess. "Other expeditions came later, not the least of which was the big one the Island Society sent more recently with Venus and Vesuvius, and then those two's own extensive efforts! None of them ever found anything... unsettling."

"I guess so...," the purple unicorn sighed. Dismally she dropped the log records she was still holding, joining it with other worthless documents under the right paperweight.

The relative failure their ongoing research efforts had thrown a terrible pall over her mood. Her dejection was especially noticeable to Gallowayo given the way it contrasted to when he had earlier seen her freshly awake; little disordered and dreamy before, sure, but also so bright, cute, and ready.

Feeling somewhat responsible for the change, even if unjustly, he tried to restore some of her beautiful vitality by suggesting, "You'll have a great opportunity to throw all of your questions at Venus and Vesuvius when they take you on the tour after lunch."

It did perk her up, at least a little bit.

"That's right," she remembered. But the memory of last night's dinner and all she had already asked weighed her down, and she said, "I'm not sure how much more they'd be able to tell us. I mean, for all of their efforts here they seem to know so very little themselves."

"Still," he replied, "they know more than us. And maybe you've gleamed enough here to pull something interesting out of them."

Again Twilight appeared conservative about her chances, her mouth crumbling down as she rocked her head back and forth in a dreary way. At dinner the hosts had been very reluctant to have talked about the history in any extensive amount. Actually they had put in quite some effort to have dodged the specifics of the topic. Perhaps they were so disappointed about the dearth of known facts too...

"I suppose," she remarked nonetheless. "And if anything, four minds are even better than two, so with the both of us questioning them-"

"Oh, I'm sorry, but I'm not going to be there for the tour," a wounded Gallowayo apologized.

And as a happy surprise to him Twilight in turn also appeared hurt by the news.

"You're not?"

"No," he shook his head.

He was cycling through a chain of uncomfortable reactions: sorrow for the reality of his future absence, delight for the noticeable impression he had made on the mare, guilt for secretly rejoicing about his progress during such a sullen moment, and fright for how much of a fool he probably looked like while trying to manage his many whirling emotions.

"I, uh-... Well, there's-... After lunch, I need to, uh-... I need the time to, ah..." He coughed in his throat. "... practice."

"Practice?"

"Yeah, um..." He wasn't ashamed; merely off-center and unprepared. "With-... with the band."

The new information was so out of place that it took a moment to sink into Twilight's brain, but once it did she lit up with curious glee.

"You're in a band? Really?" she smiled.

"Ever since I came here, yeah," answered Gallowayo, his nerves steeling up now that he saw her bright response. He quickly grew more and more enthused as he explained his history to her, "I mean, I've always written music and songs. And I mean WRITTEN; like, scribbled it down just for the fun of it, kept it to myself and everything. But I took a much greater interest in the whole thing when I came here because Venus and Vesuvius found out about my tiny hobby and... sort of pushed me into showcasing my music. They got some of the others to back me up and... I don't know, I figured I'd actually give PERFORMING a shot. So long story short, well... now I'm the official stage entertainment here, and I'll be singing at the party tonight!"

Twilight held her hoof over her mouth and giggled. She apologized to him for the seemingly disrespectful response, saying, "I'm sorry; I don't mean to be rude! You just don't seem like the singer type to me!"

"That's fine!" the stallion burst out laughing, completely at ease. "Not long ago I would have agreed with you! Never in my life had I performed on stage; not until I came here and started singing for the band."

The solidness of that particular detail astounded her, and she asked, "What, really? Never?"

"Never, ever," he confirmed. "I mean I've always sung my stuff to get the tune figured out; like, sung in head, or softly to myself. But never before had I performed publicly. The thought of being up on stage like that used to frighten me stiff. But ever since they convinced me to try getting up there..."

His audience was listening raptly, and being so aware of her keen attention made him excited. The color swarmed into his face, he dropped his gaze, and his words started to stagger as he tried to assemble the right description. The island had rendered such a wonderful change in him that he had even gained the strength to have made the brave leap onto the stage, but what exactly the full experience was like was still something so undefinable.

"When you're up there and everypony's eyes are on you, you think you're going to feel so... self-aware, and scared. In fact it always DOES feel like that at first. You haven't even started and you're so covered in sweat because of how nervous you are. But then everything begins and there's-... there's this ENERGY that appears out of nowhere. It floods the air; it drowns you, slowly without you realizing it at first. I mean, the lights are hot and boiling; you're ON FIRE. And the music ramps up, blurring to just a huge noise that's so loud it pounds through the stage and right into YOUR BODY, making you jump. And every last FIBER in you becomes so sensitive; you can FEEL it; feel EACH AND EVERY TIME your pulse THROBS. And when it actually comes time to SING... you CAN'T STOP YOURSELF from making the noises. Everything engages, and it justs COMES OUT; you feel that POWER flowing through you. It's like-... like-... like you change; like all of you changes; all of you TRANSFORMS. You become this rocket that... blasts off with more energy than you've EVER IMAGINED you could have, and you can't stop moving even if you wanted to, and your mind can't stop thinking about nothing and everything all at once, and the soaring doesn't end until you suddenly crash and explode."

Twilight was absolutely fascinated, though the vivid image he had been trying to create hadn't been what had fully grasped her. More enticing was how his words had been bound by very loose connections; he had painted a picture that felt so incomplete, but of a mystery not completely indiscoverable. Most compelling of all was how thoroughly he had devoted himself to trying to express his mind. He was shivering from tail to nose. Something so real and powerful was inside him, making him shake like that. Even if he couldn't describe it with sufficient precision he adored it regardless; bathed himself in it. He wanted to live in it forever.

Gallowayo took a few needed breathes, almost gasping. Air charged with electricity passed in and out through his awestruck smile. He couldn't sum the experience up except to say, "... It's so AMAZING."

"You certainly make it sound that way!" the purple unicorn responded, quite happy and enchanted. "I never would have imagined describing being a performer in terms like that!"

"Me too, at first," he said. He was still awash with trembling energy. "But now that I've discovered it I can't stop. Writing those songs and performing them is one of my avenues of expression; probably the most important one of all now. I mean, that feeling you get when you're on the stage... all that power... all those sensations... That's THE CLOSEST thing there is to what it feels like to-"

Something bite him and he snapped up, very aware of Twilight all of a sudden. A nervous cold swept into him, blowing out all the heat that had previously dominated; not a radiator turned off but one burst from a flash coating of ice. His stare shrank, his pupils crushed by his whites.

"-to... to, uh-... feels like to-...," he dribbled, hardly coherent. A shake of his head and a hard reseating of his rump brought some slight sturdiness back to him, but he finished his thought with only mellow, lifeless, dismissing words, "... to, you know... be-, be in love, I guess."

The other pony cocked her head, blinking her eyes once slow.

"That... sounds like quite a turbulent romance."

"Well, nopony ever knew it could be such a wild thing...," he answered, though having not actually intended to have opened his mouth.

Again Twilight was puzzled, and she asked, "Gallowayo... are you alrigh-"

Overpowering her question he suddenly beamed, "I'm really looking forward to hearing what you think about my songs! Venus and Vesuvius, along with most of the other ponies, really enjoy them and everything, but so few of them 'get' what I'm trying to say with them. That's why I've been so excited for your coming. You're very intelligent, and with all your studies of friendship you're so much more invested in understanding how ponies feel about each other. You care about this in a way that nopony else does. I knew the instant I read your essay that you'd be a pony I'd want to share this with. You'd understand."

The purple unicorn held quiet for several long seconds. The jumpy turns to his outward character were certainly odd. It was an observation she had made yesterday too: the way his confidence soared until it suddenly plummeted, and vice versa. He moved powerfully between things.

But in the end she wasn't troubled by his idiosyncrasies. She was instead most touched by the open faith he put in her, and by his obvious adoration for studious ability.

"I can't wait," she softly smiled.

Gallowayo couldn't help but smile as well, his cheeks puffing a little with tender warmth as his inner-reflection calmed and he woke up to a lucky reality.

"I'm really glad to hear that... I've been looking forward to this for weeks." He twinged mildly, suspecting he had sounded perhaps too forward and also believing that the sum of his recent behaviors probably hadn't presented the most impressive picture of a normal or interesting pony. He was still hopeful, but the repetitive wiggles of his nervousness forced him to defend himself with a weak coda of, "Not to, uh... sound weird, or anything."

"It doesn't sound weird at all," she pleasantly assured him. She even released a small laugh, tickled by her own thoughts. So he had a desire to share his more personal musing with somepony else? It was no unusual thing for her to sit down and enjoy a lengthy conversation with another pony about close, strange, foreign, or uncomfortable topics! Certainly not after all the time she had spent doing exactly that with James! Between her own innate love of knowledge and all of her practice with the man she had been hardened enough to have been able to handle anything! In the debates with her human friend there hadn't existed a subject which she wouldn't have approached openly.

Well... ALMOST. There were things that had been hard to talk about... and... maybe some things that hadn't been talked about at all. B-But the one most recently denied subject had been a v-very reasonable exception! The M-MOST reasonable exception!

"Really?" Gallowayo burst into her thoughts. He sounded quite soothed. "It's such a relief to have somepony to talk with about all these mysteries on my mind; somepony who'll listen."

"I'm happy to," Twilight answered truthfully.

But the stallion continued, speaking very candidly.

"Sometimes here it's like I'm somepony from another world, and everything I see is through a completely different lens from everypony else. I've been glad to get to know all the ponies here; they're nice... but most of them just don't want to explore these things I feel so deeply. So to have somepony around who'll talk, who'll listen, who'll try to understand, who'll try to get on the same wavelength... it eases that silent sort of loneliness that creeps into you even when there's good company around. To be a little more understood by somepony else... it kind of helps you understand yourself, you know?"

He looked to Twilight for a comment or answer, but he was distraught to see that something about his message had disquieted her. By all appearances her thoughts had become fixed inwards, with her senses unaware of him or the rest of the world.

"Yeah...," she spoke up after a moment, "... I... know someone who probably feels exactly like that..."

"... Twilight?"

She blinked her way back to the present.

"It's nothing," the purple unicorn came around with a warm face, convincing him as well as herself of her own sincerity. "It sounds like there's plenty to look forward to for this evening then. But in the meantime... I guess that means I'll be on my own to confront Venus and Vesuvius during the tour, huh?"

Gallowayo gave a soft chuckle, "Yeah. Sorry."

"Oh, that's no problem," she insisted. "We just better make sure we pull everything out of these papers that we possibly can and then pool our knowledge!"

"Right," the stallion agreed. His magic started sorting through his nearest pages again, trying to find his place.

Twilight happily picked out more work for herself as well, but not before she promised him, "And later I'll be sure to share with you everything I learn from them!"

Perfectly set up, the volleyball practically hovered dead center over the net while it spun in the air. Nosedive, his dark gold wings spread for a lightning glide, put his best into soaring towards it. One well-placed strike would slice the ball through the other team's defenses and nab a sorely-needed point.

His hoof swung down hard, but mere inches shy of landing the blow the ball was pounded first by a rainbow wind that surged up from miles away. The burning ball bypassed the unready stallion, lured James into an unsuccessful dive which put him flat on his chest, and in the end skipped across the sand leaving a soft crater behind.

"YYYEEESSS!" Rainbow Dash yelled as she zipped back up from her superior spike. "THAT'S GAME!"

"Well played," Nosedive said, bringing himself to a gentle landing before the net.

The game had started slow but as it had worn on the stallion had in actual fact wound up putting some of his best effort into it, and still she had outperformed him with relative ease. Though a disappointing result in natural ways, he largely felt unsurprised; she was supposed to be that good, after all. Really, now that he had personally witnessed her athletic talent he had no qualms describing it as awe-inspiring.

He began to congratulate her, "Thank you for-"

"HAHA, IN YOUR FACE!"

Rainbow Dash had her hoof thrust into the net, stretching the mesh as she pointed at the defeated party. She was still in the air, kept up by the victorious energy bounding through her whipping wings, and even her sneering had less of an aggressive heat and more of an overcharged triumph to it.

"YOU THOUGHT YOU'D TAKE IT IN THE EARLY GAME BUT YOU WEREN'T READY FOR THE FULL POWER OF THE INVINCIBLE RAINBOW DASH! BOO-YAH!"

"Keep building yourself up, Thunder-butt," James teased her with equal force, standing again and dusting the sand off of his chest. "It'll only make your inevitable fall that much sweeter."

"Hah!" the laughing pegasus gloated, "Guess you don't know the meaning of 'invincible,' do you, Hay-for-brains?"

She swooped her way through a victory loop before she dove in front her teammate, and hovering there she held a leg out towards her friend.

"Gimme hoof, Pinkie!"

As far as the pink pony had been involved the game hadn't started out so dynamically. At the beginning her butt had never lifted off of the sand; Rainbow Dash had pushed her into place on the appropriate side of the net, and during the first rallies she had stayed there like a cast anchor. No flying ball or changing score had motivated her to so much as disturb a grain of sand.

Her wholesale inaction had made the game into an effective two-versus-one match which had allowed James and Nosedive a lead in points. Their lead had never grown terribly large though, owing to Rainbow Dash's impressive ability to carry her team well entirely on her own. Any generous effort by winning side to question or address the unfairness of the situation had been fast shut down by the rainbow pegasus; her hope had been to have hidden the problem underneath an impenetrably dense lack of acknowledgment.

But then, around the thirteenth rally, there had been the tiniest change. Another shot had swiftly cleared the net while Rainbow Dash had been too busy recovering from her last return, and the ball had been falling towards the paralyzed Pinkie Pie. Yet again it had seemed like another free point for the other team. But then to the surprise of all, the weakest movement had come from the pink pony when she hoisted her backside slightly off the sand. With a short reach her limp hoof had then tapped the airborne ball.

It hadn't been much of a hit; the ball had still crashed into the sand after her ineffectual play. But it had been the start of a change that had only grown stronger as the game had continued.

Never during the match had she exploded in vibrant giggles, or bounded in irrepressible joy, or walloped the volleyball in a comically exaggerated strike, but serve after serve she had participated with more and more life. In time she had been returning shots with appreciable accuracy, bouncing the ball with hoof or nose, and later still she had begun on occasion setting her partner up for powerful attacks.

With actual backup to support Rainbow Dash, as well as to cover any infrequent mistakes, the pegasus had been allowed to quickly take control of the game. It hadn't been long before the slightly lopsided scores had rapidly reversed, and the former losing team had rocketed to victory.

But that hadn't been all. Towards the end of the game, in just a bare few rare moments, there had appeared meager smiles on the pink pony's face.

Now one of the victors, Pinkie Pie looked up at Rainbow Dash and the outstretched hoof she offered. One more lucky moment was notched as the pink pony generated another short, simple, tiny smile. She raised up her own hoof and delivered a languid but celebratory tap; a faint, squishy, but affirming clop.

The feel of the weak hit finally pulled the pegasus away from her own self-glorification. Her wings tenderly brought her down to the ground, and she threw a leg around her friend in a sincere, shoulder-to-shoulder half-hug.

"Good game, Pinkie."

"Heh... Thank you..."

"So, is that it?" James asked loudly from his side of the net. "Or are we doing a rematch?"

Back to form, Rainbow Dash laughed, "What, are you that desperate to be defeated again already?"

"Just asking," the man shrugged, hiding his silliness for a moment in order to speak honestly. He tossed a temporary, quizzical glance at Pinkie Pie before he focused again on the pegasus and said, "I'm down if you are, I guess."

She scrutinized her pink friend quickly. The other pony lowered her eyes and shivered so scantly as to not be seen. The pegasus felt the miniature shake through her hooked leg, and even it wasn't a rocking tremble it was still clear that the pink pony was beset by an unplaceable sort of exhaustion.

"Nah," Rainbow Dash said as she extracted herself from Pinkie Pie. "Believe it or not I think one butt-whooping is enough for today."

James nodded then looked off at Prism, still an avid spectator who had her eyes on the sweating man.

"Yeah, I think I feel the same," he said. "Thanks for the game."

"Hey!"

Rainbow Dash sprinted over, crossing under the net so that she could hold a hoof out to him too.

"Thanks for playing."

Recognizing one of her true displays he gave her hoof his best pound of friendship.

After a trade of casual goodbyes the man departed to rejoin Prism; the unicorn delightedly floated his perfectly preserved necklace to him as he approached. Rainbow Dash meanwhile turned back, intent on returning to Pinkie Pie to support her downcast friend.

"Quite a game."

In surprise Rainbow Dash jumped towards the voice, having not noticed a single hint of Nosedive's plain approach. Her flinch only caused him to flinch as well.

"Your performance was amazing," he said, valiantly trying to smooth over the awkward moment. But he hardly helped himself when he raised his hoof up to her in a fairly blatant and ill-delivered mimicry of all the friendly exchanges of gratitude that had been going around. "Thank you," he added unsteadily.

"Oh. Yeah, sure," the colorful pegasus acknowledged with minimal effort. The whole thing really seemed like the most forced exchange ever. She politely gave his hoof a fast tap just to get it over with. "Thanks for playing."

"Thank you. Uh, again," he croaked.

"Right... so... later."

Rainbow Dash turned about and once more began to walk towards Pinkie Pie.

"Uh, Miss Rainbow Dash!" Nosedive chased after her a step, trying again to properly introduce himself for the first time. "Uh, may I-... ah..."

She stopped. Her sole intent was still to attend to her pink friend, and so she granted him only the most cursory attention. At the earliest sign of his uncertain stammering – at the very first dented word – she short-circuited the boring exchange by interrupting, "Game's done and we're not playing again, so yeah, if you want to take down the net then sure, go for it."

"I-"

"Thanks a bunch."

Leaving the distraction behind Rainbow Dash returned to the quiet Pinkie Pie. The pink pony had sat back down in the sand, stewing in an unusually obvious amount of deep thought.

"So hey, that went pretty well!" the pegasus said in an upbeat voice.

"I... guess...," the other pony replied in a tone so very opposite.

"Hey, come on," Rainbow Dash tried to sound as relaxed and positive as possible, "you got to play a regular old friendly game of volleyball with him, nothing went wrong, AND you had fun, right?"

"I... guess...," she answered again. Then her little fears spoke up, "... but it kind of felt like all the parties and the baking and the everything I've done with him before. Only-... only... this time PINKIE PIE wasn't genuine..."

The pegasus pulled back with gaping eyes, alarmed at the strange choice of words. Quickly she shook off her surprise and resumed her reinforcing arguments.

"What? No, come on, you had fun. I mean, it was different, and you took a little while to get going, but you had fun. I saw you smile!"

"I... guess I kind of did...," Pinkie Pie almost lamented.

"See?" her friend insisted, "It's just something that has to happen slowly and carefully. I know that's not your style, or mine either really, but if you warm up to him bit by bit instead of Pinkie-ing all over him then eventually he'll warm up to you too. You just got to be a little patient; it's going to take TIME."

The pink pony held still, keeping her face pointed down. In a whisper she let out what she had been mulling over for the past few minutes.

"... But Hulahoof wants to be friends NOW..."

Yet again Rainbow Dash was astonished at her friend's specific words, and with her suspicious eyebrow parked high she asked, "Since when do YOU compare your friends?"

But the other pony stood up and turned away from pegasus, net, and game. She started to wander back in the more carefree direction she had originally come from; a direction down which a stallion still dressed in ridiculous beachwear was goofing off. And as she went she mumbled.

"Pinkie Pie is a happy friend..."