Come Down from Yonder Bookshelf
‘So you’re still not coming down?’
‘Nope.’
‘And there’s nothing that I can say that’ll change your mind?’
‘Yep.’
‘Aaaaand you’ve been talking to Big Mac again.’
‘You're damn right I have.’
Twilight sighed. He had slunk up to his makeshift nest atop the bookshelves when she’d first popped the question, and she hadn’t been able to coax him down since. Under normal circumstances, she would probably have just left well enough alone. Give it awhile, let him sleep it off, make some quick apology in the morning, and let the matter drop. She’d certainly done it enough times before.
But these were most definitely not normal circumstances. She couldn’t just let a golden opportunity like this slip through her hooves! It would be horribly irresponsible -- neigh, criminal! Especially considering how seriously she took her responsibilities as a hostess.
No, Twilight Sparkle was an indomitable mare at the best of times, and once she really set her mind to something, there was very little that could dissuade her. Maybe it was that willful streak her mother had always warned her about, or the years of tenacity she’d built up bludgeoning her way through fifteen terms’ worth of assignments at Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns, or even the sheer bloody-mindedness she’d had to employ to make things happen in lethargic, provincial Ponyville. But whatever the reason, once she decided something was going to happen, then by sweet Luna’s star-speckled flank, it happened.
And if she had to go up there and drag him down by force, this was going to happen.
‘Must be getting late’, he called down from behind a hastily-erected wall of pillows. ‘Maybe you ought to consider going to bed. Busy day tomorrow and all.’
It was true, of course -- even the chronically nocturnal Spike was snoozing in his basket. But Twilight was no stranger to the odd all-nighter, and she’d certainly pulled them for less.
‘Almost midnight, actually, but I don’t have anywhere I need to be in the morning.’
‘Well, maybe I do.’
She eyed him. They had not known each other long, but this was most certainly some of the most untoward behaviour she’d seen from him so far. And considering they’d first met as he stumbled, dazed, battered and smoking, out of a white-hot crater in the Everfree Forest, that was definitely saying something. To be sure, there had been things he had been uncomfortable with before now, thrust as he had been into this new and alien world, but she’d been sure they were making progress.
Until tonight, at any rate.
He did say he was interested . . .
She weighed her options. He was obviously no stranger to tactical entrenchment; the shelf he’d selected was easily defensible and, as she recalled from Spike’s occasional efforts to find a quiet place to read his comics, quite hard for someone possessed of hooves to reach. She supposed she could just grapple him with a magical field and drag him down that way, but . . . well, she still wanted to be able to look him in the eye when all was said and done.
No, she would have to take a different tack.
So she did.
Fixing her gaze on the pair of eyes peering suspiciously out from over the top of the downy barricade, she dazzled him with the most winning smile she could muster.
‘Come on,’ she coaxed. ‘It could be fun!’
’Fun? Books are fun. Cards are fun. Even Vinyl’s nightclub, in a pinch. What you were suggesting? Not fun.’
‘Sure it is! Just think, you’ve been looking for something to remember your visit by. It’d make a great story to share with your friends back home!’
He actually snorted.
‘Like I’d ever admit to this. Still trying to forget you even suggested it.'
Twilight’s eyes narrowed. ‘Well excuse me, then. You’re the one who said -- what was it? -- you wanted to “experience everything this place had to offer while you were here”. Sorry for trying to help you out.'
‘Did I say that?’
‘You did. You so did.'
‘Well, I certainly didn’t mean to imply--’
‘Look. You’ve been saying since you got here how similar everything is to your home, right? Culture, language, art, railroads, the lot of it, yeah?’
‘Give or take a few centuries, but yeah.'
‘Fine. So what’s so different about this?’
‘I just don’t think I’d like it, is all.'
‘And how would you know, without having tried it?’
‘Well--’
‘Exactly. You don’t.' Her expression softened somewhat. ‘Look, I promise you you’re being silly about this. There’s nothing to be scared of. I don’t bite. It certainly won’t either.'
‘Scared? Who said anything about scared? All I said was, “no”. And I was really hoping you’d take that for an answer.’
‘You said--’
‘I said a lot of things when I first showed up here, Twilight. And you don’t seem to be holding me to my questions about the pink elephants as much as you are this.’
‘Giraffes, actually. And you weren’t exactly in your right mind--’
‘Exactly.’
‘--you weren’t in your right mind then. But you definitely said something about it later.’
‘Doesn’t mean I’m going to do it now.’
‘Oh come on. Give me one good reason you've suddenly lost your sense of adventure.'
‘Alright, fine. You want a real reason? I’ll give you one: I’m not an Equine.'
She blinked. ‘And?’
He couldn’t quite meet her eye. ‘What, you want me to get down to the . . . nuts and bolts of it?’
‘If you please.’
‘Well, our physiologies are so wildly different . . . there’s no telling what might happen.’
‘Okay, now you’re just making excuses.’
‘I am not,' he said, looking affronted. ‘It’s a legitimate concern. I don’t want either of us getting hurt.’
She gave him a look flat enough to build a house on. ‘Please. I’ve done the research. There’s about as much danger to either of us as Fluttershy feeding that bunny of hers. And worst comes to worst, Spike knows how to use a mop.’
He made a noise of slight revulsion, and retreated further still into his nest. Twilight rolled her eyes. This was getting old very fast.
‘Well, fine. If that’s how you feel about it, we could try and do it another way. Baby steps, you know.’ She pointed. ‘You could go down--’
‘Not for you, not for anyone.’
She blinked. He was looking daggers at her, for reasons she couldn't quite fathom. She'd thought it a fairly innocent suggestion. But, then, there was no telling how his mind worked.
'Well, I suppose it's good to know it's not me that's the problem.’
‘Never said it was.’
‘No, so far this has all been you. I mean, really, do you think anyone else from your world would be kicking up this much of a fuss?’
‘No, and I can think of a few who’d be scrambling over each other to get some.’
She was about to open her mouth to respond again, when an absolutely wicked idea struck her. One precision ego-strike, on the hoof.
‘What about a Human?’
Jackpot. Even from this distance, she could see the dark fur along his neck bristling in indignation.
‘What about them?’ he said, evenly.
‘Well, you’re always gabbing on about how they won’t do anything in their own best interest. What if it was one of them here, now? Do you think they’d be complaining quite as much?’
The bristle intensified. ‘If you've heard half of what I've said about them, you'd know the answer to that already.’
‘I've listened. Maybe they’re more adaptable than you are.' (Another bristle.) 'I mean, it’s not like you’re going to be seeing anything else for a while. Maybe even a long while.’
Her eyes flashed. ‘Maybe you should start getting used to it.’
Remarkably, he maintained his calm.
‘We’re working to fix that.’
She shrugged by way of response. ‘Maybe true, but you haven’t had any since you got here. And that was, what, a week ago? More?’
She held up a warning hoof as he started to protest. ‘Don’t. I’d have heard if you had. The ponies in this town may be crazy, but they do love their gossip.’
That had riled him. From what she could see of his face, he was clearly gearing up for an appropriately vicious response.
‘I bet you just love that, don’t you?’ he finally snapped. ‘Being the centre of attention around here? Must really hurt that ego of yours when someone finally tells you “no”.’
Her eyes widened for a moment, then narrowed. ‘My ego? You’re one to talk, Mister Won’t-Accept-Help-or-Charity-of-Any-Kind-If-It-Kills-Him! How thick do you have to be to turn down what I’m offering you on a bucking plate?’
‘Oh, and this is your idea of charity, is it? You’re probably just looking for an excuse to study a little xenobiology! Make a great report for your Princess -- firsthoof experience with a prime specimen, am I right?’
‘What?’ Twilight exclaimed, turning a furious shade of scarlet. ‘How-- after everything we’ve been through, you really think that’s what I’m after? Oh sweet Celestia, you are thick.’
‘Oh, and what was the first thing you said when I woke up?’ He affected a horribly breathy, flustered voice. ‘“Oh, wow, what a prime specimen he is.” Prime specimen,’ he snarled. ‘Like I belong in a bloody lab! Or the zoo!’
‘I can’t believe you think I’d-- You-- I--’ Twilight was practically incoherent.
‘And what’s worse -- when I say I’d rather not be your little guinea pig, you won’t listen! Read my lips, Twilight.’ Even at full volume, he managed to exaggerate every word. ‘The. Answer. Is. No. Noooooo.’
Twilight stamped a hoof in frustration. ‘Oh, that’s it. You’re coming out of there if I have to come up there and get you myself!’
‘There’s no way in hell!’
'You're being irrational!'
'You're going to get me killed!'
'It is not going to kill you!'
'No, you just want me under a microscope!'
‘It’s a Celestia-damned sandwich!’ Twilight bellowed.
‘It’s got flowers in!’
A ringing silence followed. They stared each other down, the combatants, breathing laboured, eyes narrowed, teeth set. A moment more, and it would be time for the next bout. No holds would be barred, no quarter given and none asked for.
And just as they opened their mouths to begin, there floated from the loft the half-conscious, highly recriminating words: ‘Star Swirl’s britches, would you two just buck already . . .’
‘Well. That was stupid, wasn’t it?’
‘A bit, yeah. Sorry, I was being thick about it. Probably just hungry.’
‘Nah, I should’ve left well enough alone. I’m sure you can take care of yourself; you've managed it this long.’
‘Sure, but . . . well, I appreciate you looking out for me, y’know?’
‘Yeah, well. What’re friends for, right?’
‘I suppose.’
‘Just one thing, though . . .’
‘Mm?’
‘When I started to suggest you go to Sugarcube Corner, try to get some bread or something, you practically had a conniption. What was the trouble?’
‘You can’t guess?’
‘. . . no? Really, come on. Tell me.’
‘You know how much trouble I had with this when it was you. Do you really think I’d want that pink twit bouncing around, making things even more uncomfortable? Thank you, no.’
‘. . . fair point. Now, would you mind passing the salad?’
Author's Note
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