Closure

WAKE UP, PENCIL DUST.

What a great life I have.

I have parents that most fillies could only wish for, an adorable brother, and all the time in the world. And to top it all off, we live in what is most likely the most idyllic town in Equestria.

Ponyville has always had that young spirit, all while keeping the look of an old town. After ponies get their cutie marks and grow up enough to take care of themselves, their parents move to bigger cities, leaving their house behind for the next of kin. Not sure how to feel about that, but I guess once you’re old enough you want your fillies and colts to grow up in the best possible place and also give them their space. Does it work like that everywhere or only in small, relaxed towns like ours? I really wouldn't know – those few days I've been in cities like Canterlot and Hoofington, I spent all my time absorbing the wonderful skyline. Hoofington is modern and Canterlot is so... majestic. I can see it well from my house, but actually being there is a different thing entirely. The fine detail on those arches, the imposing towers, the stained glass! No wonder the Princess lives there. Or is it because the Princess lives there? Regardless, it’s a thing of beauty.

How did I even get so obsessed with buildings? And those fine details nopony else seems to notice? Obviously dad has been a massive influence, being a Canterlot architect, especially because he works at home.

When I was a foal, he always let me spy on him while working. Drawing cute houses, making playhouses based on those pictures from small sticks and paper – for a silly filly of my age, it seemed like he was just playing day and night. And once school started, I silently cursed Celestia for making me waste time with boring things while my dad could just play in the meantime. It didn’t take long for him to notice my grudge against the playtime oppressing regime and explained that basically the more I’ll study in school, the more playtime I’ll get to have when I grow up. A bit oversimplified and overly optimistic, but it was enough for me. With his smile, he could have told me that he sneaks out during the night and works as a secret Canterlot operative and I’d buy it. I took everything he said to my heart.

With age, though, I found out that it takes him more than sticks and paper to do his job. Relentless deadlines, calculations of the most irrelevant things and writing down hundred page reports that nopony will ever even fully read. Do Canterlot paper pushers really need to know that at least one 150 millimeter diameter drain is needed for every 10 square meters of the roof so it will be able to handle even the fiercest downpour Equestria can muster? Perhaps it’s only my dad who goes into such painstaking detail with every single project. I want to be like him, but I certainly don’t want to put so much effort into things that don’t even matter. I know I won’t go measuring rats to make sure a grate keeps them out. Though considering my usual lack of attention to detail, perhaps I should walk in his hoofsteps at least once. Castle drafts only having massive throne halls and no other functional rooms isn’t a very good way to start an architecture career.

Function over form, he always said. Perhaps I should write that on the wall above my desk, like he did. It should be a strong enough hint so I realize that a good looking roof also has to keep you dry and that glass buildings, as impressive as they appear, are not very cheap to heat up during the winter.

I should really get up. Just thinking won’t get me anywhere and there is work to be done. What time is it, anyway? Wait, what day is it? Is it Thursday? I have a presentation of my project work at school tomorrow so I better get on my hooves. No, wait. No. It’s Wednesday. We have pancakes for dinner every Tuesday. It must be Wednesday. I guess I can afford to sleep in a little bit more.

Ugh. This is stupid. Come on, get up. You’re not daddy’s little filly anymore. Prove you’re a mare that can take care of herself. A mare that can make something other than a sandwich and tea. A mare that sleeps on top of bed covers?

Right. Fever. I’ve had it for the last few days and it never disappoints in making me do dumb things. It’s still an improvement over waking up on the balcony, like two days ago. And the day before that. I’m glad I feel fine now. It would be only a matter of time before I’d wake up trapped in the fridge or a chimney.

GET UP.

Seems awfully quiet. Usually at this time, my little foal of a brother is making a ruckus. I guess he went to the shops with mom to pressure her into getting those sweet chocolate waffles again. Such simple and elegant food. And delicious. I really hope there’s some left. And milk. I really crave some milk right now.

INDULGE IN THE SUNLIGHT.

I don’t even know why I keep shutting the blinds every single night, let alone how and when I did that when I still had fever. I started doing it when I couldn’t sleep in the full moon, but now I do it every single evening, regardless of how bright it is. Having the gentle, warm touch of the sun nuzzle your face is a much nicer way to start a day than just waiting for some sudden noise to jolt you awake or completely running out of things to dream about.

GO TO THE KITCHEN.

Nopony here. I guess I was right. Dad’s probably working already, so better keep him alone, at least for now. I’ll spare him the morning before I nag him for a some help with my things.

The waffles are gone. Of course. I’ll just have some milk then. A cup of milk is a good way to kick start the day. After that, a short walk and by the time I return, hopefully mom and Little Nib the sugar blackmailer will already be back with some delicious waffles. At least there’s enough milk in the fridge so I don’t end up walking on an empty stomach.

POUR THE MILK INTO YOUR FAVOURITE CUP.

Should I heat it? ...Nah, warm milk is much too comforting and sleepy. Cold milk just seems more... potent. Though wouldn’t warm milk give me more energy? Heat is energy after all. Does heated milk have more energy then? Must be more psychological than related to the actual energy levels in-

REACT TO KNOCKING ON THE DOOR.

Strangers. And nopony but me to answer. My brother would already be rushing to the door to see what mysterious pony came to visit us today, but I’m not too fond of anypony just popping in unannounced - I always just end up making myself look awkward and incompetent. Is it neighbours? Assassins? Some fancy pants Canterlot officials? At the very least I should check. If it’s someone fancy, I’ll just go get my dad and he’ll talk to them, they’re usually here to meet him anyways. That will work.

PEEK OUT THE WINDOW.

Oh, it’s just a mail delivery. But... It’s her. I can’t stand her. I can’t look at her and I can’t talk to her. Like this it’s fine, but face to face... ugh. Mom always told me to be tolerant, to not judge others by their looks. Well, it’s easy for her to say that when she’s blind.

...What am I thinking. How can I even think that and mean it. What is wrong with me?

I’m sorry mom. I just...

…

Oh! Finally she left. Thank Celestia for that. Why couldn’t she just drop the mail through the slot and leave? Maybe if she just did that I wouldn’t get the chance to make myself feel terrible.

Oh, she did drop it through the slot. I guess she had something to sign as well. Whatever. Better take those on the table before somepony tramples some incredibly important documents.

DRINK THE MILK.

Right. Time for milk.

Where is the milk? I left the cup on the table, didn’t I? Nopony took it...

Well the cup is back in the cupboard. And it’s empty. Did I even fill it? Or did I drink it already? Well if I did, I sure could use some more.

Maybe I should make a cup holder for my saddlebags so I’d never lose it. But that would get a bit painful to use after a while. Maybe I should just get one of those hats that have two tiny barrels and silly straws, that would solve all the problems. I’d look like a dweeb but at least I wouldn’t be thirsty.

READ THE HEADLINES.

I should really read up on what’s new. I have no idea what is going on in the world these days. No, not days, years. I even slept through the day Nightmare Moon returned and it took me a week to sort of get the idea what happened. Even after so many months I’m still not sure. So Nightmare Moon isn’t evil anymore and now she’s back on the throne? Whatever. That’s old news. Let’s see some new news.

Princess honours heroes? I guess that means that the world is already saved and I’m already late to the party. Again.

Buffalo Leotard Bros. rise to stardom? What am I even reading.

Deadly fever’s silent strikes - deadly fever? I know scaremongering is part of their business, but they really need to hire better writers that have at least some idea what part they can just make up.

This is stupid. I’m wasting my time.

DRINK THE MILK AND GO FOR A WALK.

…

Getting up early really is rewarding. Well, at least earlier than I usually do. The warm sun, the chilly air, it’s just perfect. Celestia must feel pretty good about herself, having the sun look so beautiful. I wonder if she ever gets tired of raising and lowering it every single day.

Nopony outside though. I thought I’d see at least half a dozen doing various chores. Perhaps I’m just those few minutes too early and they’re inside having a hearty breakfast. Speaking of which, I still need to gob down a few golden ratio rectangular chocolate waffles. Mom and Nib should be back by now so I should head back at this point.

RETURN TO YOUR HOUSE AND EAT SOME CHOCOLATE WAFFLES.

Why is all the mail back at the door? I bet somepony made a mess of some important crunchy letter and tried to frame somepony else. Little Nib is in a lot of trouble right now. Unless he’ll bribe me with his share of the waffles. That’s always acceptable. Is that a dragon?

…

Okay, so there’s a dragon... thing at our table. Reading our newspaper.

He’s so... weird. Ugly. Repulsive. And he’s sitting in my chair.

CONVERSE WITH THE VISITOR.

“Get off my chair you monster!”

Oh yeah, that was smooth. He’s probably an important customer and I just called him a monster without even saying hi. Well he DOES look like a monster. Like a dragon... who is also a pony. And a bat and a buffalo. And Celestia knows what else. He looks like a broken toy that was patched up using parts from a bunch of different toys until all the holes were sewed shut with limbs and horns.

And he looks so smug. Like he’s so much better than everypony else. Like he owns this place. The fact that he’s wearing sunglasses makes it even worse. What an imbecile.

Stop. Calm down. Be polite. Apologise. Make your mom proud for once. Assuming this conversation can be salvaged and I can make myself look like a grown mare just having a bad day and not a foal that just had her toy taken away.

“I- I’m sorry.”

Of course that convinced him. The best acting Equestria has ever seen. I bet it’ll earn me a golden Victor for Best Actress of the year. And judging from his slight smirk, he agrees. He might be amused and forgiving after this pathetic attempt to hide my rudeness, but he’s still irritating me and he’s still sitting in my chair.

“So, uh, who are you?” Oh great, he even took my Buck Bricks. “And why are you eating my cereal?”

He’s lucky I’m feeling so nice today. Any other day he’d already be leaving with a hoof sized black eye.

…

I know it’s not polite to talk while you’re still chewing, but it’s not polite to stare either. Just... say something alre-!

“Has it got your name on it?”

-Eh, what? Why would I write my name on a cereal box?

“Of course not.”

“Then I’ll stay where I am.”

Oh, he meant the chair. I thought we were past that. I guess the smug look is well earned this time.

“But I do apologise for the unannounced intrusion into your lovely house. Let me start again, with a proper introduction. My name Is Discord. I’m here to help settle some unfinished business.”

Well, he seems nice enough. But he’s no more pleasant to look at than he was before he started swaying me with his smooth speech. And the name... Rings a bell, but I can’t recall from where. Better go get my dad before I end up sick of his face.

“You must be looking for my dad then. He’s in the work room. I’ll go get him right now.”

“Actually, I’m not looking for your father, Miss Pencil Dust, this is entirely about you.”

“Me? What did I even do?”

Did I break something while sleepwalking? I don’t recall anything worse than just waking up sleeping in a weird place in the most uncomfortable position.

It can’t be anything bad since he seems pretty relaxed. Either that or he’s a professional cold blooded assassin that June Bug sent upon me for breaking those awful garden ornaments in my fever induced breaking spree. I’ll take my chances.

“Oh my little pony. Don’t you read the news?”

Well I can’t really read them if you’ve got the newspaper. Wait, I’m in the news? I’ll rather take back that thing about taking my chances.

TAKE THE NEWSPAPER AND FIND THE ARTICLE.

“Uh, could you...”

“Of course. Second to last page, lower right corner.”

He seems... disappointed. Or sad. Sad that I still didn’t know or sad because of what I did? I don’t even know what to think. Let’s just get this over with.

…

Oh, there’s a picture of me, smiling even! Let’s see what I did, then. Judging from how sensationalist they usually are, it can’t possibly be a bad thing.

...

READ THE OBITUARY.