My OC Hunger Games Submissions

by Broken Starlight

Rating: teen
Tags: Random, Adventure, Comedy, Romance
Length: 5167

Little short stories I wrote for GodOfBBQ's contest.

It's a collection of short stories written for this contest; I didn't take things even remotely seriously, and it shows.

Eventually, I might get around to editing and re-uploading these, but probably not.

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2015-09-11 21:17:49 UTC

Double Moon Flare versus Kaiber Crystal

Congratulations! You have been invited to the first round of the first annual OC Hunger Games! This is the first round, and is hosted at Bar 97, 97 Celestia Street, Canterlot City, starting at 1pm today. Sorry for the short notice, we needed to verify all the competitors first. The event will consist of a duel to the death…

You know what, I’m not even going to bother reading the rest of this letter. I’m not the smartest type, but even I realized that this was a trap. Seriously? What kind of event would be titled “OC Hunger Games” and be held at the seediest bar in Canterlot and have “duel to the death” as its description? (Hell, the owner’s actual name is Seedy!) Nothing even vaguely trustworthy, that’s what. But I went anyway; I figured I could kick the flank of whatever third-rate assassin was after me this time. I teleported there as fast as I could, which was pretty fast, as teleportation is instantaneous.

I wasn’t expecting this. Sometime between my last visit to it, the bar had actually become something approaching the respectable establishment it always pretended to me. It no longer looked like a trashy bar; now it was decorated with the neon lights and colors of a low-quality club instead! Just standing outside I could hear the music they were playing: thumping dubstep— despite it being the middle of the day and dubstep really being more of a night thing. It was by DJ Pon-3; I recognized her style, as I was one of her biggest fans. It was clearly a recording; none of her spontaneous energy was to be found in it. I summoned my biggest weapon, a reaper bound to my command, albeit unwillingly. His name was impossible for mortals to comprehend (at least, that’s what he said), so I called him Jeff. Seemed like a reasonable name. He looked like a grayish, average pony wearing an all-black shirt and a fedora-esque hat who strangely lacked either a cutie-mark or a tail, but that was about it. Not exactly remarkable. Though he didn’t have to be remarkable, as only alicorns could normally see reapers who weren’t bound to them or actively pursuing them. Supposedly, he could choose to appear in any form he desired, but I wouldn’t believe that until I had seen it with my own eyes.

“Okay, you’re going to be waiting outside. If I die, revive me.”

While such an order was fundamentally against the nature of a reaper, he was bound by a spell, so he had to obey. Even if he liked to sometimes mess around and revive me in the wrong body, or do something else like that, it was still nice to have Jeff around. The only way that I could actually die with him around is if someone actually knew about him; then they could free him from his duty fairly easily. All it took was a simple incantation, “ne timeas qui metit” and he’d be free. And he’d probably try to kill me. But I’d beat him up with my powers anyway, so I’m not too afraid of this actually happening.

I entered the bar. It really was trying to be a fourth-rate club. There was an inactive DJ booth in the corner, all the tables had been moved to one side, and the center of the room had been converted into some sort of poorly improvised dancefloor. It was too tiny to actually be of much use as one, and nopony was actually dancing on it; the three other ponies on it were all just awkwardly standing. I took a glance at the other side of the room where Seedy, the familiar bartender, stood, clearly expecting me to order something. I surveyed the three others. At first, they all seemed to be pretty normal ponies, even if one of them was wearing a spooky brown cloak. But he pretty much emanated raw magical power, at almost (or even equal to) Alicorn levels. He was clearly using his own magic to try and hide it (I could sense his cloaking spell), but that was just even more of a giveaway; you have to be extremely skilled to even hide a little bit of your true magical potential from an Alicorn. He had to be the assassin.

I used my telekinesis, its beautiful golden light enveloping my horn, to lift the hood away from his face. I saw his horn, with the slight glow around it indicating the usage of a spell.

“I bear a charmed life, which must not yield, to one of woman born.” I finished reciting the quote right as he turned towards me. The quote was pretty badass (and more than situationally appropriate), even if I didn’t particularly like the play it was from. It was a bit too insulting to me; not all witches were like that, and why was killing the first king such a bad idea? It seemed like a fine way to ascend to me. Especially with the way it was implied to have brought upon a world of dark magic; I’d have to try that on Celestia sometime.

“So why exactly are we fighting to the death? I didn’t bother reading your stupid letter. I knew it was a trap from the name alone.” I rolled my eyes as I said this.

“This was not a trap, but a legitimate test of skill; it is the gladiatorial arena of ancient times, but in a modern way, tied to the old traditions, but—”

I interrupted him. “Sorry hon, but I really don’t care.”

I teleported over to him and socked him in his ugly face. He was clearly not expecting that. He then pinned me to the door with his telekinesis. I had never felt telekinesis that strong before. It was almost as if he had some sort of invisible force on his side, as if magic itself was on his side. Well, two could play at this game.

“Rude. It’s not nice to push ponies,” I said. I push back with my own dark magic, but to no avail.  This “force” was seriously OP. I then had a much better idea; if I couldn’t beat this magic, all I had to do was beat the wielder. Confused? Well, let me explain. Most offensive magical spells cease to function when the wielder isn’t concentrating on them. While there are, of course, exceptions, this was a pretty good rule of thumb in magic duels. I used my magic to create a spark under him. Surprisingly, it actually caught on his robe. My pyrokinesis was rarely anywhere near that effective; it was a bit of a wildcard. The fact that I had learned to use it during my time in Hell (not Tartarus) didn’t help, as Hell followed a different set of rules.

And surely enough, his discarded robe catching fire was enough of a distraction that he let me go. In fact, his blade-thingy even dropped out of the air; that was just how surprised he was. I used the opportunity to grasp it with my own telekinesis. Of course, after he put out the cloak fire with a simple spell, he noticed his missing blade, and wasn’t exactly happy.

He immediately tried to pull it back to him. I fought against this for a while, but when I realised that I couldn’t win, I had a brilliant idea. I turned the blade back at him and let go. It sped toward him, and I was sure it was going to literally wipe his smile off of his face, but he managed to somehow catch the metal part with his hoof beforehand! How does that even work?! Does he have super-reflexes or something?! I’ve never fought someone like this before; it was as if we weren’t even from the same universe; that’s just how different he was!

Still holding his blade in his hoof, he ran at me and then jumped, hooves held high above his head, about to deliver a punishing, almost certainly lethal strike to my head. I teleported to behind him just in time. However, upon landing, he turned around and swung again! Foolishly, I blocked with my right hoof instead of my magic, and off it went, in the most searingly hot and painful way you could possibly imagine. At least it wasn’t bleeding; the blade had burned the wound shut. I’d have to replace that later, but now, I had to concentrate on this fight. He tried to swing again, obviously expecting me to be stunned, but I was prepared this time. I lifted my best magical shield, which was destroyed by the impact, but also sent him flying backwards. It was profoundly exhausting to cast that spell, so I doubted that I’d be doing it again; even I had limits. And, as I was starting to see, so did this chump. He had hit the front wall so hard that he actually cracked it. His wings were a bloody mess.

And suddenly, I had a strategy. If I could lower him to the level of an Earth pony, no matter how exhausting it was, I could definitely beat him. His wings were out of the way, so all I had to do was break his horn.

As he got back onto his feet, he apparently thought that this was a good time for a snappy response to the quote I uttered earlier.

“We'll have thee, as our rarer monsters are, painted on a pole, and underwrit, 'Here may you see the tyrant.'”

I was not impressed and rolled my eyes. Fuck that shit. He picked up his blade and stared at me, his eyes intense.

He used that mighty telekinesis of his once again; this time pinning me to the back wall. Ugh. Not again. And with the way he was looking at me, I knew no cheap distractions could get me free this time. He ran up to me, blade in hoof, and stabbed me in the chest. Right through my heart.

Nothing.

And then I was back. I could see Jeff, sitting at one of the tables. I also knew that my opponent had seen Jeff and knew exactly what he had done. He had been about to leave, but he turned back to me as I rose. The hole in my chest was healed, but I was still missing a hoof, so this wasn’t exactly easy.

He turned back and uttered the few words I had feared he would. “Ne timeas qui metit!”

Jeff just got up and left, no longer bound. He had clearly assumed that this chump would succeed in killing me a second time. Well, he was wrong. Extremely wrong. I wasn’t going to die like that again, without dignity. I was a Princess. A Princess of Destruction, Fire, and Death. I activated my demonic powers, aware of the gradual cost to my sanity. It would provide the power boost I needed, even if it introduced a new weakness, one to holy magic. I was enveloped in flames as I transformed, obscuring the horror from mortal eyes. When it was done, the flames receded, leaving me in my demonic state. I was still an alicorn, at least superficially, though now I was substantially taller (as tall as Celestia), and had bat wings. My coat was dark and stormy; not truly black but close. My mane and tail were pure fire; they glowed not red, but white. If I didn’t know better, I would have said I was an angel. The shimmering heat that surrounded my body was enough to, even at this distance, make him visibly sweat, though that might have been from fear.

“Before my body I throw my warlike shield.” I walked towards him, perfectly calmly, fire starting wherever I stepped. He ran at me, tried to hit me with his blade, but I was stronger now. I took it from him with my telekinesis. He still didn’t give up, and made one desperate attempt to push me back with his telekinesis. It worked, partially, but was not enough to truly halt my advance. I made one slicing motion with his blade, and off went his head.

I heard the sound of wings. At my side, Celestia appeared, almost glowing.

“You failed. You had a chance to redeem yourself, to prove you weren’t just an evil demon, and you couldn’t even do that. I’m very disappointed in you, my former student.”

I teleported away. I wasn’t ready to face her. I might never be ready to face her again. I started to cry. I had lost more than just my sanity or my hoof, I had also lost my mentor, my only closest friend in the world. But at least I had a sweet new beam sword.

Without a Paddle (Co-written with WickedLSDragon!)

Double Moon Flare's mind hazily registered her surroundings of heat, and hard ground. As her conscious state became more prevalent, she could discern the spouts of flame that blazed up from sections of the ground.

Normally, fire would be of little concern to the alicorn. However, now she was feeling the entirety of the flames' heat. Her power should've made these small fires feel as harsh as an Autumn breeze. This time though, sweat quickly gathered on her brow.

“Wow, this just isn’t fun.”

Crimson was just as conscious as Flare was, and was knew exactly what to say.

“What are you talking about? You've got high risk for infections, parasites, venomous insects and reptiles, and crocs. Not to mention that since we are in Flame geyser swamp, we also have to deal with chimera and other mythical beasts. If that isn't fun, then I don't know what is.

Oh, and food and drinkable water aren't too abundant either.

"But, at least we have naturally occurring flames.”

“My mane’s already made of fire. Do we really need more fire?”

“Well, I'm a thestral. I don't have such a privilege, unfortunately. Wanna trade manes?”

Oh my Celest—Luna. Did he seriously just ask that?

“Possibly. I try to be familiar and friendly with most. Especially if I like their manes.”

“We should build a house!”

"Well, as much fun as that particular venture does sound, I'd like to not reside in a place that could cook my flank alive."

“If I really wanted to, I could too. But since you’re the one with all the survival stuffs, I won't. I promise. No, I don’t just promise, I Pinkie Promise.”

"Say it."

“Cross my heart and hope to fly, stick a cupcake in my eye. You happy?”

"Because if you lie to Pinkie Pie, You'd better kiss your plot goodbye. Yes, yes I am."

“I could probably kick her flank! After all, she’s just an earth pony!”

"... I'd imagine you doing something else to her flank..."

“What did you say? Are you implying something un-Princesslike?”

"Maybe. Now, where are we exactly in this hell and how do we get out? I'll fly up and scout for a quick sec." Crimson unfurled his wings and flapped helplessly like a chicken.

“Oh great. Our wings are bound. I bet I can’t teleport either. And now that I think about it, I can’t feel any of the heat from my mane. We’re doomed.”

"Hm, Celestia dammit. So-"

“I know what we should do! We should use the ancient Zebra art of alchemy and summon Celestia! She can save us! She might not want to save me, but she can!”

"You know alchemy? You do understand that is a common misconception about zebra. They practice herbology and botany. Actual science."

“Then where did Apple Bloom learn it? From Twilight? Nah, that can’t be right.”

"Using potions is a mixing of herbs, combined with magical effects. Alchemy, was a phase that earth ponies went through to try to use magic on their own. They failed."

“Wait, you don’t know?”

"I don't know many things."

“Like what? Do you know how we got here? What’s the last thing you remember?”

"...Well, I was getting ready for bed, and I was thinking about this one mare's flan-talent. And then I woke up here. I feel like I had an unsettling dream, but I can't quite place it. How about you, miss...?"

“I was playing with a trophy I had gotten a little while ago, this sweet beam-sword thing. Sadly, it didn’t come with me.”

"Beam-sword?"

“You know, like a saber made of light. Actually, now that I think about it, ‘Saberlight” is a much better name.”

"Nah, you should totally go with 'photon emitting implement of serration and perforation'. It completely flows off of the tongue with no difficulty."

“Did you swallow a dictionary when you were a kid?” Flare breaks out laughing.

"Not exactly. But I did swallow a lot of something..."

“Ooh, what? Spill it!”

"... I always loved filling my muzzle with thick, hard... toasted sandwiches. I personally love sweet onion."

“Hmm… that probably says a lot about you, but I’m not a psychologist so I don’t know what! I can say that you’re kind of dorky. And it’s cute.”

"Oh, stahp. You'll make me blush. Although you're cuter. This can be proven as an observable fact."

“How?”

"Simple. One observes you, and then must reach the valid conclusion that you hold all of the universe's supply of cute. If they don't then they are dumb and wrong."

“Now you’re going to make me blush!”

"Or that just might be the constant flames that repeatedly erupt from the ground around us. How have I not been hit by one yet? I don't feel safe. So we should talk and walk."

“I’m pretty sure there’s a path somewhere in this place.”

"Great! Where?"

“Umm… well, based on the position of the sun… I’ve got nothing.”

"...well at least you're cute. Let's see, the sun is brighter than it should be at dusk, which means that it just came up a few hours ago and it's morning. Since the sun is to our-my right, your left, east is to your left, west is to your right, north is straight in front of you, and south is where your plot is pointing. Rather fitting, don't you think? So, where is the closest town relative to our location?"

“Ponyville’s somewhere to the southwest.”

"Southwest it is! So, I still don't know your name. I suppose it would be improper etiquette to refer to you as 'cutie'. So what is it?"

“Flare. Just Flare these days.”

"Oh, do you mind if I ask why? And it's nice to know that your name is just as beautiful as the mare it belongs to."

“At least my coat’s dark enough that you can’t tell that I’m blushing. I dropped the rest of my name when I transformed into.. this. It just didn’t seem fitting. You wouldn’t call a caterpillar and a butterfly the same thing, would you?”

"Aw, that's adorable. And no, but one does lead to the other. Regardless, both can be thought of as beautiful, since beauty is a perceived concept within our psyche."

“Whoa. That’s deep.”

"If you believe so. So many fail to realize the simplistic reality that we exist in, because they refuse to analyze the observable experiences that most of us go through in our lives. If more ponies would actively think about 'deep' things, more would become easily and substantially enlightened... So, you hinted at another form? What does your alternate physical appearance look like?"

“My mane’s pink, my coat’s green, and my cutie mark’s green and pink instead of golden. I think it looks nicer this way as it matches my eyes. I’m also much shorter.”

"Yeah, I think it does. But I would have to inspect your cutie mark much closer to determine if the shading matches your wonderful eyes."

Flare blushes, but turns around anyway, showing her cutie mark of a golden flame with a crescent moon shape cut out of it.

"Hm, yours is remarkably detailed. It almost seems as if it were specially painted by Van Hoof or somepony of equal artistic merit. I like it."

“Thanks.”

"Pas de quoi, mon chere. So, about how far do you think we are from Ponyville?"

“Probably at least a few miles; this shouldn’t be too long of a walk.”

"Cool. And maybe we can see why neither of us can access our inherent magic."

“I blame Jeff. He really doesn’t seem to like me.”

"Then I will blame Jeff as well. May the force of a thousand suns be upon your skin Jeff! Oh, who is Jeff?"

“He’s a manifestation of Death. You know, a reaper. He was bound to me with fancy necromantic powers.”

"Oh, that sounds cool. Can we talk to Jeff before the force of a thousand suns burns him?"

“Sure; this might be weird, since I doubt you’ll be able to see him; you’re not exactly close to death. And that’s how I like you.”

"Aw, thanks. It's good that my coat can cover blushing. Otherwise, I'd be completely emasculated right now. Hello Jeff. Can he hear me?"

“He’s here now; I guess he overheard us on the spirit phone or something. And yes, he can hear you.”

"You have an unusual name Jeff, why is that? Flare, why does Jeff have a not normal name?"

“I named him; his actual name is something like j̷ͭͥ̆̒͑͑̋ͬ͂̀͑͜҉͏̮̻̼͔̬̲̪̝̜̲͚̞ḙ̴̷̯̼̟̭̝̯̠̘̗͇̱̍͂ͫͮ̿͛ͪ̏͒͂ͤͭ̓̇ͦ̽̈͊̔́͜ḟ̺̯̤̣̪͚̖͈̖͕̊͗̓̑ͧ̄͟f̵̢͈̩̝͎́ͫ͂̇̾͛̒̑ͪ͆͑ͣͧͭ͒̓̀ͅͅ, but that’s not really intelligible, is it?”

"Ooh, I wanna try to say that. Jsbdifkenj. Nah, that's too difficult. I'll keep calling him Jeff. Or Jeffy. Maybe, Je Fa Fa?" (Please tell me you've watched Jeff Dunham. Nope.)

“He says ‘Cease your insolence.”

"Well, Jeff. The dialectic of a homily always does presuppose a ground of ignorance to the unpredictable points of entropy."

“Jeff says, ‘Just shut up and die already.’”

"Well, no? But I might give you a kiss!"

“Me, or Jeff? I don’t think he’d like that? But I would…”

"Oh, really? Okay." Crimson pulls to a stop beside Flare. He runs his tongue across his lips to moisten them for the impending embrace. He wears a playful hint of a smile as he leans his muzzle closer towards Flare's own.

Their lips collide gently, the smooth flesh and soft hairs of their mouths entice the heat rising in both ponies' breast. A jolt of pleasure shocks the spines of the kissers as they linger with their soft passion. Flare’s mane grows brighter, becoming blue. The bright illumination colors the world around them in hues of blue ranging from cobalt, to a deep, calm sapphire.

Crimson closes his eyes fully as his tongue slips through the guard of his lips, requesting entry into Flare's delicate maw. Both ponies could feel the other's small breaths course across their muzzles, lightly tickling the small hairs that covered them.

Flare breaks the kiss. “Um, this is super-awkward, but I just realized that I don’t know your name. And I like you, so I don’t want to lose contact when this is all said and done.”

Crimson smiles gently at her, the barest tip of one of his fangs showing. "Oh, how could I forget? My name is Crimson Luminance. It is a pleasure to meet you, even in these circumstances. And of course we will keep in touch, you're pretty awesome."

Flare smiles. “Thanks, Crimson. Let’s go. I can almost smell Ponyville from here. Though it’s not like I have a super-nose or anything wow that’s really awkward…”

"Haha. Awkwardness is the punchline of life. And it's cute. Well, onward we go. Perhaps we could grab some coffee or a bite to eat once we encounter civilization again?" Crimson applied a smirk was as mischievous and coy as one could manage. "Oh, and speaking of awkward, where's Jeff? I said I'd kiss him too, and I don't want the poor fella to feel ignored."

“I’m totally taking you up on that coffee date. Also, Jeff says ‘Please refrain from your mating rituals in my presence; it’s disturbing.’ Weirdo.”

"Aw, that's cute. Jeff, I didn't know that you were so easy to embarrass. Oh, well, you're gonna have to suck it up sport. Oops, wrong choice of words..." Crimson's smile of mischief completely contradicted his apologetic sounding demeanor. He was thoroughly enjoying being able to playfully mess with a representation of death.

Crimson swallowed his next verbal jab as the pair broke through the dense treeline, and were met with the sight of an enormous lake that extended far out into the horizon.

"You, uh wouldn't happen to be a shipwright, would you?"

“I could try to evaporate all the water… no that’s stupid. Jeff, give us our wings back.”

"Yeah Jeff, I will kiss you if you don't. I also have a nice ball bag too! With hoofcuffs!"

“Jeff says it’s not actually within his power; he had called in a favor with management to get this done.”

"Jeff, why bro? I thought we had something special, something unique." Crimson hung his head dejectedly, appearing to be severely downtrodden by this revelation.

“Jeff says, ‘Stop with this or I will break from protocol and kill you myself, even if that gets me in trouble.’”

"Or, Jeff, you could try to help us. After all, once I am dead, I will be able to touch you. Yeah, go ahead, I wanna hug you."

“Jeff says that all we need to do is swim.”

Just as Flare relayed the message, a thirty foot crocodile rose to the surface a few yards from the shore, and disappeared back into the murky depths of the lake.

"Okay, I want to say no. I feel like that is the right thing to do. It goes against my religion to swim with enormous crocodiles in murky, muddy lakes. Any ideas, Flare?"

“We complain to Jeff’s superior? Nah, he’s the one who put us in this mess, he clearly doesn’t care. I’ve got nothing; how about you?”

"... Well, we could stroll along the bank, see if we can't gather some driftwood, and try to lash them together into a makeshift raft. There doesn't seem to be many other options except to head back, the opposite direction from Ponyville. What do you want to do?"

“Well, Jeff says that we’re going in the right direction, so we should go this way; he doesn’t lie. I would have went with your raft plan anyway; sounds like a good idea.”

"Thanks. Well, let's get to foraging for old, dead plant matter. Do you know what driftwood is?"

“It’s old, washed away wood, right?”

"Yes, perfect. I could kiss you right now."

“That would just waste time; later.” Flare smiles seductively as she says this.

Crimson reciprocates with a lascivious smirk in kind. After a quick wink, he said "Right, let's go this way." He took off along the left side of the bank, his hooves lightly sinking into the wet ground with a resounding squelch for each step as he continued on.

Flare followed him, making sure to keep her eyes out for anything usable.

Four Hours Later

"Well, we have one stick. A single, bucking stick. I'm sure this will hold us up, yeah no problem." Crimson whined as he inspected the poor sample of wood that they managed to find. "Why do you hate us life? What did we do?"

“Jeff says ‘I told you so.’ Again. Next time, I’m going to throttle him. Wait a minute… can I touch him?” Flare reaches out into the air, appearing to touch nothing. “Huh. I can. I can’t believe I’ve never tried doing this before. Okay, he says if I stop touching him, he’ll ferry us across in his boat; it’ll be cramped though.”

"Okay, as long as we get across. And Jeff, you should be happy. A very beautiful finally touched you!" Crimson chuckled a bit as he teased the reaper.

The boat, and Jeff himself, materialized in the shallow water in front of them. Jeff wasn’t wearing his normal outfit; instead wearing the more traditional cloak. Only a very little amount of his grey coat was visible. Strapped to his back, he had to items: a scythe and a sword. The boat had no oars, and was just barely large enough for the two of them. Flare climbed in first, sitting next to Jeff.

"... Okay, that's pretty cool. How are you levitating? Is the boat invisible to me?"

“Jeff, stop trolling him. Make the boat visible.” The boat (and Jeff) became visible to Crimson, but to anyone else, it would still appear that the two were floating.

"Huh, neat. Okay, next stop, the other side of this, death trap." Crimson intoned as he settled himself into the miniscule craft, behind Flare. "Oh, and you look cuter than I expected, Jeff." He added a wink as he said this.

“Ugh. To the other side we shall go.” Jeff pointed in that direction, and the boat moved in that direction.

It didn’t take long for them to reach the other side; the spectral boat was remarkably fast.

"This is nice. We should do this more often. Minus the losing magic and being stranded prerequisite, of course." Crimson smiled brightly at the mare in front of him.

“We should.” Flare mirrored his smile back at him.

Crimson and Flare got out of the boat and onto the shore, from which they could actually see the path out of the swap and into the forest. It was worn and ancient, but it was better than having no path whatsoever. Jeff’s boat— and Jeff— both vanished back into nothingness. The two ponies walked along the path, side by side, in sync with each other.

“So what are we going to do next?” Crimson asked.

“I don’t know about you, but I’m going to get some sleep. A good, long night’s worth.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

As they neared the Ponyville, they could feel their magic returning to them. Crimson and flare both took to the skies as soon as they could, flying in fancy, acrobatic patterns just for the fun of it, laughing. When they grew tired of that, they returned to the ground and continued following the path.

“You know, I could just teleport us back to Ponyville now.”

“There’s not nearly enough time for heartfelt dialog that way.” Crimson was clearly teasing.

Soon, they could actually see Ponyville from the edges of the forest, its brightly-colored buildings serving as signs of relief for the two ponies.

“You know, I don’t actually live here; I live in Canterlot; actually, I’ve got a nice apartment on the west side. I’ll give you the address: ‘47 Celestia Lane, Apartment 2’.” Flare said cordially.

“I’ll be sure to visit.”

The two shared one last, warm kiss.

Crimson turned to head his own way, and heard Flare teleport away, presumably to her own apartment.

He knew he’d see her again.