The Glimmering Gardener

Chapters

Intraview
Cutie-Crossed
L-Block
How Mango Leaf Stole Winter
What Doesn't Kill Us
Bonus: "Cutie-Crossed" Alternate Ending
Bonus: "L-Block" Deleted Scene
Bonus: Wither
Bonus: Lockstep
Bonus: The Star-Meadow Tournament
Mercurial
Bonus: "Mercurial" Alternate Beginning
Bonus: "Intraview" Alternate

Intraview

Author's Note

This is my story from Round 2 of the OC Slamjam—Lilligold vs. Price Back. You can find the original story along with my opponent's over here.

Intraview

Price Back rubbed the bridge of his muzzle. “You want me to write about plants,” he said.

“These aren’t just any old plants, Price,” Written Word—his editor—said. “You’ve never seen anything like them! Hardly anyone in Equestria has! That’s the point.”

“How did you even wind up seeing them?”

“My sister’s wedding.” Written Word rifled through a stack of paperwork. She pulled out a manila envelope and levitated a few photos from it. “She commissioned a bunch of things from Glimmering Gardens after her work trip to Elmshire. Cost her a brass bit, but…” She finished with a low whistle.

Price spread the photos over the desk. The floral arrangements looked like they’d been plucked straight from a child’s imagination. He glanced over a few of the more eye-catching pieces—translucent flowers of some description, floating white gourds with flames tipping their stems, and an entire tree of cherry blossoms glowing every colour of the rainbow.

“They’re pretty,” Price said, “you got me there, Writ. But enchanted plants are still just plants! I already did that exposé on the Tree of Harmony a few weeks back. Next to that, who’s gonna care about some roses made of glass? It’s a neat gimmick, sure, but a whole piece?” He shook his head. “I can’t spin that.”

“They’re not made of glass,” Writ said as she straightened her papers. “They’re made of water.”

Despite himself, Price raised an eyebrow. “How does that even work?”

Writ shrugged. “You have to see it.”

Price waved a hoof as if brushing the topic away. “That’s besides the point. There’s no story here, Writ. What am I supposed to do? Just describe a bunch of plants and write about how gorgeous they are? That’s a catalogue, not a story.”

Looking over her glasses, Writ cupped her hooves together and said, “Look, Price, I can’t make you write anything. But I’ve been mailing back and forth with the shop owner, and she’s more than thrilled about us showcasing her store. I don’t wanna disappoint her. The Grazette’s already arranged for you to head down to Elmshire next week anyway. All expenses paid.”

“Whole lotta not-my-problem,” Price said.

Written stayed him with a hoof. “Let me finish. I think you should at least go to Elmshire. Even if the story doesn’t pan out, it’s a big, foreign city! And it’s a cultural goldmine to boot.” She slid a tourist brochure across the desk. “The astral art gallery, Swan Song’s Amphitheater, the Duchess’s Archives. You’re bound to find something worth writing about. Just try Glimmering Gardens first—that’s all I’m asking.”

She levitated an envelope over to Price. It had PB Travel Info scrawled on the front. “Call it a favour to me, if nothing else” she said.

The envelope hung in the air between them. Price looked past it at Written Word’s gentle smirk. He sighed and swiped up the envelope. “You drive a hard bargain, Writ.”

***

One week and one eighteen-hour train ride later, followed by far too little sleep—hotel sleep at that—Price Back wanted nothing more than to hole up in his room and lose himself in a book for the day. Elmshire could wait. But he’d made a promise, and he was rarely one to go back on his word. So just before noon, Price donned his hat and saddlebags and set out into the maze of a city.

It took longer than he’d hoped, and he passed many notable landmarks he reminded himself to visit once this story fell through, but Price eventually found himself looking up at the Glimmering Gardens storefront. The windows revealed little—the glass was tinted. And the letters of the shop’s name were stylized to look like flowering vines. It reminded Price of some cheezy flower shop in a fairy tale picture book.

He sighed through his nose. “Let’s get this over with,” he grumbled. He pushed the door open.

A bell jingled above Price’s head—and promptly fell from its perch and slapped him in the muzzle. It clattered like brass but had none of the impact; it felt more like a tulip head. Price watched it slip from his face and fall limply to the floor.

“Oh, so sorry!” called the mare behind the counter. She rushed forward and took the bell in her magic, silencing it. “Seems to be time for a new one of these.” She chuckled uneasily.

Price watched the bell crumple in on itself. “Was that a plant?” he asked.

The mare nodded. “Brass bellbottom. My very own design.” She placed the flower on her desk and levitated over an identical one from amid the gardens dotting the store. It snaked its way into the pot cemented above the door.

Price tapped his muzzle, where a real bell surely would’ve left a nasty bruise. He smirked. “Heh, clever. Suppose I should count myself lucky.” He extended a hoof. “Price Back with the Equestrian Grazette. You must be Lilligold.”

Lilligold smiled and lightly took his hoof. “Pleased to meet you. I must say, I am rather looking forward to this! I’ve heard nothing but great things from your editor. I’m so glad you’ve taken an interest in my little shop.”

Price forced his best smile. “The pleasure’s all mine! The Grazette’s real interested in showcasing this place. I hope we can make a great story here.” He glanced around the store. Fragrance and colour and motion and shine overwhelmed his senses wherever he looked, like he were lost inside a botanical puzzle box. He turned to Lilligold and said, “Well, might as well get to it! Why don’t we start with a tour of the place? Give me the lay of the land, y’know?”

For a moment, Lilligold just looked at him. She blinked into action quick enough. “Yes! Yes, of course. Erm… where shall we begin?” She looked this way and that, seeming greatly overwhelmed herself.

The silence dragged on. As it trickled into graveyard stillness, Price cleared his throat and said, “How about you start by just describing a specific plant or two?” He pointed to a display at random. “These ones here, for instance.”

Lilligold smiled. She stepped up to the display and said, “Ah, yes! This one is my seasonal garden. You can perhaps see why it’s named as such.” She waved a hoof over it and looked hopefully at Price.

He looked the garden over. It housed five miniature trees: a cherry blossom tree in full bloom, a palm tree complete with tiny coconuts, a maple tree with flaming autumnal leaves, and a snowcapped evergreen. The fifth tree was a standard oak that cycled between all four of its seasonal patterns in a matter of seconds. “Pretty neat,” Price said. “How’d you make these?”

“I combined the five kinds of trees with standard pegasus magic, some rather tricky time dilation spells, and the strunkus charm. The minutiae are rather complex, so I’ll spare you the boredom.” Lilligold grinned—it looked out of place on her soft features. “Essentially, it’s magic!”

“Huh. Fascinating.” Price took out his notepad and jotted something down. He looked around and spotted a daffodil spouting water like a sprinkler. “How about this one?”

Much of the next hour proceeded in the same way. Lilligold remained animated and excited as she described her many creations, the glimmer never leaving her eyes. Her enthusiasm failed to be contagious, though, as Price’s interest quickly dwindled. Every plant was interesting and unique in its own right, but the details behind them remained much the same—Lilligold could only use so many descriptors to describe another zany flower or glitzy weed. Each minute grated on Price Back further, and he could feel his patience reaching its limit. Over an hour in and he had little more than a page of notes in his notepad.

“This one was one of my very first creations,” Lilligold said, gesturing to a vine growing from a pot of sand. It curved in random directions as it slithered around like an entranced cobra. “I call it the sandsnare.”

“Right,” Price said. “And what does this one do, besides move?”

Lilligold giggled gently. “See for yourself.”

Her magic flared, and the vine curled in on itself and moved towards Price. He stood stock still as the vine brushed past his shoulder. It coiled behind his neck, snaked through his mane, and wrapped itself around his ear. “Uh, Lilligold?” Price said. “Is this supposed to—”

The vine froze in its tracks. It glowed snow white and suddenly turned into sand. A track of sand tumbled to the floor around Price Back, and some of it caught in his hair. An ethereal breeze picked up and carried the sand back to its pot, flowing like water to a drain. Once it had recollected, a new vine sprouted and began its random course.

“It’s popular at tropical-themed parties,” Lilligold said, beaming.

Price blinked. The phantom feeling of sand in his mane lingered—and a question struck him like lightning. “How do you think these things up, Lilligold?”

Lilligold’s smile faltered. She blanched and said, “Euhm… What do you mean?”

An intense spark lit in Price’s eyes. He grabbed his notepad and said, “I mean, like, what’s the thought process that goes into making something like the sandsnare? The inspiration for it? That’s something readers would want to know. The method behind the madness.”

“Oh, um…” Lilligold averted her eyes. Her voice came out soft and shaky—a far cry from the proud one she’d been using. “I’m… not so sure about that. Surely we should keep the focus on the plants themselves, not on me.”

If one were quiet enough, they could’ve heard the gears at work inside Price Back’s head. “No, no, I think that’s exactly where the focus should be.” He grinned broadly and bonked himself on the head. “Of course! I’ve been looking at this all wrong! Look, I can’t make a story about your plants on their own—there’s just not enough substance. But there’s something they all have in common. A side that nopony knows. And that’s you, Lilligold! That’s where our story is.”

Lilligold withered. “N-Not enough substance?” she said. “But… But all of your notes…”

Price dropped his notepad to the floor and stomped on it. “I’ll be frank with you, Lilligold. Your plants are all beautiful and magical and yadda yadda, but there’s nothing more to them than that. You already summarized my notes in just three words: ‘Essentially, it’s magic!’ That story’s a flop, but your story is one I wanna tell.”

“Well… but… I don’t want to tell it.”

The hope in Price’s eyes crumbled away. “Say what?”

Lilligold hid further behind her mane, looking anywhere but at Price. “I… This was meant to be a showcase of my store, not of myself. I’m not at all comfortable with that idea.”

Price grimaced. A familiar fire smoldered in his gut. “Why not?” he pressed. “This is a good idea!”

Lilligold shook her head. “I’m just… uncomfortable with it. It’s far too personal. Can we please go back to the plants?” Her eyes darted sideways and landed on a spherical cactus. It flashed vibrant colours like a neon sign. “L-Like this one!” Lilligold said. “I call it—”

Price groaned. “I don’t care!” The fire in his gut went wild, burning all the way up to his tongue. “I already told you there’s no story there! And then the one actually salvageable story I find in all of this, you shoot down! I’m fed up!”

Recoiling as far as she could, Lilligold said, “I… I don’t understand, Mister Price Back. Written Word assured me you could do my store justice.”

Price’s glare hardened. All of his teeth showed as he spat out his words. “Writ wanted me to do this story because it’s one she wanted to see. I didn’t want to do it because I knew this is exactly how it would go! It’s a gimmick! Nothing more! The best damn writer in the world couldn’t spin a story from it!”

Tears wetted Lilligold’s eyes. She blinked quickly and said, “P-Ponies tend to love my plants. I-I thought—”

“You thought wrong!” Price barked. “I knew this was a waste of time right from the start. I wanted to give you the benefit of the doubt—the chance to prove me wrong. But no! You and your stupid plants have no hook! No intrigue! No point! All this time spent listening to you ramble on, and for what?! Nothing!” He lashed out his hoof on impulse. It struck the nearby cactus, sending a thousand tiny pains up his leg. He roared and grasped his hoof.

There was a tiny gasp. Lilligold shoved her way past Price Back and scrambled towards her cactus—which had fallen from its table. Its pot was smashed, and the light within it strobed frantically before fizzling out entirely. Lilligold lifted it in her silver aura and slowly rotated it through the air. She placed it on the table and bowed her head.

As his tirading tongue cooled, Price Back watched. He looked from his hoof—where the pain was rapidly subsiding—to the ruined cactus, and to Lilligold’s broken expression. He blinked. “Lilligold, I—”

“Now see here, Price Back!” Lilligold rasped. She glared daggers at him through teary lenses, making Price stumble back. She advanced on him and said, “I invited you here today because I assumed this would be a wonderful opportunity for both my shop and your magazine. I absolutely did not invite you to storm in, verbally assault me, slander my plants, and outright destroy my work!” Her voice cracked on this last. “If you didn’t believe there was a story to be had here, you should have spared us both the trouble and never have come in the first place!”

Price’s mouth worked wordlessly. “I didn’t—”

“I am not done!” Lilligold wiped an eye and continued, “Now I may not be the most confident pony in the world, but I have enough pride in my work to know that I don’t deserve to be treated this way. So I’ll choose to forget that you’ve just ruined my most difficult project to date and ask you this once politely: please take yourself and your savage demeanor and leave my store.” She whipped a hoof at the door and stood firm.

For his part, Price stood there dumbly and stared at her. He blinked once, then again, then broke into a broad smirk. “That’s exactly what I’m talking about!”

The rigidity bled from Lilligold’s stance. “Er… I don’t follow.” She shook her head. “Never mind. Out!”

“No, no, Lilligold. Listen. I’ll leave without another word if you just hear me out on this.”

It took her a moment’s thought, but Lilligold lowered her hoof. She sighed and said, “I’m listening.”

Price grinned. “Thanks. Now, you probably could’ve guessed, but that’s not exactly the first time I’ve gone off on somepony for wasting my time. But you, Lilligold. You’re one of the only ones who’s ever fought back like that. That’s why I’m saying you should be the focus of this story—not your plants.”

Lilligold quirked an eyebrow.

“I mean, look at this place!” Price swept a hoof over the storybook jungle of a store. “It speaks for itself. You’re talented, obviously have one heck of an imagination, and if that little speech didn’t speak to how passionate you are about this, I don’t know what would. There’s no reason to be uncomfortable sharing that—hay, you should be proud! And you said it yourself: ponies love your plants! If that’s true, why wouldn’t they love you too?”

He set a hoof on her shoulder. “That’s why I want to write about you. To give ponies a different side of the story. The best side. Your side.”

Lilligold pursed her lips. She looked away and said, in a much quieter tone, “Are you done?”

Price’s smile faded. “Uh, yeah,” he said, lowering his hoof.

“Well, none of those words sounded quite like an apology, so I must ask again that you leave my shop.” Lilligold nodded and whispered, “Good day, Price Back.” Lifting the broken cactus in her magic, she strode past Price and behind her counter. She set the plant in front of herself, sat down, and frowned.

For a moment, Price didn’t move. As the silence stretched on, he clumsily put away his notepad. A pile of business cards sat buried in his saddlebag. On a whim, he pulled one out and placed it on Lilligold’s desk. “My address,” he said, “in case you ever change your mind.”

“I’m quite sure I won’t need it,” Lilligold said. She never looked away from the cactus. “Thank you anyway. Enjoy the rest of your stay in Elmshire.”

Price nodded. He turned to leave but caught himself just shy. “Sorry about the cactus, by the way.” Lilligold bit her lip, but she said nothing. Price left the store without another word, the brass bellbottom singing him goodbye.

Back on the street, Price adjusted his hat and sighed. He considered the laundry list of other places he could search for a story in Elmshire. Certainly he could make something great out of one of the many tourist attractions—probably better than Lilligold’s story would’ve been. And without the drama.

Instead, he started back towards his hotel. He needed to pack.

***

Several weeks passed, and Lilligold’s life returned to its beaten track. Just her and her plants and the occasional customer who paid her little mind so long as she delivered. Exactly how she liked it—alone and unnoticed.

Sitting at her counter, Lilligold absently watered a desktop pitcher plant while looking over an order form. The pitcher plant giggled, and Lilligold couldn’t help but smile. She sighed airily and opened one of her drawers. She slid the form over and filed it away.

Deep in the crevice between paper and wood, something caught Lilligold’s eye. She levitated the object out—a tiny rectangle of cardstock with a Canterlot address printed on its face. Lilligold’s heart missed a beat. She set the card down and looked her store over.

She was alone with her plants—all of which she loved like children. All of which had some story or another behind their inception. All of which only she knew—her customers only saw novel decorations. Just how she liked it.

Lilligold frowned. She looked down at the business card again. Opening a different drawer, she stowed it carefully with her own business cards, where it wouldn’t be lost. She closed and locked the drawer.

Today wasn’t the day, but perhaps she’d want her story told another day.

Cutie-Crossed

Author's Note

This is my story from Round 3 of the OC Slamjam—Wispy Willow vs. Lilligold. You can find the original story along with my opponent's story over here.

Cutie-Crossed

In the convention hall full of plants and gardeners, Lilligold had never felt more alone. She sat against the back wall, staring at her abandoned station—a foal’s lemonade stand among industry titans. Her eyes briefly flicked up to the banner which proudly welcomed her to the 19th Annual World's Garden Faire. She sighed through her nose.

A sharp chirp grabbed her attention. She turned and saw a little potted flytrap looking up at her—well, it would’ve been looking, had it had eyes. It trilled and nudged her hoof with its pod. Despite herself, Lilligold smiled. She lifted the flytrap and hugged it against her chest. It stretched up and nibbled her chin, eliciting a giggle.

“Hey, cool!” somepony said. Lilligold startled. She turned her wide-eyed stare on a colt—strikingly blue, and approaching her at a quick trot. He beamed down at the flytrap and said, “I’ve never seen a plant like that before! Is it magic?!”

Lilligold shrank and clutched her plant tighter. The flytrap, for its part, hissed.

The colt blinked. “Oh! Uh… sorry. I get carried away sometimes. I’ve got a bit of a thing for magic and… er…” He rubbed the back of his head. “Sorry. Name’s Wispy Willow!” He extended a hoof to her.

Lilligold didn’t take it. Her eyes darted down to her flytrap and she mumbled, “Lilligold. Charmed.” She nodded for good measure.

Wispy’s hoof dangled awkwardly between them. He eventually withdrew it and cleared his throat. “Lilligold, huh? Weird name.” Lilligold bit her lip, but Wispy must not have noticed. “Sounds kinda foreign. You from around here?”

Lilligold shook her head. “I’m visiting from Elmshire.”

“Oh! I remember reading about Elmshire at the library a while back.” Wispy’s expression went quizzical. “Your parents dragged you all that way just for this?”

“My… parents?” Lilligold shook her head. “Oh, no. They paid my way, but I’m here alone.”

Wispy’s eyebrows rose, and Lilligold felt a pinch in her stomach. “Seriously? That’s cool, I guess. I just assumed, with you being a unicorn and all. Most gardeners are earth ponies.” He chuckled. “Then again, most paranormal enthusiasts are unicorns. Guess that makes us both oddballs!”

“Mhmm,” Lilligold mumbled. There was a pause, and Lilligold prayed the conversation would die to the background noise.

But it didn’t. “Mind if I sit?” Wispy asked. Lilligold shook her head. Wispy sat down, and Lilligold reflexively shied away. “I was looking for a place to hide for a bit. Get away from the boredom, y’know? My mom dragged me along to this thing. Total waste of my day off, honestly. She wants me to learn the tools of the trade ‘just in case.’” Wispy rolled his eyes.

“Hmm.” Lilligold nodded. Her flytrap growled, baring its teeth at Wispy.

“Oh, yeah!” Wispy grinned. “I forgot about that little guy. What’s the story with him?”

Lilligold looked at the plant and finally found a modicum of comfort. “This is Audrey,” she said. She stroked Audrey’s stem, and the plant purred. “I bred her just a few weeks ago. One of my more complex projects.”

“‘One of?’” Wispy said. “You mean you’ve got other plants like this?”

Again, Lilligold nodded. “It’s why I’m here.” She flicked her eyes up to her stall. Her odd specimens clashed outright with the greenery of the convention. Ponies strolled right by, sparing her plants queer glances. Lilligold frowned. “I’m trying to start my own business.”

“No kidding?” Wispy looked at the stall too. “Mind showing me?”

“You wouldn’t be interested,” Lilligold said. Heat gathered behind her eyes. “Nobody would,” she whispered, nigh inaudible.

“No way! I’m definitely interested!” Wispy stood. “Like I said, I’ve got a thing for magic. Granted, I’m more into ghosts and whatnot nowadays, but it’s still cool. I’m gonna go browse.” Without waiting for a reply, he trotted off and began perusing Lilligold’s station.

Still, Lilligold remained a wallflower. Audrey chirped again. Lilligold brushed her leaves absently.

“Hey, Lilligold!” Wispy called. “These are great! You gotta tell me about this one! Is it made of water? Ectoplasm? What?”

Her heart pitter-pattered. She felt a smile creeping up her face—she tried to fight it down, but couldn’t help it. She rose and trotted to her stall.

***

Hey, Lilligold!

Great news! You know that cross-country trip I’ve been planning for so long now? I finally saved up enough bits to make it happen! So I quit my job last night. No more dealing with Hardback or Dewey Decimal for me! I start my quest tomorrow morning!!

Sorry for going crazy with exclamation points there. I’ve just been planning this trip for so long, and I can’t believe it’s really happening. It’s my life’s dream. Thank you so much for supporting me in all of this. You’re like the only one who has. I mean, my family has too. Kind of. But no one’s ever believed in me as much as you. I plan to do us both proud and be the first pony to prove the existence of ghosts beyond a shadow of a doubt! I’m so excited!

My first stop tomorrow will be the museum in upper Manehattan. You know the one I wrote about a few months back? I’m gonna check it out again with my new equipment. There has to be something there. But if not, you know I’ve got more than enough other places to check out!

And don’t worry, I didn’t forget my promise. I’ve made plans for a trip down to Elmshire a bit later next year. I know I said it would be sooner, but there are so many places I need to visit first. The Manehattan Asylum, Glen Oaks Manor, the Castle of the Royal Pony Sisters, just to name a few. I hope you understand. It’s my calling!

Enough about me though. How have you been? Is business still good? Is Audrey doing okay? I want to hear everything!

I might not be able to write back for a while since I’m going to be on the move so often. I’ll definitely write when I can, though!

Your BFF,
Wisp

***

Dearest Wisp,

Congratulations! I’m so happy for you! I know how long you’ve wanted to go on this excursion, and I couldn’t be prouder. You’ve earned this, Wisp, and I truly hope it yields everything you desire. I do wish you could come down to Elmshire sooner—I’ve missed you!—but I understand wholly.

I’m afraid I can’t say my life has been nearly as exciting. But I am quite content. Glimmering Gardens is doing better all the time. Just last month, in fact, I secured my largest order to date: the Duchess’s birthday celebration! That project has consumed most of my spare time. It’s turning out beautifully, though. I do wish you could be here to see it.

Audrey has been well. She’s grown quite a lot since you last saw her. She’s nearly as tall as I am now! And still growing! I can’t say I anticipated such growth, but nor am I disappointed. She’s the same lovable sweetheart as ever, only there’s much more of her to love now. I’ll need to transplant her to a larger pot soon.

This may surprise you. I’ve been doing some paranormal research of my own! I found a phenomenal book called “Nature’s Haunts,” and some of the descriptions of these places have me enamored. There’s one in particular… well, perhaps I’ll spare the details on that one for when you visit. You won’t be disappointed!

I’ve enclosed the book with this letter in case you were interested. I did tear out one page—to keep you in suspense, of course!—but I placed a clipping from Audrey’s leaves between the pages to make up for it. Now a little piece of me will be with you always!

At any rate, I must get back to work. Keep me informed, when you’re able. Again, I’m so very happy for you! Live your dream to the fullest!

Yours,
Lilligold

***

In the evening’s first light, Lilligold flurried around her bedroom. She plucked things from all over and laid them carefully in her saddlebags. “Map? Check. Water bottles? Check. What else, what else…”

A deep groan sounded from the corner. A massive flytrap sat there—it reached nearly to the ceiling. Audrey reached across the room with a vine and pulled open Lilligold’s nightstand drawer. She pulled a small scrap of paper from within and offered it to Lilligold.

Lilligold grimaced. “No, Audrey, I’m not bringing that. This is not that kind of outing! Just two old friends enjoying each other’s company. Nothing more.” Even in her own ears, her words sounded hollow. She knew it really was more. She had been waiting for this night for years. This night, when she would reunite with the colt she’d spent just a scant few days with years ago. The colt to whom she’d written dozens, if not hundreds, of letters in the intervening time. Her best pony friend.

And nothing more. Lilligold’s eyes glazed over.

Audrey smirked. Her vine pressed against Lilligold’s chest, still clutching the paper. With a little sigh, Lilligold took the parchment in her magic and read the poem.

His face is naught but azure dream,
his voice a song of old.
Still, his presence, ream by ream,
makes warm what once was cold.
I long and scar and agonize,
he has my heart unfurled.
By earthly bonds and spirit ties,
he is my one true world.

♥ Lilligold + Wispy Willow ♥

Lilligold frowned. She’d rewritten it so many times, and still it failed to be perfect. “I do wish tonight could be something more,” she whispered. She bit her lip, then shook her head. “But I can’t, Audrey. I just can’t.” She set the parchment on her nightstand.

The vine wrapped gently around Lilligold and dragged her to Audrey’s corner. Audrey dipped down and nuzzled Lilligold. With a sad little smile, Lilligold nuzzled her back. “Thank you, darling. You’re such a sweetheart.”

A knock sounded through the building. The butterflies in Lilligold’s stomach fluttered to life. She patted Audrey’s pod and said, “Wish me luck!” Audrey smiled and uncoiled her vine, allowing Lilligold to trot away.

She paused as she passed her vanity, looking herself over one last time. She’d done her mane up in a ponytail and had a daisy behind her ear—a look she’d seldom worn in public, but tonight was a special occasion. She smiled at herself and continued downstairs into her store proper.

Weaving between her gardens, Lilligold nearly danced to the door and flung it open. On the other side stood a shock of white and blue—a face she’d only seen once outside her dreams. Wispy Willow stood there, suitcase at his side, smiling at her. “Miss me?” he said.

Lilligold bit her lip. “More than anything,” she said. Against her better judgment, she stepped out and wrapped him in a hug, one which he returned in full force.

“Hey now!” Wisp said. He patted Lilligold on the back. “I missed you too, but it’s not like we’ve been all that distant! What with all the letters.”

Pulling back, Lilligold shook her head and said, “This is different. And… well…” She averted her eyes and brushed a strand of mane from her face. “It has been over a month since your last letter. I was worried that maybe you’d forgotten…”

“Pfft, not in this lifetime!” Wisp said. He grabbed his suitcase and trotted past Lilligold into the store. “I was leg-deep in Mort’s Quagmire for the past month. Didn’t get a chance to write much of anything. Sorry about…”

Wisp blinked. As though suddenly realizing where he was, he looked around with dinner-plate eyes. The sunset trickling through the window cast the store in an ethereal glow. All manners of strange and beautiful flora moved and glowed and existed harmoniously, like one big, living imagination. “Whoa,” Wisp breathed.

“I hoped you’d love it,” Lilligold said. She walked up next to him and gazed wistfully across the plants herself. “It’s my life’s work! And it wouldn’t have been remotely possible without you.”

That tore Wisp’s attention back to her. “Without me?”

Smiling brightly, Lilligold nodded. “Naturally! Had you not instilled me with confidence in my talents all that time ago, I would never have come this far. Your letters have inspired me greatly as well. So…” The tingling in her hooves grew too great to bear, and she threw them around Wisp again. “Thank you.”

A thick silence brewed, and Lilligold wondered whether she’d said too much too soon. Before long, though, Wisp returned the hug and said, “Yeah, don’t mention it.”

Lilligold pulled back and said, “Well! We’ve been delaying this for years—let’s not delay any longer! I’ll take your things upstairs, and then we’ll head out. I’ve got quite the week planned for us, and it all begins tonight.” Not giving Wisp a chance to reply, Lilligold levitated his suitcase and started up the stairs.

“Right on!” Wisp called. “Where’re we going? My Elmshire brochure said there’s this wicked haunted house out on Augur’s Aisle. We checking that out?”

“It’s on the agenda.” Lilligold settled the suitcase in her bedroom. She looked over and winked at Audrey. “First, though, I’ve got something special in mind.”

***

Only a scarce few needles of moonlight penetrated this deep into the forest. It bathed the surrounding flora an eerie, crepuscular hue. Brushing past yet another bush, Lilligold said, “It should be just around this bend.”

“I hope there’s some light at wherever-we’re-going,” Wisp said. “Don’t get me wrong. The mood is super creepy and everything, but I’d like to be able to see my own hooves.”

The path wound through a dense cluster of trees, then opened up. They came upon a small, moonlit clearing nestled against a cliff face. Thick moss carpeted the ground, and a few esoteric flowers with gnarled petals and thorny stems lined the edges. Just ahead, a jagged hole opened up in the rock. Moonlight reached in barely far enough to illuminate some stubby black liverwort hanging from the cave entrance—like the rotten teeth of some eldritch horror.

Lilligold smiled. “Welcome to Peak Grove.”

“Whoa.” Wisp’s eyes became wide and wonder-filled, like he’d walked in on a beautiful dream. “This place is amazing, Lilligold! How in the world did you find it?”

A coy smile played on Lilligold’s lips. “I read about it in a book once.” A sudden excitement grabbed her. “Apparently the Peak Grove Caverns are some of the most treacherous caves in the world. And also some of the most haunted.”

Wisp’s ears perked. He looked at her. “No fooling?”

Lilligold nodded. “They’re also said to be home to some very exotic, dangerous flora. That’s why I thought this would be the perfect place for us.” She blushed and averted her eyes, and her words came out in a flurry. “Perhaps this sounds a bit cheesy, but I wanted to bring you here because it’s the one place where our passions intersect: yours for the paranormal, and mine for peculiar plants. It… erm, seemed the perfect fit.” Her words sounded painfully stupid in her own ears. “A silly notion, I know.”

A hoof touched her shoulder. Lilligold looked up into Wisp’s warm, smiling face. “No,” he said, “it’s not silly at all. It’s… I dunno. Poetic, I guess.”

Lilligold matched his smile with a goofy one of her own. The silence between them lingered, but not uncomfortably. Cicadas and owls filled it with ambience. For a long moment, the two ponies just smiled at each other.

Eventually, Lilligold pulled out two water bottles and sat in the moss, folding her legs beneath herself. “Come,” she said. “We have so much catching up to do! I want to hear absolutely everything.”

Wisp sat close to her, and they talked. They talked and talked and talked, the moon tracing the time across the sky. They chatted and laughed and smiled, he about his many exciting—albeit fruitless—ghost hunts, and she about anything and everything to do with her plants. The feeling in Lilligold’s heart as they talked was a far cry from anything she’d felt reading Wisp’s letters. It was warmer. More profound. More real.

Swigging down the last of his water, Wisp nodded to the cave entrance and said, “So, that cave’s really haunted, huh?”

“Mmhmm!” Lilligold looked at it. “I considered exploring it on my own—if only to impress you—but I assumed you’d rather investigate yourself. That, and the fact that it’s extraordinarily dangerous.”

“I’m glad you waited. I’ll totally have to come back with my equipment while I’m here.” He turned to Lilligold. “Thanks for showing me this place. This has been one of the funnest nights ever!”

Lilligold beamed. “It truly has. I wish every night could be this wonderful.” Her smile faltered, and an uneasiness wormed into her voice. “Alas, I suppose one week will just have to do, for now.”

“Hey.” Wisp delicately put his hoof to her cheek, drawing her eyes up to his. “Don’t get all mopey on me. We’re gonna make the most of this week! Just you and me, okay? Don’t worry about what’s gonna happen in the future. Just think about… about here… and now…”

He had leaned closer—Lilligold was sure he had. Barely any space separated her face from his. A lump built in her throat, and she pursed her lips as he drew even closer. Everything around them faded, and for a brief eternity, Wispy Willow was all she knew.

He pecked her lips. Quickly—hardly there before he was gone again—but tenderly.

They stared blankly into each other. Fires had lit in Lilligold’s cheeks, and the lump in her throat stopped her from saying anything. Wisp just blinked a few times, the colour gone from his face. Subconsciously, Lilligold leaned towards him again.

Wisp wrenched his eyes shut. He scrambled to his hooves and took off into the forest at full gallop. It had happened so suddenly that Lilligold had to do a double-take. Everything inside her felt numb. The warmth from the kiss still lingered on her lips.

And then she started to crumble. Tears jumped to her eyes. She bolted after him. “Wisp!” she cried.

***

Audrey sat in the stillness of night, as plants are wont to do. Every so often a housefly would buzz through the window and she would snatch it up, but otherwise she simply waited. Waited for Lilligold to return.

A great crash rattled the building. Hooves thundered up the steps and into the room—Audrey sensed the hooffalls were too heavy to be Lilligold’s. She snarled in the attacker’s direction, but when she heard a zipper unzipping, she reasoned it must’ve been Wispy Willow, rummaging in his suitcase. She remained motionless.

More hooves shot up the steps—Lilligold’s for sure this time. “Wispy!” she cried. “Please, stop! Talk to me!”

The air went still. Audrey sensed nothing but the two ponies panting. “I can’t do this, Lilligold,” Wispy quavered. “I just can’t. I have to get out of here.”

“No! Please, Wispy. We need to talk this through!” Audrey heard the tears in Lilligold’s words. She bore her teeth, but didn’t move yet.

“Talk about what, Lilligold?!” Wispy shouted. “What happened back there was a stupid, stupid mistake! This… This can’t happen between us! This can’t happen to me!”

Lilligold sobbed hard before she spoke again. “How can you… What’s so awful about it?! About me?” Audrey’s vines were slowly slithering toward Wispy. Apparently, neither pony had noticed her yet.

“Nothing! You’re perfect! But… But…” Wispy roared in frustration. “But I just can’t, Lilligold! I can’t do this. I’m sorry.” Audrey’s vines lifted, preparing to coil around Wispy like bloodthirsty cobras.

Lilligold sniffled. In her weakest, quietest voice, she said, “But I love you.”

Audrey froze. There was a thick silence, and she reconsidered the situation. Her vines pulled away from Wispy and instead moved towards Lilligold’s nightstand.

“Listen, Lilligold,” Wispy said. The rage had faded from his voice. “My whole life—my whole life—has been dedicated to one thing: paranormal research. It’s my passion, my talent—the one thing I’m really, really good at. And if I want to keep doing it, I can’t focus on anything else. I have to stay on the move. I can’t commit to anything or anypony. Not even you.”

Audrey felt around and swiped the paper from the nightstand. Her vines shifted back in the other direction—toward Wispy’s suitcase, where she would place the poem.

“That’s why I put off coming here so long,” Wispy continued. “I was afraid something like… like this would happen. I didn’t want to have to choose between you and my special talent. Like, if you had to give up your plants, your store—all of it, just for me—could you do that?”

The question lingered for a long while, and even Audrey paused to listen.

“I…” Lilligold began. She swallowed hard, then moved and laid a hoof on Audrey’s vine. “…I don’t know that I could,” she said. Magic stole the parchment from Audrey—she didn’t resist. Instead, she coiled her vine gently over Lilligold’s hoof.

Wispy’s hoof joined Lilligold’s. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I have to leave.” His hoof stayed for a brief time. When he withdrew it, there was a little commotion as he gathered his suitcase. Lilligold’s hoof squeezed tighter on Audrey’s vine.

More hoofsteps sounded on the staircase, and Wispy Willow was gone.

Lilligold collapsed into a blubbering heap. Audrey reached all of her vines out and wrapped Lilligold in a hug.

They stayed that way for a long, long while. So long that Audrey could feel the sun on her leaves by the time Lilligold finally fell asleep. She placed her delicately upon the bed and went motionless once more.

L-Block

Author's Note

This is my story from the Quarterfinals of the OC Slamjam—Luster Lock vs. Lilligold. You can find the original story along with my opponent's story over here.

L-Block

The golem dropped her in the cell, and only then did Luster Lock realize how much trouble she was in. She wheeled around and bared her teeth at the stone monstrosity—it stood on two legs and blocked her only escape, staring at her with snakebite eyes that glowed honey yellow. “See something you like?” Luster growled.

As if in response, the golem shifted. Its body filled the exit, blocking the tunnel off entirely. The lights in its eyes faded—the only trait separating it from the surrounding stonework now were two black points where its eyes had been. With that, Luster was alone with the sound of her own breathing.

She reared back and spat on the golem. The saliva oozed towards the floor with the consistency of a blood clot. Luster turned away and collapsed on her haunches. She felt like she’d just run a marathon in the dead of summer. Her body ached, her mind throbbed, her nostrils burned, and all she wanted was to go home—not an inclination she normally had, but the quiet of Hoofington would be paradise next to the silence of prison. It wasn’t an option though, so she put it out of her mind. She focused instead on assessing the isolation chamber for all it was worth.

It was cramped. Widthwise she barely had enough room to fully extend her wings, and less than twice that lengthwise. The air inside felt like it hadn’t moved in centuries, and it smelled of dust and sewage. The floor, ceiling, and walls—even the golem, now—all consisted of the same fat cobblestones. Thin lines of magic ran where the mortar would be, the same sickly yellow of the golem’s eyes. Otherwise, the room’s only features were a dark, smelly gutter near the exit and a high slit of a window on the room’s far side. The view outside was almost immediately blocked by a wall of earth. Only the final crumbs of sunlight reached Luster’s cell. Moss crept past the bars and hung on the wall like a stain.

No immediate options for escape presented themselves, and that frustrated her immensely. Even the exit lacked a lock to try and pick. Her body begged for rest, but her mind screamed at her to find a way out. If not for herself, then for Trixie. That was the whole reason she was in this mess anyway.

Trixie… Luster’s body tightened. The image of Trixie shackled and silent behind bars burned in her mind’s eye—that red thing clamped around her horn, locked by such a pedestrian mechanism. If only Luster had been a little faster.

Her eyes steeled over. She closed them and shook her head. Frustration wouldn’t help her right now. As much as she hated it, Luster knew she had to play the long game. She lay down and let exhaustion overwhelm her.

***

Lilligold had heard commotion in the next cell over—she was certain she had. She’d been prone to a few delusions in the time she’d been imprisoned, but none had made any sense until now. It had been the grinding of a stone golem and the voice of a pony, both echoing to her through the gutter. She was positive: another unicorn had been sent to solitary confinement.

Naturally, she said nothing. The last thing she needed was attention. She wanted nothing more than to be alone with her thoughts. The confinement was solitary, after all.

She rested her head against the wall. Her horn made a peculiar tock noise as it tapped the stone. A painful reminder of the magic capacitor binding her horn. Every time she remembered it, she reflexively tried to cast a spell. And every time it sent the same, disgusting wave through her, like she’d ingested something that her body was rejecting. She screwed up her face and tried to ignore it.

Her thoughts wandered back to her plants, as they always did. She always tried to recall the happy memories—the store she had built and groomed and loved with all her heart—but the trauma of her last night there always thrust itself upon her like a bleeding gash in her mind. Every detail pounced at her and bit like snakes. How those golems had come from nowhere and wreaked pandemonium. How… he had grabbed her in his slimy magic and stolen. He, with his savage eyes and voice like wind.

Lilligold bit her lip. Her eyelids fluttered in vain to cool the heat of her tears. She’d grown so weary of crying, but she still couldn’t help it. The thought of all her plants, stolen or silenced amid the carnage. Years of work she’d put her heart and soul into, gone in the span of no time at all.

And Audrey…

That did it. That always did it. A sob wrenched from Lilligold’s chest. Crying burned her lungs and stung her throat, but she needed it. And so she sobbed. It was the only sound she found familiar lately, and that only made her sadder. She squeezed her eyes shut.

“Hey…” rasped a voice. Lilligold cinched her lips.

“Hey,” it said again. It came distantly through the gutter. “Hey. Is somepony there? I think I heard crying.” A pregnant silence ensued. It lasted a decent while, and Lilligold nearly thought the mare had given up, but then she heard, “If you are there, say something. Please. I could really use someone to talk to.”

Lilligold said nothing. She was in solitary for a reason—they both were.

“You probably could use someone to talk to too, right? C’mon. It’s not like we’re getting outta here anytime soon. Not without some help, anyway. Gimme something to work with here.”

Still, Lilligold’s lips remained locked. Nothing she could say would help this pony. Nothing this pony could say would help her. It was hopeless.

The pony groaned. “Look, I know I heard something, alright? There’s no way I’m already going crazy down here. So stop messing around and say something!” The vigor in her voice struck Lilligold less than the scratchy undertone. Her heart screamed at her to say anything, but she wouldn’t.

Dungeon silence resumed. Lilligold didn’t dare move lest her hooves click too loudly on the stone. She only listened, praying the pony would give up and fall asleep before long.

“Please…” the voice said. “Please be there. I can’t be alone down here. I just… can’t.”

Those words sent a pang through Lilligold too sharp to bear. She silently cursed her conscience and whispered, “I’m here.” She waited, and when no reply came, she moved closer to the gutter and said, “I’m here.”

“You are?” Lilligold made to reply, but the mare was quicker. “Ha! You are! I knew there was somepony there. Why didn’t you say something before?”

Lilligold worked her tongue uselessly. How could she even hope to articulate it? She finally settled on a lie. “I don’t know. Disbelief, I suppose. It’s been so long since I’ve spoken to another pony.”

“Seriously? How long have you been down here?”

“Two months, perhaps a little more.” She knew that only because she’d been counting her… punishments. Once weekly, and there had been eight so far. She shivered.

“Yow. What did you do to get locked down here instead of in the main building with all the other ponies?”

Despite the fact that the mare couldn’t see her—or perhaps because of it—Lilligold blushed. “I… would rather not say.”

There was a moderate pause. “That bad, huh?”

Lilligold swallowed hard. “Perhaps we could discuss something else.” She thought for a moment. “My name is Lilligold, by the way.”

“Oh, right. Luster Lock, locksmith and former escape artist. Irony’s a bitch, eh? I got caught trying to bust out an old friend, and now I’m here. What’s your story?”

That caught Lilligold’s curiosity enough. “Caught? You weren’t abducted?”

“Uh, no.” In the ensuing silence, Lilligold realized she’d said exactly the wrong thing. “You were?”

Lilligold’s throat dried up, so she nodded. When she realized how silly that was, she said, “Yes. All of us were. Except for you, it would seem.”

Even though Lilligold couldn’t see Luster Lock’s face, she imagined her mouth to be hanging open. “What kind of prison is this? Why were you abducted?”

At that, Lilligold was lost for words. Unfortunately, fate seemed determined to answer the question for her.

The golem in Lilligold’s door stirred. She reflexively yelped and curled as far from it as she could, trembling in the corner like a schoolfilly anticipating a scolding.

“Lilligold?!” Luster called. “What’s going on?!”

“No! No!” Lilligold screamed. The golem stepped forward and reached an arm out to her, its soulless eyes burning deeper into her memory. “Please! Not again! Stop!”

Luster Lock was yelling something, but it was muffled behind the ringing in Lilligold’s ears. The golem clenched its fist around her tail and yanked her into the air. She kicked and thrashed and pleaded, but the golem continued unabated. It carried her out of the cell, her screams echoing through the dungeon blackness.

***

The tiredness was becoming downright painful now, but Luster was determined not to fall asleep. Not until Lilligold came back. She needed to know what was going on in this place. All she really knew was that Trixie had gone missing while touring in Elmshire, and she’d tracked her down to here. Beyond that, she had no idea.

Soon enough, the silence was disturbed by a distant rumbling. It grew closer and closer, until the roar of grinding stone was nearly on top of her. Luster perked her ears up. Something thudded, and the sound of the stone golem faded. As it did, she heard a soft sobbing coming through the gutter. Luster frowned. “Lilligold?”

There was a gasp, and then the sobbing resumed. Luster tried again. “Lilligold, what happened? Where did you go?”

Lilligold’s sobs redoubled. Her breaths came in erratic pulses, like a pony on the verge of mania. Something that sounded like speech tried to break through the weeping, but Luster couldn’t make out a word.

Stretching for something to say, Luster found herself at a loss. Lilligold’s sobs struck her tired mind heavily. She’d never been much good dealing with serious situations, and this was about as serious as they came.

“We’re gonna get outta here, Lilligold,” Luster said. “I don’t know how, or when, but we will, okay? I’ve gotten out of way worse jams than this.” She wasn’t sure that much was true, but it sounded right. “We can do it. I know we can.”

Whether her words had any impact or not, Luster had no idea. Lilligold’s sobbing seemed to be winding down, at any rate. It descended briefly into sniffles, then stopped entirely. Silence dominated once more.

“Lilligold?” Luster said. When no response came, she didn’t bother trying again. She still had exhaustion to sleep away herself, and now she had a lot more to think about too. She curled up against the wall and was gone in a matter of minutes.

***

The potted flytrap sat before Lilligold, barely more than a sproutling. She bit her tongue and focused. A complex web of magic appeared in her mind’s eye. She wove it into the plant carefully, making sure every spell was precisely aligned, and taking great care not to damage the plant.

When she was done, Lilligold opened her eyes. The flytrap squirmed a little and flapped its leaves. It made raspy mewling noises, tilting its pod every which way. Tears immediately flooded Lilligold’s eyes.

“Hello, little friend,” she said. “Welcome to the world.”

***

A heavy clattering snapped Lilligold awake. She wiped the tears from her eyes—they were still puffy and sore from the previous night. She coughed up some dust and spores, then turned to the door, where the golem was shifting back into place. A wooden bowl rattled at its feet. A thick, black substance rested in it, the surface congealing before her eyes. If she didn’t know any better, she might’ve guessed it was cold tar. The sight always made Lilligold’s stomach turn, but she drew the bowl closer anyway.

“Lilligold?” came Luster’s voice. It jolted Lilligold’s heart a bit. “You awake?”

“Yes,” she said. She dipped her muzzle into the bowl and ate a glob of the stuff. It glued her teeth together, and it always made her fur sticky and rock-hard, but at least it was edible. It tasted about as good as hot slag smelled, though.

“What in Equestria is this stuff?” Luster asked.

“Oatmeal, once upon a time.” She processed what Luster had just said, then asked, “You’re from Equestria, then?”

She heard Luster spit, followed by something skidding across the floor—Luster’s bowl of ‘oatmeal,’ probably. “Uh huh,” she said.

“Quite a long way you’ve come.”

“I was bored. When I heard Trixie’d gone missing, it was the perfect excuse to beat the rhythm, y’know? Little adventure, save a friend, perfect summer.”

“Ah.” Lilligold took another bite of oatmeal.

A brief silence settled, then Luster said, “So, about last night… what exactly happened?”

Lilligold chewed on the oatmeal longer than necessary, buying time to muster up some courage. She eventually swallowed and said, matter-of-factly, “I was taken away for punishment.”

“Punishment? What did you do wrong?”

Despite her efforts, Lilligold could sense heat building in her eyes again. “Nothing. Nothing at all. He just… does it. For his own pleasure.”

A long, thick silence ensued. “Who does?”

“The pony who abducted us. The one keeping us here. He—” Lilligold’s voice hitched. “He takes us, one at a time, and makes us hurt. He puts us through trauma, and just… watches.” She closed her eyes, and a metal greenhouse flashed through her mind.

“Why?”

Lilligold wrenched her eyes shut. “I don’t know,” she squeaked. A sob forced itself from her. “I just want to go home.”

She managed to choke back any further sobbing, waiting for Luster to say something. “You will get home. We both will! I promise, I’ll bust us outta here before you know it.”

Biting her lip and shaking her head, Lilligold said, “It’s not possible. No one can leave this place.”

Amazingly, Luster chuckled. “Clearly you don’t know who you’re talking to. Never met an escape that could stand up to the Radium Maiden! We’ll be out of here in a jiffy.”

Lilligold’s eyes glazed over. “How?”

When Luster’s voice came back, it was downtrodden beyond recognition. “I… haven’t gotten that far yet.”

The silence resumed. And what a long silence it would be.

***

Several months passed in no small time.

When she wasn’t sleeping, Luster was asking Lilligold questions about anything and everything, as though she couldn’t bear the silence—or the solitude. Lilligold had been hesitant at first, but she’d eventually told Luster all about her plants and her shop and her talents. She carefully avoided mentioning Audrey, because she descended into an inconsolable mess whenever she did. Luster only knew her name, that she was a plant, and that she was Lilligold’s oldest friend.

Lilligold didn’t ask so many questions. It was universally Luster who initiated the conversations, and Lilligold preferred to listen unless asked something directly. She gathered that Luster had been an assistant to a street performer named Trixie a long while ago, and she missed that time greatly. Clearly she didn’t find much joy in her profession as a locksmith, but she was always more than happy to bring up Trixie and wax poetic about her memories there.

As the weeks dwindled on, Luster brought up the topic of escape less and less. Whenever she did, Lilligold tended not to comment on it. She couldn’t tell if Luster’s willpower was dwindling, or if she’d simply chosen not to talk about whatever plans she had. All she knew was that the outside world still seemed very, very far off.

In all those months, Luster never left her cell. Lilligold was taken away every week for her punishment, and the process never got any easier. If anything she cried more and more with each passing punishment. She never went into detail about what the punishments entailed—if she tried to, she wouldn’t get very far before succumbing to sobs again.

It was after one of these punishments, and the sleep that followed, that something pivotal happened.

***

Lilligold sat in a vast green field, smiling at Audrey. The flytrap stood about as tall as Lilligold herself now. She rested in the grass, her pot discarded and her roots bare.

With a little giggle, Lilligold sent a ripple of magic through the grass. It brushed up against Audrey, and she turned towards Lilligold. She smiled and chirped, then pulled herself through the grass with her vines.

Lilligold beamed. “Good girl!”

***

“Argh!” Luster slammed her hooves against the golem again. It didn’t budge. She screamed and punched and screamed and punched, rendering her throat raw and her hooves swollen. Her eyes bulged, bloodshot and wet as they were. “Let! Me! Out!”

“Luster,” came Lilligold’s sleepy voice. “What are you doing?”

She smashed both her hooves against the golem and came to a rest, breathing heavily. “I can’t take this anymore, Lilligold! This is killing me! I’m cold! I’m hungry! I’m dirty! And there’s no way out of this fucking cell!” She continued to pound on the rock. Streaks of blood appeared on the wall.

“Please, Luster, calm down! I understand your frustration, believe me, I do, but—”

“I’m so useless!” Luster slammed the golem. Something cracked in her hoof. She didn’t care. “I couldn’t get Trixie out. I can’t get us out. And I don’t even have a purpose in this stupid dungeon! At least you get some attention. At least you get to leave this place for your damn punishments!”

Lilligold didn’t answer for a long time. Again, Luster didn’t care. She just kept blindly punching, though her jabs were losing force.

“Luster, you don’t know what you’re saying.” Her voice was trembling. For whatever reason, that grated on Luster’s nerves. “Those punishments are torture of the worst kind. I would much rather be stuck in this room for years on end than endure even one more of those sessions.”

“Cry me a river!” Luster pivoted and punched the wall above the gutter instead. She rested there and said, “You don’t know what this is like for me. You don’t even know me! You’ve had months to get used to those punishments. Stop being a wimp, already!”

“Pardon me!” For the first time, Lilligold had raised her voice. “Do you even know what those punishments consist of? Would you like me to tell you?!”

“If you can get it out between your crying, be my guest!”

“They make me kill Audrey!” The words rang through the two cells like a guillotine’s thud. “They let me use my magic to revive her, only so they can take her away. Again! And again! And again! So don’t you dare tell me I’m not the one suffering in all this. How would you like to have your dearest friend—your life’s ambition—flaunted before you and be unable to do a thing?”

Luster said nothing. A fire still smoldered in her gut, but it was dwindling into embers. Eventually, she growled, “What life’s work?”

With that, the both of them went quiet. Luster collapsed at the golem’s feet. Her hooves throbbed and gushed scarlet. Her throat ached of dryness. But her headache hurt worst of all. She wasn’t sure she’d wake up again if she lost consciousness, but her body was desperate to quit, and she fell asleep before long.

***

Something smacked Luster in the head, conking her awake. She groaned as lukewarm black goop seeped into her mane from the upturned bowl on her head. She managed to shake the bowl free, but the oatmeal stuck hard in her mane, giving her ironclad hair.

She didn’t even bother trying to rouse Lilligold—they both needed time to think. Instead, she just lay there. Blunt pain wracked her body, but her hooves had stopped bleeding at least. She pushed herself into a sitting position, grunting at the stiffness of her limbs, and set about picking the oatmeal from her mane before it hardened too much.

Much of her hair had clumped together into straight black rods. “Ugh, come on,” she grumbled. But try as she might, the oatmeal was dead set on molding to her mane. She tried to at least separate some of the hairs, but the clump simply bent at her touch. It held firm in its bent position, making it look almost like a lockpick.

Luster blinked.

***

Lilligold stood at the base of her stairs, tears in her eyes as she looked up at Audrey in the mangled doorframe of her bedroom. The cloaked unicorn had Lilligold frozen in his grip—all she could do was stare.

Audrey lunged a vine at the unicorn, but he dodged. “Buffoons!” he called to the two golems ransacking Lilligold’s shop. “Neutralize this vegetable. I want it.” The golems dropped whatever plants they’d been mangling and marched towards Audrey’s vine.

Another vine shot out and nailed the unicorn. Lilligold was freed from his magic grip and collapsed to the floor. “No!” she shrieked. “No! Please!” She summoned her magic and nailed one of the golems. It fell, but it was too late.

The other golem gripped Audrey’s vine. A howl split the night, and the flytrap went limp.

***

“Lilligold!”

Lilligold’s eyes fluttered open—she couldn’t recall a time she’d awoken with more tears in her eyes. She sniffled and rose to sitting. She pulled her bowl of oatmeal close and began eating in silence.

“Lilligold! Come on, get up!”

“I’m in no mood, Luster,” Lilligold mumbled. She wasn’t even sure it was loud enough to make it through the gutter.

“No! Look, I’m sorry about last night, okay? I went crazy and took it out on you. Whatever. But you have to listen! I can get us out of here!”

Lilligold clenched her teeth. “Please stop talking,” she said. “I requested solitary confinement for a reason.”

Wherever Luster had been going, that seemed to derail her. “You what?”

“I prefer to be left alone. I am better off alone. That’s why I asked to be placed in isolation.” She slammed her bowl on the ground and glared at the gutter. “But then you come along and give me false hope. You make me relive my most painful memories time and again. And then you have the gall to trivialize all of this and get angry with me! I’m done with you, Luster Lock.”

In all her life, Lilligold had never scolded anyone so badly. Her conscience screamed at her to apologize, but she refused to listen.

“That’s not true. We need each other, Lilligold. You needed me, and I sure as shit needed you. Now more than ever. Please, Lilligold. You have to believe me. I can get us out. Today.”

Lilligold stomped a hoof on the ground. She was trembling from head to tail. “It’s impossible. You said it yourself.”

“It’s not impossible. It’s just really, really sticky.”

Despite everything, that got Lilligold to raise an eyebrow. “What?”

In the quick silence, Lilligold imagined Luster to be smirking. “You didn’t eat all your oatmeal, did you?”

***

It took two grimy, disheveled manes, many hours of explanation on Luster’s part, and many hours of fumbling on Lilligold’s, but they managed. Lilligold twisted her hair-made-lockpick in the keyhole of her magic capacitor for the umpteenth time, and it clicked. A chill swept through her, and the device clattered to the floor. Magic immediately swelled to her horn like a newly undammed river.

“Was that it?” Luster asked.

Lilligold stared at the magic capacitor, lying in two pieces at her hooves. She chuckled as she lifted the pieces in her magic and launched them down the gutter. “You’ve done it! You’ve done it! Ah ha ha!”

“We did it! All I did was make a mess of my mane and… be a locksmith, I guess!”

“All you did? That’s no small feat, Luster!” Lilligold clasped her hooves around her horn. It tingled with and ambient frequency she’d missed so dearly. “How in the world did you even know how to instruct me on a lock you’ve never seen?”

“I saw it real quick when I tried to bust out Trixie. Looked dead-simple. Turns out it was!” At that, Luster’s tone exploded into one of sheer ecstasy. “Now blow a hole in the wall already!”

Lilligold turned on the dormant golem. “With pleasure.” She lit her horn like a brazen sunflower and fired a shock of magic into the golem’s eyes. It groaned in the doorway, then collapsed into her cell, motionless. The yellow lines criss-crossing the dungeon turned five-alarm red.

Lilligold leapt over the golem and turned to the right. “Stand back!” she shouted. Another beam shot from her horn and struck the second golem guard. It toppled forward with a final thud.

A dark gray mess soared into the corridor and wrapped Lilligold in an embrace. Lilligold staggered, but she returned it fully, even as the alarm lights flashed all around them.

Luster pulled back and looked Lilligold in the eyes. Her grin was downright infectious. “You look nothing like I imagined, you know that?”

“Likewise,” Lilligold choked out. She was beaming from ear to ear. “But I don’t think this is quite the time.”

“Right.” Luster released her and looked forward down the dank corridor. “Let’s get outta here. Together.” She galloped away.

For a brief moment, Lilligold looked at her own bedraggled mane, still bent in an oatmeal lockpick. “Yes,” she said. “Together.” She took off after Luster.

How Mango Leaf Stole Winter

Author's Note

My story (poem?) from the Semifinals of the OC Slamjam—Lilligold vs. Mango Leaf. You can find the original story along with my opponent's story over here.

How Mango Leaf Stole Winter

‘Twas the first week of winter in fair Canterlot.
And the snowclouds, they snowed. They snowed quite a lot.
There was chill in the air, and frost underhoof,
And icicles lining each eave of each roof.
The foals frolicked gaily, built snowponies wide,
Till the sun winked away and bade them inside
Where their parents awaited with plates of warm food
And mugs of hot cocoa. ‘Twas just the right mood!
For the essence of winter can always be found
In desserts that are warm and sleep that is sound.

But this tale, dear friends, does not start so warm.
It features a pony quite far from the norm.
A stallion who somehow had grown to despise
Those cups of hot cider and warm apple pies.
Yes, any hot food would give him a rise!

Mango Leaf walked, shopwagon in tow,
Through the coldest of nights and deepest of snow.
The smells from the homes drew a scowl to his face.
They smelled of fresh bake, which smelled of disgrace.
“Dumb winter!” he cried. “You make it so hard
to peddle my wares. My dessert avant-garde!
Why is it that this, the season of cold,
Should hinder us few who love cold tenfold?
It’s all I desire to share my dessert.
My love for this tastiest frozen yogurt!”

Mango huffed and he pouted, it just wasn’t fair!
That for three months a year he was doomed to despair.
Yet he saw no way out. Not a one. Not a bit.
It seemed that, for now, this was all. That was it.
And till spring rolled around, he might as well quit.

But then, what he saw on the street’s near’st corner
Lifted his spirits and dispelled his self-mourner.
For there, twixt decor of Hearth’s Warming glee
Was an independently owned travel agency!
“Now there’s an idea!” he said. “What a score!
Why haven’t I ever thought this up before?
I’ll travel someplace where winter’s unseen!
Someplace with sky blue, and grass evergreen!
And then, once I’m there, it’ll be time to shine!
To share my dessert that’s one of a kine!”

He strolled to the store, in through the front door,
And just ‘cross the floor stood a mare, who looked bored.
“Aloha, good mare!” said Mango mid-trot.
“I’d like to be sent someplace that is hot.
Where summer’s eternal and winter is not.”

“Uh huh,” groaned the mare in a voice not quite hers.
She slid forth a bundle of travel brochures.
“Hoofolulu?”
“Been there.”
“Palomino?”
“Done that.”
“The city of Elmshire?”
“…Now where is that at?”
“Just south of the desert, it’s really sublime.
Please can you say why we’re speaking in rhyme?”
“No can do,” Mango said. “Now I’m Elmshire-bound!
Please sell me one pass for a trip not-so-round.”
With a sigh, and a stamp, and a series of clips,
She hoofed him a pass. “That’s two hundred bits.”

His coinpurse weighed less, but his spirits were high.
With a smile and a wave, he bade her goodbye.
He stepped back out into the night, and then shivered.
“Come morning,” he said, “it’s bye-bye to this blizzard!
Look out, sunny ‘Shire, for the Great Froyo Wizard!”

***

The trip took twelve hours, from six until six.
So far as sleep went, Mango’d gotten his fix.
So rested was he for the sojourn ahead,
By the time he awoke, the sky had gone red.
As the countryside rolled like an emerald sea
Mango yawned, and he smiled. “I can’t wait to see
All the sights and delights this city might hold
So far from that nasty Equestrian cold.
But what’s more than that: I’m dying to share
My dessert so divine that none can compare!”

“Next stop: Elmshire!” the conductor proclaimed.
“Make sure when you leave that your baggage gets claimed!”
Mango grinned out the window, but something was off.
A chill coursed his veins, and he sputtered a cough,
For the city of Elmshire was covered in frost!

But not just frost. No! Also ice! Also snow!
And everything wintry that Mango did loathe!
“What?!” Mango roared. “But this can’t be right!
Where’s the heat? And the sun? And the summer so bright?!
Don’t tell me I’ve traveled so many long miles
To learn that I’ve fallen for wintertime wiles!”
He shot to the front of the train as it stopped.
The door squealed open. To the platform, he hopped.
As snowflakes danced ‘round, he glared long and hard.
He looked ‘cross the station and found a street guard.

“Hey!” Mango called as he galloped headlong.
“What’s with this snow? It has to be wrong!
I was told this is where only summertime lives,
But it’s blizzarding now. So tell me: what gives?”
The tone of his voice seemed not at all his.

The guard wore a smile. “Oh, isn’t it great?
Now we can ski! We can sled! We can skate!
All thanks to the latest of royal decrees,
Mandating the placement of everwhite trees!
One on each block, and two in town square.
Praise be to the duchess! She really does care!”
With a scoff, Mango said, “That’s completely insane!
Decreeing it winter? She’s sick in the brain!
Where is this duchess? I’ll give her my reason
Why summer should be the ultimate season.”

The guard’s mouth turned down. “I’m not sure I should.
If your word with the duchess does more harm than good…
But you seem quite earnest, and I feel divine!
So I’ll show you the palace down Parapet Line.
But first, can you say why we’re speaking in rhyme?”

***

His wagon retrieved, and a stomp in his gait,
Mango Leaf passed through the palace front gate.
In a city created of buildings aglow,
This opulent manor was star of the show.
‘Twas wider than wide, and taller than tall.
And wore enough holly to deck every hall.
The rooftops were sharp, trimmed wholly in gold,
Yet paint gone so dull, it had to be old.
But Mango cared not for aesthetics just now.
There was too much at stake—forget being wowed!

The guard led him in, up two flights of stairs,
Down six corridors, past three working mares.
At long last they came to a lavish oak door.
He knocked on it thrice, and then knocked once more.
“Duchess! A pony has asked for the floor!”

“Let them inside,” said a voice, so demure
That it straddled the line of being mature.
The door rumbled open, and Mango walked in.
A throne stood inside, a cute mare sat within.
She looked far too young to be done with school
Never mind on a throne, solitary in rule.
She smiled so coy and said, “You look strange!
Foreign, are you? From Equestria’s plains?”
Facing the mare, Mango bowed low and said,
“Actually, Duchess, I’m Haywaiian-bred.

“But that doesn’t matter. Not now, anyway.
There’s only one thing that I’ve come here to say:
I came here in search of a summer retreat
For I wish to share a great frozen sweet,
But your new decree has gotten me beat.

“I ask of you now, please lift your decree.
Take torches to ev’ry last everwhite tree,
For only in heat can you eat my dessert.
My scrumptious, fantastical frozen yogurt.”
The duchess’s mouth drew in a straight line.
She chewed on her words. She chewed for some time.
“I worried on this. On these trees. Even told
Their master—my friend, dear, sweet Lilligold—
That perhaps our fair subjects would not enjoy winter.
And now here you are, in quite a big dither.

“But my word is my bond. I will not go back.
The trees, they will stay till they’ve all fallen black.
And only one thing will alter my choice:
Hearing your plea in Lilligold’s voice.
That’s the one way you might find rejoice.”

Mango considered. The task sounded tame.
He just had to sway this Lilligold dame
To taste his sweet froyo. To taste it just once.
And surely the flavour would make the fair dunce
Relinquish her chase of the cold winter season.
She’d chop down the trees. She had to see reason!
“Miss Duchess,” he said, “just where can I find
This Lilligold mare? I might change her mind.”
“I doubt it,” said Duchess. “Her mindset is hardened.
But still, you may find her at Glimmering Gardens.”

With a smirk and a bow, Mango Leaf said,
“Thank you, Miss Duchess!” And outside he fled.
The duchess waved bye and called, “Anytime!”
She slumped in her throne, but ‘fore she reclined
she pondered, “Did all that just happen in rhyme?”

***

Road after road after serpentine road
Mango Leaf carted his heavy cartload
Of froyo supplies. And it just gained more mass
As the wheels gathered snow. This trip was not fast.
So late was the hour when he reached the store,
The red in the sky was not there anymore.
‘Twas all black and blue, great flurries blew ‘round,
The howling of gales commandeering all sound.
His bones has grown cold, his hooves had gone numb.
But he still soldier’d on. Determined, or dumb.

He hammered the door, at eleven-oh-four,
Of Glimmering Gardens: a floral-type store.
“Hello?” Mango said. “Please, let me in
This weather is brutal. It’s cold as all sin.
So open up, please, ‘fore frost bites my skin.

The shop made no sound. The windows were dark.
But someone was there, for one light did spark
On the store’s second floor, the window topmost.
And soon, to the door came the probable host.
The entry swung open, and standing inside
Was a beautiful mare who seemed beyond tired.
“Oh dear. Yes, of course. Come into my home.
Just please mind the plants. Each one is home-grown.
I’ll fetch you a blanket to help with the cold.
And in case you stay long: my name’s Lilligold.”

“And mine is Mango. So nice to meet you.”
His words came out kind. His thank-you was true.
He stepped from his cart and crossed the threshold
Into the warmth, and out of the cold,
But froze when he saw just what this shop sold.

‘Twas full up of plants. Complete as a jungle!
But each plant was strange, a natural bungle.
From flowers that glowed with ethereal light,
To pinecones that blended right into the night,
To pumpkins that floated up high like balloons,
To roses that seemed to be made of monsoons,
To cacti that burned, looked ripe to explode,
To min’ature trees making min’ature snow.
Despite his own thoughts, Mango was quite impressed
By this greenhouse that danced with such magical zest.

Lilligold came back, wool blanket in hoof,
Hot tea in her magic. So Mango’s head shook.
“No tea for me please, but thanks anyway.
I actually have something I quite need to say.
I’m afraid it can’t wait, not even one day.”

With a smile so soft, the mare said, “Of course.
Say what you will. The floor is all yours.”
Huddled deep in his blanket, Mango Leaf said,
“I’m here not by chance but by choice. From the head
Of the city, the duchess, I’ve come. Seeking you,
For this winter you’ve made has got be quite blue.
I came to this city to sell my dessert—
To share with the masses my frozen yogurt—
But no one will buy it in this kind of storm!
The sun must be up! The air must be warm!

“So here I am now. I’m begging you, please!
Take away all of your everwhite trees
And bring back the summer with radical haste.
I promise you now, it won’t be a waste.
Especially after this yogurt you taste.”

He offered a cup full of lemon-lime swirl.
He’d whipped it up prior, for meeting this girl.
Lilligold took it. Her frown was so small.
As was her frame: she’d shrunk ‘gainst the wall.
Not even licked once, she set far aside
The frozen yogurt. She heaved out a sigh.
“You speak from the heart. Of love and of passion
For this dairy treat, served in a cold fashion.
Your plight is quite sound. I’m so very sad
This winter has rendered you so very mad.

“But passions are plenty among ponykind
Perhaps you have noticed this passion of mine
To breed plants of magical manifestation.
The everwhite tree is my latest creation,
And one that I opted to share with the nation.”

“But why just that one?” Mango said with a shiver.
“What’s so compelling ‘bout a tree that brews winter?”
Lilligold fell pretty silent at that.
She looked away, petting her mane like a cat.
“The needs of the many. The needs of the few.
Which one weighs more? I ask that of you.
For many long years, Elmshire has suffered
A desolate burden: eternally summered.
The heat was a threat. I answered the call.
Now winter is here. I’m afraid that is all.”

With slack in his jaw, and cold in his brain,
Mango still found the strength to complain.
“I’ve traveled so far. I’ve worked hard and long!
I’ve come too far now to meet my swan song.
My ambition is just. It cannot be wrong…

“Can it?”

“I implore you to stay,” said fair Lilligold.
“Sleep on the thought where it’s cozy, not cold.
I think in the back, twixt soil and pots,
I have what I need to build makeshift cots.
Stay till the morn, and after sunrise
We’ll see if this winter, you still so despise.”
Mango Leaf wanted to speak, but he yawned.
So tired was he, that he could not respond
With anything else but “Fine. I will stay.
“I’ll follow your lead. Please show me the way.”

In the store’s storage room, it took little time
For Lilligold to weave a cot out of vines.
She found him some sheets, then faced him and said,
“Have a good night!” before going to bed
Not knowing the plot that had formed in his head.

***

Just one hour later, a tick past midnight,
Mango could no longer stand the dread sight
Of blizzarding blackness just outside the shop
He slid from his bed and said, “This must stop!
Elmshirites want this? They don’t even know
What they’re missing, dismissing my yummy froyo!
I’ll end this myself! Before break of dawn
Ev’ry last everwhite tree will be gone!”
He borrowed a scarf, set of boots, and a toque,
And went out to end this wintertime fluke.

An everwhite tree stood tall, and quite bright.
‘Twas a mere evergreen whose spines had gone white.
Mango beheld it and smiled quite bold.
“This should be simple, everything told.
I’m Mango Leaf: Master of Magic That’s Cold!”

With a flick of his horn, he invaded the tree,
And dismantled the magic. Internally.
Faster than fast, the everwhite withered.
And all ‘round the block, ‘twas no longer blizzard.
The cold crept away, as though it had never
Been there at all. ‘Twas spring-ishtime weather!
Mango Leaf blinked. “It’s really that easy?
This winter is weaker than even a breezy!
The city’s quite big, but I have lots of time
‘Fore anyone wakes. This season is mine!”

So Mango Leaf went, for hours and hours,
Sapping out ev’ry last everwhite’s powers.
One on each block, and two in town square,
He conquered them all with quite little care,
Restoring the summertime warmth to the air.

It took all night long, right up until eight.
And despite his exhaustion, Mango felt great!
The snow was now quickly succumbing to melt.
No ice underhoof, no chill to be felt.
The horizon grew light. Daybreak would come soon.
And Mango would be there the whole afternoon
In Elmshire Square, shopwagon in tow,
Prepared to deliver his own brand of snow!
His sole motivation. His chilly dessert.
At last he could dole out his frozen yogurt!

As Mango prepared all his treats to be sold,
He couldn’t help but to recall Lilligold.
His heart did a twist. He felt a bit bad.
But then he said, “Sure, I guess she’ll be mad.
But only till she tastes my froyo so rad!”

***

When ponies awoke and greeted the day,
They all looked confused. Confused sans-pareil.
They flooded town square, looking quite like a mob.
And, completely in sync, they spat, “We’ve been robbed!
Where is our winter?! Is this some big coup?!
Where are the trees?! And just who are you?!”
With a humbling grin, and his cart open wide,
Mango Leaf shouted, “It’s Froyo Riptide!
I’ve cleaned away winter! Now who will be first
To sample my buffet of frozen yogurts?”

The ponies all roared, and raised their hooves high.
But before they attacked, the duchess arrived.
A phalanx of street guards put halt to the din.
With voice so serene, and mouth lined so thin
The Duchess of Elmshire commanded, “Seize him.”

Mango Leaf paled as the guards all advanced.
Tired as he was, he stood not a chance.
“You don’t understand!” His effort, last-ditch.
“I had to perform this seasonal switch!
I wanted to share my treat so divine!
My frozen yogurt is—”
“Save it, fruit rind,”
Said a guard. “You’re causing a lot of unrest.
By Law of the Duchess, you’re under—”

“Wait!”

The world went silent, and everyone turned
To the voice that, somehow, everypony had heard.
‘Twas Lilligold there! She stepped through the crowd
And right past the duchess, who made herself loud,
“Guards! Step away! May her path be allowed!”

The guards cleared away, leaving Mango alone.
As Lilligold neared, his gut felt like stone.
But ‘fore he could speak even one single line
Lilligold said, “One, please. Lemon-lime.
I never did try that dessert yesterday.
Can it be truly as good as you say?
By… killing my trees, you’ve cut me quite deep,
And hurt our fair town by the winter you reaped.
If it led you to that, it must be quite nice.
So one yogurt please. Served overtop ice.”

As silence ensued, Mango Leaf stared
Into Lilligold’s eyes, and the hurt that lay there.
A lump in his throat, and guilt in his eyes,
He set slow to work with his froyo supplies.
And when he was done, the silence reprised.

He hoofed her a cup of dessert, yellow-green.
She lifted it up with her magic white sheen.
And with her first bite, she managed a smile.
The first one that Mango had seen in a while.
A smile of someone who, for the first time,
Had tried his dessert, and found it sublime.
Lilligold said, “It’s really quite good.
Quite good indeed. Your plight’s understood.
I’ll speak with the duchess. You will not be chained.
But please.” Her voice cracked. “Don’t come near me again.”

She teared up her eyes, turned tail, and ran,
Once more leaving Mango alone with his stand.
He looked to the crowd, and found only hate.
He looked to the duchess and saw nothing great.
He saw Lilligold and he shouted, “Please wait!”

To his full surprise, Lilligold really stopped.
Mango picked up the froyo she had dropped.
He tossed it aside to the slush-laden quarry.
He bellowed a cry. He bellowed, “I’m sorry!
There isn’t a treat in the world worth this.
This stunt that I pulled was completely remiss.
It was selfish of me. The only way I could see
To share with this city my froyoing glee.
But my plan was so wrong! Reckless and dumb!
Should’ve left you alone to your wintertime fun.

“If you’ll let me, I would like to help you rebuild
Those everwhite trees. I’ll stay till we’ve filled
This city to bursting with ice and with snow.
It’s the least I can do in an effort to show
My truest remorse for stooping so low.”

A pause. A long pause, where Lilligold stood
With her back facing Mango, which couldn’t be good.
She turned to the duchess and spoke in hushed tones.
Her eyes were not dry. Her words were unknowns.
The duchess replied, with a smile quite clear.
Though that did quite little to bide Mango’s fear.
Lilligold turned with the smallest of sighs
In a voice barely there: “Your insight is wise.
It would be rather nice if you help my trees live.
Indeed, a good step on the road to forgive…

“…ness.”

***

Several weeks later, Mango Leaf found himself on a frosty metal bench in Elmshire’s market district. As far as he could see, he was the only pony not wearing winter clothes. Somehow, that made him smile. He took a bite of agave froyo and looked around.

The everwhite trees were back in full force. He’d never taken the time to appreciate how they gleamed in the sun like great marble spires. They were really quite beautiful, despite the surrounding weather. But even the weather wasn’t so bad. Mango had helped Lilligold refine some of her spellwork to prevent the trees from making it too cold or too windy. It was winter, but it was an optimized winter.

“Aha! There you are!” He turned and saw Lilligold trotting up. She smiled, wearing a full set of pink winter clothes.

“Aw, shoot,” Mango said. “I hate goodbyes.” He smiled anyway.

Lilligold settled in next to him and said, “You’re not getting away that easy!”

“Ha, shoulda figured.” He offered her a spoonful of yogurt. “Agave?”

She took the spoon and wordlessly set it in her mouth. A gentle silence fell between them, broken only by the crunchy hoofsteps of passersby in the snow. Eventually, Lilligold dipped her head and whispered. “I… really feel like I owe you an apology.”

Mango nearly did a spit-take. He chortled and said, “You’re kidding me, right? After everything I did, you owe me an apology? Ha!” When Lilligold’s face remained straight, Mango let his smile fall. “What for?”

“Well…” She looked up at a nearby everwhite. “What you did was certainly wrong, but your heart was in the right place. You just wanted to share your joy with ponies, and you tried to do that the only way you saw how.” She broke her stare and looked Mango in the eyes—something she rarely did. “No matter how misguided your goal, I should’ve recognized your intent. Perhaps my fault was lesser, but… Regardless, I’m sorry.”

“Pfft, you think I’m that sensitive, girl?” Mango waved her off. “Nah. I goofed up big time. Of course, no one’s perfect, so I’ll take that as an apology for not being perfect and we’ll call it even, yeah?”

Despite herself, Lilligold giggled. “You are so strange.”

“Just learning this now?” Mango laughed heartily, and Lilligold joined.. It was quite a peculiar sight: two ponies smiling as they shared frozen yogurt in subzero weather. It was strange, but then so was the city, and so were the ponies.

Lilligold glanced up at the nearest clock tower—just five minutes until Mango left for his train back home. “Well, before we say goodbye,” she said, “I do have one last question.”

“Shoot,” Mango said.

Clearing her throat loudly, Lilligold said:

“Your company’s nice, I quite liked our time.
But why did so much of it happen in rhyme?”

What Doesn't Kill Us

Author's Note

My story for the Third Place Run-Off of the OC Slamjam—Lilligold vs. Evergreen. You can find the original story over here.

What Doesn't Kill Us

April 2nd, 1004
8:02 a.m.
Home

I received a letter from Princess Celestia of Equestria today. I wonder how many journal entries in the world start with that. I know that this will be my seventh that starts that way, but it may in fact be the last, for this letter is different! I’ve photographed the letter for posterity, and I’ll allow it to speak for itself:

FROM THE DESK OF PRINCESS CELESTIA

Dear Lilligold of Elmshire,

I am writing in regards to your recent request for Royal Permission allowing for an independent expedition up Mount Draggle, specifically an expedition to locate, study, and sample the plant known as the phlume. I would like to start by thanking you for your letter. It was professional and extremely heartfelt, both qualities I value. I would also like to say that your sheenflower arrived safely, and I appreciate the gift.

Your qualifications are impressive, your determination is admirable (it hasn’t escaped me that this is the seventh time you’ve written in two years), and your recommendation from Duchess Debonnaire goes a long way. In light of all this, as well as in thanks for your services during my niece’s wedding and towards the Equestrian New Year’s Foundation, I am willing to grant you full access to Mount Draggle and the surrounding forest. Furthermore, should you encounter the phlume, I will permit as extensive a study of the plant as you see fit, so long as you make no attempts to breed it, harvest its seeds, or modify its structure in any way that may enhance its destructive capabilities. You are also prohibited from harming or killing the plant, unless in self-defense.

I must, however, put my hoof down in regards to an independent expedition. While you are indeed qualified, Mount Draggle is forbidden from the public for a reason, and remains at #7 on the official list of Equestria’s most dangerous territories. As such, I have contacted the Royal Equestrian Rangers stationed in Vanhoover, and they have agreed to supply a qualified member of their ranks to accompany you on your expedition. I understand this may upset you, but please understand that I’ve done this for your own safety. I cannot emphasize enough the danger of your endeavor, Miss Lilligold.

Should you accept these terms, you are to report to the Royal Equestrian Rangers Headquarters at seven in the morning on the 8th day of April. From there, you will meet your guide and may begin an expedition that is to last no longer than four days. If you have not returned to the Rangers by midnight on April 11th, a rescue party will be sent to recover you. If, however, you do not accept my terms, send a response indicating such, and the expedition will be called off. The offer will remain available unless otherwise noted.

Again, thank you for your correspondence. I sincerely hope I have not made a mistake in allowing this. You have my faith.

Be careful,
Princess Celestia of Equestria

P.S.: On a personal note, be extremely wary of the phlume. That plant is older than I am, and it was frighteningly strong when I encountered it. I have no idea what it is capable of so many centuries later. Don’t let your ambitions blind you. Take care of yourself.

Needless to say, I am ecstatic beyond words! Forgive me if this entry is a shorter one—I’m just far too excited, and I have so much to prepare! Before anything, though, I must go thank Debs for her recommendation, since that seems to have tipped the scales. Perhaps I’ll gift her with another dynasty lotus to mark the occasion.

In regards to the escort from these Royal Equestrian Rangers, it’s not ideal, but it shouldn’t be cause for worry either. Knowing myself, I’ll be an awkward mess around whoever they’ve assigned, but hopefully that means they’ll be just as willing to ignore my company as I am to ignore theirs. Either way, I won’t let it bother me. This is the opportunity of a lifetime, after all!

Brainstorm of the Day: Naturally, a golden dynasty lotus. A simple project, but a monumental one.

***

April 7th, 1004
9:56 p.m.
Ranch Springs Hotel, Vanhoover

I opted to travel to Vanhoover a day early (can you blame me?). It’s quite a lovely city from what I’ve seen. The district of Old Vanhoover even reminds me of Elmshire a smidge. The climate is quite cold, but I’ve come prepared for that—and prepared for much, much more. So much, in fact, that it necessitated the use of my bottomless pitcher plants to hold everything. This city mare is more than ready for you, Mount Draggle!

Out of curiosity, I stopped by the Headquarters of the Royal Equestrian Rangers. The outfits they wore were so unique! Tan campaign hats and scarlet overcoats all around. They were quite inspiring, truth be told. Unfortunately the pony who will be accompanying my expedition—one Sergeant Evergreen—wasn’t present. She was off doing field work of some description. I should take that as a good sign, I suppose.

At any rate, I have an early start tomorrow, so I’ll wrap up here. I may stay up a tad late looking over my research notes for the phlume one last time, but I have them pretty well memorized anyway. I must do something to bide my excitement, though. Tomorrow can’t come soon enough!

Brainstorm of the Day: Mountain palm trees. Red trunks and tan leaves, with the same snow enchantment as the everwhites. Not extraordinarily original, but probably quite pretty.

***

April 8th, 1004
~9:00 a.m.
Enroute to Mount Draggle

My goodness, Sergeant Evergreen is a character. By far the most pronounced Vanhoover accent I’ve heard. “Aboot? Hoser? Eh?” Needless to say, she should make for an entertaining companion. She was rather quiet when we first met up, but then, so was I. Now that we’re out of the city, she’s a little more talkative. Not much, though, which is fine by me.

I’m not sure how much she trusts me out here in the wilderness. Granted, I don’t look nearly like your average outdoorspony, but I’ve had more than enough camping trips to the Woodwind to know my way around a compass. And my research on The Drag is extensive enough, I’d wager I know parts of it better than the good sergeant herself. She’s never even heard of the phlume!

For future reference, “The Drag” is a nickname the Rangers have coined for Mount Draggle. Surprised I never encountered it in my research. It’s quite clever. “No hike in the Range doozier than The Drag,” so Evergreen tells me. As if I didn’t know.

The forest is getting thicker, but I don’t think we’ve crossed into the Hydious Woods quite yet. Still no danger, and no unique plants or creatures to speak of. We did stumble upon an anthill, which I did my level best to pretend didn’t exist. I swear, insect repellent is among ponykind’s greatest accomplishments. Evergreen seems content to whistle along with the cicadas and flutter with the butterflies, so I’ll let her deal with all that. I know I’ll have to grow accustomed to the bugs if I want to do this expedition, though. So long as I keep my goals in mind, I should be alright.

From here on, I’ll probably keep these entries short but frequent. I’ll want to document anything interesting, but I can’t spend too long with my nose in the book. Back to the silence of the trail, I suppose.

Brainstorm of the Day: Swarmtrap. An aerial flytrap that seeks out and consumes any type of insect. I love you, Audrey, but flies are only a sliver of the problem.

***

April 8th, 1004
~3:00 p.m.
Hydious Woods

~~Just encountered a very peculiar breed of plant. It looks like a vine with pine needles growing along its length. It’s coiling up and around a tall spruce tree. It’s mostly green with bits of black, and~~

Nevermind. Evergreen just informed me that it’s a highly venomous millipede. I nearly jumped out of my skin. She got a good laugh out of it. It was rather humiliating. I’ll do my best to forget it ever happened, and I hope she can do the same.

Who am I kidding? That’s a story she’s going to keep.

***

April 8th, 1004
~3:30 p.m.
Hydious Woods

We’ve just stopped for our first lunch break. Normally I probably wouldn’t make an entry on this, since I’d assumed we were simply going to eat in silence, but Evergreen surprised me. She was curious about my breed of magic, and she wanted to see it in action. I did the old mosslight trick, and she seemed quite thrilled with it—more so than most who see it. I believe her exact words were, “Golly, I figured it’d be just for show. Ya didn’t tell me there was a practical use for your tricks!” I don’t think she meant to offend me, but it came off quite rough.

She suggested I could use mosslight as a natural trail marker, which is quite a good idea honestly. Why didn’t I think of that?

***

April 8th, 1004
~10:00 p.m.
Mount Draggle Base Camp

I feel like a filly on a camping trip with her mother.

Evergreen’s heart is in the right place, and her survival knowledge has certainly been helpful (especially with a particularly giant wasp that is sure to appear in my dreams tonight), but I really don’t think she trusts my own capabilities. She wants to do all the dirty work—if I see a plant that piques my interest, she insists upon gathering it (or avoiding it, in one irksome case). She doesn’t understand that I need to get into the thick of it myself for this expedition to pay off. Second-hoof observations won’t cut it for my purposes.

Despite the interference, though, this first day has been rather productive. No signs of the phlume, which is to be expected at this point, but there were several flowers that were also on my checklist (lion blossoms!). Notes on all of them can be found in my research notebook, of course.

Evergreen and I have agreed to do the night watch in shifts, so we both get a chance to sleep. I think during my first shift, I’ll take the opportunity to explore the surrounding area on my own. I can’t hear any animals, nor did my research indicate any dangerous wildlife living this low down the mountain. Plus I saw an interesting microswamp that Evergreen suggested we avoid on the way in. It’ll be dark, but the mosslight should help.

***

April 9th, 1004
~6:00 a.m.
Base Camp

Went out to the microswamp at around three in the morning. I found nothing unusual save for a large root that didn’t seem to belong to any of the surrounding plants. It was bulbous, and I believe it was purple in colour. Perhaps a remnant from a plant that used to live there, but I have no way to know,

Allegedly, Evergreen saw me leave in the night. She says she followed me to keep an eye out and was impressed at the level of caution and expertise I displayed. Maybe she’ll be more willing to see me as an equal rather than some nosy tourist now. Regardless, we’re going to begin our ascent today. Things should get more interesting from here.

Brainstorm of the Day: Songshrooms. Small mushrooms that can sing, each one producing a note in the sequence of a song. Simple in theory, but probably very hard to fine-tune. Table this idea.

P.S.: Evergreen makes a mean oatmeal. I must ask her how she learned to use a camper’s stove so well. I’ve never been good with it.

***

April 9th, 1004
~9:00 a.m.
Draggle Ascent

Pink snow. Pink snow! It’s so unbelievably simple, but so beautiful too. I’m stunned I’ve never heard talk of it. Evergreen calls it watermelon snow. She says it’s actually quite rare, and caused by a certain breed of algae, which makes it all the more wonderful! Note that it doesn’t actually taste like watermelon, and that ingesting it may kill you.

She’s laughing that I’m so excited about this. I don’t care. Pink snow! It’s the same shade as my coat! I’ve taken a sample and preserved it carefully. I can’t wait to do work with this plant.

Second Brainstorm of the Day: Everpinks! Everwhite trees combined with this special algae. Also make the snow safe to consume, and make it taste like watermelon. Eat your heart out, Mango Leaf!

***

April 9th, 1004
~12:00 p.m.
Draggle Ascent

We happened across a family of dead moose.

Pardon that tonal shift—I’m just not sure how else to put it. Evergreen is quite stricken at the moment, so we’re taking a break. I think this is the first time I’ve ever seen her not smiling. She clearly needs this moment alone.

It was a rather grotesque sight. We have no idea how these gorgeous creatures died. They all have a peculiar yellow sap mixed in with their blood, and strange-looking flowers are budding from their fur. I’m not nearly crass enough to even consider sampling those flowers. The look on Evergreen’s face… I know when to leave well enough alone.

Perhaps I’ll go see how she’s doing. We need to continue our hike, but I would hate to push her too quickly.

***

April 9th, 1004
~8:00 p.m.
Second Camp

After the events of today, we opted to set up camp a little bit early. We found a nice sheltered area, which should be nice since Evergreen says it might rain during the night. I don’t claim to be a meteorologist, and I trust her instincts, so it’s best to be prepared.

I found fewer odd plants today, but the wildlife is becoming more and more diverse. We had one particularly striking encounter with a snow badger. I think it helped to calm Evergreen’s nerves after the earlier incident. She seems to have a great appreciation for all the fauna around here—and the flora, if I’m being honest. She’s become much more at ease than when we first began our trip. Perhaps I have too.

Still no indications of the phlume. If the rumours are true, it should be nearer the summit, but I’ve never found anything detailing the exact location. We haven’t even seen any caves where it might be dwelling yet. I suppose we’ll just have to call it a night and hope for the best in the next two days.

Lo and behold, just as I wrote that and closed my journal, Evergreen whisked me away to a nearby clearing. Apparently stargazing is a favourite pastime of hers, and she wanted to take the opportunity before the clouds rolled in tonight. I must admit that it was rather gorgeous. The way the galaxy and the stars all swirled together like a luminescent sea. It’s something I’ve never seen through Elmshire’s lights. I’m glad she shared it with me.

***

April 10th, 1004
~4:00 a.m.
Near Second Camp

Something attacked us in the middle of the night. I have no idea what, and neither does Evergreen. It came during her part of the night watch, and she thought it might’ve been a bear, but it had tentacles of some kind. Nothing in this forest should have tentacles. The closest thing should be vines.

We made it out safely, although we had to sacrifice our camper’s stove in the process. It was an ingenious move, but I suppose campfires will be our kitchen now. I’m sure that will be no issue for Evergreen.

***

April 10th, 1004
~11:00 a.m.
Draggle Ascent

No matter how much research I did, no matter how many urban legends surrounding this mountain I’ve heard, no matter how much Evergreen told me about her experience in this region, I don’t think anything could have prepared me for what we just encountered. It was both beautiful and terrifying. Mostly terrifying, though.

I think Evergreen called it an arachniden. A very large, very foul-smelling clearing taken up almost entirely by a truly massive corpse flower. The flower itself was a masterpiece of nature, but what the flower was host to… that’s what unnerved me. It was crawling with gigantic wooden spiders—timber widows, apparently. I don’t think I’ve ever stood more still in all my life.

We made it away from there unnoticed, and Evergreen did her best to calm me down (bless her heart). Writing this journal has helped soothe my nerves, but I’m still shaken. We must keep going though. I can’t let a mere living nightmare scare me away from finding the phlume. That would make this whole thing ~~a horrible waste of my time and of Evergreen’s.~~ Evergreen asked me to scratch that last. Blame her.

I’m almost positive that flower had no relation to the phlume, but perhaps its size has something to do with the phlume’s influence. Only further exploration will tell.

***

April 10th, 1004
~6:00 p.m.
Cavern, Nearing Draggle Summit

We’ve stumbled across a rather small cave. It’s actually not the first we happened across (we took our lunch break in the first), but it’s revealed something monumental.

There are strange tendrils poking through the cave ceiling. They’re reddish-purple in colour with yellow specks all along their length. There are also black, bulbous growths on all of them, pulsating. This is significant because it’s in line with reports of what the phlume is supposed to look like. I wonder if these are the roots of the phlume, but there’s no signs of the plant above the cavern.

On second consideration, these tendrils remind me of the odd root I found in the microswamp earlier in the expedition. If my hunch is correct, then what could that mean for the phlume? A root system that spans all the way to the base of the mountain? How big is this plant?

Do I still want to find out?

***

April 10th, 1004
~10:00 p.m.
Very Near the Summit

Things are very quiet in our camp. No birds chirping, no wolves howling—even the wind seems reluctant up here. Neither Evergreen nor I have been in much of a mood to talk lately. Perhaps I’ll try talking to her after this entry. I have a horrid feeling we’re both thinking the same things.

At the very least, our campsite is quite nice. It’s a rocky outcropping that stretched far from any of the mountain life, and it has an astronomical (no pun intended) view of the night sky. It feels safer than any of our other campsites. Just myself, Evergreen, and the night. No curious sounds or sights, and hopefully no chance of another midnight attack.

Alright, I’ve been dancing around the subject, but I suppose if there’s any safe place to talk about it, it’s here. I’m scared to keep going. Yes, I want to find out what’s at the summit, and yes, I’m still determined to see the phlume with my own two eyes, but I’m terrified that it might be the last thing I ever see. Strange things are happening on this mountain. Even Evergreen, for all that she seems to thrive in the wilderness, seems very on edge.

It’s bittersweet, really. On the one hoof, I’m glad Princess Celestia arranged for her to accompany me on this trip. I’m surprised at how well we click, and I can’t even imagine trying to endure this experience on my own. I was foolish to think I ever could. On the other hoof, though, I deeply regret having brought her into this mess. She clearly doesn’t want to be here anymore. I’m actually stunned she hasn’t exercised her authority as a sergeant to call this expedition off. At this point, I doubt I would argue.

But we are very near the summit. Hopefully we’ll be on our way back down by noon tomorrow. Until then, I’m going to see if I can coax some conversation out of Evergreen before we go to sleep.

Brainstorm of the Day: Almost forgot to do one of these. Luna’s rose: a flower you put near your bed that makes your dreams pleasant and keeps nightmares at bay. Difficult to execute, but would be a great salvation right about now.

***

April 10th, 1004
~11:00 p.m.
Third Camp

Keeping this brief so I can get back to night watch. Had a wonderful heart-to-heart with Evergreen. Turns out she’s scared too, but she wants to see it through for my sake. She admires my passion, saying it’s a rare commodity these days. That was the gist of it, anyway. She said it in her own Vanhoovery way, which I’ve come to adore.

I hope to have a new penpal once this expedition is done with.

***

April 11th, 1004
~7:00 a.m.
Third Camp

Just as the night wound down, there was a very brief moment where Evergreen grew too tired to maintain her watch and we both fell asleep. In that time, something came into our campsite. The ground nearby is covered with the same yellow sap that the dead moose had in their fur, and Evergreen says the dirt on the rock has been disturbed by some massive creature.

We are both fine, aside from our nerves. I don’t know what it was, and I pray we don’t find out. Either way, we’re starting for the summit.

***

April 11th, 1004
~11:00 a.m.
Cave Entrance, Draggle Summit

We have arrived, and I have a very difficult decision to make.

The summit is almost completely barren. There’s rock, there’s snow, and there’s a cave. I don’t think the cave is exceptionally large, but I have no way to tell from the entrance. We can tell a few things from here though. For one, the air inside is hot, humid, and putrid with a smell like death. I can make out a few roots pulsing along the cave’s walls, ceiling, and floor—whether they belong to the phlume is uncertain, but that’s the safe bet.

The worst of it is the sound, though. Horrid, strangled breaths are echoing to us from within. It could be some creature in great distress, or it could be the phlume itself, either in distress or causing distress. And every so often, a bloodcurdling howl comes from inside. I have no doubt in my mind that I will find the phlume if we venture into this cavern, but I fear what else we might find.

Evergreen just used her headlight and noticed traces of yellow sap dotting the cavern. I’ve never seen her face so pale. Still, she’s not vetoing the option of going inside. Is she really that determined to see this through? For my sake? We only just met a few days ago. It startles me how profound of an impact we seem to have had on one another. Four days alone in the wilderness will do that, I suppose.

I have to think this through carefully. One of my life’s ambitions sits just around the corner of this cave. But now that I’m standing here, I’m not so sure I want to find it anymore. Especially when it’s not only my life on the line.

I don’t know what to do.

***

April 15th, 1004
7:18 p.m.
Train to Elmshire

The phlume is the king of plants. It’s a flower and a monster rolled into one—a multi-headed beast that puts some of the horrors of Tartarus to shame. Its petals are jagged and red, arranged to look like a blood-drenched maw. Its body is a great, eldritch cluster of violet blobs speckled with red, staring every which way like a thousand dead eyes. It has vines for killing and a hunger for meat. It is the single most dangerous, terrifying botanical specimen in the world.

That’s what all the rumours say anyway. I wouldn’t know—I’ve never seen it.

What I do know is that there are some things in this world worth more than your passion. Friendship, for instance, is a rather big one. No matter how extravagant your talents, no matter how mind-boggling your feats, it all feels hollow without a friend to share in it. And under no circumstance should you ever, ever put your friends in danger, not even for your own benefit, or for theirs. I understand that now.

Evergreen and I had a perfectly safe, quick trip back to Vanhoover. We arrived just before our deadline, and I spent the night in her living quarters. After that, we spent a few days getting to really know each other, without the constant threat of some unseen monster looming around us. We even went on a few smaller, safer, and altogether more enjoyable hikes. I’m glad Mount Draggle happened, but those other few days with Evergreen are far and away the highlight of my trip.

I don’t think either of us really expected something like this to happen. We both seem content with isolation, but somehow we found even more comfort in one another. I think I can safely say I’ve grown as a pony through this endeavor. So thank you, Evergreen. I look forward to writing you.

Brainstorm of the Day: None today. Just take comfort in knowing that the Tree of Harmony already exists.

Bonus: "Cutie-Crossed" Alternate Ending

Author's Note

An alternate ending to my Round 3 story—Wispy Willow vs. Lilligold. Modified to the official ending due to feedback from my editor/pre-reader.

Bonus: "Cutie-Crossed" Alternate Ending

Audrey sat in the stillness of night, as plants are wont to do. Every so often a housefly would buzz through the window and she would move to snatch it up, but otherwise she simply waited. Waited for Lilligold to return.

More hooves shot up the steps—Lilligold’s for sure this time. “Wispy!” she cried. “Please, stop! Talk to me!”

The air went still. Audrey sensed nothing but the two ponies panting. “I can’t do this, Lilligold,” Wispy quavered. “I just can’t. I have to get out of here.”

“No! Please, Wispy. We need to talk this through!” Audrey heard the tears in Lilligold’s words. She bore her teeth, but didn’t move yet.

“Talk about what, Lilligold?!” Wispy shouted. “What happened back there was a stupid, stupid mistake! This… This can’t happen between us! This can’t happen to me!”

Lilligold sniffled. In her weakest, quietest voice, she said, “But I love you.”

Audrey froze. There was a thick silence, and she reconsidered the situation. Her vines pulled away from Wispy and instead moved towards Lilligold’s nightstand.

Audrey felt around and swiped the paper from the nightstand. Her vines shifted back in the other direction.

There was a moment, and even Audrey paused to listen. Lilligold swallowed hard. “In a heartbeat,” she said.

In the immediate silence, Audrey continued. She managed to locate Wispy’s suitcase and slid the parchment inside. Once it was secure, she pulled away.

“I’m sorry.” There was some clattering—Wispy grabbing his suitcase—and a lot of commotion, then heavy hooffalls pounded down the steps and out of the building.

Lilligold remained a blubbering heap on the opposite end of the room. Audrey moved her vines in that direction and swept Lilligold up in a hug.

They spent a long time like that. So long that, by the time Lilligold stirred, Audrey already felt the morning sun on her leaves. Lilligold said nothing. She meandered around the room for a while, then took Audrey in her magic and left the store.

***

Morning came, and Wisp was already on his way to the train station. He’d managed to stumble in and out of sleep throughout the night, but his head pounded and his eyes were bleary. He took no time to admire Elmshire’s opulent buildings as he walked—all he wanted to do was forget.

He finally reached the station and scrambled up the steps towards the loading platform. But his hoof caught on the last step, and he sprawled forward, landing hard on the wood. His suitcase unclasped on impact and vomited its contents onto the platform. Wisp cursed beneath his breath, but he was too tired to do much else. Passersby spared him a few sad glances, but no one came to his aid. He groggily set about reloading his suitcase.

Among his smattering of ghost hunting equipment, a single book lay face down. A pang blasted Wisp’s heart, and despite his better judgment, he picked it up. He turned it over and felt fresh tears welling behind his eyes as the title Nature’s Haunts came into view in all its sickly glory. Wisp let out a broken sigh and opened the book.

A flat, crisp leaf cutting rested inside the front cover. Wisp looked at it for barely a second before slamming the book shut. He clamped his eyes shut and shook his head.

When he opened his eyes and looked again, something caught his attention. On the platform, in the same spot where the book had been, a small scrap of parchment lay rippling in the light breeze. It bore a few ornate, elegant lines of calligraphy. Blinking at it, Wisp let the book fall to the side and grabbed the paper. His eyes took a moment to adjust, but the words came into focus bright and clear.

His face is naught but golden dream,
his voice a song of old.
Still, his presence, ream by ream,
makes warm what once was cold.
I long and scar and agonize,
he has my heart unfurled.
By earthly bonds and spirit ties,
he is my one true world.

♥ Lilligold + Wispy Willow ♥

He read it again. And again and again and again. His heart swelled with each word. Tears ran down his face like newly undammed streams, but he didn’t care. As sudden as lightning, he only cared about one thing—and it had absolutely nothing to do with his EMF detector or his camera.

Abandoning his supplies, Wisp stuffed the book and the poem under one arm and shot off through the city streets. He followed his memory—his memory of Lilligold. The only other time he’d walked this path had been by her side, yesterday. It seemed so much longer ago now.

He rounded bend after bend, navigating the serpentine streets like he were flowing water. After far too long, the Glimmering Gardens storefront came into view. Its windows were darkened, both upstairs and down, and the sight made Wisp’s gut collapse. He pounded his legs harder.

He barely slowed before crashing against the door. He was set to pound his hooves and scream her name like a madman, but something stopped him. A simple, white square was plastered to the door bearing three little words: Gone on Business

Suddenly feeling very cold, Wisp backpedaled from the door and collapsed on the sidewalk. “Lilligold,” he whispered. “Where are you?” His body trembled, and his mind felt fit to collapse.

Before it could, though, a memory echoed in his ears. A snippet of last night’s conversation that told Wisp everything he needed to know.

“So, that cave’s really haunted, huh?” Wisp said.

“Mmhmm!” Lilligold said. “I considered exploring it on my own—if only to impress you…”

Wisp galloped out of the city as fast as his legs would carry him.

***

“Lilligold!” Wisp cried out. He plowed past trees and through bushes, winding the path still fresh in his mind. “Lilligold! It’s Wispy! Can you hear me?! Please, come back!”

He flew out of the forest into Peak Grove’s clearing. He skidded to a stop, coughing and wheezing and panting hard. Spots strobed in his vision, and he threw his gaze all around the clearing, looking from the clearing’s edge to the cave entrance to—

Wisp froze. Sitting just beside the cave, rooted in the moss and soil beside an upturned ceramic pot, was a towering flytrap. It stood there motionless, its mouth aimed squarely at Wisp.

Lilligold was nowhere to be seen.

His mouth hanging open, Wisp took a few small steps towards the flytrap. “Audrey,” he said.

Audrey lurched forth, unhinged her jaw, and snapped at Wisp’s head. He recoiled just in time for Audrey’s spine of a tooth to graze his muzzle. Audrey let a low, feral growl shudder through her teeth, then returned to her original position.

Frowning, Wisp bowed his head. He took the book and poem from underneath his arm and slid them along the slick forest floor towards Audrey. She didn’t so much as flinch. Wisp looked up at her again and said, “I’m sorry.”

Turning away, Wisp stepped up to the Peak Grove Caverns entrance. He looked ahead, deep into the utter blackness, and saw nothing. The air coming from the cave was icy and wet and laden with mildew. For all the world, the cavern seemed like the place where all things foul went to die.

Wisp trotted inside, disappearing into the shroud.

Neither he nor Lilligold were heard from again.

Bonus: "L-Block" Deleted Scene

Author's Note

A deleted scene from my Quarterfinals story—Luster Lock vs. Lilligold. It features the mysterious villain behind the entire predicament. Cut from the official story due to word limit constraints and modifications made to the original plot.

Bonus: "L-Block" Deleted Scene

Far away, in the dark confines of a chamber that smelled like sweat and gunpowder, a unicorn lounged comfortably. A metal, green-eyed golem stood before him—smaller than the stone ones, but magnitudes smarter. Its torso rippled with magic, showing a real-time image of a blue unicorn trapped behind bars. She slept, her face twisted in nightmare.

“That’s enough of Trixie,” the unicorn breathed. He chuckled like a demented asylum-dweller. “Too much of a good thing will spoil it, you know. Switch to isolation. Let me see how the… ugh, pegasus is faring.”

In a twinkle of its eyes, the golem changed the image to reveal a dark, abysmal cell. A grey pegasus crouched low near the gutter. But instead of sleeping or crying or fuming or doing anything predictable, she was mumbling. Her lips would move, she would wait, and her lips would move again.

The unicorn ground his teeth together. “What is she doing?”

“Isolation subjects are prone to incoherent ramblings, master,” the golem said in its bassy, mechanical voice.

“I didn’t ask for your opinion!” the unicorn bellowed. “And no, they don’t do that after less than an hour in solitary. Switch to the next cell over!”

Another blink, and the magic feed revealed a pink unicorn, also crouched near the gutter. She too was mumbling, though tears stained her face.

The unicorn clicked his tongue and shook his head. “Oh, little Lilligold. Breaking the rules after being good for so long. You upset me so. You and your long, lovely, fluted horn.” He felt drool seeping through his teeth.

“Shall we separate them, master?”

“No. Leave them be. However, two punishments are clearly in order. We’ll set them up tomorrow morning.” He drew his face close to the image, ogling Lilligold’s every move. “And you can be sure I’ll enjoy punishing you, little rosebud.”

Bonus: Wither

Author's Note

My original, scrapped story concept for Round 3—Wispy Willow vs. Lilligold. In it, Wispy was inspecting a haunted cavern, and the twist was going to be that Lilligold was the one haunting it after having been killed trying to explore it. Abandoned it because it wasn't working how I wanted it to.

Bonus: Wither

Wispy Willow limped deeper into the darkness, his savage scowl flickering by the dying flashlight. His foreleg roared for him to stop, but he’d come too far now. He would see this through, even if it killed him. The stakes were too high.

This deep in the cavern, the stench of mildew and rot and death was overbearing. Every breath was wet and painful, his chest heaving under scrapes and bruises. Fresh blood trickled from beneath Wisp’s mane and curved into his mouth, saturating his tongue with its ferric taste. At this point, he had no idea if the blood was from a previous injury or whatever malevolent force was at work here.

A low, guttural growl sounded in the distance, like the hunger of the earth. Wisp froze and looked at his bad leg, where his EMF detector was still strapped.

The needle held strong at its highest reading.

The flashlight revealed nothing but the same moss and liverwort carpet he’d grown to despise. Wisp glared into the darkness and roared, “Come on! Show yourself!”

“Please… You must leave,” called the faint voice. It sounded on the verge of tears. “I’m trying to save you…”

“I’m not leaving without my evidence!” Wisp bellowed.

Just ahead, at the very limit of the flashlight’s reach, something moved. It looked like an amorphous black lump—like shadows given life. It made a horrible squelching noise as it writhed.

Through gritted teeth, Wisp whispered, “Gotcha.” He readied his camera in his trembling, mutilated hoof and lurched forward.

***
Several hours earlier…
***

LXI. Peak Grove Caverns

To close out our section on hauntings outside Equestria’s borders, here we have one of the most enigmatic sites on our list. The Peak Grove Caverns are famously rumoured for being host to some of the rarest flora on the planet—most notably natural plundervines and phlume. It’s a veritable siren’s song to any botanist, and many have gone hunting for these elusive plants.

These caverns are on this list, though, because not one pony has ever come out.

A formal expedition of Peak Grove Caverns has never been conducted, but there is more than enough evidence to support its being a paranormal treasure trove. Elmshire mountaineers have relayed all manners of evidence: unnatural cold spells, inexplicable blinking lights. Multiple witnesses have even reported moans and shrieks from within the caves, perfectly in line with empirical phantasmal examples. This activity is reportedly more frequent in late spring, when the plants are most lively.

No one knows exactly what lies beyond this cave’s shaded maw, and perhaps it’s best left that way. It is highly unadvisable for even the most experienced paranormal researchers to venture here. The danger inherent to—

For the umpteenth time, Wispy Willow reread the passage he’d torn from Nature’s Haunts with a goofy smile. This time, though, it was from more than anticipation. He took a swig from his water bottle and looked straight ahead.

The entrance to Peak Grove Caverns looked like a hole in space. It loomed large on the cliff face, and the little sunlight that breached the forest canopy disappeared only a scant few inches into the cave. Dense, blackish moss rimmed the entrance from top to bottom—clumps of it sagged where the moisture was thickest. Gnarled vines hung from the ceiling like the rotten teeth of some eldritch horror. The cavern looked for all the world like the sinkhole where all joy and comfort vanished into dead oblivion.

Wisp beamed. The butterflies in his stomach fluttered gleefully, and he inhaled a mighty breath—never had the smell of mildew been so enticing.

Standing up and shaking his hike-weary legs, Wisp rummaged through his saddlebags. He put away his water bottle and pulled out the necessities: a hooves-free flashlight that wrapped around his ear, an EMF detector with a strap for his leg, and his trusty camera with the well-worn strap. He donned the equipment—its familiar weight instantly put him in the moment—heaved the saddlebags across his back, and trotted into the cave.

Like passing through a veil, the world beyond the entrance changed. Wisp nearly gagged as the pungent smell of rot invaded his nostrils. The brisk spring air gave way to a wet, icy atmosphere that smothered his lungs with every breath. The ground at his hooves became mulchy and slick. And the needles of sunlight became just a memory. All that protected Wisp from the pitch black was a thin cone of light that stretched far but revealed little; it was thick moss, dead vines, and toxic mushrooms as far as he could see.

Wisp’s heartbeat quickened as he delved deeper and deeper. He checked the EMF detector every few moments, but its needle wobbled stubbornly at its baseline reading. His steps were slow and deliberate as he listened and looked for anything remotely paranormal. Yet as the minutes wore on, the sights never changed and the only sounds came from the moss squishing at his hooves and his pulse thrumming in his ears.

Wisp rounded a bend, and something shone in the distance. He froze and squinted ahead. A cluster of odd, wobbling lights beckoned him forward. They reminded him of how a lake might warp sunlight. He picked up to a canter and clutched his camera in one hoof, When he was close enough for his flashlight to brighten the spot, he did a double-take at what he saw.

Hundreds of blue-black flowers pushed through the moss like weeds through a sidewalk. But scattered at random among the flowers were a few ghostly, translucent specimens. They caught the light of his flashlight and shone like stars against the darkness. And Wisp only noticed more of them as he looked around—dozens of them. He hadn’t even noticed that the cave had opened up into a massive chamber until he realized the scope of the strange flowers.

With a faint tremble in his hooves, Wisp stepped through the flowers in awestruck wonder. He checked his EMF detector—it remained frustratingly near zero. Regardless, Wisp snapped a few photos of the scene. He quickly searched his saddlebags and pulled out an aural stone. He whipped it against the ground, and it bounced once and floated in the air with a barely audible hum.

“Recording this moment for posterity, if nothing else,” he said. “I tell ya, mom’s shop has nothing on these flowers.” He focused on one flower, watching the globs of light dance and shift through it. “They definitely don’t seem natural—I think they’re made of water—but no reading. Just in case, I’ll leave this aural stone here to—”

Something cracked.

“What?! Who?! What?!” Wisp whipped his head every which way. Even as the cracking sound died in an echo, all he saw were more flowers and more darkness. He trotted a small distance deeper into the cave, and another crack sounded out—closer this time. The cracks came in quicker and quicker succession until they were overlapping each other in a sharp cacophony. Wisp’s instincts told him to prepare for falling rocks, but the sound reminded him more of ice buckling under pressure.

At the very edge of the flower cluster, a pointed tendril jutted at Wisp’s face from the darkness. He stopped dead and recoiled with a little shout. The tendril was thick and spiky and black, and it writhed in the air like a thing possessed. Chips of ice flew all around as it shook loose. And as the last of the ice disappeared from the vine, it slumped to the ground with a muffled thump and went motionless.

Nothing happened for a long moment. Wispy realized he was panting and took the moment to recollect himself. His eyes moved away from the vine—and his heart skipped a beat when he saw no fewer than four other vines frozen in ice. All of them were aimed squarely at him, and all of them extended from a depthless chasm just a few feet ahead of him—a chasm he would’ve walked headlong into if the vine hadn’t stopped him, he realized.

As the shock bled from him, he blinked and remembered himself. He motioned to check his EMF detector.

The vine lashed forth and seized his foreleg. Wisp shrieked and tried to pull free, but the vine only coiled tighter. It yanked him sideways and snapped his leg like dry kindling. Pain blasted through him, but he barely had time to register it before being slammed against the cave wall. The vine jerked another way and smashed him against another wall. And another. His vision flashed white with every strike, and the world returned only long enough for him to see another wall screeching towards him.

All his mind knew was pain. He didn’t know if he was screaming, or if his equipment had been destroyed. Even his name was buried by the barrage of bruises and gashes. He could feel his mind leaving his body—whether it was unconsciousness or death, he had no idea and didn’t care.

Suddenly, the vine stopped cold. It dangled him over the chasm and held unnaturally still.. His senses were still leaving him—his body was still a bundle of blind agony—but he could’ve sworn that he saw the impossible just before consciousness left him. He could’ve sworn the vine was turning to snow, or maybe sand, right before his eyes.

***

A blur. That was the first thing Wisp saw when his eyes fluttered open: a blur of colour and motion. It was gone before he could make out any form.

The fungal stink of the cavern brought him quickly back to reality. He lay on his side in a bed of plants—not just moss anymore, but liverwort and flowers and herbs and who knew what else. The world flickered in and out of sight as his flashlight strobed. He couldn’t feel or see his saddlebags at all, but his camera still hung from his neck and his leg, bent the wrong way as it was, still had the EMF detector strapped to it.

He blinked. The EMF detector’s needle sat halfway along the meter. It was falling back towards zero, but it had been well beyond baseline.

Sheer adrenaline made Wisp stand. His body ached and stung, but not nearly as badly as he’d expected—his leg was the only thing broken, far as he could tell.

Bonus: Lockstep

Author's Note

An early, scrapped attempt at a story for the Quarterfinals—Luster Lock vs. Lilligold. Abandoned the idea because it wasn't working out how I'd intended.

Bonus: Lockstep

“Come on.”

“No.”

“Please?”

“No.”

“It’ll make you feel better!”

“Unlikely.”

“It’ll make me feel better.”

“Undoubtedly.”

“We could kiss instead.”

Trixie shot Luster a look that could slay a cockatrice. “”You could leave instead.”

Luster’s smile only faltered a little. She tucked the tickets away and reclined over the back of the bench. A cool night breeze rolled by. “Yeesh,” she said, “who got your horn in a twist? You’re acting like we’ve never had a bum show before.”

‘Scowl’ didn’t do Trixie’s expression justice—it was more like a momma bear’s leave-my-cubs-alone glower. “The Great and Powerful Trixie did not put on a ‘bum show.’ Trixie’s performance was astronomical! The most astounding magical display anypony in this city has ever witnessed!”

Luster shrugged. “We got upstaged by a flower.”

Trixie’s mouth hung open, her tongue working uselessly. She settled on a feral shout through gritted teeth and slumped back on the bench, fuming more than a volcano-bound coal train. Both ponies looked ahead in silence.

They sat in the dark stillness of a park that Luster was fairly sure was actually somepony’s front lawn. Just across the street though, a giant, opulent manor lit up the surrounding burg like a second sun. It bounced with music too rambunctious for royalty, but a sparkle-soggy banner hanging between balconies seemed to disagree, stating that it was The Duchess’ 18th Birthday Bash. Crowds of ponies milled about the grounds in everything from the latest Calvin Clydesdale vogue masterpiece to complete starkers. The breeze carried an odd cocktail of fresh-cut grass, too much perfume, and alcohol.

It was a strange sight, but Elmshire was a strange city. Luster had known it from the moment she and Trixie had stepped off the train two weeks prior. Elmshire was the kind of city that could chomp up the Hoofingtons and Ponyvilles of the world and spit them out as shiny, cultural hotspots with a side of tourist trap. A real melting pot.

Luster pulled the tickets from beneath her wing again: two for the ‘Living Illusion Tour’ at the Elmshire Museum of Modern Magic, dated for tomorrow. She’d snagged them from a couple after one of Trixie’s street shows—the stallion had used them as payment for Luster unlocking his girlfriend’s horn cage, whatever that was supposed to be. She’d meant to surprise Trixie with them after their big show at the Duchess’ party.

It could’ve gone better. But then, Trixie hadn’t set the tickets on fire yet, so it could’ve gone worse too.

“So,” Luster said, “seriously, we oughta do this tour, Trix. It’ll be rad! Word is they’ve got this thing where they recreate the Battle of Tambelon and—”

“Trixie has more important business to attend to than wasting her day in a showcase of inferiority.” Trixie was still watching the manor. Her gaze had gone analytic—still bitter, but analytic, like she really hated math or something.

The tickets fell to Luster’s side with her hoof. “That’s it, then? We’re in the most cultured place in the world, and all we’re gonna do is hop from show to show like we always do?”

“Yes.” Apparently Trixie found whatever she’d been looking for as she rose from the bench and set off cantering. Luster sighed through her nose, folded the tickets away, and followed.

When she saw where Trixie was bee-lining, Luster’s stomach knotted a little. A pony had exited the manor’s side door hauling a giant carriage. Even by the moonlight alone it was easy to tell what the carriage held—a massive, magical lotus that had been the biggest talking point of the evening. The one that had stolen most of the attention away from their magic act, even.

And Trixie was dead set on crossing this pony’s path. “Here we go,” Luster mumbled.

“You there!” Trixie cried. If she was trying to hide the dagger in her voice, she was failing spectacularly. “Hold! Trixie would like a word.”

The mare stopped on a dime. She looked over, her face half-hidden by a curtain of silver mane. “Oh, terribly sorry,” she said. “I fear I’ve lingered too long already. The dynasty lotus is quite exhausted, and—”

“Ha!” Trixie barked. “A likely excuse. How can a flower get tired?”

As if in response, the lotus spat a few sparks into the air. “Well—” the mare tried.

“Trixie isn’t interested in your glorified salad, anyway. The only thing Trixie cares about—” Trixie’s hat lifted from her head, revealing her horn glowing like a loaded weapon “—is getting even.”

The mare shrank away. “Pardon?” she whispered,

Luster looked around. Most, if not all, of the nearby partygoers had turned to look at them. Least we finally got our audience, Luster mused. “Uh, Trix, I don’t think—”

“Don’t play dumb with Trixie!” Trixie bellowed. “You think you can show up Trixie with your cheap parlor tricks and get away with it? You think your little weed is any match for the Great and Powerful Trixie?!”

“And the Radium Maiden!” Luster blurted. “Who in no way endorses what’s about to happen!”

Trixie growled. “Let’s see how you like your limelight getting stolen out from under you!” Trixie leveled her horn at the lotus and shot a firework into its core. Colours whizzed and popped from the flower in sporadic bursts, like the most zen firecracker ever.

Then it caught fire.

The mare shrieked. Her eyes were manic globes as she wrapped the flower in her own magic. Little clusters of flame were smothered, but other popped up in their place faster than the magic could handle. Trixie stood by, giggling like a schoolfilly. Luster just looked on, bemused.

“Enough!” somepony boomed. Grey magic clamped around the lotus like a cast-iron glove and extinguished each flame. Luster snapped her head sideways and nearly smacked the Duchess of Elmshire with her muzzle. The mare certainly commanded attention—her mane was done up in bedazzled pigtails, and her dress was a sharp, avant-garde thing. Luster might think her name was Femme Fatale if she didn’t know any better—and she really didn’t, actually.

Femme Fatale approached the lotus, which the florist pony buzzed around faster than she seemed capable of. “How badly is it damaged, Lilligold?” the duchess asked.

Despite the tears lighting her eyes, the mare—Lilligold, apparently—managed a smile. “I think she’ll be okay. The magic wasn’t powerful enough to do any real damage.”

Trixie shoved towards Lilligold, her face so red that Luster half-expected steam to blast from her ears. “Why you snide little—”

The duchess held her with a hoof. Her eyes never left Lilligold, though. “Thank goodness. Now I suggest you run home before there’s any more fuss. We’ll catch up tomorrow.”

Her smile weak and her voice still trembling, Lilligold dipped her head and said, “Thank you, Debonnaire.” She harnessed herself back to her carriage and scurried off into the lamplit streets.

“This is not over!” Trixie cried. She tried and failed to push Debonnaire’s hoof away. “The Great and Powerful Trixie will have justice!”

“Enough out of you,” Debonnaire said. She turned and started towards the manor. “Come. I have a few choice words for you I’d not like my subjects to hear.”

At Trixie’s withering stare, Luster said, “Uh, me too, Duchess-lady?”

“I suggest you make yourself scarce, lest I define you by the company you keep.”

With a shrug, Luster gave Trixie a ‘what-can-ya-do?’ kind of look and whispered, “Sorry. Meet you back at the hotel.”

Before she could make a move, though, Trixie’s magic gripped her and pulled her close until their muzzles were touching. “Follow her,” Trixie growled, glaring daggers out the corner of her eye.

Luster blinked—confused mostly because she’d been so enamored by Trixie’s nose against hers that she’d forgotten to listen. “Huh?”

“You follow that mare,” Trixie murmured. “Follow her and destroy that flower. Do that, and I’ll indulge your silly little tour tomorrow.”

Luster smirked. “Unless you’re in prison tomorrow.”

Trixie pressed a hoof hard against Luster’s chest. “I will not be made a fool of and let her off scot-free. Now go!” She shoved Luster towards the street and set off at a slow trot to meet the duchess.

A bit dumbstruck, Luster just stood there for the moment. She mulled over her options. On the one hoof she could do Trixie’s dirty work again—breaking and entering and breaking, no big deal there—and actually get to indulge her artsy side some way other than wiggling out of an itchy straightjacket between Trixie’s light shows. And on the other hoof, she could go back to the hotel and… wait. Wait for Trixie to come back and get mad, then they’d probably leave Elmshire without so much as a souvenir snowglobe.

Luster looked into the darkened streets. Even amid the eldritch shadows of the residential district, the giant lotus was easy enough to spot. She glanced over her shoulder once—Trixie and the duchess were gone—and took off after Lilligold.

***

After nearly an hour of stalking, Luster was about ready to quit. Her hooves were beat, her eyelids felt like sandbags, and she was pretty sure being this hungry could be tantamount to attempted suicide. She pressed on, though, if only because the city kept her interest. Lilligold had led her from the trimmed lawns of high society, through a sleeping market cluster whose roads seemed designed with centipedes in mind, and finally into the city’s outer fringe, where no building seemed to acknowledge another and the silhouetted country rolled away like a throbbing black ocean.

At long last, Luster saw Lilligold approach a building—a greenhouse, which Luster realized she probably should’ve seen coming. It glowed from the inside out like a barn-sized firefly, but she was too far away to make out anything within. Hidden in the tall, untamed grass held barely at bay by the roads, Luster watched as Lilligold pulled open a pair of double doors and carted the lotus inside.

So, Luster watched and waited.

And waited.

And… wait for it… waited.

A good five minutes went by with no activity from the greenhouse. Two yawns wrenched from Luster’s mouth at once, and she sprawled out on the grass. She relished in the earth’s gentle cool flowing through her—she spread out her wings and felt the tension drain from them like water from faucets. A blade of grass tickled her nose, and she chomped it. Pretty tasty, for wild stuff.

The night stole her away, and she didn’t even notice her eyes closing. Light and sound fell away behind the veil of sleep, growing more and more distant with each second. She was on the cusp of the dream world, ready to leap headlong in.

A cricket chose that moment to screech right in Luster’s ear. “Huh? Who?” Luster said, blinking the blear out of her eyes. She snorted and shook her head, scrambling her exhaustion to bits. She looked ahead and scowled at the greenhouse, where there was still no sign of Lilligold.

Luster groaned. “What is she doing in there?” she grumbled. Moving with all the stealth of a bear fresh from hibernation, she approached the greenhouse wall and peered inside.

It was hard to focus on any one thing as a tsunami of light and colour drowned Luster’s senses. Flowers and fruits and plants she couldn’t classify grew with no semblance of order but a powerful sense of harmony. Red evergreens here, dandelion clusters crowding a well over there, blue mushrooms boasting great, translucent wings farther yonder. Sunflowers were scattered at frequent intervals, lighting the scene like little streetlamps.

Luster scanned her eyes through it all, looking for any sign of a pony. She found the lotus quickly enough—in meandered around on a little pond as its charred petals sparkled dimly. But Lilligold didn’t seem to be anywhere nearby. Luster was about to call it and just break in when Lilligold pranced out from behind a giant watermelon made of clouds. Luster crouched a bit lower but kept her focus on the mare.

It looked like Lilligold… wasn’t doing much of anything, really. Not watering, not feeding, not pruning. She just seemed to be dancing from plant to plant, smiling at each one with the same, unwavering glee. Luster quirked an eyebrow when Lilligold actually talked to one of the flowers. There was a sparkle in Lilligold’s eye that Luster had seldom seen in anypony before—if ever. “Huh,” she said.

Lilligold approached the lotus, and her smile faltered only a bit. She adjusted some of its petals with her magic, then reached out a hoof and stroked it. A mist of light gathered around the lotus, and an illusion of a tiny, beating heart materialized amid its petals. Lilligold smiled and patted the flower. She turned away, headed for the greenhouse entrance.

Luster hid low to the ground and listened. A few oddly tense seconds later, the door squeaked open. It was shortly followed by a soft click, then a very familiar second click. Luster could practically envision the lock by the sound alone—whether that was sad or impressive, she couldn’t decide.

Once another minute or so had passed, Luster poked her head up, like a groundhog judging its predator. She spotted Lilligold a good distance down the path leading back into Elmshire proper.

She stood, shook her sleepy legs loose, and trotted around to the front of the greenhouse. Just as she’d suspected, an incredibly basic padlock held the doors shut. Probably only one ward. It hung sadly between the door handles, like it just wanted to break free and go guard some kid’s bicycle instead.

Luster clicked her tongue. “Just begging for it,” she muttered. She slipped a lockpick from between her feathers—a handy leftover from her performance, but Luster imagined she could’ve made do with a sliver of wood, or a firm enough lick of grass, even. The pick slid into the keyhole, and it was barely three seconds before the lock clicked open. Luster knocked the lock to the ground and traipsed into the greenhouse.

From the inside, the greenhouse was even more bizarre. Sounds and smells joined the cacophony of light and colour, and Luster nearly choked on the sheer freshness of it all—like falling face first into the bouquet dimension or something. There were so many sights to take in; hundreds, if not thousands, of different plants filled up every square inch of the greenhouse. From mundane mycelia to magical marigolds, it was an esoteric treasure trove.

Putting her mission out of mind for the moment, Luster steered from her path. The lotus wasn’t going anywhere soon, and it’s not like she had anything else to do tonight. Might as well indulge some curiosity.

A radically strange display caught her attention immediately. Past a nearby golden apple tree sat a glass case on an ornate display stand. The casing housed dozens of tiny metal shards. They floated aimlessly around the box, twisting and bouncing and reflecting the weird world around them. Whatever it was, it certainly didn’t look like a plant of any kind.

Luster approached and put her hoof to the glass. The shards all instantly froze midair. A cold stone dropped in Luster’s gut, and she tried to pull her hoof back, but she seemed frozen on the spot just as much as the metal shards. Little beams of yellow light suddenly shot from the shards, forming an intricate web between all of them—and her hoof, Luster realized. It reminded her of a dreamcatcher.

All at once the shards grouped together. They became a complete blur for a moment, and settled in the form of a small vine. Luster stood hypnotized as the chrome vine swam through the air, bending and flowing in random but natural-looking directions. It suddenly stopped and dissolved into sand-sized specks that tumbled to the bottom of the case. Nothing happened for a good few seconds, then another vine grew from the particles. For whatever reason, watching it happen made Luster frown.

“Sandsnare, huh?”

Luster yelped and damn near lost control of her bladder. She threw her gaze everywhere, looking for the source of the deep, baritone voice. There was neither hide nor hair of anypony, though. Just more plants as far as she could see. A sunflower here, a patch of ghostly, translucent pumpkins there, a bulbous pitcher plant taller than herself—

“Bingo, kid,” said the pitcher plant. Luster retreated a few steps. The plant turned towards her, and its opening folded up in a kind of smile. “Don’t shy out now. Y’already came this far.”

Still reeling and trying to catch her breath, Luster stared at the plant and said, “I didn’t… I wasn’t going to… What in Equestria are you?”

The pitcher tipped forward, almost like it was bowing. “Name’s Nepenthes Cid—y’all can just call me Cid, though. Bass in the Pitcher Perfects by day, guidepost for wayward souls by night. Least if you’re any indication.”

Bonus: The Star-Meadow Tournament

Author's Note

The first segment of a scrapped story for the Semifinals—Lilligold vs. Mango Leaf. Scrapped it because I couldn't figure out how to make it work well. I still think it's a fun start to a story, though.

Bonus: The Star-Meadow Tournament

The Star-Meadow Tournament would go down in history as one of Princess Twilight Sparkle’s most significant undertakings. It was a competition designed to gather the best and brightest magicians of the world’s many cultures in one place where they would compare and combat their magicks against one another, someone ultimately coming out as the Star-Meadow Champion. The tournament was about more than just glory, though. Unification and harmony were the ultimate goals. Bringing together so many different communities under one common goal would enable collaborations, advance magical understanding, and inspire great friendships.

Mango Leaf didn’t care much about any of that, though. All he knew was that this might be his only chance at learning whether dragons liked froyo.

He’d set up shop in one of the many vendor’s lots in the park surrounding Canterlot Stadium—where the main events would be held. In Mango’s eyes, it was a perfect storm. A high-traffic area, a blistering summer day, and packed crowds of ponies and griffons and every species under the sun, most of whom had probably never even heard of frozen yogurt? It was paradise for his froyo-lovin’ heart.

Or it would’ve been paradise had he not made the unfortunate mistake of starting up sales just as the opening ceremony got underway. Everyone who wasn’t in the stadium watching it live had their eyes glued to the Jumbo Magicasters set up outside, where a beaming Princess Twilight could be seen stepping up to the podium.

“Good afternoon, everyone!” boomed the princess’s voice. “And welcome to the very first ever Star-Meadow Tournament!” Applause thundered so forcefully, Mango reckoned the rumbling could give a Haywaiian earthquake a run for its money.

“I’d like to start by thanking all the delegates of the many nations represented here today,” the princess continued. “Your cooperation and eager participation in this event has been invaluable in its success. When I first proposed the idea of the Star-Meadow Tournament to my mentor, Princess Celestia, I couldn’t have dreamed…”

Mango tuned out the broadcast as a colourful group of creatures passed his wagon. “Aloha, dudes and dudettes! Welcome to Mango Leaf’s bodacious froyo empire! Prepare to have your taste buds rocked so hard, your children’s buds will get chills.” He focused on a stocky little dragon. “I’ve got just the blend for you, brah. Check out this dragonfruit and tabasco—”

“Grundle no care,” the dragon growled. “Grundle need bathroom, or Grundle set stadium on fire.”

Mango blinked. “Uh, yeah. Radical!” He realized that none of the passersby had even slowed down, and he reached out to one at random. He hooked a slender cow with his hoof and said, “How ‘bout it, cuz? Wanna—”

“Sorry,” she said, pulling away. “I’m lactose intolerant.”

“What? How does that even—” Mango shook his head. “Alright, whatevs.” He panned his eyes through the crowd and located a tall, emperor penguin. “Hey, featherbro! I bet you like cold things, yeah? How’d you like to give my classic BSM a go?”

The penguin raised an eyebrow. “Good sir, are you insinuating that I have a proclivity towards ice-based treats for the sole reason that I am an arctic-dweller?”

Mango blanched. “Uh… yeah?”

With a haughty scoff, the penguin crossed his arms and said, “Well, of all the barbaric, stereotypical mindsets to have! I was led to believe this event had been organized to promote equality and understanding, not ignorance of the umpteenth degree! I’ll have you know that my most favoured dish is actually warm potato quiche, a recipe passed through penguin history since as early as the rule of King Charlatan. Although I’m guessing your icicle-laden brain has never heard of King Charlatan either. For your information…”

At some point during the penguin’s hour-long tirade, Mango realized this probably wouldn’t be his most profitable day.

***

Ultimately, Mango had actually managed to send the penguin away with a plain frozen yogurt, which the creature had seemed to enjoy, at least. After another hour without sale though, Mango closed up with a sigh. Everyone seemed too enamored with the opening ceremony to bother looking twice at his wares. Their loss, as far as he was concerned.

He slumped to the ground outside his wagon with a cup of agave froyo. Up on the Magicaster, Mango could see the ceremony was still in process—an elk was weaving a web of light in its horns. He’d barely paid the tournament any attention. Honestly, he hardly cared—he’d just wanted to share his froyo love with the masses. At a lack of anything else to do, though, he settled in and actually started watching.

The broadcast panned over to Princess Twilight, who said, “Thank you, Mustok of Elkenheim, for that illuminating performance. Best of luck!” She flipped to her next cue card. “Up next, please welcome Duchess Debonnaire to the stage, here to announce her pick for the Elmshire representative.”

Another round of applause shook the stadium as the duchess took center-stage. To Mango’s surprise, she was actually another pony for once. She wore a conservative, grey dress and had her mane up in a tight bun, yet she looked just a scooch younger than Princess Twilight. “Let your mane down, hun,” Mango mumbled.

“Thank you, Princess,” the duchess said. “When I was asked to choose a single pony to represent all of Elmshire in this most prestigious of tournaments, there was only one pony who came to mind. She’s humble, she graduated at the top of our class, and she has hooves-down one of the most unique talents I’ve ever witnessed. Coming now to dazzle you with her very own creation, the dynasty lotus, I am honoured to present you my best friend, Lilligold!”

Mercurial

Author's Note

This is my story from Round 1 of the OC Slamjam—Lilligold vs. Whitewash. You can find the original along with my opponent's story over here.

Mercurial

Approaching the serene storefront of Glimmering Gardens was one of the most nerve-racking experiences in Whitewash’s recent memory. He stole a few deep breaths on the opposite street corner and crossed the road. A meek suitcase trundled along behind him, rattling over the flagstones.

Just a moment before pushing the door, Whitewash paused and made a half-hearted attempt to smooth out his mussy mane. It flattened under his hoof but popped back up when he pulled away. He sighed through his nose and entered the store.

The bell installed above every quaint, homey shop’s door chimed happily at Whitewash’s entry. He barely had time to register the sea of springtime fragrance before the mare at the counter gasped. Whitewash locked eyes with her as a quill dropped from her magic. “Oh!” she said. “You must be Mister Whitewash!” She averted her eyes and gathered her tablecloth worth of papers into a shoddy pile. “I, um… I wasn’t… You’re early!” She stuffed the papers in a drawer and put on a smile.

“Heh, am I?” Whitewash said. He rubbed the back of his neck. “I can come back later if you want.”

“Oh, no no no, don’t be silly!” The mare stepped around the counter and approached him. “I should’ve been ready sooner. It’s a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance. I’m Lilligold, as you’ve likely already guessed.” She extended a hoof to him

He took it—perhaps a little too forcefully. “Nice to meet you too! I’ve been looking forward to this.” A lie. “Your letter really intrigued me.” The truth, but for none of the right reasons.

Lilligold chuckled, but it trickled away into silence. They stood there, two near-strangers from a continent apart. Lilligold cleared her throat and said, “Yes, well, I suppose we can get right to it! Make yourself comfortable. I’ll, um, go get the specimen I’d like you to look at.” She nodded and scurried into the backroom.

Whitewash meandered around the store, his eyes glazing over the esoteric jungle. His heart pounded in his throat. Nothing so much as a clock’s ticking broke the silence. Eventually his focus stuck on a flower that loomed taller than him—its four petals rotated like a windmill. A small plaque on the pot marked it at five hundred bits. “Miss Lilligold?” he called.

“Yes?” came the quiet reply.

“Just curious: what did my parents place an order here for?”

“They, erm, wanted a bouquet of quicksilver orchids. For their twenty fifth wedding anniversary, I think. They’re on display near the counter.”

True enough, Whitewash found a little garden just beyond the counter. Amid many peculiar flowers grew a few iridescent silver orchids. Drops of quicksilver gathered at the tips of its petals and fell to the soil, vanishing in a shimmer. Before the flowers lay a plaque marking them at eight hundred bits apiece. Eight thousand for a bouquet. Whitewash bit his lip hard.

He turned just as Lilligold came out of the back. “Here it is!” she said. A potted cactus levitated onto the countertop. Its spines sparked every now and again, and a dull red glow thrummed in the heart of the plant itself—like candlelight fighting through a damp cloth. “Not… well, not quite my most impressive work.” She smiled at Whitewash. “But that’s why you’re here, I suppose.”

Whitewash grinned. “Of course,” he said, taking a step closer. “Just so we’re absolutely clear though, no matter whether I can help fix this or not, the fee for my parents’s order has been waived?”

“Oh, of course!” Lilligold said. “It’s the very least I can do for troubling you to come all this way. I really must send them a thank-you note for recommending you. ‘Best chemist in Equestria,’ they said!” She shrank back and looked at her cactus. “I truly hope that’s the case,” she whispered.

Whitewash chuckled. Years of practice had made it sound carefree and confident even at the worst of times. “I’ll do my best.” He approached the cactus with no right idea what to do next.

The plant lifted in his magic. He pretended to scrutinize it as he rotated it, buying him a few moments to think. “You said in your letter that you thought it could be the neon interacting with the magic somehow?” Whitewash said.

Lilligold nodded. “I ran into my first complication after the initial infusion.”

Whitewash hummed—a genuine hum at that. He may have flunked his chemistry course, but he still had a skeletal understanding of the field. “That seems unlikely. Neon is a noble gas. It doesn’t react with anything.”

“That’s what has me baffled as well,” Lilligold said, watching the cactus herself. “But it seems to be the only explanation. The specific spell it seems to take issue with is the corneus enchantment. I’ve analyzed the spell dozens of times over. It’s as optimized as I can make it.” She looked past the plant at Whitewash himself. “Do you think it’s maybe a combination of the enchantments and the chemical structure of the cactus itself? Arcane gluons having an adverse effect on—” She stopped, and a faint fire lit in her cheeks. “S-sorry. I get carried away sometimes. You’re the expert.”

“It’s okay. I appreciate your input.” Whitewash nodded. Slowly, to give the illusion of thought. He raked his memories for anything he could say or do, and something struck him. His eyes flicked to Lilligold’s counter, to the drawer where she’d stuffed her papers. “Do you have any notes I could look at?”

Lilligold froze up. “Um, I… maybe a few.” She looked away, hiding behind her mane and rubbing one hoof over the other. “I’m not sure I know where they are. Do you really need to see them?”

“It would probably help.”

“Oh, okay.” Lilligold shuffled toward the backroom again. “I’ll go have a quick look.”

Once Lilligold had gone, Whitewash wasted no time. He set down the cactus and slid open the drawer as quickly as he dared. A mishmash of scattered papers—some crumpled, others scribbled and stained, others still immaculate—filled the thing. Whitewash flitted his eyes across the topmost one.

and Violet tossed her mane back. It caught the sunlight like sheet gold. She smiled at her reflection, wondering what Stardom would think when he saw her. Of course he would compliment her like he always did, even though she so rarely deserved it.
Risking her lengthy styling process, Violet threw herself back on the bed and giggled like a schoolgirl. He wouldn’t pick her up for another two hours yet, and butterflies threatened to burst from her stomach already. She daydreamed the afternoon away.

***

“A perfect corsage for my perfect mare,” were Stardom’s first words at the doorstep. He bent forward with a complex flower between his perfect teeth and placed the corsage above Violet’s breast. Her heart went aflutter.
“Such a charmer,” she said, twirling a hoof through her mane.
“You look just as ravishing as ever, my dear,” Stardom said. He stepped over the threshold and stole her in an embrace. Fireworks flew when he planted his soft, sensual lips on hers. Violet melted. In that instant, she knew the night would—

A tiny gasp froze Whitewash on the spot. He slammed the drawer and whirled around. Lilligold was staring at him through quivering lenses, a few more intellectual-looking papers in her silver magic. The notes slipped from the air and slapped against the floor quietly.

Whitewash backpedaled and said, “Miss Lilligold! I’m so sorry! I just meant to help you look and I didn’t mean to… to snoop, or anything.”

Lilligold was still rooted—not moving, not speaking, hardly even breathing. Her eyes were transfixed on the drawer. Her pink cheeks flushed darker and darker red. She closed her eyes.

Despite everything, Whitewash still remained focused. He had found a way out of his predicament—not a pleasant one, but a way. “I, er… For what it’s worth, I kinda liked what I read! I mean, the Stardom guy seems a bit too perfect and cookie-cutter, but Violet seemed real! And I dunno how far in that is, but it seemed maybe a little generic—which could be okay, mind you. Depends how you spin it. But I, um… er…” He looked at Lilligold, who still hadn’t moved. “Are you okay?”

Her head twitched to one side. “I…” she began, but it fizzled out.

Whitewash swallowed the considerable lump in his throat. “Look, maybe I can help with this too! I’m a pretty good proofreader.” He slid the drawer back open. “With just an hour or two—”

Lilligold’s magic caught the drawer and slammed it shut. Dense silence flooded the store. “I…” she tried again. Then she sighed. “Please leave,” she whispered.

Whitewash blinked. “Pardon?”

“I’m sorry, but… but I need you to leave.” Her voice was a weak and shaky, like autumn’s last trembling leaf. “I’m so sorry I brought you all the way down here. This was a big mistake. This is a sign. I—I normally work alone.” She trotted to the other side of her counter, lifting her eyelids to do so. Only then did Whitewash see the tears flooding her eyes.

His heart sank. “Miss Lilligold, I’m very sorry. I really didn’t mean to—”

“No. No, it’s fine. Sorry for your troubles.” She opened another drawer. Her magic flickered a few times, and she bit her lip. Finally she just ducked her head in the drawer and grabbed a little envelope in her mouth. She spat it across the counter and said, “Your hotel information. It’s paid for a week.” Her voice snapped. “Please. Please just go. I can’t take this.”

In complete silence, Whitewash nodded. He took the envelope and dragged himself and his suitcase to the exit. He paused, looked over his shoulder and said, “Good luck with your project, Miss Lilligold. I hope it turns out great.”

Her back was turned, but she nodded and squeaked out something that sounded like, “Thank you.”

Whitewash left. Out on the sidewalk, he breathed a hearty sigh. He glanced at the hotel information and wandered away, doing his best to push the encounter from his mind. He was fairly sure he’d passed a comic store on one of Elmshire’s labyrinthine streets. Perhaps something there could clear his thoughts.

***

In the midday gloom of her shop, Lilligold wept softly. Her body still shook, although Whitewash had been gone nearly twenty minutes. A small part of her wanted to lash out and hit something, but the only target was the luminescent cactus she’d toiled over for months, so she bottled the impulse up.

Several quiet minutes later, she stood up and straightened herself. She approached the cactus and eyed it sadly. It still looked like a chimera of broken magic and plant life—a mere fragment of what her mind’s eye had imagined. She slid it away and sprawled herself across the desk. She sighed and blew her mane from her face.

Something tingled in her stomach. Lilligold’s eyes flicked down to the drawer that contained her story. That stupid, damned, troublesome story. She considered for a moment before sliding it open and lifting the top page out. She scanned it and hovered her quill over, jotting something in the margins:

Stardom too perfect. Plot too standard. Revise.

She stared at the note for a moment, then scratched a hard line through it. She stared longer and scribbled the note out entirely. Lastly she tapped her quill and rewrote the note in red ink. Shaking her head, she hid the page away and grabbed the cactus in her magic. She trotted into the backroom and got to work.

Bonus: "Mercurial" Alternate Beginning

Author's Note

A different beginning for my Round 1 story—Lilligold vs. Whitewash. Changed it up because I wasn't feeling this opening as much.

Bonus: "Mercurial" Alternate Beginning

“Ugh, typical,” Whitewash said. He tossed the comic over his shoulder, relegating it to his Do NOT Read Again pile—one which loomed more than twice as large as his Good Comics collection.

He hadn’t even needed to finish that one before discarding it. The plot was predictable to the last letter. The characters were cookie-cutter, one-dimensional trash. Cliches were so rampant that Whitewash was convinced the writer had been going down a checklist. And he could’ve called the deus ex machina coming by the fifth page. It had been one of the worst comics in recent memory, and that said a lot given the sheer volume he read.

Whitewash shook his head and stood. He was on his way to grab his favourite palate-cleanser comic—Power Ponies #73: Nightmare Radiance Strikes!—when a knock came at his door. He made a half-hearted attempt to smooth out his mussy mane as he trotted over and opened the door.

The mailpony greeted him with his standard too-big smile. “Afternoon, Mister Whitewash! Surprise, surprise: got some mail for ya!”

Lifting an eyebrow, Whitewash said, “I didn’t order any comics recently. Still gotta play catch up.”

The mailpony chuckled. “Ain’t a comic today! Got a good old-fashioned letter here with your name on it.” He plucked an envelope from his satchel and passed it forward.

Whitewash grabbed it in his magic and eyed it oddly. He rarely received letters, and none of the ones he had gotten had looked at all like this. The stamp was a mystical, holographic square boasting some strange design, and the return address was in someplace called Elmshire—which he was positive was nowhere in Equestria. “Uh, thanks,” he said, not looking up.

“It’s my honour and duty, pal!” Tipping his hat, the mailpony took off into the sky.

Whitewash retreated inside and instantly tore the envelope open. Upon lifting the letter out, the first thing that struck him was the stationery. It was written on formal-looking cardstock, and the edges were gilded with gold leaf flakes. He carefully unfolded the letter and read it through.

Dear Mr. Whitewash,

My sincerest apologies if this letter catches you off-guard or if I seem too forward, but I simply had to pen you one. Since you’ve likely never heard of me, allow me to explain myself.

My name is Lilligold. I hail from the city of Elmshire, a metropolis south of the San Palomino Desert, which itself is south of you in Canterlot. I work here as a botanist who specializes in combining all manners of plantlife with different types of magic, producing beautiful, enchanted creations. Just recently, your parents enlisted my services for their 25th wedding anniversary. I learned of you through our communications—and in particular I learned of your renowned expertise in the field of chemistry. Among the best in Equestria, they claimed!

The reason for which I write you today is to request your help with one of my current projects. For several months now, I’ve been working to create a breed of luminescent cactus that shifts between many colours of light and uses its spines to cast intricate designs with said light. While I’ve managed to get all the magic in place, I seem to have hit a snag with the chemical side of things. Specifically it seems that the neon is having a strange interaction with the corneus enchantment—baffling to me given that neon should be an inert gas. I’ve done all I can think to do, and you are my last hope. I don’t normally like to collaborate on projects, but I’ve become desperate.

I would like to have you come down to visit my shop in Elmshire—all expenses paid, of course—so that you might help resolve this dilemma. I know this is a very tall, presumptuous order, but I am at my wit’s end. Rest assured that you will be compensated handsomely for your work. Moreover, I’ll happily waive the fee for your parents’s quicksilver irises should you agree to come—regardless of whether you solve my problem or not, I would appreciate the effort alone.

Thank you for taking the time to read this far, Mr. Whitewash. This is very important to me. I eagerly await your reply.

Regards,
Lilligold, Proprietor of Glimmering Gardens

The pit of Whitewash’s stomach fell out. He buried his face in the letter and groaned harshly, hoping the sound would somehow erase the letter from existence.

Bonus: "Intraview" Alternate

Author's Note

All but the ending of an alternate telling of my Round 2 story—Lilligold vs. Price Back. I didn't much enjoy this version, so I changed it up.

Bonus: "Intraview" Alternate

Price Back rubbed the bridge of his muzzle. “You want me to write about plants,” he said.

“These aren’t just any old plants, Price,” Written Word—his editor—said. “You’ve never seen anything like them! Hardly anyone in Equestria has! That’s the point.”

“How did you even wind up seeing them?”

Price spread the photos over the desk. Intricate floral arrangements crowded much of the wedding floor. He glanced over a few of the more eye-catching pieces—translucent flowers of some description, floating white gourds with flames tipping their stems, and an entire tree of cherry blossoms glowing all the colours of the rainbow.

“They’re not made of glass,” Written said as she straightened her papers. “They’re made of water.”

Despite himself, Price lifted an eyebrow. “How does that even work?”

Written Word shrugged. “You have to see it.”

Price waved a hoof as if brushing the topic away. “That’s besides the point. I’m telling you there’s no story here, Writ. What am I supposed to do? Just describe a bunch of plants and write about how amazing they look? That’s a list, not a story.”

Looking over her glasses, Written Word cupped her hooves together and said, “Look, Price, I can’t make you write anything. But I’ve been writing back and forth with the owner, and she’s more than thrilled about us showcasing her store. The Grazette’s already arranged for you to head down to Elmshire next week. All expenses paid.”

“Whole lotta not-my-problem,” Price said.

Written stayed him with a hoof. “Let me finish. I think you should at least go to Elmshire. Even if the story doesn’t pan out, it’s a big city most ponies have never even heard of! Plus it’s a cultural goldmine: the astral art gallery, Swan Song’s Amphitheater, the Duchess’s Archives.” She slid an Elmshire tourist pamphlet across the desk. “You’re bound to find something worth writing about. Just try Glimmering Gardens first—that’s all I’m asking.”

She levitated an envelope over to Price. It had P.B. Travel Info scrawled on the front. “Call it a favour to me, if nothing else” she said.

The envelope hung in the air between them. Price looked from it to Written Word’s hopeful smirk and back again. He sighed and swiped up the envelope. “You drive a hard bargain, Writ.”

***

The bell above Glimmering Gardens’ door jingled—and promptly fell onto Price Back’s muzzle. It clattered like brass but had none of the impact of the metal; it felt more like a tulip. Price watched it drop noisily to the floor.

“Oh, my apologies!” called the mare behind the counter. She rushed ahead and took the bell in her magic. “Seems to be time for a new one of these.” She chuckled uneasily.

Price watched the bell crumple in on itself. “Is that a plant?” he asked.

“Brass bellbottom. My very own creation.” She levitated over an identical flower from one of the myriad gardens dotting the store and snaked it into the pot cemented above the entrance.

Price tapped his muzzle, where a real bell surely would’ve left a nasty bruise. He smiled and said, “Heh, suppose I should count myself lucky.” Price extended a hoof. “Price Back with the Equestrian Grazette. You must be Lilligold.”

Lilligold nodded and gently shook his hoof. “I’ve heard nothing but great things from your editor, Mister Price Back. I’m so happy your magazine is interested in my little shop. I never dreamed of such an opportunity.”

“The pleasure is all mine.” Price glanced briefly around the shop, noting a few of the more eye-catching specimens. “Mind if I just look around a bit? Get a feel for how I wanna get started, you know?”

“Naturally.” Lilligold retreated behind the counter. “I’ll be here if you have any questions. You’re welcome to explore the backroom as well. All I ask is that you come fetch me if you wish to open the door in the far back.” She brushed her mane back and quietly said, “You’ll, erm, need protective equipment for the sunflowers.”

Price quirked an eyebrow. “Uh, duly noted,” he said. He proceeded to wander the shop.

The flowers were so plentiful, Price found it difficult to focus on any one display. The world around him bloomed with colour and shine and motion. All the smells swam together in a floral cocktail, making his nostrils burn. Plants of all shapes, sizes, and forms met him wherever he looked: daffodils that sprayed water like sprinklers, miniature oak trees that cycled through the seasons in a matter of seconds, and a cluster of cattails whose bulbs flowed with real fur in a multitude of patterns.

Yet as stunning as the array was, Price’s expression fell. He looked at row upon row upon row of plants, all of them unique, but blurring together. Each one seemed less mystifying than the last, and Price’s hopes were quickly sapped away.

Price rounded a corner and found himself mere inches away from the tip of a vine. Before he could react, the vine slithered through the air and coiled itself around his neck. It tickled his mane as it crawled up his neck and wrapped around his ear. “Uh, Lilligold?” he called, watching the vine through the corner of his eye. “Is this thing supposed to be doing this?”

She giggled from afar. “It would seem that the sandsnare has taken a liking to you.”

“Sandsnare?” As if bidden by the word, the vine instantly dissolved into sand and fell around Price’s hooves. An ethereal breeze lifted, and all of the sand flowed back into a nearby urn. Once it had recollected itself, a new vine grew out of the urn and spiraled in a different direction. Price blinked. “Huh. That’s an odd one.”

“Why do you say that?” Lilligold asked. She stepped from behind the counter and started towards Price.

“I mean, it just seems so different from the rest.” Price made a broad sweeping gesture over the rest of the store. “All of these other ones are colourful, or shiny, or just decorative in some way.” He turned back to the sandsnare, watching its hypnotic motion. “This one isn’t flashy at all. It just… moves.”

Lilligold’s ears pinned against her head. “I, erm, suppose that’s true. Many ponies like it for tropical-themed parties, though. And it’s always been one of my personal favourites.”

Price looked to Lilligold—she was watching the vine, just as it dissolved into sand and began anew. “Why’s that?”

Lilligold’s face flushed. “No particular reason,” she murmured.

“C’mon. I’m curious!”

Lilligold shook her head. “No, it’s quite besides the point. You’re here to write about the plants and the store, after all, not listen to my silly ramblings-on.” She smiled at him disarmingly. “What do you make of it so far? I notice you haven’t taken any notes yet.”

Price looked briefly at his saddlebags where his notepad resided. He’d genuinely forgotten about it. “I’ll be frank with you, Lilligold. I like to think myself a pretty good writer, but I’m having a tough time seeing how this can become a story.”

Lilligold frowned. “Oh?”

“I mean, your plants are gorgeous and all, and they’re all pretty exceptional in their own right. But there’s not much you can really say beyond that. At this point, the whole story would just be a sentence or two advertising your shop. Pretty lackluster.”

Looking away and scuffing her hoof, Lilligold said, “I, um… I’m not quite sure what to tell you, Mister Price Back. This is all I have to show, save a few works-in-progress in the back. I hoped it would suffice for your article…”

Price rubbed his muzzle, pinched his eyes shut, and sighed. “You’re killin’ me, Writ,” he said under his breath. “Look, I’m not a miracle-worker, but I’ll try to still make something out of this. If you’ve got more unique things like the sandsnare there, then maybe I can spin something. Let’s look in the back.”

“Of course…” The shine gone from her eyes, Lilligold led Price beyond the curtain and into the backroom. “There’s nothing too extravagant back here, but, um, I hope you find something inspirational.”

Price scanned the room. Just like on the shop floor, many glimmering flowers and fantastical plants littered the tables and shelves. A few seemed dull or incomplete, like a weakly thrumming cactus on the nearest table, but nothing much stood out.

Price Back sighed through his nose. “Looks like a lot more of the same,” he said. “Is this really all you’ve got?”

The lines of Lilligold’s face drooped. She shrank a little. “I… I don’t know what you expected, Mister Price Back. Written Word assured me that you understood what you were coming for: to showcase my store. And… well, this is it.”

“And what this is, Lilligold, is a bunch of glitz and glam plants with nothing more to it!” A familiar fire burned in Price’s gut, smoldering all the way up to his tongue. “Sure, they’re all unique and beautiful and all that jazz, but where’s the substance? The intrigue? The point?! You’re kidding yourself if you think this’ll make any kind of story.”

Lilligold shrank further. Her voice was little more than a peep. “Ponies… ponies tend to like my work…”

Price Back bulldozed on. “And you’re not just kidding yourself, you’re wasting my time! I took an eighteen-hour train ride down to your little shop because my editor thought it was an interesting story. But it’s just what I thought it would be! A complete friggin’ waste!” On impulse, Price whipped a hoof at the potted cactus. The pot cracked and went airborne, and his hoof surged with pain.

There was a sharp gasp, and a silver aura caught the cactus before it could hit the floor. Lilligold pushed past Price Back and eyed the cactus all over as she put it back on the table.

Price looked from his hoof to the crack in the pot to Lilligold. As his tirading tongue cooled down, he approached Lilligold and said, “Lilligold, I—”

“Now see here, Price Back!” Lilligold shouted. She whipped around and glared into him, making Price recoil. “I accepted your editor’s offer because I assumed it would be a good opportunity for both my business and your magazine. I did not do it so you could storm in and insult, generalize, and outright destroy my work! If you didn’t think yourself able to showcase my store adequately, you should never have agreed to come!”

“I didn’t actually want—”

Lilligold prodded him in the chest. “Let me finish. As far as I’m concerned, your visit here is through, but now I have a matter of personal pride to attend to. Come! I have something to show you.” She stomped back into the shop proper, he soft face morphed into a seething mask.

Price Back, seeing no alternative, followed.

***

They walked for several minutes through Elmshire’s winding streets. As they worked toward the city’s outskirts, the bunched up buildings spread out, and nature breathed in the absence of architecture. When they finally reached their destination, they could see where the city ended and the countryside began, rolling away in a vast emerald sheet.

A greenhouse loomed large before them—larger than any Price had ever seen. Its windows were a little clouded, rendering whatever lay inside as a mist of colour.

Lilligold stood before the door. Her demeanor had bled away over their long, silent journey, revealing her small and demure self. “Perhaps… Perhaps this isn’t such a good idea,” she said. “I’ve never allowed anyone else in here before.”

Price looked the greenhouse over. “What’s inside?”

Lilligold flinched, as though she hadn’t expected his voice—or had forgotten he was there entirely. She sighed and mumbled, “I suppose we’ve come this far.” Her magic reached out and turned the doorknob. Humidity swamped them as the door came open, like clothes bursting from a too-full closet. They crossed the threshold.

If Lilligold’s shop had been a garden, her greenhouse was a jungle. Greenery extended far into the distance where the back wall was just barely visible, and none of it resembled anything Price had seen in Glimmering Gardens. Many of the plants looked wholly unchanged, and where the shop had mainly consisted of flowers, the greenhouse was more diverse and exotic than he thought possible: there were dandelions bunched at the base of a well, a spherical cactus whose spines dripped with some kind of syrup, and even a few snowcapped evergreens towards the back.

“This is my personal greenhouse,” Lilligold said. Her voice was downtrodden, as though ashamed. “It’s where I house all of the plants that I don’t feel… comfortable displaying in my store.”

Price eyed her strangely. “What d’you mean by that?”

“Erm… well…” Lilligold shifted her eyes this way and that, looking anywhere but at Price Back. She retreated behind her mane and said, “The more I think on this, the more I think it was a terrific mistake bringing you here. It was a silly notion. I think we should go.”

“Not happening,” Price said. “You’ve got my interest now. I wanna see what this place is about!” He looked to the nearest corner and saw an array of four pitcher plants lined up in a row. Their grew in size from left to right, the smallest being as big as his hoof, and the largest standing taller than him. He started towards them and said, “Like these. I’ve never even seen a pitcher plant in person before.”

“Oh, no no no!” Lilligold rushed up beside him. Her cheeks flared redder than cherries. “Please, don’t go near them.”

Price froze just a step away from the largest pitcher plant. “Why? Are they dangerous?”

“N-no, they’re not dangerous. They—”

“Oh, come now, Lilybunches,” said a deep, baritone voice. Both ponies turned to the tallest pitcher plant, whose opening had curved up to look like a smile. “Danger’s our middle name! We got voices so sweet, so succulent, so mamma jammin’ slick, it’s a damn miracle they ain’t killed nobody yet! Ain’t that right, boys?”

“Oooooh yeeeaaah,” harmonized the other three plants.

Price Back blinked. “Is this seriously happening?”

“I—” Lilligold tried.

“You’d better believe it, sonny!” proclaimed the pitcher plant. “Feast your ears on the most mind-blowingly radical tones of the best parrot pitcher quartet this side o’ the greenhouse! We’re the Pitcher Perfects, and prepare to be aaaamaaaazed! Hit it!”

Each of the plants whipped out two vines, wrapped them together, and snapped them in rhythm. And in perfect harmony, they sang:

How do you dooooo?
Uh huh!
We’re the pitcher creeeewww.
Oh, yeah!
We’re singin’ here, gettin’ set to jeer, mop the floor with yoooouuu!
Sing it, child!

“Enough! Enough! Okay, that’s enough!” Lilligold stormed forward and wrapped all of them in her magic. “Mister Price Back gets the idea. Please stop.”

Somehow, the large pitcher plant shrugged. “Whatever ya say, Lily. Save it for practice tonight, fellas!” Just as suddenly as they’d begun, the pitcher plants fell silent and still again.

Lilligold turned to Price Back, but her eyes remained squarely on her hooves. “S-sorry about that,” she muttered. “I-I didn’t—”

“Sorry?” Price said. He was still gawking at the pitcher quartet. “Are you kidding? That was great!”

Lilligold shook her head. “No. No it was weird, and, and—”

“I mean, yeah it was weird. But that’s what’s so great about it! A barbershop quartet of pitcher plants! How’d you even think something like that up?”

“Th-they just came from my imagination—just like every other plant. I know they’re silly and stupid and weird—everything in here is! That’s why I don’t let ponies see this. We need to leave now.”

“Hold on,” Price said. He looked the greenhouse over. Between all of the plants here and those in Glimmering Gardens, there had to be ten thousand or more. Each of them had some unique trait—none of them were exactly the same. Price replayed Lilligold’s words in his mind: They just came from my imagination.

Something clicked behind his eyes.

He looked at Lilligold, who was still cowering behind her mane. “I think we’ve been going about this all wrong, Lilligold,” he said. “This story isn’t about the plants— it isn’t even about your shop. It’s about you.”

Lilligold froze. “Me?” she squeaked.

Price nodded. “The mastermind behind all of it! That’s what ponies will want to read about: what you’re like, how you think it all up. Because the only thing more interesting than your plants is the pony behind the plants.” He bonked himself on the head. “That’s where our story is!”

From behind her mane, Lilligold looked at him. Her blush had only intensified. “Y-You want to write an article about me? I-I don’t think I’m comfortable with that. No, not at all.”

The hopeful expression Price had built up crumbled into a frown. “Why not, though?”

“I…” Lilligold took a deep breath. She managed to come out from behind her mane and stand a bit taller. “I never wanted this to become about me. It was meant to be about the plants, and the shop, not the… the freaky mare behind it all. I can’t handle that spotlight. What would ponies think of me?”

Price lifted a hoof to Lilligold’s shoulder, drawing her eyes to his. “They’d think exactly what I think. That you’re a talented pony with a great gift, and passion to boot. It’s like you said: ponies love your plants! Why shouldn’t they love you too?”

Lilligold shrank. “I don’t know…”

Price sighed. “Can you at least give me an interview—just to see how it goes? I promise it won’t get published if you don’t want it to, and you don’t have to answer anything you’re uncomfortable with. I really think it could make for a great story, but it’s your call.”

Lilligold looked at Price Back. She measured his hopeful eyes, then looked past him and across the greenhouse. It was rather majestic, when she took it all in.

She swallowed the lump in her throat. “Okay,” she said. “I’ll try.”