On the Grounds that the Host Doesn’t ‘Make Things Weird, Y’know?’
I soar through the massive, pegasus-maintained sky, scanning the surface for clusters of houses. I try to remember when I saw this much green on the ground that wasn’t on fire. My scales have always done a good job of camouflaging against a blue sky, but they always have this occasional glint that gives me away and drives me crazy. Since I’ve departed, I’ve landed seven times over just to find the best way to carry around the Scepter. I worry that I’m never going to get used to this thing. You know, aside from the surge of magical power and feeling the heartbeat of every dragon alive. I’m supposed to be looking for a town by the Everfree Forest with a big, crystal castle shaped like a tree. Or was it a crystal castle on top of a tree? Ugh, I should’ve brought the letter with me.
I consider flying back to Cloudsdale as a reference point, but I don’t want another lightning bolt to the face. Speaking of which, how do those ponies keep that overgrown mound of fluff from blowing away? Its clouds, for friggin’ sake.
Before my train of thought can derail any further, I spot my destination. The roof I land on is made of straw, so I have to be careful about not getting any of it snagged in my spikes.
“DRAGON!” call out some bystanding ponies, loudly and out of sync in their panic. Screams of terror are usually an awesome thing to hear, but in this case it kind of caught me off guard. Surprised, that’s the word. Yeah, like I’m going to be scared by a pony that’s already scared of me.
“No, wait, I’m not here to-” Too late. Guards are here. Well, one guard, anyway. She’s out of uniform and doesn’t have a weapon, but I can tell she’s on some oh-no-another-pony-is-in-danger first response team. Lesson one about raiding ponies: The ones that don’t run are always professionals. The colors of her mane are so bright, they almost makes me squint.
“Alright, you scrawny flying lizard,” Little Miss What the Hell Did You Put in Your Mane this Morning says, “you better go back where you came from or you’re gonna feel the Dash!”
The Dash? Seriously? Even for an inside joke, I can tell that’s terrible. She’s getting an eyeroll for that with a snort for good measure. I take the Bloodstone Scepter out, the most valuable artifact of dragonkind, and bop her over the head with it. She collapses like a ragdoll. Sheesh, I knew that ponies don’t have scales, but I thought they at least had skulls inside their heads or something.
“Sorry!” I say, even though I know that Pun Genius over here can’t hear me. It’s more to the ponies watching than to her.
Speaking of which nearby earth pony is already galloping towards me. She has a lasso, and apparently knows how to use it than I expected her to, since I’m tied down face-first on the ground before I know it.
“Rainbow! Ya feeling alright?” she calls out, trying to pin me down with a body smaller than mine. ‘Rainbow’ is currently snoring. I say something into the dirt that was probably best for anypony to miss out on. I snare the earth pony’s tail with mine and flick her off to one of the softer roofs. As my fangs bite through the rope I begin to think of the quickest way inside the walls of the castle. At this rate I’ll have to fight of at least, like, eleven ponies? That’s forgivable over self-defense, right?
“WAIT!”
Oh hi, Spike. Where were you during my flawless first impression?
The inside of the castle is nice enough. I don’t get a wide range of castles. Not very expecting of a princess, but pretty much a given for a dragon. I’m sitting at this big fancy table that doubles as a big 3D map of Equestria. The purpose of the map is a long, drawn-out explanation that I zoned out on. I take another sip of the first cup of tea I’ve ever had in my life. It’s surprisingly sweet. I conclude that putting sugar in things that taste awful is the best thing ever; royal decree right there. I start to wonder if these ponies went out of their way to make me a teacup that had small enough handles for my fingers, but then I notice that all the other teacups have the same handles size. So, in my conclusion, I guess that ponies just have teacups with handles too small for their hooves. Ponies are hitting their highs and lows all over the place today.
Speaking of tensions between races, the rainbow-maned pony that said that I was ‘going to feel the Dash’ (full name ‘Rainbow Dash’) is BFFs with Twilight here. Of course, all ponies are BFFs in some extent. It’s kind of their thing, especially in small little towns like these. She has woken up and is giving me the stink eye, even though SHE was the one that assaulted ME. Twilight’s going on about how kicking ass first and asking questions later is Rainbow Dash’s whole deal, sprinkling in words like ‘passionate’ and ‘protective.’ Yikes, and I thought only dragons could be this reckless.
Whatever. I can live with her hating me on the down-low. I invented hating someone on the down-low. (A+ parenting, Dad.)
The one who roped me is called Applejack. She has the same job that every earth pony has: Growing food that ponies can eat, but dragons can’t. Although, I might have to do some research on that last detail, since Spike is loving his third apple turnover in one sitting.
There’s another presence in the room, but I can’t quite identify it. That is, it won’t sit still. It’s kind of like a big jittery bug, except it moves along the ground and occasionally the walls. The blur keeps making this constant sound, and if I can focus, some of it sounds like words. It’s starting to creep me out. At least the ponies acknowledge it, so that’s a sign I’m not going crazy.
They all call it ‘Pinkie.’
Next to Rarity, there’s another pegasus that I think is doing an impression of a painting. You know, the kind of optical illusion ones that make it seem like its eyes are following you around the room. She’s completely motionless. I don’t think she’s blinked since she was forced into the room. Her mouth is wide agape, letting out a whisper of a never-ending scream. I gather that her name is ‘Fluttershy’ and that she doesn’t talk much. I like her. I always admired the strong, silent type, and this is kind of like that. Right? Yeah, no. Didn’t think so. Nothing like that. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that she’s just kind of a wimp. Although, Twilight insists that Fluttershy is ‘the nicest pony in the world once you get to know her,’ and I’ve been sticking to a ‘don’t knock it till you’ve tried it’ mentality since I came here.
It’s still hard to make out, but Pinkie seems to be mentioning a certain word over and over again. I decide it’s worth investigating.
“Yo, Spike, what’s a party?”
Pinkie stops, motion-wise and sentence-wise. In that rare instance, I discover that she’s shaped like a pony. Kind of obvious, in hindsight. Also, she’s looking at me like I don’t know what gravity is.
Spike scratched his head. “It’s, uh, this thing we do to celebrate a special occasion. We all go to this one place at once to have fun. There’s usually lots of singing and cake!”
Before I have time to respond, Pinkie has recovered from her shock to launch into another spew of gibberish.
“Omigosh and there’s TONS of ways to throw one! There’s the parties I throw whenever there’s a new pony in Ponyville; cuteceañeras; there’s after parties, which are kind of like a party to cool down after you go to a bigger party so you can get ready for MORE parties, there’s dances; festivals; parades; birthday parties-”
“Birth… day? I don’t get it.”
Pinkie was now looking at me like I had just suggested that we take Princess Celestia and dump her in a vat of acid.
“You’ve never had a birthday party?” she says in the slowest manner she managed to do all afternoon.
“Um… no, I don’t think so. What is it?” I’m trying to deconstruct the phrase. “Is it like a party you ‘throw,’ as you call it, when you’re born? I don’t think I’d remember that day.”
I think I broke her now. Rainbow Dash is trying not to laugh. I think Rainbow and I are good for the time being. Spike looks worried, though.
“Hey, girls?” he pipes up. “I don’t think we should go this route. Remember the last time I had a birthday party? With the presents and the growing?”
It’s looking like a funeral all of the sudden. Guests are avoiding eye contact. I suspect it’s not my fault the tone shifted this way, but that means it’s harder for me to change it back. The awkward silence stretch out like a rubber band.
I huff, making a bit of smoke. Royal decree: Friendship is hard.
Author's Note
Probably not the first Ember story approved, but probably the first that's not angst-ridden romance or smut.
Also, I'm not dead! 
Yeah, here's the thing I say about bronies: We don't come back, we relapse.
In Which the Ponies Make Things Weird
So yeah, I still can’t understand what Pinkie Pie is saying, but I’m having one of those ‘parties’ now. This isn’t so bad. From what I can read from the banner, we’ve opted from a ‘birthday party’ to a ‘welcome to Ponyville, Ember’ party. We’ve also moved our location to this spot called ‘Sugarcube Corner,’ and got some more ponies to join us there. Since Spike has been here for a year or three now, the caterers have expanded their menu to gem-based flavors of cupcakes. And if putting sugar in tea is already the best idea ever, mixing frosting and sapphires is now the highlight of pony ingenuity.
If only the other guests had the courage to come up and talk to me instead of just cowering in a corner. Dragons are strangers to friendship, but hell if we can’t tell when someone is dampening the mood. At least Spike is putting his best foot forward.
“So,” he says, gulping down his fourth cupcake, “How goes the new job?”
“Oh, you know, leading and stuff,” I shrug. Holding the Scepter doesn’t leave at lot of room to fidget with my claws. It’s supposed to be for swinging around and shooting lasers, not interlocking your fingers into whatever position you want. “I’m trying to figure ways of hearing others’ input that doesn’t lead to arguments. But you know what they say: Opinions are like buttholes. Every dragon has one, and they all start to stink if you don’t wipe the muck out once and awhile.” I fake a laugh. He fakes a laugh. We fake satisfaction.
Out of the corner of my eye, Fluttershy has gradually been given seventeen different versions of the same pep talk: Come on over to me and just speak up. I can’t really make out Fluttershy’s responses to this, but they contain a rather gratuitous usage of the word ‘can’t.’ I know it’s rude to listen in on other’s conversations, but it’s also rude to talk about someone when they’re right in front of you, so I guess we’re all on the same level here. And you know what? Having a stalemate of awkward silence and barriers of anti-confrontational social cues isn’t what being a dragon is about. It’s time to shake things up. Beating up the toughest dragon on the mountain makes you feared, and in that regard, breaking the ice with the shyest pony in the room should make you approachable. Doesn’t that make sense? It should make sense. Any plan makes sense when you’re frustrated enough.
At the risk of being obnoxious, I march up to Fluttershy and shake her by the shoulders. “You. Speak.”
Like a flower in the sunset, her mane closes up to hide her face. It’s a little impressive. She’s so timid, her hair acts as some kind security-blanket camouflage. Her wings are locked up and tense. I might as well have roared at her as loud I could.
“Whuh-what’s your favorite animal?” she exhales. She hyperventilates to keep herself conscious. Good enough. Interesting question, even.
“Cows,” I say after letting go of her to think for a minute. “They stay in wide open fields and have a lot of meat on them. Go excellent with BBQ sauce.” I examine her reaction. You could hear a pin drop in here. I may have misunderstood the question. “What, do you mean an animal that doesn’t talk?”
It takes a second for her to nod. “And, uhm, oh my goodness, your favorite animal to keep around. As a pet. Do dragons keep pets?”
I think hard for this one. Whelp, honesty is the best policy. “No.” But then again, I’m determined not to let another conversation end on a sour note. “What’s your favorite animal?”
“B-b-b-b-b-buh-bunnies.”
At least I don’t have to MAKE her talk anymore. “Yeah, and your favorite thing about bunnies?” It’s hard for Fluttershy to confident when talking to me, but it’s also hard for her to stay scared when talking about bunnies. Yes! Insight for the win!
“They’re… fluffy,” Fluttershy begins. “And cuddly. And cute. And quiet. They also make big knitting circles. They’re like little soft clouds that hop around on the ground.” This is so sweet, it’s making my teeth hurt. I’m starting to regret this course of action. “I have this one bunny named Angel. I named him that because he has one of whitest coat I’ve ever seen! He helps me take care of all the other critters sometimes; he’s very helpful that way.” You know, some dragons have recently accused me of torture for trying to talk them to death. They know NOTHING compared to what I’m going through right now. “I also like butterflies, but I guess you can tell my cutie mark. They’re even quieter than bunnies, so much so that butterflies can scare you by being suddenly so close without making a sound. Rainbow Dash says that they’re like colorful ninjas that way, but that’s too violent of a description for such a peaceful creature. Oh, um, don’t tell Rainbow Dash I said that; she doesn’t know.” It’s been thirty seconds since she started. An eternity. “I also like how some butterflies migrate from one place to another in swarms. Flying has always scared me silly, and it’s inspiring to see so many helpless creatures fly together across such a long distance. And most ponies don’t find bears to be very cute, but I personally-”
“WOW, THANKS FOR THAT,” I bellow politely, shoving a claw over her mouth. “NEVER KNEW YOU HAD SUCH AN INTREST IN… THOSE THINGS YOU SAID. I NEED TO BE SOMEWHERE ELSE. BYE NOW.” I can feel a few ponies glaring daggers at me, among them a particularly grouchy white bunny. I don’t care. I have stared into the abyss, and it was tremendously boring. I think I need to get what comes out of the mare’s mouth weaponized, or Equestria might wipe out dragonkind. (Maybe even by accident.)
“Soooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo,” Pinkie’s voice draws out, giving light she has a bit of understanding to both sides of the conversation I just had. “Who wants to play Pin the Tail on the Pony?!”
I blink. “But… all of your tails are already attached.”
“I know, it was confusing for me at first, too,” Pinkie reassures. “Basically, it’s more like Pin the Paper Tail on the Poster of a Pony.”
“The catch being?”
Pinkie narrows her eyes and flashes in evil smile. “You’re blindfolded. And dizzy. One life stock. No items. Fox only. Final Destination.”
I didn’t get half of what she was saying, but boy, did she make it sound intense. “I’m in.”
Pinkie becomes a blur again, and my vision goes dark. I suddenly feel like I’m being forced to a barrel roll ten times over while I’m still on the ground. The claw that’s not holding the Scepter now holds an object with a sharp point.
“Okaaay… go!” snaps Pinkie. I take a step and realize how dizzy I am. Those cupcakes feel really heavy in my belly all of a sudden. Steady breaths, Ember. Throwing up in public isn’t pretty. The Scepter provides some support for my hindered balance. It’s probably showing.
“Hey, no walking sticks! That’s cheating,” Pinkie says innocently. I feel hooves yank at the Scepter. I panic and yank back harder. So hard, in fact, that I fall over on my back with an embarrassingly girlish yelp. An unidentified pair of hooves helps me up, and I try to maintain all the dignity a blind dragon that just lost their footing can keep.
“The Scepter stays with me,” I sternly declare, unable to face anypony in particular.
“Okay, that’s fine, have it your way,” Fluttershy mumbles. Her voice is close enough for me to guess that she was the one that helped me up. That shocks me more than somepony trying grab the Scepter from me. I just shouted in her face, and she’s helping me. That’s… really nice. That’s unreasonably nice. Is it because this party is about me, or does Fluttershy already consider me a friend? I can’t tell if my head is spinning because somepony forgave me so fast, or-
*BLEUGH!*
Or because I’m so dizzy, I just puked five cupcakes at once, probably on some unsuspecting party guest. I take a peek behind my blindfold, and my fears are confirmed: Fluttershy just got a point-blank facefull of dragon vomit. She’s already wiping it away, trying not to get any of it in her eyes.
“Fluttershy, I’m sorr-“
*BLEUGH!*
Oh, right. Nobody throws up just once. I always forget that. This time, I think got a bit of it in her mouth. Its Pinkie Pie that’s apologizing now, directed at me. She’s talking too fast again, but I think I caught ‘something something my own spinning power.’
Also, you know seeing someone else throw up triggers some freaky gag reflex? That’s happening now. To like, half the party. Including Fluttershy. All over me. And lookie here, we’re all brought down to even ground again.
Whenever other dragons ask me what ponies are like, I say that ‘You’ll end up puking by the end of the afternoon, but you’ll feel good about it, because that shows we’re not so different on the inside.’
They never get the joke.
Author's Note
Shut up, I think it's cute. 
