It's Bound to be Around Here Somewhere
Pinkie almost complained about being jostled awake at such a nonroutine hour, but reconsidered once Madame Rarity repeated where she planned on going.
“Around the world?” Pinkie asked.
“Yes, dear,” Madame Rarity said, turning on a gas lamp by Pinkie’s cot. “In eighty days and not a minute less. There's a wager.”
“Around the world,” Pinkie said. She scooted up to the side of her cot, rubbing her eyes awake. “Really? When?”
Madame Rarity pointed to her evening hat atop her head. “Immediately, Mademoiselle valet. We have no time to lose.”
Pinkie inhaled sharply. “We? Oh my gosh!”
“Yes. Now go, Pinkie. Pack my things at once.”
“Aye-aye, captain!” She scrambled to Madame Rarity’s bedroom, slipping on the marble floor. Once there, her hooves moved like whips to stuff a moderately sized suitcase to the brim with dresses, money, and her trusty flatiron.
Not two minutes later, with no time lost at all, Pinkie stood by the door, two suitcases fully packed. She saluted her master. “All set and ready to go, Madame!”
“Brilliant,” Rarity said, letting Pinkie put on her overcoat. She led the way down the stairs from the front door. “Then off we go. The carriage awaits.”
Pinkie hopped behind. Around the world! There’d be so many ponies to meet, places to see, mechanical marvels to behold. Who knew where the wind would take them, what ponies they’d meet and what adventures those ponies would lead them on. Hidden gems waited under every unturned stone. There’d be intrigue, hardship, character-building… romance, perhaps! Anything was possible!
~ ~ ~
The carriage was the best that could be fetched at such a late hour. An automaton shaped like a mechanical horse towed the carriage. It was one of the earlier automaton models—blocky and mainly wheels, unfortunately, and the only horse-like element of it was a cone-shaped head with steam exhaust pipes for ears—but it was one of the more reliable models, and managed to make the ride smooth most of the time.
However, as the gates of Canterlot came into view, the ride began to lurch and rattle. Madame Rarity poked her head out of the window, but the automaton pulling their carriage seemed to be chugging along as faithfully and healthily as ever.
“Seems we’ve entered a rough patch of road,” Madame Rarity said, before turning to Pinkie. “Oh.”
Pinkie trembled, causing the whole carriage to rattle. She beamed brighter than an incandescent bulb. “It’s Canterlot, Rarity! Oh my gosh, we’re really going around the world!”
“Madame Rarity,” she said, then smirked. “And yes, we most certainly are going around the world.”
“Oh, we are! We are!” She poked her head out, taking in the view of the city. “I’ve never been anywhere but Ponyville! I can’t wait to meet new ponies and make new friends all across the world! It’ll be such an adventure!”
“Patience, Pinkie,” Rarity said, laying a hoof on Pinkie to stifle her vibration. “And composure.”
“Composure,” Pinkie said, nodding. “Oh!” she said, almost leaping out of the window, holding onto her bowler cap to keep it from blowing away. “We’re here! We’re in Canterlot! Oh my gosh!”
The carriage rolled in through the city gates. The brick city walls around the city were at least twenty feet high and decorated with shiny bronze and copper posts along the top. The city inside was not without its own share of metal roofs and pointed spires. Small buildings swarmed the perimeter, so jam-packed that the streets in-between were hidden from view.
The mountain in the middle bellowed steam from its peak. Dug out from the inside, it housed automata factories, working to produce a wide variety of parts and pieces, many commissioned and custom-built for the Artificers. It was no coincidence that Canterlot was the automata capital of the world, boasting the creations of some of the greatest and most famous Artificers.
Proof seemed to pass Pinkie by twice a minute once they’d disembarked from the carriage. The occasional mechanical pony strolled by, whirring and clinking with gleaming metal features and exposed sections showcasing the cogworks and hydraulics. Some were pony-shaped, some were much blockier or rode on wheels or sharper and more imposing, but one and all were wondrous and innovative marvels!
One such wonder almost crushed Pinkie with its giant metal hoof. The huge steaming mecha-pony (eight feet high, at least!) recoiled as Pinkie stepped out of the way. An orange pony sat in the chest of the mecha-pony, pulling an assortment of short levers to stabilize the machine. She peered out over her narrow glasses, eyeing Pinkie, then pushed a few more levers and was on her way.
“Hey, stranger!” Pinkie said, changing course to walk alongside the machine, to Madame Rarity’s annoyance. “That’s an incredible machine you have there!”
“Incredible,” the pony said, coughing and yanking on a jammed lever. “Incredible how fitful the controls are. Why this sputtering behemoth was recommended for street use goes beyond me.”
Pinkie kept pace, waving to Rarity that she’d catch up with her later. “Um, beats me, too. Who built this?”
“Some good-for-nothin’ in the Canterlot Elite,” the pony said. “His type can’t tell the difference between flushin’ two gears and engineerin’ a sound automaton. It’s political, ‘course. Wants to impress the Guild by waving his wrench around, when I’ve no doubt he’s never even used one himself.”
Pinkie shrugged. “Um, yeah, tell me about it. Making an automaton is a skill, for sure. If you can’t respect that, then don’t pretend to.”
“Exactly.” She stopped the automaton, smiling at Pinkie over her glasses. “What’s your name, young filly?”
“My name’s Pinkie Pie, ma’am,” she said, tipping her hat. “I’m, well, visiting on business, but I really came here for the automata, to see what the best and brightest Artificers were up to!”
“Then you’ve run into the right Artificer.” She winked. She reached down to shake Pinkie’s hoof. “Name’s Applejack. I’m a judge for this year’s Automata Showcase. If you’d like, it’d be my pleasure to show you ‘round the convention tomorrow.”
“Oh, that’d be soooo cool!” Pinkie hopped up and down. “I’ll definitely be here tomorrow. It’s getting kind of late, though. I think my master’s looking for a hotel now. But I’ll see you then! I can’t wait!”
~ ~ ~
However, a train was set to depart first thing in the morning, and Madame Rarity would not cease to insist on making the deadline.
“There’s a wager, you know,” she said, sliding a file across her hooves.
Pinkie Pie nodded, staring out the window, the city of Canterlot already a speck in the distance. “I know.” She sighed. “Applejack was really nice, though. She was going to show me the machines at the convention! I liked her.”
“I have no doubt, but such is the nature of our trip. Sightseeing will slow our progress. Here, now,” Rarity said, nodding to the train window, “is the time for sightseeing, but layovers are not.”
Pinkie lay back on the seat, huffing. “Even between layovers, we just lay over. Can’t we stay over? Or cabaret-over? Perhaps find a local, moderately priced buffet-over and try a gourmet-over soufflé-over?”
“I’ve already answered that.” Rarity sighed, her eyebrows creasing ever so slightly. “If you’re still looking for something to do, might I suggest sightseeing, again?”
“You might, but staring out the window is booooring. I had enough of that on the way to Canterlot.”
Rarity filed her other front hoof. “You could do what I hired you to do and iron my clothes. Or, at the very least, iron your own.”
Pinkie looked down at her ruffled waistcoat and white collared shirt, then turned up her nose. “My clothing has character.”
“Well, you could at least make my clothing more refined, if not yours.” Rarity frowned. “Would that be an acceptable way of passing the time?”
Pinkie grumbled. “It’d be a way of passing out, if you know what I mean. From boredom. Because I’m bored.” She pulled out the ironing board from her suitcase, exaggerating the motion to make it seem terribly arduous and inconvenient. “More like ironing bored. Bored as in boring. Because I’m bored.”
The disdain in Rarity’s words could not hide behind her polite manner. “If you are so desperate for conversation, perhaps other passengers could offer more stimulating entertainment.”
The ironing board slid much easier into the suitcase than it did coming out. “I’ll be back later,” Pinkie chirped, sliding the compartment door shut behind her.
The brass walls of the train were recently polished, giving the halls a progressive and inviting feel. This was one of the luxury lines, designed for carrying mostly travelers. Only a few trans-continental lines ran across Equestria, and this was not only the newest but the most popular, boasting several hundred cross-country travelers a week.
Pinkie strolled through the halls of the train as it rumbled along. She tried peering into the sleeper car compartments, but most had their doors shut and their curtains drawn, and the ones that didn’t were empty.
Even in the halls or past the sleeper cars, ponies shuffling past would murmur quietly (if at all) and continue on their way. Time and time again she’d try to strike up a discussion with other ponies. Only the conductor was amiable enough to chat, but it was mostly about routes out of Utersk, the train’s next destination.
After enough days of this, Pinkie would only wander out of her compartment for fresh air and a break from ironing clothes and polishing shoes. However, one day, a particularly frazzled purple pony approached her. “Excuse me,” the pony said, raising a timid hoof to adjust her glasses. “I’ve lost my purse. Can you help me find it?”
And of course, Pinkie was more than happy to assist. She searched the cabin and sniffed out the purse, which the purple pony gratefully accepted.
“Thank you so much!” the pony said. “By the way, I’ve heard a geometric compass kit would sell very well in Timbucktu.”
Then she walked away.
Pinkie furrowed her eyebrows. “Wait, um,” she said. “What, um… Thanks, but… Can you wait a second?”
The pony turned around, smiled, and began to leave once again.
Pinkie ran after the pony. “Wait! Don’t you… want to talk about something else?”
However, her words were met with the shunk of the passenger car door closing.
“Uh, okay.” Her first real conversation in a week, and it turned into a voucher for geometric compass kits. Perhaps she was a salespony, though salesponies usually stayed until they made a sale. Maybe she shared that information as a way of repaying Pinkie? It may have been useful if they stopped in Timbucktu, or if they came across a geometric compass kit, but both would need to happen at the same time, and such a happenstance would be highly coincidental.
She turned around and headed back to her room. She passed by the bar car, considering a visit with the patrons there. However, everypony who frequented the bar seemed more interested in the bottom of their glasses than any form of chatter beyond confirmatory or dissenting grunts.
Pinkie gave a dissenting grunt of her own. She’d find more receptive ponies eventually. This was simply a stroke of poor luck, a bad batch of ponies who simply didn’t want to converse. There’d be more ponies in other trains and other cities. After all, she had had better luck in Canterlot—perhaps she would have luck yet again in Utersk.
~ ~ ~
Utersk was situated in a scenic mountain valley within the imposing Rural mountain range. A series of gondolas transported its citizens between the market in the valley and the capital situated along the top of the mountain. Utersk also specialized in blimp production, with a few hangars lying in the heart of the valley and a few roaring test flights occurring overhead at the time Pinkie and Rarity arrived.
But Pinkie was more interested in the outdoor market. After Madame Rarity left to search for a route out of town, Pinkie scoured the marketplace for ponies to talk to, though everypony seemed only to be interested in buyers. Pinkie was not short on funds, certainly, but they were the Madame’s funds, and so she reserved them for necessities, as instructed.
She encountered a group of soldiers, gathered in a corner of the marketplace and chatting idly. Pinkie squeezed herself into the circle, earning some curious looks, if not also some suspicious ones.
The soldier with the sharpest jaw tipped his bronze-tipped rifle at Pinkie. “And where might you be from, little missy? You look like performer from circus. Perhaps you are foreign diplomat?” The surrounding soldiers snickered into their hooves.
Pinkie didn’t get it, but pressed on. “I’m foreign, so you’re half right! I’m Pinkie Pie. What are you guys up to?”
The sharp-jawed soldier leaned on a crate beside him. “We are discussing equality. Would be good if every pony in country get equal pay, no? Then no more poor ponies, no more starving ponies. You agree, Pink?”
Pinkie tilted her head, letting the idea play out in her head. “Well, that might not work out in practice. So like, a hard-working doctor with ten years of experience would get the same pay as somepony who doesn’t work at all, right? So the doctor goes, ‘Hey, she gets the same pay as me and she doesn’t do anything!’ And then the doctor would stop working because why work if you can get paid the same for not working? And then everypony else would do the same, and then there’d be no more doctors working so sick ponies couldn’t get better, and then everypony would get so sick they’d die, except maybe the doctors who could heal themselves.” She stroked her chin. “So I dunno, I mean the real question is: do you want a country with only doctors? I mean, you could call your city Doctersk, so there’s a plus.”
Some of the soldiers looked lost, while the others poked at the ends of their rifles. The sharp-jawed soldier motioned for the rest to leave, and so they did, leaving Pinkie behind.
“Wait,” Pinkie said, but the soldiers were already disappearing into the crowd. “I mean, your idea is great! It’s logically soundproof and I completely agree! Tell me more about it! We’ll spread class consciousness together! Guys?”
Pinkie sat alone, nopony in the crowd accepting her invitation. She kicked a pebble. For those rare times that Pinkie could find a pony to talk to, the ponies didn’t want to talk to her. Sometimes they did, like Applejack, but Pinkie’d never stay long enough to bond with anypony or be invited to new events and adventures.
She looked up at the setting sun past the capital. Madame Rarity would be by soon, with transportation arranged out of Utersk. However, there were a sea of ponies here, and plenty of possible conversations to be had and adventures to be invited to.
~ ~ ~
“One more night,” Pinkie said. “It’s all I want, just one more night.”
Madame Rarity pursed her lips. “An eager young gentlepony has offered us a flight east at a significantly reduced cost. He leaves tonight.”
“Please, we just need one more night.”
“We need this?”
Pinkie’s shoulders drooped. “I need this. I just want to spend a little more time here in Utersk. Please?”
Madame Rarity pondered this for a minute. She eyed Pinkie, then nodded. “Fine, but we leave tomorrow.”
~ ~ ~
Once settled in the hotel, Pinkie excused herself and rode the gondola back down the mountainside. She searched deep amongst the throngs of the marketplace, but most of the market was closing down for the evening and nopony would give her the time of day, though judging by how long it’d been since sunset, she had gathered it was already quite late.
The only pony that’d talk to her was a lone Turkish soldier who had lost her purse. She informed Pinkie that a black tulip bulb would sell for a fair price in Moosecow. When begged for an actual conversation beyond gossip on who the heck would pay well for the seed of a flower, the soldier smiled and walked away.
~ ~ ~
Three weeks and a rough camel ride through the desert later, Pinkie was losing hope. Adventure was nowhere to be found on this trip around the world, only long treks with minimal conversations, fitful bouts of sleep in cramped and harsh conditions, and occasionally having to pull the ironing board all the way out of the bag, and then use it.
But finally, on a lengthy trip aboard a freightliner headed across the minimally explored Specific Ocean, Pinkie found a taste of hopeful water in the arid desert of adventure. It was barely enough to quench her thirst, but it’d keep her from dying of mental dehydration, certainly.
“And then I said, ‘Oatmeal, are you crazy?’ ”
The crewmates erupted in laughter. Commander Dash tried to keep milk from coming out her nose. “Oh my gosh, Pinkie Pie, you’re a riot!”
Pinkie waved it off. “I’m more of a romp than a riot, but thank you.”
“Hard to believe you fall in with the hard-noses up top,” Commander Dash said, scanning her hand. “Hey Hardtack, got an eight?”
“Go fish.”
Dash drew a card from the pile. One of the boilers on the other end of the engine room released a loud burst of steam, so Dash had to raise her voice over both that and the noisy churning of the engine. “You talk like an Equestrian. What brings you halfway around the world?”
“Well, at first, it was fun and adventure,” Pinkie said. “Now I just want to go home. I think I’ve found as much adventure as I’ll ever get. This,” she said, raising her cards, “is the most exciting thing I’ve done in weeks, you know? Got a queen?”
“Tch, yeah.” Dash slid a card over to Pinkie. “The most exciting thing we’ve done in weeks is change course. Yokohuma to Santa Celestia to Yokohuma to Santa Celestia gets so boring after long enough. Now we’re actually going somewhere else, for a change.”
Pinkie tipped up her bowler cap. “What? Really? Like, we changed course now?”
“Yeah.” Commander Dash handed over an ace of spades to Pinkie and tightened her lips. “Captain says we’re bound for Honoluna now. Her orders, not mine.”
Pinkie rubbed her chin.
~ ~ ~
“Is it true?” Pinkie asked.
“Yes, I’m so sorry.” Captain Fluttershy backed away and hid behind the helm. “We’ve been blown off course. We have to dock in Honoluna, now. There’s just no other way around it.”
Then it was true. A stop in Honoluna would set them back, certainly. The ship was to return to Yokohuma afterwards, so she and Rarity would have to find transport to Santa Celestia on their own. This would certainly put a major dent in the forty-some days they had left to get back to Ponyville. Such an unexpected delay.
Unexpected—what more could she ask for? Pinkie squealed and rubbed her hooves together. This was the stuff of adventure, now. When plans go awry, when spontaneity paves the way for exciting challenges, tests of character, and best of all, something actually happening!
Pinkie grabbed the Captain by the shoulders and swept her up in a powerful hug. Fluttershy yelped. “Oh, this is great news! Thank you, thank you so much! This is the best thing I’ve heard all day!”
~ ~ ~
“Unacceptable.”
Pinkie nodded stiffly. “Exactly what I said.”
Madame Rarity picked up her teacup and saucer. “We have forty-six days to arrive back in Ponyville. This will be considerably inconvenient. And the Captain said she couldn’t steer us back on course?”
Pinkie glanced out of the little porthole of their compartment and shook her head. “Uh, no, she refused.”
“That’s disheartening. It’s a shame that absolutely nothing can be done.” She took a sip of her tea, a glint in her eye. “Nothing short of a mutiny could save us now.”
Pinkie scooted closer on her cot. “A mutiny?”
“Indeed,” Rarity said, holding her tea steady as the ship swayed. “There’s a wager, you know. The Captain promised us Santa Celestia. If the Captain can sail to Santa Celestia, but refuses to, then we have no choice but to take matters into our own hooves.”
Pinkie looked at her own hooves, grabbing hold of the imaginary matters. This was better than an unexpected delay. This would be a planned unexpected event. A takeover of the ship. There’d be drama, action, romance perhaps. This would cause a rumpus! A ruckus! A hoot and a holler!
“Yes,” Pinkie said, staring at her hooves. “Mutiny.” The word was spicy, prancing on her tongue. “Excuse me for a moment,” she said, finding the door and stepping out.
~ ~ ~
“Guys guys guys guys guys!” Pinkie nearly tripped and crashed into a nearby boiler.
Some of the crew looked up from shoveling coal into the boilers and lifted their soot-covered goggles. Commander Dash peeked out from her post on the second floor. “What is it, Pinkie?”
“We’re gonna mutiny,” Pinkie said, her eyes shimmering with unadulterated glee. “We’re gonna mutiny tomorrow!”
“What?” Dash said, clambering up to the hoofrails. “We are? Are we really?” She did a little hop, turning to shout to the back of the engine room. “Hey guys! Mutiny tomorrow!”
Pinkie ran out through the hatch, screaming up the stairs. “Captain! Captain! Guess what! We’re gonna mutiny tomorrow!”
~ ~ ~
Captain Pinkie Pie sat behind the helm of the ship, her rear hooves crossed and resting on the control panel. Mutiny had proven to be a blast.
All parties had agreed to the mutiny. The crew, the passengers, the second mates and navigators—even the Captain pledged her rapier to the cause. Literally everypony on the ship had stormed out in deck, swords swinging, rifles blazing, but nopony was left to mutiny against.
It wasn’t long before the crew put forth an election for a new captain, and to nopony’s surprise, Pinkie Pie won by an overwhelming majority. However, having never steered a ship before or been behind a helm, she had no idea how to captain. Luckily, Commander Dash helped steer them to Santa Celestia, as originally planned, to drop off their cargo before the real adventure began.
However, as they docked in Santa Celestia, Madame Rarity insisted they depart. “Come along now, Captain,” she said. “There’s a wager, you know.”
Pinkie almost fell out of her chair, and then did. She scrambled to her hooves. “Leave now? After we just mutinied and I became Captain?” She pointed to the helm, in case Rarity hadn’t seen it yet. “We have an entire ship now! Think of the adventures we’ll have!”
“There’s no more adventure to be had here. You’ll be bored stiff, trust me.” She pointed out the window at the crew strapping in a massive crate to the end of a steam-powered crane. “They’ll expect to resume their regular trade routes. Otherwise, how else will you feed and compensate an entire crew?
Pinkie licked her lips. “We’ll be pirates. Pinkie Pirates.” She pulled her tail across her face. “Call me Pinkbeard.”
Rarity swatted away her tail. “We’ll have no such nonsense.”
“You’ll support mutiny but not pirating?”
“There’s a distinct difference. I can’t help but be choosy when it comes to criminal offences,” Rarity said, dragging a moping Pinkie away from the helm. “Now, onwards into Santa Celestia. We have transport to arrange.”
~ ~ ~
Santa Celestia was grand or whatever.
Pinkie dragged her hooves through the streets as they passed through the marketplace, not bothering to talk with anypony. They wouldn’t be in town long enough for it to matter. Pinkie sulked as visibly as possible, kicking pebbles on the street all the way to the train station, but not before somepony had asked her to help find a lost purse, to whom Pinkie invited to make like her purse and get lost.
They arrived at the bay city’s train station. Madame Rarity approached the ticket clerk at the counter and nodded to Pinkie. Pinkie refused to reach into her suitcase and produce the funds, so Rarity had to do it herself.
“The trans-continental line east, please,” Madame Rarity declared.
“Sure thing, ma’am.” The clerk reached out her prosthetic mechanical arm to sweep the bits towards her, but before they reached the edge of the counter, Pinkie’s hoof slammed down on the bits, saving herself from certain boredom.
“South,” Pinkie said, her heart racing. “The trans-continental line south.”
Madame Rarity reflexively tried to rescue the bits. “Pinkie? What are you doing?”
“South, I say!” Pinkie pulled an extra hundred bits out of her suitcase and dumped them on the counter. “Take us as far south as you can! The jungles of the Amarezon, of South Amareica!”
“Pinkie, stop. There’s a wager.”
“There’s adventure, Madame,” Pinkie said, poking Madame Rarity in the chest. “We will find adventure if we have to scour the corners of the Earth.”
Madame Rarity brushed her hoof away to prevent any further wrinkling. “We did not come here for adventure, Pinkie. There’s a wage—”
“Adventure! Did I not say that word enough? Not boredom! Not monotony, not insufferableness. Adventure!” Pinkie roared. “The corners of the Earth, Rarity! There’s adventure out there, hiding from us, and we are going to find it!”
~ ~ ~
“Pinkie, are you absolutely certain that all of our money must be thrown out the window?”
“Absolutely, and the luggage too,” Pinkie said, tossing out the velvet purse containing the last of their bits. “We are going to wind up deep in the middle of South Amareica, penniless, with nothing but the clothes on our backs, and we will find adventure.”
“But Pinkie, think of how unpleasant that will be! Being penniless would be such a dreadful experience,” Rarity said, wrapping her arms around her body. “Have you ever not had money? I haven’t. It’ll be a nightmare, Pinkie. We’d be delving face-first into the unknown!”
“Good, that’s exactly what I came here for.” She chucked the geometric compass kit, inexplicably valued so highly in Timbucktu. “Adventure is all about hardship, about overcoming trials and difficulties but pulling through and growing together. And one way or another, Rarity, so help me, we will build character. And possibly fall in love along the way. That’s acceptable as well.”
Madame Rarity shook her head. “Pinkie, you are most unquestionably losing it.”
“Yes, and it’s all on purpose,” she said as the ironing board went out the window, tumbling into the forest below.
Rarity almost leapt out of her seat. “Pinkie, no! That was a necessity!”
“Nothing but the clothes on our backs, Rarity.”
“But Pinkie, you don’t understand,” Madame Rarity said, grasping Pinkie by the shoulders. “The clothes on our backs will get so terribly creased. I—oh,” Rarity said, glancing at a stray wrinkle on her skirt. “Oh, dear me, it’s begun already. I’m feeling faint. I’m feeling weak.” She collapsed on the seat.
The door to the train slid open. “Excuse me, ma’am,” a pegasus pony said. She offered Pinkie a velvet purse. “I believe you lost this?”
Pinkie shoved it back in the face of the Pegasus and slammed the door shut.
“Pinkie, that was not a very ladylike thing to do.”
“Good. Maybe she’ll come back with a group of hostile soldiers, or kidnappers looking for ransom. Who knows? I don’t. But I’ll welcome them with open arms,” she said, folding her arms and planting her rump on the seat. “Carry us off, take us prisoner or hostage, because that’s way more exciting than being held prisoner here.”
Rarity ignored her, her face up against the window, searching for the ironing board amongst the Amarezon forest in hopes of telekinetically retrieving it. But the forest was thick, and wide, and entirely, terribly green.
~ ~ ~
The train stopped in a town in Brayzil, and due to a lack of any funds whatsoever, Pinkie and Madame Rarity were forced to disembark. While there, they played a game of poker with a group of black market clock dealers, wherein every round Pinkie had showed everypony her hand and yet had come out a few thousand bits richer.
After the game, Rarity was rushed to a doctor on account of falling terribly ill. The doctor was able to heal her, but advised for no more rough travel and a once over with the clothes iron within a week, so all hope seemed lost for Rarity.
However, one of the poker players admired Pinkie’s poker skills so much, he offered her an express flight back to Ponyville, halfway around the world from where they were, in an experimental airship that could make the trip in five days. Pinkie attempted to refuse, but Rarity both begged and demanded they accompany the pilot, so off they went.
~ ~ ~
“Eighty days and…” Rarity said, her eyes glued to her pocketwatch. The carriage rattled on under the dim street lamps of Ponyville. “Eighty days and one minute. Oh. Oh no, oh dear.”
Pinkie sat with her arms crossed. The carriage stopped in front of Madame Rarity’s mansion, the moon high and bright in the night sky.
“We’ve failed, Pinkie,” Rarity gasped. She fanned her face with one hoof and rubbed her poor wrinkled clothing with the other. “I’ve lost the wager.”
“A shame,” Pinkie muttered. She unloaded what little luggage they had left at the door, the ordeal finally over.
Madame Rarity graciously tumbled through the doorway, legs shaking and buckling. She collapsed on the marble floor. “I can’t feel my face,” she said as she floated out her emergency clothes iron from her bedroom, far away down the hall. “I’m dying, Pinkie. I’m dying.”
Pinkie offered no condolences, instead frowning deeper.
“There’s still time,” Rarity panted. As she tried to use the cold iron on her dress, she reached for the handle of her suitcase and popped it open. “We can always try again. What say you, Pinkie? Around the world in eighty days?”
Yes, around the world in eighty days. It’d be an adventure, with such intriguing and character-building activities as staring at a wall, or waiting, or ironing clothes. Such activities were equally as fun in the comfort of her own home as they were on a stuffy train. No, Pinkie had had enough “adventure” in eighty days to last her the next ten thousand. “I quit,” she said, turning to leave.
“What? No! Pinkie? Pinkie!” Madame Rarity said, flailing her arms in an attempt to turn her body so that she might find her valet. “My clothes are dreadfully rumpled. They must be ironed at once, or I’ll die!”
“Where to, ma’am?” the driver asked, whip at the ready.
Pinkie rubbed her chin. Home or the tavern. Home, tavern, home, tavern, home… She almost said home, but stopped mid-“ho”.
Home or the tavern. She had a choice. She had a choice!
“I’m free,” Pinkie whispered, her mouth agape. Her barrier to finding adventure was indenture all along. “I’m free,” she repeated. “I quit. I’m free!”
The driver nodded. “That’s great to hear, ma’am, and congratulations, but—”
Pinkie advanced on the driver, wild with power. “Take me to Canterlot! At once! I want to stay as long as I can, see what I can see, attend any convention or mutiny any ship I so please!”
The driver blinked. “Um, okay, and—”
“And after that, who knows? I will go wherever the wind—and only the wind—will take me!” Pinkie hugged the mechanical pony pulling the carriage and danced with it. “I have no deadline, no destination, no wager, no purse!” She zipped into the cabin. “Onward, my dear friend! I have an adventure to pioneer! Heeya! Heeya!”
The driver cracked the whip, stirring the mechanical pony to life. The carriage thundered down the road and up the hill from Madame Rarity’s mansion.
“Pinkie!” Rarity gasped, waving the cold clothes iron in the air. “My valet!”
Pinkie poked her head out and hollered, “I hear valets go for a good price in Ponyville!” Her voice faded as the carriage disappeared below the hill and straight towards the rising sun.
