Chryssi’s notebookby KryssiChaptersDreamworldRegaliaPlush PonyRaridash fluffDreamworldThe Princess opened her eyes. Upon a soaring crystalline pillar, she sat on her haunches, her lithe figure casting a shadow on the flat apex. Although she could not see them, she imagined thin but numerous flutes carved into the column on which she rested, culminating in an intricate Corinthian capital at its peak. And below the pillar, she imagined an infinite expanse of flat marble that stretched endlessly into the horizon. Atop the ground lay an assortment of necklaces and ornaments encrusted with miniature diamonds and amethysts surrounded her. Bathed in a warming glow, they shone with the fervency of phoenixes reborn. Countless rows of the jewellery extended from the pedestal in a circle, like rays of the Sun. Their orderly arrangement satisfied the Princess, bringing a pleasant contentness to her face. For a while, the Princess focussed her attention on a particular jewel, tiny from her distance yet encapturing her attention nonetheless—a large fire ruby with the likeness of a heart, enclosed in a golden setting. As plain as it was, the necklace nonetheless shone as brilliantly as the gem’s namesake. Her slack-jawed expression and the amethyst-tipped tiara perched upon her head was reflected in its many facets, her likeness immaculate on the polished surface. As she lifted it in a lavender glow towards herself, she noticed: the gem looked familiar. Perhaps it was a remnant of some distant memory, washed up on some faraway shore. Could it have been a keepsake from her past self, or an old treasure fiercely guarded by an lost friend? she pondered whilst keeping her curious gaze. The Princess did not notice the shadow looming, distant, behind her. Placing the necklace before her forehooves with a resounding clink beforehoof, she closed her eyes. With a single thought, she entered her mind, a tranquil realm where aurorae of disjuncted thoughts swirled and coruscated aimlessly. Screens played out events all around her like scenes in a film, and she trawled through years, decades, centuries of memories. She took care to skip the more recent and copious instances of long-winded meetings with unforgiving diplomats, and the petulant petitioners who spieled with unparalleled hubris. The memories, discarded in the Princess’s search, coalesced into a liquid conglomeration of vivid hues below her floating form. At last, she reached her unicorn years, its memories scarce but cherished for longer than she could recall. They persevered centuries of the unrelenting storms of Princess Khronos, the fabled alicorn of amnesia and the forgotten. The Princess did not notice the silhouette gliding ever closer to the pillar. Her life in the rustic village was displayed before her. Back then, the town was old-fashioned in its methods, but amiable in its hospitality. In the days of yore, the hums of the marketplace composed a harmony to which she listened, and the foundation on which she performed her daily routine. Despite the town’s regular facing of perils and malevolent ne’er-do-wells who threatened to destroy the land they held dear, every time the ponies would prevail, would they not? Sighing softly, she glimpsed amongst the wafting screens the answer to her quest, hidden in plain sight. Her adopted brother—Spike—gifting the treasure that he had fiercely guarded for months to an alabaster unicorn of a curled violet mane. It was his sacrifice, and his first act of generosity. The Princess reached towards the screen and caressed Spike gently, like a tentative hoof touching water. A ripple radiated on the screen’s surface, breaking the illusion, but she paid it no heed. Tears welled in the pond below, the translucent droplets mixing in the streaks of kaleidoscopic colour. Shortly afterwards, the remaining screens and thoughts plunged into the pool as well, each aurora jolting the fragile stardust that weaved the realm of dreams. The dragon rumbled as it knocked the pillar towards the ground, shattering it into hunks of glistening crystal. His every wingbeat swept the necklaces and ornaments on the ground aloft, and into a monstrous squall. Above him, the winds coalesced into heavy, jet-black rainclouds that threatened to barrage the ground in hailstones. At the same time, the Princess, forced back into reality, swooped up from the falling rubble to face him. A gargantuan, emerald-spiked beast of lilac scales gazed back. Author's Note Written on 15 Jul 2016, 16 Jul 2016, 17 Jul 2016. Originally going to be part of the secret Twilight-related story, but it didn’t fit the tone of what I was going for. Made for some good writing practice, though. RegaliaToday was a quiet day for Princess Celestia, Bringer of the Sun, High Princess, or as many ponies called her in the media, “Second Best Princess on the Diarchy”. It was Discord’s Flash Mob Day again, but he had the propriety to host it in Ponyville this time. As a result, much of her usual incessant petitioners had took the trains down to Ponyville and participated in the plethora of mundane flash mobbing occuring there. The silence in Canterlot was quite eerie. They called the city the “City that Never Sleeps”, and to see it sleep for the first time in a century was something that would take much longer than a day to become accustomed with. If she hadn’t flew above the nearest town to Canterlot (which incidentally was Ponyville) to check, she could have sworn that Equestria had, during the night before, become the post-apocalyptic wasteland described in those doorstops. “Celestia, I want your regalia.” The voice, as sharp as her fangs, cut through her train of thought. It derailed the train while it was on its way to Fictionville, apparently a popular tourist destination, and five hundred civilians died from the resulting crash. Princess Celestia, all-powerful alicorn of the Sun, shook her head to clear the grisly scene from her mind. “Come again?” she asked, as she peered down at the changeling… queen? Changeling princess? It was as if somepony or some changeling had compressed Chrysalis into a smaller body and changed all the green and turquoise bits to a ferocious fire-red. The changeling royal, who stood at the bottom of the dais, had her face more stoic and level-headed than even Princess Celestia could. If it was an ability all changelings had, perhaps she should ask Twilight to keep that in the backburner for until they could invite a changeling turncoat (should one even exist) to her lab; she’d jump to researching its expert control of its facial expressions faster than a lion could leap towards his prey. “I want your regalia,” the changeling said again, more forcefully. “Oh?” This time, Princess Celestia had kept at least one ear open while in her daydream. She leant closer to the changeling—just enough so that she wouldn’t topple and land on her muzzle. “Pray tell, for what reason do you wish to acquire my regalia?” “So I can disguise myself as you.” Princess Celestia wondered what was ticking in the changeling’s mind, with that harsh, emotionless voice. Every word the changeling said was analytic, piercing, bare to the core. No doubt the visitor was probably planning Equestria’s demise by throwing Princess Celestia in the crystal mines and then eating the supply of cake. Or rather, a vol-au-vent. Everypony liked vol-au-vents, right? It was the newest craze that had the cake industry on its cannons. Except there wouldn’t be any vol-au-vents because everypony, even the suppliers who were supposed to pop in that morning, was still participating in the festivities of Flash Mob Day. She cut off her thoughts like a pony cutting off her own hoof. It was quite sharp. After taking a glance at the unemotional changeling staring directly into her soul, she sighed a sigh more dramatic than she herself could ever have imagined. “Okay. So take it off me then.” Princess Celestia eventually replied, feigned sorrow in her voice. The changeling immediately lifted Princess Celestia into the air. Although Princess Celestia could see a single stray spark flying off the changeling’s horn, it swiped the regalia off Celestia’s head, neck and hooves with her levitation quickly before setting the princess back on the throne. An overly-dramatic swoosh noise was heard as the regalia were swept towards the changeling. “Thanks” was all the changeling said, coldly, as she turned to walk the incredibly tedious distance to the doors of the throne room. The regalia floated in front of the changeling, suspended in an orange-red aura. “Wait! What’s your name?” Princess Celestia called. There was only the continued clacking of hooves, quieter and quieter as the changeling royal walked away and eventually reached the thick golden doors. She didn’t even turn around. Back at the throne, Princess Celestia merely shrugged, though a bit saddened by the changeling’s non-response to her question. She kept plenty of spare regalia in the drawer, after all. Author's Note Mmm… vol-au-vents. I’ve never had one, but they look delicious. And anything with the word ‘puff pastry’ in it automatically goes on my list of ‘I want to eat that’. Yeah, that’s what happens when you’re bored. Written in one and a half hours. And yes, there’s a reference to C.U.T.E. Takes place in the Notebook for Queen Ophrys universe maybe. Plush PonyThe modern department store, the embodiment of consumerism and consumption, was bustling with frenzied customers. Amongst the hum of ponies scurrying past shelves, their trolleys packed full to the brim with goods, two sisters were ambling through a toy aisle. The first, Aether, stopped suddenly to levitate something from the shelf. “Why the Tartarus are we buying this?” Eddy said. She was eyeing her sister suspiciously, who held aloft in her magic a package of a plush pony. As with the other dolls on the squeaky-clean shelf, the cardboard packaging was saturated with rainbow colours and colourful rainbows alike. The plush ponies inside fared no better—their coats were a royal blue, and the horn and wings that the plush ponies boasted made Eddy grimace. They stood ramrod-straight with tall statures, and within their manes, stars twinkled and gleamed like the night sky. “Eddy, what’s wrong with the Princess Luna plush? Her eyes are so cute,” Aether remarked. Unhurriedly, she gently placed the plush pony into the empty trolley and began to push said trolley along the aisle. Eddy merely rolled her eyes, waving her hoof in front of the price tags under the plush ponies. “What do you mean, ‘what’s wrong with the Princess Luna plush’?” she asked with an incredulous look. “Just look at it! It’s just a whole load of corporate bull making us want to buy stuff.” Aether glanced at the plush pony and stifled a sigh. “C’mon, Eddy. Maybe forget the corp and open your heart to it or something. It’s pretty cute, if you ask me.” “I want to, Aether,” Eddy said, dropping to her haunches, “but it’s hard to open your heart to something heartless.” This time, Aether found herself biting her lip, her eyes avoiding Eddy’s gaze. Resignedly, she joined Eddy on the frigid white floor, slumping on the ground. She let her eyes wander around their surroundings, while the harsh fluorescent lights cast a joyless atmosphere. In the distance were plush ponies of a carnation-pink winged unicorn alongside a snow-white unicorn, a similarly white winged unicorn, and a lavender winged unicorn as well. The wings of the winged alicorns were awkward in their shape, and in addition, they all wore the same joyous smile, almost forced and definitely artificial. But when Aether looked at the packaging, realisation dawned on her. “Hey, Eddy?” “Yeah?” Eddy replied, lying prostrate and splaying her feathered wings on the floor to the chagrin of a group of passers-by. Aether gazed at one end of the aisle, towards which grumbling ponies were walking back. “Maybe you’re looking at this the wrong way,” she suggested tentatively. A sceptical glance from Eddy caused Aether to bite her lip. “Go on,” Eddy said. Lifting herself to a standing position, Aether continued, “Okay, so who are these plushies and what do they do?” “Well, as a result of their huge advertising budget, I know that the plushies apparently have supernatural powers and that their job is to make their subjects in a utopia happy,” Eddy said. “They’re supposed to be deities, right?” “Yeah. And foals look up to them, don’t they?” Eddy pushed herself until she was sitting on her haunches once again. “So you admit that they’re cash cows,” she snarked. Aether managed some semblance of a hopeful expression. “Well, I was going for ‘heroes’—” “—but when all is said and done, they’re just doing this for bits.” With a flap of her wings, Eddy took to the air in a low hover. “Does it really matter, though? That the corp’s making money while providing good idols for fillies and colts?” Aether said. Her hopeful grin grew by every word she said. Eddy shrugged mid-air. “You sound like a shill.” Aether hung her head low and brought a hoof to it. “Bleurgh. I’m getting the plushie anyway,” she said, disappointed. As if to make up for her failure to change Eddy’s mind, she furtively levitated another plush pony—the lavender one—to the trolley while Eddy was looking away. “And we should probably get out of here before the manager kicks us out,” she added. “Agreed.” Author's Note Written for a Writeoff contest. Published three weeks later. I was going to edit and expand on this story, but I was too busy. So… have this unedited version, completely unchanged since the contest. Raridash fluffRarity flopped on to her bed. It was a luxurious bed, of course, with padded down quilts that she could snuggle for eternity in. The pillows, filled with the softest pegasus down bits could buy, had ornate pillow covers gentle like silk. And, in addition, under those pillows was a mattress gentler and whiter than her own coat. After lying on the bare mattress for what felt like hours, she pulled the quilts up to her neck. The quilts felt slightly ticklish, and she let out a foalish giggle as she shuffled about from underneath them. But when she eventually settled in, she began to notice a certain… incompleteness that seemed to grow by the second; an expanding hole in her heart. She shifted and turned to lay on her belly instead. The unicorn even buried her face in the absolutely divine pillows (while carefully positioning her horn away from them), but the terrible feeling persisted. “Prrfrfrfff…” she mumbled in the most ladylike manner. The unicorn shifted again, this time more annoyedly. Something was wrong, but she still wasn’t sure what. Heaving a sigh, she reluctantly got up to her hooves. Although the night was young, the room was dark enough that she decided to cast a dim light spell. With heavy steps, she trod across the room and— “Hey, Rares.” Rarity almost stumbled from the suddenness of the voice. She turned around to face its source. At the edge of the light spell’s radius was a surprisingly gingerly pegasus who was stroking her own hoof. Oddly enough, the gap in Rarity’s heart was gone. “Oh! Good eveni—” “I need a hug.” And so they snuggled. Author's Note Written 26 November 2016 for fourths I think
DreamworldThe Princess opened her eyes. Upon a soaring crystalline pillar, she sat on her haunches, her lithe figure casting a shadow on the flat apex. Although she could not see them, she imagined thin but numerous flutes carved into the column on which she rested, culminating in an intricate Corinthian capital at its peak. And below the pillar, she imagined an infinite expanse of flat marble that stretched endlessly into the horizon. Atop the ground lay an assortment of necklaces and ornaments encrusted with miniature diamonds and amethysts surrounded her. Bathed in a warming glow, they shone with the fervency of phoenixes reborn. Countless rows of the jewellery extended from the pedestal in a circle, like rays of the Sun. Their orderly arrangement satisfied the Princess, bringing a pleasant contentness to her face. For a while, the Princess focussed her attention on a particular jewel, tiny from her distance yet encapturing her attention nonetheless—a large fire ruby with the likeness of a heart, enclosed in a golden setting. As plain as it was, the necklace nonetheless shone as brilliantly as the gem’s namesake. Her slack-jawed expression and the amethyst-tipped tiara perched upon her head was reflected in its many facets, her likeness immaculate on the polished surface. As she lifted it in a lavender glow towards herself, she noticed: the gem looked familiar. Perhaps it was a remnant of some distant memory, washed up on some faraway shore. Could it have been a keepsake from her past self, or an old treasure fiercely guarded by an lost friend? she pondered whilst keeping her curious gaze. The Princess did not notice the shadow looming, distant, behind her. Placing the necklace before her forehooves with a resounding clink beforehoof, she closed her eyes. With a single thought, she entered her mind, a tranquil realm where aurorae of disjuncted thoughts swirled and coruscated aimlessly. Screens played out events all around her like scenes in a film, and she trawled through years, decades, centuries of memories. She took care to skip the more recent and copious instances of long-winded meetings with unforgiving diplomats, and the petulant petitioners who spieled with unparalleled hubris. The memories, discarded in the Princess’s search, coalesced into a liquid conglomeration of vivid hues below her floating form. At last, she reached her unicorn years, its memories scarce but cherished for longer than she could recall. They persevered centuries of the unrelenting storms of Princess Khronos, the fabled alicorn of amnesia and the forgotten. The Princess did not notice the silhouette gliding ever closer to the pillar. Her life in the rustic village was displayed before her. Back then, the town was old-fashioned in its methods, but amiable in its hospitality. In the days of yore, the hums of the marketplace composed a harmony to which she listened, and the foundation on which she performed her daily routine. Despite the town’s regular facing of perils and malevolent ne’er-do-wells who threatened to destroy the land they held dear, every time the ponies would prevail, would they not? Sighing softly, she glimpsed amongst the wafting screens the answer to her quest, hidden in plain sight. Her adopted brother—Spike—gifting the treasure that he had fiercely guarded for months to an alabaster unicorn of a curled violet mane. It was his sacrifice, and his first act of generosity. The Princess reached towards the screen and caressed Spike gently, like a tentative hoof touching water. A ripple radiated on the screen’s surface, breaking the illusion, but she paid it no heed. Tears welled in the pond below, the translucent droplets mixing in the streaks of kaleidoscopic colour. Shortly afterwards, the remaining screens and thoughts plunged into the pool as well, each aurora jolting the fragile stardust that weaved the realm of dreams. The dragon rumbled as it knocked the pillar towards the ground, shattering it into hunks of glistening crystal. His every wingbeat swept the necklaces and ornaments on the ground aloft, and into a monstrous squall. Above him, the winds coalesced into heavy, jet-black rainclouds that threatened to barrage the ground in hailstones. At the same time, the Princess, forced back into reality, swooped up from the falling rubble to face him. A gargantuan, emerald-spiked beast of lilac scales gazed back. Author's Note Written on 15 Jul 2016, 16 Jul 2016, 17 Jul 2016. Originally going to be part of the secret Twilight-related story, but it didn’t fit the tone of what I was going for. Made for some good writing practice, though.
RegaliaToday was a quiet day for Princess Celestia, Bringer of the Sun, High Princess, or as many ponies called her in the media, “Second Best Princess on the Diarchy”. It was Discord’s Flash Mob Day again, but he had the propriety to host it in Ponyville this time. As a result, much of her usual incessant petitioners had took the trains down to Ponyville and participated in the plethora of mundane flash mobbing occuring there. The silence in Canterlot was quite eerie. They called the city the “City that Never Sleeps”, and to see it sleep for the first time in a century was something that would take much longer than a day to become accustomed with. If she hadn’t flew above the nearest town to Canterlot (which incidentally was Ponyville) to check, she could have sworn that Equestria had, during the night before, become the post-apocalyptic wasteland described in those doorstops. “Celestia, I want your regalia.” The voice, as sharp as her fangs, cut through her train of thought. It derailed the train while it was on its way to Fictionville, apparently a popular tourist destination, and five hundred civilians died from the resulting crash. Princess Celestia, all-powerful alicorn of the Sun, shook her head to clear the grisly scene from her mind. “Come again?” she asked, as she peered down at the changeling… queen? Changeling princess? It was as if somepony or some changeling had compressed Chrysalis into a smaller body and changed all the green and turquoise bits to a ferocious fire-red. The changeling royal, who stood at the bottom of the dais, had her face more stoic and level-headed than even Princess Celestia could. If it was an ability all changelings had, perhaps she should ask Twilight to keep that in the backburner for until they could invite a changeling turncoat (should one even exist) to her lab; she’d jump to researching its expert control of its facial expressions faster than a lion could leap towards his prey. “I want your regalia,” the changeling said again, more forcefully. “Oh?” This time, Princess Celestia had kept at least one ear open while in her daydream. She leant closer to the changeling—just enough so that she wouldn’t topple and land on her muzzle. “Pray tell, for what reason do you wish to acquire my regalia?” “So I can disguise myself as you.” Princess Celestia wondered what was ticking in the changeling’s mind, with that harsh, emotionless voice. Every word the changeling said was analytic, piercing, bare to the core. No doubt the visitor was probably planning Equestria’s demise by throwing Princess Celestia in the crystal mines and then eating the supply of cake. Or rather, a vol-au-vent. Everypony liked vol-au-vents, right? It was the newest craze that had the cake industry on its cannons. Except there wouldn’t be any vol-au-vents because everypony, even the suppliers who were supposed to pop in that morning, was still participating in the festivities of Flash Mob Day. She cut off her thoughts like a pony cutting off her own hoof. It was quite sharp. After taking a glance at the unemotional changeling staring directly into her soul, she sighed a sigh more dramatic than she herself could ever have imagined. “Okay. So take it off me then.” Princess Celestia eventually replied, feigned sorrow in her voice. The changeling immediately lifted Princess Celestia into the air. Although Princess Celestia could see a single stray spark flying off the changeling’s horn, it swiped the regalia off Celestia’s head, neck and hooves with her levitation quickly before setting the princess back on the throne. An overly-dramatic swoosh noise was heard as the regalia were swept towards the changeling. “Thanks” was all the changeling said, coldly, as she turned to walk the incredibly tedious distance to the doors of the throne room. The regalia floated in front of the changeling, suspended in an orange-red aura. “Wait! What’s your name?” Princess Celestia called. There was only the continued clacking of hooves, quieter and quieter as the changeling royal walked away and eventually reached the thick golden doors. She didn’t even turn around. Back at the throne, Princess Celestia merely shrugged, though a bit saddened by the changeling’s non-response to her question. She kept plenty of spare regalia in the drawer, after all. Author's Note Mmm… vol-au-vents. I’ve never had one, but they look delicious. And anything with the word ‘puff pastry’ in it automatically goes on my list of ‘I want to eat that’. Yeah, that’s what happens when you’re bored. Written in one and a half hours. And yes, there’s a reference to C.U.T.E. Takes place in the Notebook for Queen Ophrys universe maybe.
Plush PonyThe modern department store, the embodiment of consumerism and consumption, was bustling with frenzied customers. Amongst the hum of ponies scurrying past shelves, their trolleys packed full to the brim with goods, two sisters were ambling through a toy aisle. The first, Aether, stopped suddenly to levitate something from the shelf. “Why the Tartarus are we buying this?” Eddy said. She was eyeing her sister suspiciously, who held aloft in her magic a package of a plush pony. As with the other dolls on the squeaky-clean shelf, the cardboard packaging was saturated with rainbow colours and colourful rainbows alike. The plush ponies inside fared no better—their coats were a royal blue, and the horn and wings that the plush ponies boasted made Eddy grimace. They stood ramrod-straight with tall statures, and within their manes, stars twinkled and gleamed like the night sky. “Eddy, what’s wrong with the Princess Luna plush? Her eyes are so cute,” Aether remarked. Unhurriedly, she gently placed the plush pony into the empty trolley and began to push said trolley along the aisle. Eddy merely rolled her eyes, waving her hoof in front of the price tags under the plush ponies. “What do you mean, ‘what’s wrong with the Princess Luna plush’?” she asked with an incredulous look. “Just look at it! It’s just a whole load of corporate bull making us want to buy stuff.” Aether glanced at the plush pony and stifled a sigh. “C’mon, Eddy. Maybe forget the corp and open your heart to it or something. It’s pretty cute, if you ask me.” “I want to, Aether,” Eddy said, dropping to her haunches, “but it’s hard to open your heart to something heartless.” This time, Aether found herself biting her lip, her eyes avoiding Eddy’s gaze. Resignedly, she joined Eddy on the frigid white floor, slumping on the ground. She let her eyes wander around their surroundings, while the harsh fluorescent lights cast a joyless atmosphere. In the distance were plush ponies of a carnation-pink winged unicorn alongside a snow-white unicorn, a similarly white winged unicorn, and a lavender winged unicorn as well. The wings of the winged alicorns were awkward in their shape, and in addition, they all wore the same joyous smile, almost forced and definitely artificial. But when Aether looked at the packaging, realisation dawned on her. “Hey, Eddy?” “Yeah?” Eddy replied, lying prostrate and splaying her feathered wings on the floor to the chagrin of a group of passers-by. Aether gazed at one end of the aisle, towards which grumbling ponies were walking back. “Maybe you’re looking at this the wrong way,” she suggested tentatively. A sceptical glance from Eddy caused Aether to bite her lip. “Go on,” Eddy said. Lifting herself to a standing position, Aether continued, “Okay, so who are these plushies and what do they do?” “Well, as a result of their huge advertising budget, I know that the plushies apparently have supernatural powers and that their job is to make their subjects in a utopia happy,” Eddy said. “They’re supposed to be deities, right?” “Yeah. And foals look up to them, don’t they?” Eddy pushed herself until she was sitting on her haunches once again. “So you admit that they’re cash cows,” she snarked. Aether managed some semblance of a hopeful expression. “Well, I was going for ‘heroes’—” “—but when all is said and done, they’re just doing this for bits.” With a flap of her wings, Eddy took to the air in a low hover. “Does it really matter, though? That the corp’s making money while providing good idols for fillies and colts?” Aether said. Her hopeful grin grew by every word she said. Eddy shrugged mid-air. “You sound like a shill.” Aether hung her head low and brought a hoof to it. “Bleurgh. I’m getting the plushie anyway,” she said, disappointed. As if to make up for her failure to change Eddy’s mind, she furtively levitated another plush pony—the lavender one—to the trolley while Eddy was looking away. “And we should probably get out of here before the manager kicks us out,” she added. “Agreed.” Author's Note Written for a Writeoff contest. Published three weeks later. I was going to edit and expand on this story, but I was too busy. So… have this unedited version, completely unchanged since the contest.
Raridash fluffRarity flopped on to her bed. It was a luxurious bed, of course, with padded down quilts that she could snuggle for eternity in. The pillows, filled with the softest pegasus down bits could buy, had ornate pillow covers gentle like silk. And, in addition, under those pillows was a mattress gentler and whiter than her own coat. After lying on the bare mattress for what felt like hours, she pulled the quilts up to her neck. The quilts felt slightly ticklish, and she let out a foalish giggle as she shuffled about from underneath them. But when she eventually settled in, she began to notice a certain… incompleteness that seemed to grow by the second; an expanding hole in her heart. She shifted and turned to lay on her belly instead. The unicorn even buried her face in the absolutely divine pillows (while carefully positioning her horn away from them), but the terrible feeling persisted. “Prrfrfrfff…” she mumbled in the most ladylike manner. The unicorn shifted again, this time more annoyedly. Something was wrong, but she still wasn’t sure what. Heaving a sigh, she reluctantly got up to her hooves. Although the night was young, the room was dark enough that she decided to cast a dim light spell. With heavy steps, she trod across the room and— “Hey, Rares.” Rarity almost stumbled from the suddenness of the voice. She turned around to face its source. At the edge of the light spell’s radius was a surprisingly gingerly pegasus who was stroking her own hoof. Oddly enough, the gap in Rarity’s heart was gone. “Oh! Good eveni—” “I need a hug.” And so they snuggled. Author's Note Written 26 November 2016 for fourths I think
