ResplendentView OnlineMorningsResplendentCelestia landed gracefully upon the smooth stone of her balcony, the rosy fingers of the newly-risen Dawn caressing her powerful outstretched wings, the warmth filling her with joy. This was her purpose, and though after so many centuries it had become more than routine, it filled her with joy. Like a delicately-frosted slice of cake, or a newborn kitten, or the smell of fresh grass, raising the sun was something she could never tire of- something that was, in and of itself, pleasurable; virtuous; wonderful. Musing on her raison d'être as she sometimes was wont to do on these frosty autumn mornings, just after the golden rays of the sun broke over the forested hills and snow-capped vistas of Equestria, she turned back to look upon her work. Flowerlike the heavenly body crept quietly higher and higher in the sky, stray rays bursting from behind an irregularity in the terrain such as a tree or hillock- as if the sun was stretching after a good night's sleep. The warm, fiery colors lit up the valleys and the cozy hamlets nestled within as sunlight spread across the land- her land. The white regent shook her head and smiled, chastising herself for her mistake- not her land. She laid no claim to the swathes of forest and fields and babbling brooks and villages. And even if she did, her sister would have equal rights to make such claims. Though Luna was the younger and Celestia the eldest, the difference in time between their births was trivial at best; what difference did it make after so many millennia? Now Celestia's eyes dulled, half-lidded, as she looked inward to her memories, rather than outward upon her work. Luna... Luna, dear sister. She had been making much progress reintegrating since she had returned from her exile. Exile- imprisonment. Banishment. When she had used force to remove her sister from power, mad though she had become, and did the only thing she could think to do- put her somewhere where she could hurt nopony else. And then... A tear, unbidden, formed in the corner of her eye and with a blink was sent cascading down the soft fur of her cheek- wiped away with a wingtip, it landed near a crack in the stones, to be evaporated away later in the light of the sun. If only her own regrets could disappear so readily, if only the old pains did not ache so, did not feel so fresh. Shaking her head once more, this time with no trace of a smile but instead a hard-set look of determination, she mentally prepared herself for the day. Routine was a sanctuary for her, routine was her escape. Focus on the here, the now, the movements, the minutiae- and during that time, she was safe. Turning once again from the glorious sun, almost all of its heavenly fire risen above the horizon, she proceeded at a meaningful trot back into her bedchambers, to wash and prepare for the morning meal. Today, she would have alfalfa.
ReptilianView OnlineMorningsReptilian"Spike!" The young dragon's eyelids fluttered, but remained stolidly closed. A voice, again- so annoying- "Spiiike!" Louder this time, more insistent. Really, what could be the rush, when this blanket was so soft... "SPIKE!" It was close now, alarmingly close, and loud! Without the slightest hint of thought, synapses deep in the reptilian core of his brain sent Spike leaping out of his basket bed, his eyes barely focused, his jaw slack and his answer ineloquent: "Huh, wha? Is there a fire?" Losing his footing on a particularly well-nuzzled pillow, he lost his barely-existent center of balance and teetered end-over-end until he lay sprawled on the floor. Twilight Sparkle came into the room, another wake-up call half-formed in her mouth, when she saw her assistant and dear companion with legs and arms at awkward angles. Lifting him in the violet hold of her magic, she asked with concern, "Oh, Spike! Are you okay? I didn't mean to spook you," Not waiting for an answer, but unceremoniously turning him right-side-up, she continued, "We've got a lot of books to shelve if we're going to have this place ready for the party!" Her voice was bright and cheery, quite at odds with Spike's current condition- groggy and already cursing the world; not a great start to the day. He rubbed his nose to quiet the pain, and trudged down the stairs of the sleeping nook to the main room, where Twilight was already busy lifting books and moving a feather duster around aimlessly- obviously in her hurry she didn't notice that there wasn't much dust to remove mid-air. The only solace Spike knew he would find during today's preparations was the forthcoming meal to break his fast. Yawning, he inquired- "So, Twilight, what's for breakfast?" The purple unicorn slowed her dusting and re-shelving (which Spike noticed was not done in the correct order), before turning to him and replying curtly, "Oh, there's no time! Not if we have to get the windows defrosted, and pick up the streamers, and make sure we get those pastries here on time..." She had already drawn the inevitable checklist from her right saddlebag and began mentally checking and rechecking it to keep her schedule fresh in her mind. Spike, of course, didn't register anything after he came to understand that there would be no food. The possibility of the situation had not occurred to him- so stunned was he that he could not even offer a feeble attempt at rebuttal, such as a loud "no", or perhaps some choice minced oaths. He stood there, stiff as a board, shell-shocked, as Twilight continued her ministrations in her own logistical waking nightmare, crisscrossing the area and haphazardly rearranging items in the room in an order that could only have made sense to a genius or a madpony. Eventually, his internal organs reminded him of what should be foremost in his mind, and once again spurred that most primitive of brain regions into action. Panicked now, he turned to Twilight and cried out, "What!? No breakfast!? How am I supposed to work without breakfast!?" An outside observer would probably describe his emotional state as somewhere between pure, pleading desperation and white-hot rage. Twilight once again turned to face her now mutinous protégé, and suggested, "Okay, okay- well maybe you can grab something to eat from Sugarcube Corner- it's a little early, but you could see if the Cakes have finished with the order..." Spike had already opened and closed the door and was well on his way before Twilight had even begun the second clause. Seeing she had been speaking to only herself, the unicorn gave her best look of frustration in the direction her helper had gone: a futile attempt to chastise him, in case he could somehow empathize with her. Sadly, she had not stopped walking about the room while she did this, and collided nose-first with a stack of books. A poor start to the day, indeed.
RusticView OnlineMorningsRusticThe day started with the crow of a rooster. Of course, as any experienced farmhand can tell you, every few minutes in earshot of a chicken coop began with the crow of a rooster. It was not exactly the rarest of occurrences. An experienced farmhand can also tell you that a few straw-stuffed pillows will do wonders at blocking the cry of any nearby cockerels, which makes it that much easier to keep the inevitable end of sleep at bay for a while. That is, until your elder sister decides to tear away your protective comforter and leave your coat bare to the cool morning breezes. "Rise n' Shine, Applebloom! You got a big day at school today!" Oh, hogwash. Nothing could be so important to disturb such a beautiful dream- the filly was almost on the verge of remembering exactly what her new cutie mark looked like, she could feel the nebulous threads of her dreamland fantasy reweaving themselves into a picture of her true talent, her purpose- earnestly, she tried to force the image that had made her so joyful during sleep to come to the fore. But as any experienced farmhand can tell you, chasing dreams only makes them run further away. Whatever she had dreamt (and had felt, truly felt had happened in reality) was gone. Applejack had proceeded to pull the curtains open revealing the harsh dawn light, making it even less comfortable for her sibling in her pillow-redoubt. "Applebloom, you best get up before Macintosh brings in the water bucket. You don't want mildew on them pillows come nighttime, do ya?" Of course Applebloom didn't want mildewed pillows- to suggest otherwise would be absurd. But maybe, just maybe, if she curled tighter under the protective coarse cloth and waited long enough, maybe, just maybe, her sister would decide she didn't need to go to school today; didn't need to get up and do her morning chores; didn't need to recite a silly old poem in front of her judgmental peers. And maybe, just maybe, if she waited long enough and kept herself from stirring, she could drift back to sleep and finally recall what her special ability was- "Mac, get in here! We got a tired lil' filly here who won't get up!" This was it, this was her death knell. Soon those big meaty hooves would be walking across the gnarled floorboards, each hooffall like a clap of thunder. And then the chilling presence of the water bucket would be upon her, waiting to loose its icy terror on her poor, thin hide. It began, a single hoofstep a few doors down the hall. Following it was another, its twin. Then another, and another, getting dangerously close to her soft, warm fortress. All too soon, he was there. She could hear the dull sound of a metal handle being rearranged between powerful jaws, the slosh of a liquid too vile to be something as pure as "water". No, that metallic container was an upturned bell full of concentrated villainy, heralding her doom. Moments stretched into hours, hours of pure agony as the cream-colored filly tensed and prepared herself for what was about to come. But the hours slowly folded back into minutes and seconds, and nothing happened. Applebloom heard only silence, could barely feel the presence of her family come to deliver cold justice. She untightened her muscles and began to relax. A détente. Perhaps they had forgotten about her and she didn't hear them leave... Above, brother and sister shared a conspiratory look, and nodded, committed to their plan of action. "Wake 'er up, Big Mac." In a split second, Applebloom seemed to fly off her bed like a shot from a cannon, repeating over and over the phrase, "I'm up I'm up I'm up I'm up!" Brother and sister shared another look, of smug satisfaction. The filly, in her panicked, adrenaline-fueled rush, knocked a brush and book from her nightstand, and fell on top of her saddlebags. Stifling a laugh, Applejack leaned over to help- no matter how old you were, you couldn't tie a ribbon to the back of your mane without help of the familial or magical variety. "All right, now if y'all can bring in some firewood from the shed we can get breakfast started." * * * On the way to school now, scholastic supplies neatly tucked away in her unadorned saddlebags, Applebloom pouted privately as she trotted down the dirt path leading away from Sweet Apple Acres. If she had just had a few more minutes, she was sure she could have remembered... Now, how did that poem go, again? Well, she could probably get Sweetie Belle to write it on her hoof for her.
RadicalView OnlineMorningsRadicalCool, quiet, still. A tuft of cumulus mediocris drifted lazily westward. A light breeze led it to collide with a wisp of cirrus, sending a smaller tuft adrift in a perpendicular trajectory. A downdraft guided the little orphan cloud lower, and the prevailing winds moved it right through the window of a fluffy house that happened to be adrift in the sky. It drifted under the lintel, over the sill. The wee puff drifted past a cascade of library books, around a headboard, and nestled gently between a few tousled, rainbow-colored locks. Not so far away, an indigo bedspread shifted. A hoof draped itself over a mattress’ edge, and then retreated to safety. A jaw worked timidly, and eventually a head turned. The tiny tuft, dislodged by forces beyond its ken, spiraled and cavorted before once again resting a bit lower on the same being; this time, over its nostrils. Once again, stillness won the day. For a moment. But the stillness was a facade. Almost silently, an automaton, set about its business with the best of intentions, labored meticulously through the night. At exactly four hours past midnight, its work bore fruit. Loud, noisy, mechanical fruit. Gears turned, springs unwound, a key rotated, and a hammer struck a bell- over, and over, and over again. Rainbow Dash did not know what was happening; she had just been kicking changelings that had upset Pinkie Pie with their opinion on her snake cupcakes, and now, suddenly, her world melted away, and there was an extremely loud ringing. The deep reptilian core of her brain snapped into action, and a hoof rose and fell on the poor automaton, knocking it to the floor. That same reptilian core signaled her body to alertness, adrenaline coursing through her veins- her pupils dilated, her pulse quickened, her muscles sprung taut, and she inhaled deeply. Neither Rainbow Dash nor her brain, reptilian or otherwise, knew about the small tuft of cloud, either. But both recognized the symptoms of asphyxiation she now suffered from, and while her brain sent her into a fit of coughing, the lithe pegasus leapt skyward and turned to face her would-be attackers. Of course, it’s quite difficult to be battle-ready whilst coughing up a cloud through your nose, and so the would-be heroine fell back onto her bed and hacked and wheezed a few times before the fluffy obstruction dissipated into mist once more. Shaking her head, she swiveled her aft hooves toward the side of the bed, slid onto the cold, cold floor, and trotted over to the still ringing alarm clock. Silencing the klaxon with a more precise hoof-strike, Dash was now in a position to return from the land of slumber. She breathed in deeply once more, puffed out her wings, pumped her front legs, and let out a self-affirming “Yeah!” A controlled and powerful beat of her wings, and she hovered effortlessly in front of a wall-mounted mirror. She turned her face left and then right, tossed a hoof through her forelocks, smiled, and nodded to her own visage. “Lookin’ awesome as usual,” she quipped, aloud. And she wasn’t wrong. This was going to be a new start for Rainbow Dash. Gone would be the days of waking up late, gone would be the days of goofing off while rain-parched fields sat next to fog-covered gardens. Gone the days of letting others and herself down! She jetted to an iconic poster of the Wonderbolts and looked it over, visualizing the future mare she wanted to be. Awesome, yes; radical, yes; fast, of course; but irresponsible? No. Wonderbolts weren’t irresponsible! They were dependable, professional, prompt, awesome, cool, the best! She could be a Wonderbolt! She could be totally awesome! She could be the most professional mare of all! Rainbow stood in profile next to the silhouettes of her idols. She could feel the pride surging through her as she puffed out her chest. Yes, today would be a new start! A new day, a new Dash! She dropped to the ground and trotted to the Book Pile, as her nightstand had slowly transformed into. Under a few well-read and slightly dewy tomes, she pulled out a list from her good list-making friend, Twilight. This was what Twilight had come up with after extensive research on finding the perfect routine for an awesome, radical, and dependable athlete, who had to do weather patrol and was also named Rainbow Dash. Twilight had told her to be specific when making requests, so she made sure to slather on the specificity. The list had five items of increasing complexity: one, “comb mane”. “Easy-peasy!” Rainbow sneered, and after a few wing-beats and a quick pass with a comb, her mane was looking more awesome than she could remember, just like every other day. “Check!” She was on a roll already! The second task was “brush teeth”. Now the real challenge began. Dash breathed deeply and steadied herself. “Okay Rainbow, you can do this.” She turned away from the list and located her washbasin and toothbrush. Her eyes darted toward her lonely pillow, and she almost drooled at the soft comforts it could bring… but she slapped her face with her wingtips to bring her back to reality. “Focus! I. Can. Do. This.” With force, she emphatically stomped her way to the washbasin. She dependably grabbed her toothbrush and reliably applied toothpaste. Professionally, she cleaned her mouth. After a thorough fifteen second cleanse, she announced “All right, that’s enough of that. Now for the next challenge!” She faced the list, her confidence high. And the next challenger was: “stretches.” Rainbow blinked. A drop of sweat trickled down her brow. Stretching. She could do that, right? It wasn’t something for slow fliers or eggheads. Real, professional athletes stretched. They did it all the time. They just… stood there. With their legs at goofy angles. For extended periods of time. Yeah, she could do that… probably. She stood there, staring at the third item on the list. Her mouth felt dry. She raised one hoof and set it down. She raised another and set it down. She began raising and lowering both hooves in succession. She began dancing in place. Her heart rate increased and she had to look away. Frantically, she shouted, to herself, “Ah- Fine! It’s okay! I’ll stretch twice tomorrow, it’ll be fine! Next item!” Her eyes darted below to the fourth item: “eat a healthy breakfast.” Dash was crestfallen. Eating a healthy breakfast wasn’t awesome, or radical. It was… it was very normal. These didn’t sound like good steps to take if she wanted to be dependable and awesome at the same time! These sounds like steps for… for slow eggheads! Clearly, this list business was not for her. She took the list in her mouth and spat it to the floor. “Sorry Twilight, but this pony’s gotta be her own wingmare!” She knew what a dependable and awesome pony would do. She knew it with such certainty that she could feel it in her bones. She would race as fast as possible to the weather team meetup spot, and impress everypony with how dependably and reliably (and awesomely!) early she was! This was, of course, the best course of action possible. Before she could even finish the thought, she was but a rainbow-colored blur shooting off over Ponyville. The spot they usually met up was just outside of Town Hall. It was still plenty dark out; dawn wasn’t for at least a couple more hours. Dash hovered a bit, relaxed now that she had expended some of her nervous energy, and looked around. The whole town seemed deserted, except for a few service ponies out and about. But there was no weather team yet. In fact, the weather team didn’t usually meet up until 6:00. Dash considered that she may have overestimated how much time it would take to get through her dependable checklist. So, she had some time to kill. Drifting by was an errant tuft of cloud; cumulus mediocris, if Dash correctly remembered her flight school training, which she was pretty sure she did. It looked very soft. It drifted lazily by her. Ponyville and the skies above it were cool, quiet, still. Rainbow checked how soft the cloud was with a gentle hoof. It was very, very soft. She checked how soft it was with two hooves. It was even softer still. Her eyes grew heavy. It was pretty early, and Thunderlane and Cloud Kicker and the rest wouldn’t be showing up for such a long time. She was now reclining in the cloud tuft, her eyes closed. The breeze caressed her feathers and before she knew it, she was dead asleep. Surely, even Wonderbolts had to nap, sometimes. Author's Note Better late than never!
