Chapters Better Living Through Golemancy
Sweetie Belle's Other Sister
"And thus, having proven the conjectures of his teacher, Goldenrod Clay's work kick-started the third age of modern Golemancy. This concludes chapter twelve. Now, if you will all take out your quills, there will be a short practice test on the next page of your books to check your retention of the material."
"Uggggh... Twilight for like, the millionth time: I don't have a quill, I'm not taking any quiz, and for Celestia's sake we're not in freaking school!"
Rainbow Dash's outburst snapped Twilight out of her lecturing trance. She grinned awkwardly as she scratched a hoof on the back of her head. "Hehehe... Sorry. Again. I just get so caught up in my recitation that I forget what parts aren't quite as relevant now as they were when I first heard it."
"We know Twilight, we know." Applejack assured, before adding under her breath, "You've recited the same apology the last five times you done it."
"Thanks for being so understanding," Twilight beamed, ignorant of Applejack's latter statement. "I'll skip ahead to the beginning of the next chapter then. Ahem..."
A soft groan came from somewhere in the line, it's exact origin impossible to place.
The group had been making their way homeward for hours now. Nopony knew exactly how long, as the ever present canopy of leaves muted all light, both sun and moon, to the same dull greenish glow. And without physical bodies that required food and rest, there was no way to judge time or distance based on fatigue. The group had been going nonstop since they left the site of the Plague King's temple, after its unexpected renovation to a much more open space floor plan.
How long had they been travelling? Hours? Days? The only indicator of the passage of time was Twilight's unending speech about the history of Golemancy, recited word-for-word without the need to even break for breathing.
Rarity sighed from her position at the back of the line. Spike, who was just in front of her, noticed and slowed his floating so he ended up right besides her. "What's wrong Rarity?"
"It's just..." she started, "I know Twilight means well, and I am of course grateful for her... thorough overview of the subject, but..." she paused again, unsure how to vocalize her thoughts, "Well, you were in the class with her as well, correct? Do you know how much more history she's going to go through before getting to any practical theory relevant to our situation?"
Spike pulled at face as he concentrated, grasping at threads of memories. "Well, she mentioned a little in the foreword, and also the opening chapters about the first golems."
Rarity grimaced. "Yes, I remember. Though I don't much like the sound of all that Styxian mud. And what she described sounded a lot more involved and frankly, ritualistic, than how she described it earlier."
"Oh yeah, totally." Spike agreed. "They really simplified it once they started using runes in the sixth century. But I think we're still six or seven chapters away from that." He tapped his chin in thought. "Come to think of it though, a lot of it isn't even going to be all that important or necessary in our case."
Fluttershy, who had been unintentionally listening in, slowed her pace to continue on Spike's other side. "Oh? Why?"
"Well, you see a big thing about golems is choosing the right materials. You want to use something that's either magically inert or at least passive, otherwise you can get weird problems."
"What kind of problems?" Rainbow Dash joined in from above.
"Okay, this is gonna take a bit of magic theory." Spike explained. "So everything, every thing that exists has a bunch of magical energy in it just from being in the world. Over time it gets formed into patterns. Then if you try to put a spell on something, you're telling that magic to do something else. That's okay with most spells because they're meant to be temporary, they'll wear off and the magic will go back to the original pattern. The trouble with golems is that you're trying to force the magic to go in a really complex way for a really long time, and it doesn't like doing that. So sometimes the original pattern resists."
"I think I understand that." Applejack said with a nod. "Like if somethin' falls on a plant and makes it go sideways, after a spell it'll just start growing up again."
"Exactly. So, like, imagine you made a golem out of rock. After a while it's going to stop moving because the magic in it says rocks aren't supposed to move. That's why they used to use Styxian mud for golems because it's magically passive and doesn't have a pattern of it's own."
"Neato!" Pinkie added while bouncing beneath them, every bounce making her head crest from the ground like a swimmer. "It's like a fresh chalkboard without all the smudges of stuff that was written before."
"That's... yeah, that's actually a pretty good way of putting it Pinkie. Anyway, I don't think we'll have to even worry about that problem for two pretty big reasons. First is because we only need a week before Twilight makes us new bodies, which is nothing compared to golems that were built to work fields continuously for months or even years. And also because we're not even really putting a spell into the golems. Really we're just going to be puppetting them around like weird clunky costumes."
"When ya put things like that, it all makes sense." Applejack said. "Now why can't Twilight just get to the point like that?"
"Oh she would never." Spike immediately shook his head. "I just summarized like twelve chapters in one go, but she'd say that I skipped over all sorts of details and warnings and famous cases and historically relevant breakthroughs."
"Anyway, so the long and short of it is that the material shouldn't matter much. Just find or make something pony shaped to use for a few days. If you can, maybe use something that you've spent a lot of time with or have a strong emotional connection to. That should help it bond better with your thaumic forms."
"Hey! Is anypony even still listening to me? Also, why have you all stopped?"
The group turned their attention to Twilight, standing alone a surprising distance ahead with a mildly disgruntled expression. Sheepishly, five spectral ponies left the clump they had formed around Spike and retook their places in line. And so the march continued.
"Well girls, this is it! We finally made it back home."
"And not a second too soon," Rainbow Dash muttered, who had been the most dismayed when the previous three chapters of Twilight's lecture had turned out to be high-level magical theory and formulae.
Ahead of them lay the town of Ponyville. It was dark still, but morning was no more than an hour or two away. Only a few lights were on to illuminate the town, around the guard station and town hall mostly. It was quiet too, quieter than the bustling village ever was during the day. It was like a ghost town; appropriately enough for the returning ghosts.
Twilight rounded on her floating companions. "Now, does everypony know what to do?"
"We all go our separate ways back to our respective homes," Rarity began.
"Find some junk to make golems out of," Rainbow Dash added.
"Then we... um... blend our essence in to take control." Fluttershy supplied.
"An' then try to keep a low profile till you can finish growin' us new bodies." Applejack finished.
"Oh, oh! And try not to scare anypony!" Pinkie supplemented.
"Perfect!" Twilight smiled, "Now remember, like I mentioned in chapter twenty-two, make sure to choose materials with an Akashic value of at least thirty Vis or less. We wouldn't want any inversely applied constructs, now would we?"
They all laughed along with her, despite none of them having any idea what she was talking about. Instead, they all remembered Spike's abridged version, with various degrees of accuracy.
"Anyway," Twilight continued, "I have all your genetic profiles on file in the library, as well as all the necessary materials in storage, so it shouldn't take more than a week to grow back your bodies. Ah- I'd recommend not dropping by the library until they're done. Seeing yourself as a partially formed biological construct can be... damaging to the psyche. Just trust me on that."
And with a quick round of goodbyes (and a few promises to meet up for lunch to compare bodies), the group dispersed across the township.
Rarity was the first to make it back home, it being the closest to where they had exited the forest.
In the pre-dawn hours, the Carousel Boutique had a nightly elegance to it. After all, Rarity would not have stood for it any other way. All the lights were out as Sweetie Belle would have gone to bed hours prior. She sighed contentedly as she finished the last few paces to the front door, relishing in the feeling of being home after a long trip. Instinctively, she reached for the false rock where the spare key was kept hidden, only to have her hoof pass through it.
"Ah. Right. That is going to take some getting used to." She murmured to herself. Rarity glanced between the sturdy door and her own incorporeal hoof. "Well if that's the only way in, then I suppose it would be better to get it over with." Closing her eyes, she lifted her head and stepped forward, fighting instincts that screamed at her to stop before she gave herself a bloody nose. A moment of odd denseness passed, and she opened her eyes to the interior of her shop.
"There. That wasn't so bad I suppose. A little unpleasant at worst." She smiled, glad to be back in familiar surroundings.
Rarity began to float about the room as she considered her options. "Now then, time for a body. This shouldn't be too difficult. It's just like making a dress. And then being the dress for a week." She paused just as she passed into her workroom. "Then again, do I have anything already which I could use?" Her glowing blue eyes scanned the room as she contemplated. There were certainly plenty of currently unused ponnequins around. They already had the necessary shape. But then again, while their exterior looked realistic, it was really only a thin sheet of fabric stretched over a heavy wire frame. She could easily picture it breaking and revealing an iron skeleton to a frightened customer mid-sale. It just wouldn't do. In addition, she didn't much care for the idea of the large iron pole running through her abdomen.
A thump from upstairs startled Rarity out of her thoughts, reminding her that she was not alone in the house. Concerned, she decided to check in on her little sister before continuing work on her temporary body.
She floated up the stairs without a sound, one of the benefits of ghostliness she supposed. The door to Sweetie Belle's room was shut, but that posed no trouble to Rarity. With little effort, she popped through to the other side.
The sound from earlier had apparently been caused by Sweetie Belle rolling out of bed. She laid on the floor, half tangled in blankets, yet still somehow sound asleep. Rarity smiled at the sight. If only she had a camera, the scene before her would have made for an adorable Hearthwarming card. The innocence of the scene was ruined, however, by Sweetie rolling onto her back and letting rip a very unladylike snore. Rarity sighed at the lost moment, but let it be.
As she was about to leave, she noticed something clutched under Sweetie Belle's foreleg, previously hidden by the blanket. It was a doll, one of many that Sweetie Belle had collected over the years, but this one Rarity had not seen in quite some time.
It was a very simple doll shaped like a pony, with a white coat made from cheap fabric, a royal purple chiffon mane, and two blue buttons for eyes. It was a miniature Rarity. She remembered this doll, it was from several years ago. She and Sweetie Belle had made it together when the younger of the pair had been pursuing a dollcrafting cutie mark. Though no cutie mark had emerged from the project, the doll still remained. It was... crude, to say the least. The limbs were improportional and not quite the same length. The mane was a bit too short and slightly the wrong color. The stitching was marvelous, except where the tail had been amateurishly reattached with cream thread instead of white. Sweetie Belle had been embarrassed at the time and hidden it away. In fact, Rarity had assumed it'd been thrown out.
Yet here it was. Cuddled close in Sweetie Belle's grasp while the real big sister was away travelling.
There was also a strange glow about the doll. It was subtle, so subtle that Rarity hadn't even noticed it until she had been staring for several minutes, but it was undeniable. It was a soft, calm light, and strangely... inviting. Rarity found herself drifting closer without even realizing. Her mind was consumed with emotion. Memories of her and Sweetie Belle sewing the doll together. The teachable moments when she was able to impart the wisdom of her craft. The laugh she'd had to stifle when Sweetie accidentally started sewing the horn in a place it certainly did not belong. The shared laughter and sisterly camaraderie as they had debated fabrics, shapes, and even gossiped a little during the tedious sections. The glow seemed to be growing brighter, not that Rarity noticed. It was so bright, the doll seemed to occupy all of Rarity's vision.
Hang on... was the doll actually that big, or was she just so very clo-
*VWORP!*
With a sudden spiraling force, Rarity found herself feeling disoriented and suddenly much more solid.
She blinked, surprised at her newfound ability to do so. Her vision was a little blurred in the center. If she focused, she could just about make out a the shape of small cross. She turned to try and contrast it with a lighter background, only to suddenly find herself face to face with her little sister's enormous head! With a start, she realized the nature of the cross-like distortion on her vision. It was the stitching holding the doll's, no, her button eyes in place.
By complete accident, Rarity had possessed Sweetie Belle's doll.
She lifted one fabric foreleg. She could twist and turn it as easily as if it were her own, even without proper muscles and joints. Her sense of touch seemed... muted though. She could feel pressure, and maybe just a hint of texture, but that was all.
"Well," Rarity said to herself as she continued flexing a hoof experimentally, "Not what I had in mind, but at least I know it works now. But this won't do long term. I'd better go back downstairs and see if I can slip into something a little more my size."
Carefully, she began to twist her body, wriggling side to side as she slowly escaped the sleeping filly's clutches. With a final twist, her hindquarters popped free and Sweetie's head settled down onto her foreleg. Rarity nodded satisfactorily at her successful escape, and turned away to begin the task of learning how to walk without bones.
If only it were that simple.
RI-I-I-I-I-PPP!
Rarity turned around in horror. Her tail, so poorly stitched on, was still caught between Sweetie Belle's head and foreleg. The unexpected force had not only ripped the tail off, but managed to rip it in two as well. In addition, Sweetie Belle, who could sleep through falling off her bed, apparently just couldn't sleep through the sound of fabric ripping inches from her ear. The filly was wide awake now, and staring gobsmacked at her ambulatory toy.
"Rarimini?" she squeaked in shocked curiosity.
"Ah-" Rarity froze as she tried to think of something to say. Some sort of explanation or excuse or... or... or anything! "Good evening Sweetie. Lovely night for, um, a walk... isn't it?"
A pregnant silence settled between them. Rarity mentally kicked herself for such a strange and lackluster response, while Sweetie Belle's mind finished running an error diagnostic and was initializing a reboot sequence. After a few seconds, her higher functioning finally kicked back in.
"Rarimini! You're alive!"
With a whirling sweep faster than Rarity could process, Sweetie Belle yanked her off the floor and into a crushing hug. If she had air in her lungs, or lungs at all for that matter, it would have been gone in an instant. Unaware of her captive's plight, Sweetie Belle spun about the room in glee.
"Oh I knew wishing on leaf swirls was a real thing! I knew it, I knew it! Applebloom said I was crazy, but who's laughing now?" She struck a dramatic pose, Rarity clutched under one foreleg while the other pointed to the sky. "Me! I'm the one laughing! Hahaha HahaHahaha!"
"Um, excuse me. Very squished here." Rarity managed so squeeze out.
Sweetie Belle's attention was instantly redirected. She immediately lessened her grip and set Rarity down on her bedspread. "Oh! I'm so sorry Rarimini. I forgot you can probably feel things now." She rubbed her mane sheepishly.
"It's alright dear," Rarity assured as she readjusted some of her filling, "Just a good deal of pressure that's all."
"Wow," Sweetie Belle mused as her eyes sparkled, "You're not just alive, but you talk just like Rarity does too. Wishing magic is amaaazing..."
Rarity coughed politely, not so much to clear her throat as to give herself a moment to prepare. "Actually, I should probably clear this up before we progress down this road any further. I actually am Rarity."
Sweetie Belle gave her a perplexed look before realization dawned. "Oh, I see. Wait just a second." She scrunched up her face as a green glow formed around her horn. A moment later and a framed picture from Sweetie's bedside floated over. It was a photograph of her and Rarity celebrating something. "This," she gestured to the photo, "is Rarity. I made you to look like her, but you're not her. She's my big sister you see, and you're a doll I made to try and get a cutie mark."
"Er- no." Rarity disagreed softly. "Sweetie, I know this may be a bit hard to understand, but I am Rarity. There was a little... trouble, on our latest friendship mission and I just needed to... borrow a body for a while. At least until Twilight can fix things."
Sweetie Belle raised a skeptical eyebrow, still not fully convinced. "Hmmm. You might be Rarity," Rarity's sighed in relief, "Or, you could just be Rarimini and be really really convinced that you're actually Rarity." Rarity tried to roll her eyes in exasperation, but just ended up rolling her whole head.
"Alright, fine. How can I prove that I'm the real Rarity?"
"Easy," Sweetie Belle replied immediately, "Just tell me something only Rarity would know. Something from before I made you. That's how they prove this kind of thing in books."
"That, I can do." Rarity walked over to the picture still on the bed. Rather, she hobbled over. Despite her fluid control over her new body, it was designed to be soft and huggable, not to be able to support it's own weight while standing. She gestured to herself in the photo once she finally reached it.
"We took this picture during the grand opening of my boutique. It was about three years ago, just after you and Mother and Father followed my move to Ponyville. They called in a favor with an old friend to have the opening featured in the local gazette, which is why we had a professional camerapony available. You offered to make hors d'oeuvres, but you ended up burning them so badly that we used them to patch a hole in the wall left by the previous owner. They're still there you know, under the paint. And that bit of wall is the only section that Rainbow Dash has never been able to crash through. Anyway, it was a Tuesday and the theme was - "
"Okay okay, I get it. You're Rarity." Sweetie Belle interrupted before muttering to herself, "So much for wishing on leaf swirls." She raised her head again. "So, why are you in my doll then?"
"I didn't mean to." Rarity explained. "I heard you fall out of bed and came to check on you. I was about to leave too when I saw your doll and there was this light... and a warm glow... and suddenly I was inside." She tilted her head thoughtfully. "I think Twilight may have said something about objects with a high emotional something-or-other, and that we'd be able to control them more easily."
"Sooo... You're in my doll, because you really like it?" Sweetie ventured, her expression still confused.
"No, I don't think that's it. I remember thinking about how we made this together, and how much fun we had doing it." Rarity attempted to sit up in a more lady-like position, only to struggle with her legs refusing to bend the right way. "Mind you, while it is a pleasure to be solid again, I should get about finding a more lasting solution."
"Why?" Sweetie Belle asked, her expression suddenly hurt. "Is my doll not good enough for you?"
"No! No no no no no no no!" Rarity rapidly assured. "It's just not practical! I can't close the shop just because I don't have a body, and imagine what customers would say if I tried greeting them like this! You have lovely craftsmareship Sweetie and I know you put your all into this-"
She was cut off by Sweetie Belle no longer being able to hide her snickers behind her hooves. "It's okay Rarity, I know it's pretty badly made. I was just joking. So if you're not going to use my doll, what are you going to do?"
Rarity sighed and flopped. "That's exactly what I was trying to figure out when I heard you fall out of bed. Twilight did helpfully give us an extremely in-depth guide to the history and practices of golemancy, but I'm afraid I tuned most of it out. Even then, most of her relevant advice relied on one having physical hooves to work with in the first place. I can influence things a little through my, what did she call it? Ah, yes, my morphogenic field, but it's not exactly efficient. At that rate it would take days for me to make even a simple substitute"
"Well," Sweetie Belle said slowly, "What if I made you a new body?"
The question caught Rarity off guard. "Pardon?"
Sweetie Belle continued, nodding along as she agreed with her own plan even as she came up with it. "Well, you said that my doll was easy to control because we made it together, right? So, couldn't I make another one, just bigger? Like, actual pony sized?"
Rarity remained silent as the possibilities ran themselves through her mind. True, Sweetie Belle was nowhere near the seamstress that she was, but she was very receptive to instruction. She had helped around the shop enough to at least be generally familiar with the various tools of the trade. Yes, it could work. It just might work!
"That is... briiiilant~!" Rarity trilled.
Sweetie Belle beamed at her sister's praise. With a quick swish of her horn, she placed the miniaturized Rarity on her back and turned for the door. "Well then what are we waiting for? Let's do it! Cutie Mark Crusader Golemancy Solo Mission: Go!"
And with that, the two headed downstairs to Rarity's private studio that she reserved for personal projects and experimental ideas. Sweetie Belle placed Rarity onto a swivel stool in the center of the room, so she could see and direct from any angle while Sweetie Belle would act as her hooves and horn. Finding the old doll pattern was easy enough, as was extrapolating the measurements for a much larger size. Then it came down to material.
"What do you want for your body Rarity?" Sweetie called from deep within the labyrinthine fabrics closet. "You've got a lot of options in white, pearl, and very soft cream."
"Oh," Rarity fussed from her perch, "Something with a good texture. Is there any velvet?"
"Uh... maybe for a leg, but not enough for the whole thing."
"Hm. How about fleece then? It's not as classy but-"
"Nope. Not unless you want to be to be Rainbow Dash colored."
"Oh, well then. Actually that might open some interesting- No, wait. Put a pin in that and set it aside for later. Priorities Rarity." She sighed. "As much as I hate to admit it, this seems like a good time to take a page from Applejack's book and choose function over form. Bring out... the cotton knit."
Sweetie Belle gasped as she popped her head out from the closet's depths. "No! Not the-"
"I know!" Rarity interrupted with a dramatic feint. "It's not glamorous, not is it chic. But I need something that will last a week of constant tension, stressing, and wear. It may not be high fashion, but I am Rarity! And I will Make! It! Work!"
Sweetie Belle gulped. "Alright, cotton knit it is."
And so construction continued. Rarity guided Sweetie Belle as she pinned the parchment guides to the fabric and carefully cut out the forms. She hovered at her side as Sweetie Belle tackled sewing the complex angles and folds. A few mistakes were easily fixed, with Rarity spotting them before they could become troublesome. When the body was nearly done, they sacrificed Rarity's old chaise lounge for suitable stuffing. Because if that wasn't imbued with emotional energies, then what would be? They continued for hours, ignoring the sun coming over the horizon. Finally, with a steady aura, Sweetie Belle horn stitched the last seams closed and the main body was completed.
For a first attempt, it was a remarkable piece of work. It stood as tall as the real Rarity, though the proportions were more generic by design. For eyes it had a pair of giant blue buttons, each easily as big as Sweetie Belle's hoof, since neither of them could decide on a suitable substitute. It lacked a cutie mark, mane, and tail, but beyond that looked surprisingly like the real Rarity.
Rarity gave her little sister a sloppy hug around the neck. "Splendidly done, Sweetie! It looks just like me!"
"Er, it's still kinda missing some bits."
"Oh posh, don't mind that. We'll settle those details soon enough. Now, " Rarity turned her gaze to the fabric golem before her. "I think it's about time I tried it on for size."
She closed her eyes, or at least began ignoring her vision as she concentrated. Though she lacked instructions, she concluded that if possessing the doll was as easy as it had been, then exorcising herself should be just as straightforward. She focused, concentrating her mind on the concept of leaving. The feel of when she was a ghost. The sensation of entering the doll the very first time. She felt a twinge, and latched onto it with her mind. The feeling grew as she focused, and the world seemed to grow colder. Then with a twist and a pop! she was out!
She opened her eyes to the three figures around her. The doll, lifeless as it had been the previous day. The golem, ready to receive it's host. And Sweetie Belle, mouth once more agape as she stared at her ghostly sister.
"Wooow... Rarity you're so... so..."
"Diaphanous? Mystical? Wispy?" she offered.
"Grey. You've very grey."
Rarity ineffectually blew an irritating lock away from her vision. "Yes. Thank you for that frank first impression." Turning, she faced her and Sweetie Belle's creation. Summoning the feeling from before, she leaned into it's shape. Foreleg aligned with foreleg, neck with neck, head with-
*VWORP!*
And with that increasingly familiar lurching sensation, in she went.
She blinked. The crosses were still in her vision, but she'd made sure that Sweetie Belle used a very fine thread, so they were minimal. She felt the pressure of a slight tapping on her leg.
"Rarity? Are you okay? Did you get in alright?"
She craned her neck, and gave a smile as best as she could. "Everything went perfectly. No problems yet."
Sweeetie Belle squeed with joy. "I did it. No, we did it! It's alive. It's aliiiiive!"
Rarity took a tentative step, feeling out her range of motion. "As much as you can call this alive, yes, I am. Ah, it seems there's a stray stitch in the left hock pulling it tight. Could you be a dear and pass me my seam rippers and a needle?"
"Uh... Rarity, you still don't have magic. Or, you know, a horn. Shouldn't I fix it for you?"
"Actually," Rarity tittered, "While you were sewing, I've been practicing moving light objects with this 'morphogenic field' I seem to have. Something as light as a needle should pose no issue."
True to her word, Rarity was able to life both seam ripper and needle with no difficulty. Visually, it was little different from basic unicorn levitation, though without the tell-tale aura.
"Now then, since the fit seems alight, it's time we add on the fine details. Sweetie, I want you to go to the very back of my fabric closet to the sealed airtight chest. The combination for the lock is 6-4-7-3."
"What's in there?" Sweetie Belle asked.
"My most expensive materials," Rarity replied, "I've been saving them for a special occasion, and I can't think of any better than this. You'll know which piece I want when you see it."
Sweetie Belle nodded, and dutifully trotted back into the closet while Rarity continued inspecting her body and fixing small errors. It was not long before Sweetie Belle returned, a swatch of cloth both draped over her back and held in her magic for double safety security. It was a rich, royal purple which shined and glimmered as the light caught it. The edges flowed like silk, as small ripples caught eddies in Sweetie Belle's wake.
Rarity lifted it delicately from her back, her cotton hooves barely able to grip the liquid-like fabric. "Crystal silk," she murmured as she let it flow from hoof to hoof. "Hoof spun from crystal silkworms in the frozen north. As light as air," she gave it a sudden sharp tug, "But as strong as canvas."
With a smooth slice of her scissors, a large banner separated itself from the rest. With a steady grip, Rarity floated it over to her maneless head, and began stitching it directly to her scalp. Sweetie Belle cringed in response with each pass of the needle.
"Oww... Doesn't that hurt?"
"Not at all actually. Well, there's a little pressure, but only just enough that I can feel where I'm working." Rarity continued sewing without hesitation. "Now Sweetie, this next part is something only you can do, but it is difficult, so listen very closely please."
Sweetie Belle sat down and gave Rarity her full attention, though she tried to ignore the ever weaving needle.
"I'll need you to head down into the basement. There's a bin down there where I keep all the gems which are too big for practical use but which I save anyways for Spike. Pick out three good sized diamonds of about the same size, clarity, and color. Then, you'll need to use my oil saw."
"Oil saw?" Sweetie Belle asked in confusion, having never heard of such a thing. Frankly, she hadn't known the basement was anything other than storage at all!
"Yes, an oil saw." Rarity confirmed. "I use it when I need gems cut more precisely than my magic can handle. It's very useful, but also equally messy, and I'm not exactly stain-proof at the moment."
"Okay, so how do I use it?"
"Just place the gems inside the vise, all facing the same way of course, and spin the handle on the side until the marker reaches position five." Rarity continued. "Then just close the lid and let it run. When it's done, take out the gem slices, flip over the larger gem pieces and let it run again."
"Uh huh, what's this for again?" Sweetie Belle questioned.
"Why, for my cutie mark of course!" Rarity exclaimed, "If I'm going so far with this project as to use crystal silk, then there's no sense in holding anything back! Why stitch on diamond patterns when I can use the real thing? Embossed cutie marks... I don't think anypony's ever tried pulling that off before!"
"Okay!" Sweetie Belle cheered with a little salute. She rushed off to the basement, kicking up little clouds behind her with each step.
Rarity sighed in appreciation as she continued sewing on her mane, humming a little tune as she did. It was a slow process, as hoofstitching always was, but having to work through touch alone made her cautiously slow down even more. It wasn't too long before Rarity heard the familiar whirring hum of the machines in the basement coming to life. It's a good thing they were underground or else the whole neighborhood would have heard. With the last section of her mane attached, Rarity cinched off the end of the thread and clipped it.
"There, now that wasn't too difficult." She gave an experimental toss of her head. Her mane fluttered over and settled across her head, automatically curling into her preferred style as it was saturated with the essence of her ghostly mane. She glanced at it in the mirror. "And a perfect curl as well." He glance shifted to her still purple-less rump. "Now there's just the tedious bit left."
With a bit of magic and a lot of concentration, Rarity began unraveling the remaining fabric. Each silken strand she attached individually, lightly running each across the still hot sewing machine so that the heat would make it twist and curl more naturally. Strand by strand, hair by hair, her tail grew thicker and longer. She was just about finished when Sweetie Belle returned from the basement. As expected, there were numerous yellow oil stains on her coat (and enough on her tail to leave a trail of drips) but the gems in her magic were clean and sparkling.
"I finished Rarity!" she called as she presented her offering. Six perfect replicas of a diamond, cut from the side. "I put some gem polish on them too, so they're nice and shiny. Oh! And while I was looking around in your gem box, I found this." It was another gem, long and conical. A cerulean blue with filament thin white and gold striations. "I realized you still needed a horn, and I thought 'Hey, this gem matches her buttons, er- eyes.' So I brought it up too. Is it, okay?"
Rarity smiled (having loosened the stitching around her mouth to make it easier). "It's wonderful, Sweetie." She took the gem. "Such a beautiful piece of lapis lazuli." She placed it on her forehead, loosely where a horn would be. "I don't often get to use lapis in my work, you know. Once you include it, then you really have the model the whole dress around- oh. Oh! Oh! "
Rarity suddenly cut herself off mid-sentence. Sweetie Belle rushed to her side, worried over what strange magical side effects could be causing her to moan so. "Rarity! Rarity, are you okay?!"
"Oh... I'm- I'm fine, I'm fine." She placed an unsteady hoof to her forehead. "It's just... my magic. I just felt my magic reconnect."
With a few stuttering sparks, Rarity's new horn flared to life with a rich glowing corona. Rarity shuddered involuntarily. "Oh, yes! It feels good to have my magic back. And to think Twilight said it would be impossible to use magic while in a golem. Guess her textbook memory didn't know everything after all."
With a flash of magic, the diamond cuttings disappeared from Sweetie Belle's aura and reappeared on Rarity's flanks, perfectly positioned and attached. Rarity took a step back and struck a pose. "Tell me Sweetie, honestly, how do I look?"
"You're beautiful..." Sweetie Belle half-whispered through glistening eyes.
It was true. She looked every bit the same as her original body, but with the flaws corrected. No matter how she stood, there were no bones or joints to protrude at unflattering angles; only soft, smooth curves all around. Every hair in her mane was perfectly the same length and exactly aligned. The diamonds on her flank caught the light as she moved, casting miniature rainbows all around with every shift in posture. If one were to look closely, they could still make out the seams. The places where the fabric had to crease or fold. Her eyes, of course, were the most obvious clue to her artificial nature, but even they seemed to almost glow with an inner light that felt simply natural and right. In short: she was stunning.
"Thank you, Sweetie. And might I say, you've done some excellent work on these seams. I didn't know your skills had improved this far. I should let you help out in the boutique more often."
Sweetie Belle's eyes lit up in response, only to suddenly close as she let out a yawn. Rarity glanced outside, where the sun had long since risen and was making decent progress on it's journey across the sky. "Hm, I suppose I did wake you up rather early."
Sweetie Belle yawned again. "Yeah, plus I may have stayed up just a teensy bit past my bedtime. Me and the other Crusaders were up late working on pottery cutie marks."
Rarity nodded as she began guiding her little sister out the door and back upstairs. "It wasn't a school night, so I'll let it slide this time. Go ahead and enjoy another hour or two of rest if you like, you've certainly earned it. Meanwhile, I have a few appointments to take care of, as well as a lunch date with the girls."
"Appointments?" Sweetie Belle mumbled as she struggled to fight the fatigue that was rapidly subsuming her. "But what about your... you know... everything?"
Rarity smiled coyly. "Oh I'm sure it'll be alright. Besides, I think it's well and about time I take these new legs out for a test drive. Let's see what Ponyville thinks of Rarity mark two."
Author's Note
Don't worry, the other construction sequences won't be nearly as complicated or involved. Well, some of them won't at least. Rarity's just a perfectionist.
By the way, I know there's already a canon image of a Rarity doll, but here's one I like better for this:
Also, points to those who can name references. Some are subtler than others. (Or at least more fanbase specific)
Better Living Through Golemancy
Pinkie hopped gaily along the street of Ponyville, ignoring the fact that she lacked legs, any means of contact-based propulsion, and that her current relationship with gravity was akin to that of a distant cousin; they kept aware of each other but didn't really interact except on occasion.
Despite this, she still somehow managed to bounce and hop along the way as if everything was perfectly fine.
The streets were empty as she made her way to Sugar Cube Corner; not even the Cakes would be up at this hour. Well, Pumpkin and Pound might be, but their relationship with sleep was, unfortunately for their parents, rather similar to Pinkie's relationship with gravity.
In the pre-dawn hours, Pinkie's home and place of employment looked a little gloomy. Without lights to show off the vibrant paint and intricate architectural details, it looked rather less like a house made of cake and more like a normal house with a severe case of arthritis that could collapse at any moment.
But Pinkie did not concern herself with such things; there was baking to be done! But first, she had to get inside.
Unlike her friends, Pinkie was more familiar with moving in ways that the normal equine body was not meant to and had thus taken much more naturally to her ghostly form. After all, flying is easy if you already know how to swim. Even then, the door presented a difficulty.
"Hmmm..." she pondered, "What to do, what to do. Can't go under it." True, the bottom of the door was flush with the floor. "Can't go over it." As was the top.
She grinned. "Gotta go through it!" Luckily, the door was designed to swing open in three parts, which left a thin gap in the middle. Pinkie leaned in and pressed her face to the gap. The worn old wood resisted her, but she continued pushing as she began to slide between the cracks.
Like the world's strangest noodle press, her lips poked out into the cafe's interior, squished into a strange triangle. The rest of her muzzle soon appeared, followed by her eyes, ears, and mane. The moment all of her head was through, it popped back to its normal shape.
"Heeeeeres's Pinkie!" she giggled, before suddenly shushing herself as she heard movement from upstairs. "Whoops! Gotta be sneaky and quiet. Don't wanna wake anypony up. Ninja mode, activate!"
Her head dropped to the floor as the rest of her body passed through the cracks in a thin stream of smoke. She slithered along the floor like a python that had started to eat a pony, then given up with it got to the head. From shadow to shadow she moved, which was easier than it sounded since the room was mostly shadow anyway, but it was still an important step for proper ninja-ing.
Only when she reached the kitchen in the back room did she let her body snap back into shape. She continued floating from there into the catering kitchen; a secondary room reserved for when they had extra large orders to fill, or when Pinkie felt the need to experiment while the main kitchen was in use. She'd be safe to make noise here. The Cake's had had the room magically soundproofed after one-too-many of her Midnight Experimental Baking Parties.
She tapped the light switch, having easily figured out how to manipulate things without physical hooves, and let the room be cast in a soft yellow glow. Surprisingly, she was not alone.
"Hiya Gummy!" she cheered to the baby alligator on the counter. "Were you waiting for me to come home? Aw, that's so sweet of you!"
Gummy licked his eye impassively.
"Oh don't I know it," she laughed as she did a mid-air flip, "I'm so wispy and floaty." She sailed in to give her pet a hug only to have her hooves pass right through him. Pinkie frowned. Gummy blinked. "Huh. Sure takes a lot of focus to touch stuff. Or maybe it's just cause you're alive that you're harder to touch." She brightened. "But I can fix that!"
Curling her tail like a spring, she tightened, released, and sproinged in a perfect arc to the high shelf where the heavy duty cookbooks were kept. In mid-flight, she gave the book on the end just enough of a push that it lost its balance and followed her to the floor. It landed with enough of a thud to garner a dust cloud of finely ground flour and sugar particles that had, until then, peacefully resided between the floor tiles.
Once again, Pinkie thanked the silencing charms built into the walls.
The encyclopedia-like cookbook had fallen open to a page somewhere in the middle. Pinkie began quickly rifling through them, finding the pages much easier to affect than Gummy.
"Alright Assistant Chef Gummy," she said, "Here's where we are. The girls and I took down the bad guy but got all exploded too. Twilight can make us new bodies, but it'll take a while. Probably because she has to note every little step and write a research paper on it just in case. So until then, I need something to move around in so I can keep baking cakes and hosting parties and doing all those important little things that keep everypony happy and smiling. You got all that?"
Recently promoted Assistant Chef Gummy blinked.
Pinkie turned back to her cookbook, which she had finally flipped past the extensive pudding section and entered fudge territory. "Now, I think Twilight said I needed Styxian fudge to make the best golem, but I don't know that recipe so let's see what Mr. Croquebouche's-Complete-Compendium-of-Confections has to say.
Her hoof scrolled down the page, past standard fudge, strawberry fudge, and striped fudge. It continued going until it hit superb fudge at the bottom of the page. She checked again, in case she had missed it. But despite a second search, there was no Styxian fudge recipe to be found.
"Aw, that's disappointing... and I was looking forward to trying a new recipe too," Pinkie muttered before clapping her hooves and brightening again. "Well, you know what they say: When life doesn't give you lemons, make a milkshake instead!"
She began flipping through the book's pages once more, abandoning the use of her hooves and letting a few strands of ghostly mane do the work. It was just as easy and much faster to boot.
"If it's going to last a week then I'll need a recipe with a long shelf life. Something good and solid too that'll hold my weight." She continued to flip, faster and faster. "Something I can decorate and make pink, no, pink ." In an instant, the pages came to a screeching halt on a page that landed between the cake and cookie section. She blinked as she reread the page's title and a wide smile grew on her face. "Oh, that'll be perfect . And this mane trick is pretty handy too. I wonder how far I can take it?"
Pinkie's face scrunched as she concentrated, focusing everything she had on this new goal. Many ponies, especially those visiting from out of town, thought of Pinkie as being somewhat dim. A bright and happy mare yes, but without much complicated going on upstairs. This was not true. Pinkie Pie was, in fact, remarkably clever. She was just always thinking about so many things at once, that sometimes her mouth and even her body couldn't keep up with her brain. When she put her mind to something; the pink mare could accomplish wonders. And now those troublesome physical limitations had been removed.
It happened slowly. Like an ethereal octopus awakening from its hibernation, ghostly tendrils separated from her mane and began to twist and spread out across the room. Some grabbed bowls and trays from the cupboards. Others began to switch on the ovens. A few lifted up a floor tile and made their way down a tunnel, returning moments later with industrial-sized bags of flour and sugar. One strand in particular weaved it's way back to the main shop floor where it scrawled a quick message on the daily specials display board.
Morning Mr./Mrs. Cake! it read, Got back late and didn't want to wake you or the foals up. Working on a big project in the catering kitchen. Special rush job. Don't worry, I'm using my own stock of base ingredients from the party cave! May need to borrow some spices though. Pop in to say hiya when you get up!
A few hesitant strands made their way to the back of the kitchen where they fumbled with a matchbox as they tried to light Grandfather's pilot light.
'Grandfather' was an ancient oven that filled the entire back wall of the auxiliary kitchen. Made of tough red brick rather than metal, it was as strong and sturdy as the day it was built. In fact, up until the birth of their son Carrot, it had been the most treasured possession of Bundt Cake and Sugar Cube. It could produce miraculous results, but as a drawback it usually needed multiple ponies to operate. Someone had to be on the bellows at all times.
Pinkie hmphed in dissatisfaction. This was going to be trickier than she thought. While she could manipulate her new mane tendrils easily enough, she still couldn't see what she was doing at each station. She could feel, kinda sorta, but there just weren't enough eyes to go around. For a moment, her mind wandered back to that one time with the mirror pool...
"No. Nope. Nooooooooosiree." Pinkie chided herself, "Don't even think about it. It was way more trouble than it was worth, and who even knows what might happen with me like this." Still, this was going to be a big job and she couldn't help but think of how many hooves made light work. "Though I wouldn't turn down some help." As some of her thoughts still lingered on the Pool, others started to wander off. It wasn't very long at all after that Pinkie felt a small hoof patting her shoulder in a comforting manner.
She looked up, wondering who it could be and how they were managing to touch her so solidly. Much to her surprise, it was herself. Or rather, a miniature Pinkie who had formed at the end of one of her mane tendrils.
She blinked. "That'll work." She offered a hoof to the tiny mare. "Hiya tiny Pinkie."
"I-ah!" Tiny Pinkie shook the larger hoof as best she could with both teeny hooves.
A grin split the larger mare's face. "Oh you are just too cute! I could eat you right up! Omnomnomnom!"
The little mare giggled and Pinkie Prime felt the sensation come down the link through their mane.
"You know, I think we should invite a few more friends to this baking party. Whaddya say Pinksqueak?"
"Oiyo!" came the cheerful reply.
With a burst of joyful energy, a blue pulse travelled the length of Pinkie's body from the wisp of her tail up and across the network of manipulated mane. As the energy reached their tips, another quarter-sized pinkie popped into existence on the end of each tendril, their tails forming the connection to Pinkie's main body. Aside from being smaller, their only visible difference from the original Pinkie was that they lacked the vibrant blue glow where her eyes would have been. They waved to each other as Pinkie inspected them encouragingly.
"Oh yeah, now we're cooking! Alright teams, gather up!" The puppet Pinkies hopped smartly into equal lines and threw a coordinated salute. A sergeant's helmet formed out of the little bit of Pinkie's mane that hadn't yet been co-opted into a ghostly tether. "We've got a big order to fill so let's all do our best, okay!"
Small Pinkies cheered in soft wordless mewls.
"Alright, first team: Icing and fondant station. Second team, secondary cake. Third team, go mare the bellows; we need Grandfather good and hot. Team four, you're freelance; help the other teams as needed. Teams five and six, you're with me making the main dough. Pinkies, roll out!"
As the Pinkies spread out across the kitchen the air began to hum and thrum with magical energy, producing a ghostly, but surprisingly catchy and upbeat tune.
Ripping open a burlap sack of flour, Pinkie dumped its entire contents into the industrial mixer, and then another one as well. Cooking team five formed a conveyor belt to the refrigerator from which they unloaded pounds of butter and countless dozens of eggs. Team six hit up the pantry and purloined a king's ransom in cinnamon, ginger, and other spices. Keeping an eye on her smaller compatriots, Pinkie added a pinch of salt and another of baking powder for every pair of eggs that entered the rapidly filling mixer.
In other sections of the room, the other teams were hard at work as well. The bellows team had found a steady rhythm, and were were bouncing up and down like giggling yo-yos. The icing team too was beginning to gather their ingredients, pinching a few eggs and boxes of powdered sugar off the chain of transport.
Meanwhile, the dough team was making excellent progress. The mixer was ago, blending together the dry ingredients as Pinkie slowly added nearly a gallon of molasses and a whole sand castle's worth of brown sugar. With quickening pace, the disparate ingredients blended and incorporated themselves into a thick brown paste. Even now before baking it gave off a scent that filled the room with sweet, spicy goodness.
When it was done, Pinkie (as well as her assisting teams) carefully carried the whole mixing bowl into the walk-in freezer to let it cool.
Team two was hard at work mixing their own set of batter. Though they were working in a more normal quantity, it still was a group effort. One mini-Pinkie could hold a wooden mixing spoon, but it was like a spear on her tiny frame. Half the team carried over more eggs and delicately removed the yolks. Several more members held a large mixing bowl steady, while a lone Pinkie sat atop an eggbeater which she pedaled like a unicycle. With swift teamwork (and swifter pedaling), she beat the eggs into fluffy white peaks.
The icing team had scoured the depths of the pantry and returned victorious with a bowl of dragon fruits, which they were now juicing and adding to their simple mixture of egg whites and sugar.
Everything was chugging along smoothly. Pinkie mentally juggled the simple actions of her helpers and the sensations they sent back while doing all the intricate work personally. The icing was progressing steadily, the body batter was chilling, and the mane batter was nearly mixed.
And then all work suddenly halted as a soft cough heralded the arrival of Mr. Cake.
His mane was disheveled and his eyes carried heavy bags. Clearly it had been a difficult night for the twins, and the bone-dry mug he held in his hoof indicated that he had yet to find any relief. His under-caffeinated brain churned through what he was seeing at the speed of molasses.
Pinkie was back. And was baking. A lot. Also she was grey. And had apparently become some sort of recursive gorgon-pony. Huh. Hopefully she wouldn't turn him to stone. That would make getting coffee hard. Did recursive gorgon-ponies turn ponies to stone? He'd never bothered to think about it. Maybe it would turn him into a Pinkie instead. At least then he'd probably know where the reserve coffee beans are. Which was why he'd come in in the first place. Right. Coffee.
Unable to handle such abstract concepts at such low-power, Mr. Cake's brain firmly decided to outright dismiss the things his eyes were telling him in favor of a more acceptable worldview.
"Mornin' Pinkie." he greeted plainly, "Welcome home."
"Good morning Mr. Cake!" came the synchronized reply of the Pinkie platoon.
"You have a safe trip?"
She glanced at herselves spread about the room and shrugged. "Eh. More or less."
"Good, good." He nodded along blindly. "Say, do you know where the Missus keeps the emergency coffee beans?"
"Of course! Here, I'll get them for you!" He lifted his leg as a Pinkie smaller than one of his foals ran under and past him, returning mere moments later with a glass jar filled to the brim with small brown beans of salvation.
"Thank you." He took the jar from her and emptied it into his mug, taking a long sip as he crunched them expressionlessly between his teeth. He turned and left without another word.
Pinkie shrugged and returned to her baking.
The big blob of dark dough was done cooling, and the light airy batter was ready for baking. She sent a team each to deal with them. She could feel Grandfather getting hot. His tenders had worked relentlessly, jumping up and down on the bellows in perfect time. These were large pieces she needed to bake, and they had to be done all the way through lest her legs give out on her.
She took a hunk of thick clay-like dough from the chilled bowl and smacked it down on the floured table before her. And then she began to sculpt.
Strange shapes grew on the table as she worked her magic. Odd oblong pieces of dough bristling with tabs and slots. Some had rounded ball-like ends while others had truncated spherical voids. Complicated parts in some bizarre three-dimensional puzzle. Her helpers prepared new sections of dough, roughly parting them into the right sizes, but only the OverPinkie did the fine shaping and details, following a guide that only she could see.
And then, off into Grandfather's great, gaping mouth they went as flames roared in the back of his throat. The wrought iron door clanged shut behind them.
In a display of perfectly coordinated cooking, the timer on the modern stoves went off at just that moment. Three teams of Pinkies hopped into action, carefully transporting the comparatively enormous tray to their originator. Pinkie flipped over the over-sized mold and carefully ran a knife along the inner edge. Then, with a soft *pomf! *, out popped a perfect, fluffy Celestial food cake the size of a large foal.
Pinkie poked it with a spoon. It gave and gave, and continued to give until the spoon nearly protruded out the other side, and then sproinged back smoothly without so much as a blemish.
Juice from the dragon fruit had been added to the mix, dying the cake a lovely shade of pink.
"Looks good," Pinkie confirmed, "Now it just needs to be styled."
With meticulous control of her morphogenic field, Pinkie raised a very special and very expensive bakery tool. A length of razor-thin wire, braced on each end by a wooden handle. She clicked a button and the enchantment sprang to life. The wire began to move. It raced out of one handle and into the other, never lengthening, never losing tension. Tenderly, she touched it to a corner of the cake.
It passed through like the cake wasn't even there. The cut was so clean, it even took gravity a moment to realize that something had happened and that it needed to apply itself.
Pinkie grinned and raised it above her head. In a flash of light and a whirl of angled strikes, she sliced at the cake too many times to count. It held still for a moment before most of it suddenly fell off in bite-sized portions, perfect for topping ice cream with. What remained were two large pieces of cake, cut perfectly into the exact shape of her usual mane and tail.
She passed it off to her helpers who moved it to an empty table for the final assembly. She took a few minutes to clean up a little while her body pieces continued to bake. Not that cleaning took very long when you physically could not become fatigued and had a team to help.
A bell dinged, and the shrunken sous chefs raced to be the first in line to help. As the iron door was opened, the rich mellow scent of ginger saturated the air.
Everything was cooked to a perfect dark tan, not an ounce of char anywhere. Pinkie's minions brought the rapidly stiffening confections to her, where she used a file to clean up a few rough edges that had swollen or otherwise distorted in the heat.
And then she began to assemble them. Tab A fitted into Slot B, and Flange C twisted and locked into Hole D. Each connection was secured with a healthy glob of thick royal icing. Bracing supports interlocked and stacked layers fit into place like books on a shelf. Pinkie sang as she connected pieces together like a foal's block set.
"Oh the hoof bread's connected to the *Snap!* hock bread. The hock bread's connected to the *Scrrchk!* hip bread. The hip bread's connected to the *Pop!* pelvic bread. And that's how the leg is made bum bum bum..."
The hip joints did not actually make popping noises (the lubricating jelly around it silenced any noise), but Pinkie felt it was fitting, and added the sound effects herself.
In no time at all, the pony-sized jigsaw puzzle grew in shape and detail, quickly assuming familiar dimensions. A few things she changed as she worked. Hollowing out a limb here, or adding some surprise filler there. Whatever amusing changes came to mind in the heat of the creative moment. A thick coating of pink icing sealed everything in place and ensured that, if worst came to worst, she wouldn't find herself without a leg to stand on. Pinkie ran a damp towel across her creation, smoothing out imperfections and giving it a beautiful sheen. While it was still moist, she lightly ran a fine comb across the surface, giving it the barest fur-like texture. With a few carefully arranged pieces of fondant, she had her eyes and cutie mark back. The mane and tail, once glued on with more icing, completed the grand work.
It was stupendous. A true marvel of culinary engineering, the likes of which Equestria had never seen. Layers of decadent dragon fruit flavored royal icing surrounding a sturdy gingerbread skeleton (baked to holiday-quality perfection) and topped with a mane and tail of the lightest Celestial food cake. Putting the mouthwatering fragrance aside, you'd have to be close enough to take a bite before you could even realize it wasn't even a real pony.
Pinkie nodded, satisfied with her efforts. "Alright girls," she spoke to her aides, "Thanks for the help, but like the Buddhist zebra at the Manehattan hot-carrot-dog stand once said, it's time to make you one with everything. And I'm the everything."
Like a fishing line being reeled in, the many strands of animate mane began to retract, slowly merging back into the whole. The little Pinkies waved cheerfully to each other as they diminished. They were not sad. After all, they had never been separate beings to being with; only fragmented parts of a larger whole. As the last few strands returned to Pinkie's usual mane shape, she shook her head a little woozily. Suddenly having a few dozen slightly differing memories could do that to you.
Shaking it off, she turned around and squared up with her delicious double.
"Run, run, run as fast as a wink," Pinkie rhymed as she took a running leap into her completed golem.
*VWORP!*
Frosting lids blinked over fondant eyes above a growing grin. She struck a triumphant pose. "You can't catch me, I'm Ginger Pink!"
She paused and tapped her chin contemplatively. "Should that be The Ginger Pink? Ginger Pink pony , maybe? But then we'd lose the rhyme. Eh, it's a work in progress."
She spun on her heels (a feat made easier by a pair of giant jawbreakers she'd installed just for that purpose) and struck a few poses as she slowly rolled over to Gummy, who had not moved since she'd returned home.
"Whaddya think Gummy? Am I not the picture of pilotable pink pastry perfection or what?"
Gummy leaned forward, then overbalanced and fell into Pinkie's waiting arms.
"Aw, you big ol' sweetheart." Pinkie cooed, "C'mon and give your mommy an overdue hug."
She clutched him to her chest in a true bear hug, accompanied by a soft squishing noise. She pulled him away after a moment, confused. The tiny gator was covered in pink frosting, for which an equal amount was missing from Pinkie's chest and forelegs.
"Oops," she giggled, "Guess I should have let it set up first. That's okay though, I have plenty more where that came from!"
Better Living Through Golemancy
Fluttershy's home was much farther away than the others', but that just made her journey all the more easier on her mind. She could skirt the edge of town away from the chanced gaze of any early risers. Even on a normal day she would prefer the quieter side streets and outer paths over Ponyville's central thoroughfares, but especially today given her unusually attention-grabbing affliction.
As she floated along the path, she fretted over her animal friends. The pre-portioned food she had set out before leaving had almost certainly run out by now. And though it wasn't as if they couldn't fend for themselves for a few days, many had become somewhat docile and overly reliant on her. Even if worst had come to worst, Angel and Harry could hopefully keep every creature in line. Angel was smart and Harry knew to follow the bunny's example and was big enough to encourage the smaller yet more unruly animal friends to follow the 'friends, not food' rule.
By this point, she had crossed the threshold of her property line and was fast approaching the bridge. In a moment, she was at her door. She glanced at the horizon. Still just before dawn. How convenient that she'd returned perfectly at feeding time, right when both her nocturnal friends would be ready for dinner and her diurnal friends would be waking up for breakfast.
Fluttershy did not attempt to force her door open. Nor did she try to pass through it, pass between it, or find a way around. Fluttershy, being Fluttershy, knocked politely. The door was opened by an irritated-looking rabbit holding a thimble of coffee and wearing a bathrobe clearly designed for a larger animal. He blearily rubbed the sleep from his eyes as he strained to focus his vision on what pony was so inconsiderate as to come over when his Mistress wasn't even home.
"Good Morning, Angel." Fluttershy greeted softly.
Angel's eyes widened as recognition of sound dawned, and then widened further as his rousing mind quickly took in her wisp-like state. He took a step back, torn between worry and alarm, which Fluttershy found she could interpret even more easily than usual.
"It's alright! It's only me." She laid a hoof on her chest, only for it to go clean through. "Well, most of me. But I'm fine! There's no reason to be afraid." She pressed forward as Angel backed further into the house, soon leading her inside as well. She was so focused on Angel that it came as a slight shock when she looked up to find herself in the center of her living room, surrounded by eyes. She may not have been a spirit in the strictest sense, but the distinction was essentially meaningless, and animals were sensitive to such things. And it made them uneasy.
She cowered, collapsing in on herself under the scrutinizing gaze of the animals she was used to looking at her so warmly. It was the same look they gave new animals, or worse, the look some of them gave smaller Everfree monsters that had wandered into the garden. The feeling of tears welled in her eyes, though her gaseous body held no liquid. They didn't know her. Maybe because she had no scent? Or maybe their eyes saw her differently now. Regardless, she was a stranger to her animal friends. Even if her new body did come in a week, could she persist that long in a home where she was unknown and unloved?
Angel Bunny stopped his retreat. Something wasn't right. The Everfree spirit which had gotten inside his Mistress's home was not acting like a usual invader. A lot less shrieking and moaning, for one thing. There was some wailing, yes, but it was quiet, and really more like a soft whimpering when you really listened. In fact, it sounded an awful lot like Fluttershy's 'there's-too-many-scary-ponies-looking-at-me' whimper. He squinted and looked closer. It had said something before, hadn't it? But the shock of seeing an Everfree creature on the doorstep had blanked it from his mind. But spirits had no language... so what was this then? He took a tentative step forward, his coffee thimble abruptly co-opted as a shield. The more he looked at the spirit, the more it seemed... familiar. Beneath hazy shapes that composed its form, there was a strange blue light. It felt.. warm, and familiar. So very familiar. The edges became more distinct as he focused, as through his concentrated effort physically gave it more solidity. It seemed to be a pony, or pony-shaped at the very least. There were the legs, curled up under it, and the tail, wrapped around and clutched in the forelegs like a foal's comfort blanket. Then that bit must be the mane. Funny, it almost looked a lot like hers . And if that was the mane, then the face would have to be somewhere about...
Oh.
Oh crumbs.
Angel Bunny rushed to Fluttershy's side, finally realizing his horrible mistake. He flailed, trying and failing to make contact to give her the critical physical comfort that she so desperately needed. The others were growing restless behind him, he could hear it. They hadn't realized it yet! And to the uninformed observer, his poor attempts at a hug might be misinterpreted as some kind of attack or combat!
He chittered harshly at the animals that had started to approach menacingly from behind Fluttershy, ready to defend her home from "uninvited guests". They stopped in their tracks. Fluttershy heard him as well and looked up. Though she had no tears, her eyes quivered as though they'd tried their best to conjure some up.
"Angel?" she asked through a sniffle.
He smiled as warmly and apologetically as he could and chittered back softly.
"Oh, Angel!" she gasped as she swept him up in a hug. Apparently she could still touch and hold him just fine. "You do know me!"
He made small comforting noises as she spun about the room clutching him close to her chest. He made motions to the others that he was alright and that everything was fine. They relaxed, some hesitantly, but all accepted the ruling of the de facto Alpha-when-Fluttershy-is-away. He took a deep breath and internalized her energy. It was there, buried under layers of spellwork that felt like the nosy purple pony. The same kind and comforting feeling that he had known since bunhood.
She was different, but it was her . And she was home .
"And so that's what happened." Fluttershy concluded as she poured the last bag of feed into the appropriate bowl. It had taken some time for her to learn to move things without a body, but her story was long and there was plenty of food to practice with. By the end, she was able to lift a whole bag of kibble; something she could barely do with a physical body. The animals had listened intently throughout; once Angel had calmed them down and assured them that Fluttershy was who she said she was.
Fluttershy sighed. "So now I'm stuck like this for a while. Until Twilight can fix things. I know she said I could make a temporary body, but I'm not a very crafty mare."
Angel nodded. This was well known among the animals. While Fluttershy was a very caring pony, and a decently talented artist, making things just wasn't her strong suit.
"On the other hoof," she continued, "This would be a fine reason to just stay inside for a few days. 'Sorry I can't come out, I'm just a little bit living-impaired at the moment.' That could work, right?"
Angel gave her a stern glare and she sighed again. "Oh... I thought you might say that. And you're right. I can't go hiding away in the shadows again just because I'm a little different and might attract a few stares. I might have some clay in the basement still, so I guess I could give body-building a chance. It can't be that hard right?"
A few animals cringed as they remembered the sad results of her previous ill-advised foray into the world of pottery. Discord had liked it though, and said he couldn't have done a better job himself.
As she floated downstairs to her basement, murmuring ideas to herself, Angel turned to face the rest of the household.
He chittered at them, asking if they all realized what needed to be done.
They replied uncertainly, some mentioning food or sleep, while a couple of wise guys gave snarky remarks. Angel mentally noted them for later.
He shook his head and corrected them. No, if the Mistress was in trouble, then it was their job to help. After everything she did for them, building her a new body was the least they could do in return. At least to spare her the fate of having to live as one of her clay abominations.
A fox, Fanny, yipped in reply. But none of them knew anything about making bodies. Except for the natural way, obviously. What were they supposed to use?
Unlike most of the others, thanks to the weekly book club, Angel did have some limited knowledge of golems. Or at least a passing memory of reading a sensationalized adventure novel where they had played a minor role. Not much, but it was a starting point.
Angel shrugged. Bits of her old body. Obviously. Ponies shed as much as any other large mammal, and plenty of the animals gathered around had used bits of her mane and fur to line their dens and nests. All they had to do was collect it up and put it back together.
The animals around him began to nod in agreement. Most were not quite as bright as Angel and respected his authority and ideas. Plus a lot of them also felt that it was high time that they paid back their benefactor and landlady, even if it was just returning things that had technically been hers to begin with.
The smaller creatures began to head out, rodents and birds mostly, to gather what they could while larger animals stayed behind to discuss what they could contribute. Angel soon had an idea for them to spitball over. While hair and fur were all well and good, they would still need something stiff and strong for support
Then Jerry the mouse, having returned quickly with a bundle of fur, had a question. Did it have to be just Fluttershy's fur? Because while that made up a portion of his stocks, he had plenty more that came from other ponies who visited and the other animals as well.
Angel Bunny thought for a moment, then allowed it. Fur is fur after all. And besides, his Mistress would probably even more appreciate something that had parts of all of them in it; seeing as she tended to tend to them with almost motherly affection at times.
That sparked ideas in the others. If the floor was opened to "any old body parts", then every creature had something they could contribute. They prowled, scampered, or slithered back to their various holes, dens, and nests, eager to get the best bits they had on hoof (or claw or paw) to please the mare who had done so much for them. Even Harry the Bear, the self-acknowledged slowest of the household, lumbered off to the forest with a clear goal in mind.
Angel stayed behind. Someone was going to have to coordinate things when everyone started bringing their tributes back. But that was not to say he did nothing while waiting. Pursing his lips, he made several short buzzing noises. Soon, a few spiders answered his call and crawled out of the woodwork. He spoke to them again in the language of the insects and they scattered to deliver his messages. It was time to call in a few favors.
Angel Bunny took in the bounty that lay before him. He had put out the call and it had been answered in force. Even beyond the animals that called the cottage and its gardens their home, creatures had come from the nearby forests and meadows to present their tributes before heading back to their lives. Simple thanks for some kindness done in the past.
With a little mental clipboard, he took inventory of the haul.
Most immediate and obvious was the large pile of hair and fur. Much of it was yellow and pink, having been sourced from Fluttershy herself, but the remaining portion of the pile was not insignificant. There were decent portions of sky blue, white, and brown, castoffs from her most frequent visitors, as well as smaller bundles in all manner of colors and textures from either ponies that visited in passing or other animals. Angel had tasked the butterflies with sorting it out; their keen eye for color and tiny precise legs making them perfect for the job.
Next most obvious was the pile of feathers. There was no organization to these, as they varied across the color spectrum and from the small feathers of finches to the beyond-average-pony size flight feathers of hawks.
Beyond that was a mishmash of random bits and pieces; a pile which was slowly being diminished as parts were removed and added to the growing structure in the middle of Fluttershy's living room.
Harry the Bear had, surprisingly, brought back one of the most unexpectedly useful contributions: fish bones. Knowing how seeing them could upset Fluttershy, he had always made sure to discard the remains of his meals in a secret spot deep in the forest. And now they were back. Enough skinny fish bones to construct a pony skeleton out of. Which, coincidentally, was exactly what the more nimble-fingered animals were trying to do.
The trickiest part was finding a way to secure the tiny bones together into larger bone-composites. They had been using spider silk so far, but supplies were limited. It was the current major bottleneck of their operation.
Suddenly, a buzzing sound filled the air. At Angel's direction, someone opened a window, allowing a swarm of bees to come in. One bee, noticeably larger and fatter than the rest, landed on Angel's paw. It gave a short bow, which he returned. The Queen and the Alpha having acknowledged each other, the animals in the room let out a soft breath. The bees were not a threat.
The pair of leaders spoke softly in the bee's language. It was rare for her to leave her hive, let alone with the entire Swarm, but an errant spider on her doorstep had reminded her of an old debt owed to the Caretaker and the bunny who acted as her liaison. Aid begets aid, and the Queen pledged to supply as much wax as was needed for the Caretaker. Angel smiled. Now things could get going.
Bone connected to waxy bone, quickly building a lightweight rib-cage as sturdy as any pegasus'. The reptiles finished their work in another corner of the room and presented the result of their combined efforts. A foreleg. To be accurate, it was more of a scaled forearm and claw, but built to roughly pony dimensions. Old layers of shed skin had been wrapped around and around a fish bone core, layer after layer until the appropriate thickness was reached. The final outer layer was a spiral pattern of scales, clearly belonging to several distinct species of snake.
An Emperor Bullfrog, and an enormous member of his species at that, offered his own hind leg. That is to say, he ripped it off right in front of everyone and placed it in the paws of the builders. Angel started to protest in alarm but stopped when within seconds, a new leg grew to full size from the wound of the old one. He shrugged off the oddities of a foreign magical species and continued instructing the builders.
Others made their own contributions in smaller ways. Tilly the turtle offered her grandmother's old shell for a skull, as it was just the right size. An envoy of crabs from the artificial saltwater pond donated two old bleached-white shells for eyes, as well as two smaller azure sand dollars for irises. The porcupine family offered their old quills to be used as bracing material or however else they could be most useful.
In a hundred small ways, each member of the animal community donated something to the cause. Parts and pieces were stitched, glued, or weaved in place as securely as they allowed.
When they ran out of parts, the group stepped back to survey their work.
It wasn't pretty.
The head was perfect. There had been enough mane hairs to rebuilt the mane fully (likewise with the tail), and the shell had been a perfect fit. With a good deal of molded beeswax, even at a distance, it was recognizable as Fluttershy.
The body was another matter.
While the ribs and supports were firm and strong, there wasn't enough material to skin it. The fur hadn't even been added yet since there was no skin to attach it to. And no one had a clear enough idea for the left hind leg or right foreleg. It was a half-finished mess.
It looked like all their efforts and hard work might have been in vain after all.
And then a young beaver asked a question. Since animal parts had run out, could the gaps be filled with plants instead?
Angel hesitated. His knowledge of golems was already stretched thin. But it was all living material, right? Trees were just a really slow type of animal. The others waited for his go ahead, eager to keep trying but deferring to his authority. With a confidence that wasn't entirely genuine, he agreed to the idea.
And thus started the second exodus for parts, though this trip had a more focused goal in mind. Angel specifically sent the beavers to go through the woodpile. Being the apex predator of trees, he knew they'd be able to find the best possible piece or pieces for a leg.
The harvest was just as successful as the hunt had been. Animals returned with whippy willow branches that became interweaved to form a barrel. Tree sap and sticky fungus assisted the beeswax in holding everything together.
And then the beavers struck gold. Somehow, against all odds, a juvenile timberwolf leg had been buried near the bottom of the firewood pile. It was old and weathered to strokable smoothness, with the enchantment long since dispelled, but the joints still fluidly articulated. It became the new foreleg. The remaining hind leg they sculpted from pure beeswax around wooden bones. Though not as strong as the others, they sculpted it to be the most pony-like of the lot.
With the barrel and legs completed, Angel began instructing the insects in application of the fur. The butterflies had done a fine job; all the strands had been sorted by color which made everyone else's job far easier. They started with yellow, of course. With multiple teams of bugs working at once, irregular patches of butter colored fur grew on their golem simultaneously, some patches joining up while others remained isolated. When that ran out, groups used whichever pile of material was closest to continue. Between the yellow sections more fur slowly appeared, and mottled blobs the colors of Fluttershy's friends created Equestria's first calico pony. They even managed to replicate her cutie mark, though a disagreement stemming from how different animals see color led to them to using brown and white instead of pink and blue.
When all was done, they took a step back to admire their work.
Now it was done. With the barrel filled in and furred, as well as the incluson of all four legs, it finally looked like a proper creature. A strange one yes, but not all that out of place given the strange hybrids that lurked in the Everfree.
It seemed they had finished just in time too, as the sound of a soft voice carried up the stairs.
The animals rushed to their places, blocking their creation from view so they could do a grand unveiling.
Fluttershy reached the ground floor with a dejected look on her face. "Well, I suppose that went about as well as I should have expected." She glanced at the gathered animals. "If any creature needs a pile of misshapen terracotta lumps, feel free."
Angel Bunny hopped forward and patted her leg comfortingly, or did as close as he could in any case. Fluttershy smiled. "Thank you Angel, I did need a bit of cheering up. Though I still just don't know what I'm supposed to do now. Maybe I could pay somepony to make something for me..."
Finally, she noticed how all her animal friends were clustered together around something, blocking it from her view. She cocked her head. "Have you all been doing something up here? There was a lot of noise earlier, but I didn't want to say anything."
Angel smiled proudly as he hopped to the front of the gathered animals. With a noise that almost sounded like a magician's 'Da dada dah!' the animals parted like a fuzzy curtain, revealing their creation in it's full glory.
"Oh!" Fluttershy squeaked in alarm. "I'm so sorry Miss, I didn't know we had a visitor." She flew off to the kitchen before Angel could stop her. She returned quickly, a tray of tea and sandwiches in her ghostly embrace. "I was downstairs and not paying attention, were you waiting long?"
Angel smacked himself in the forehead. At least it was convincing. In the meantime, Fluttershy had slowed and was looking at their 'unexpected guest' with eyes less clouded. "Wait... are you...? Please excuse me, but are you maybe... not real?"
It didn't answer. A bird landed in it's mane.
"Is that..." Fluttershy's eyes widened as she finally started to put two and two together, "Is that me ?"
Angel made a noise that loosely translated as "more or less".
She came closer and looked her doppelganger over. "This is...it's amazing! Did you all make this?" The crowd replied with cheerful yips, chirrups, and squeaks. Fluttershy continued looking it over, running an airy hoof across it's face. "It's so lifelike." Her gaze moved to the more animalistic parts of the legs and torso. "You used parts of yourselves?" Again they confirmed with various happy noises. "That's so sweet..." She continued to marvel until her gaze turned to the very obviously fresh frog leg.
"Mr. Hoppington!" she chided, her voice suddenly stern. The bullfrog in question half hopped, half was pushed to the front of the group. She wagged a hoof at him. "Do you want to explain this?"
He croaked morosely.
"Just because Discord gave you 'Unlimited Frog Legs' does not mean you should abuse that ability. It's bad for your mental health."
He ribbited regretfully, and the mare broke into a soft smile. "But thank you all the same."
She turned to face the group and held back a sniffle, "Thank you, all of you."
Fluttershy was not the only one whose eyes threatened to water. More than a few animals were getting a little emotional.
She sniffed and pulled herself together, her ghostly form gaining some degree of opaqueness for a moment. "So, how do I use it then?"
Everyone turned to Angel, the 'expert', to query his 'advanced knowledge'.
He shrugged. This was way beyond his paygrade.
"Okay..." Fulttershy rounded it carefully. "Well... it's pony shaped. I'm pony shaped. Maybe I can just, ah... step in. Like a diving suit."
She looked around for confirmation. The animals nodded. It was a good idea as any.
Lining herself up as best she could, Fluttershy hovered alongside her construct. She hesitated for a moment as a bundle of nerves caught in her throat, but she swallowed them back and steeled her will. With the softest motion, she slid sideways into her duplicate.
There were a few moments of disconnect as she felt her whole self at once pass through the material, lining up closely but not perfectly. It was just starting to get unsettling when suddenly...
*VWORP!*
Fluttershy blinked. Or tried to. She seemed to be somewhat lacking in the eyelid department. Which was arguably still an improvement over lacking physical eyes altogether. A faint grinding noise echoed through her skull as she looked around. Her blue sand-dollar irises skittered across her eyes like bits on a table with a foal moving a magnet beneath.
Her vision was crisp and clear, surprisingly so, as she took in her animal friends. They looked on in wonder as the statue that they had built came to life.
She gave an experimental step. She could feel through her new limbs, though the level of sensation varied between them. The closest thing she could compare it to would be if she was wearing one thick woolen sock, two thin silk ones, and one slightly squishy insulated rubber sock. The flipper on her frog leg was a strange new sensation in itself. She tried another step. The balance was a bit odd, but not bad, all things considered.
And then she opened her wings.
Considering how little Fluttershy flew, even around her own home, many of her animal friends had never seen her full wingspan. This led to them getting a few minor details wrong.
Her wings were enormous. Not fully alicorn sized, but she'd do well in a look-alike contest (her other limbs being another matter altogether). But the colors blew the size out of the water. It seemed as though every bird in the forest had donated a few feathers, and they were all displayed in stunning glory. They shone in the morning light in a cascade of colors that put Rainbow Dash's mane to shame. While Dash's mane had well divided bands of color, Fluttershy's wings had colors that blended and meshed like an actual rainbow, where it was hard to tell where one color properly ended and the next began.
The feathers on the edge were the largest. Long primaries donated by hawks and kites and other hunters which gleamed pristinely and gave an all-encompassing brown and black border to the prismatic melody within.
She closed them again, lest she continue staring for the rest of time. She had no words great enough to express her thanks to her animal friends. She doubted any existed. So she did the only thing she could. Something she'd been wanting to do ever since she got home.
She knelt down and opened her forelimbs for a hug.
And her ragtag pack piled in.
Author's Note
This and the last chapter were originally supposed to be a single one with a break in the middle, but they both got so long I split them up. Plus doing so let me make another fun chapter title.
Better Living Through Golemancy
Author's Note
Merry Chri- ...oh.oh .
Well, didn't quite make my self-imposed deadline (*cough*christmas*cough* ), but better late than never! Updates will be... generally slow, but hopefully not as slow as lately. My new job offers a lot less free time to write than my last one did.
But I shall prevail!
If She Only Had A Brain
The road to Sweet Apple Acres was long and dark, but not to Applejack. Having walked the path near every day of her life, she knew it like the back of her hoof. Every turn and bend, every rock and dip, every rain-dug gully and cart wheel rut. She could walk the whole trail from Ponyville to her front door blindfolded, and actually had on one occasion in order to prove a point.
Not that it really mattered right now. Anything in her way today could easily be floated over, around, or, if need be, through. Not to mention how the glowing orbs that passed for her eyes illuminated the road ahead in a hazy green glow. And even as her path was straight and set, she found her mind began to wander.
She wasn't particularly worried about building herself a golem. True, there was something Twilight had said about choosing materials that they had a personal connection with which had concerned her at first, but she knew every piece and part of the farm as well as she knew herself, so she had no worries about finding a compatible material.
No, what worried Applejack now was a factor that would make the task much more difficult for herself than for the others. While they were all returning to empty homes (or at least sleeping relatives), that would not be the case for her. Though early in the morning for most ponies, this was prime working hours for the Apple clan.
Granny Smith will have gotten up first in the wee early hours when the nightclubs in Canterlot had only just shut down. By now, she'd have cooked everypony a gut-busting breakfast, checked that her still had encountered no problems overnight, done some darning, and half a dozen other chores.
Big Mac will have been up for a few hours, wolfed his breakfast, and headed out to start bucking the trees. Probably the North orchard, given the season, assuming nothing schedule wrecking had happen while Applejack had been away.
Given it was a weekend, Applebloom probably had been allow to sleep in a bit, but even with that in mind Applejack reasoned that the filly just as likely should have been up and starting her chores at least an hour ago.
But regardless of how long they'd been up, it didn't change the fact that she was very likely going to have to explain her current situation several times over, all while avoiding scaring anyone or making them cry. Death was... a tricky subject among her household.
Speaking of family, at some point during her musings Applejack had been to hear a rhythmic thumping noise. A noise so familiar, she hadn't even acknowledged it until she was practically on top of it. And as she crested the hill, the source came into view.
The tempo-keeping baseline of Sweet Apple Acres: Big Mac bucking trees.
She hesitated before approaching. Would it be better to try and slip on by, leaving her brother none the wiser to her condition, face the music and make herself known? She sucked in air through her teeth, not that she had teeth, nor lungs, nor a need to breathe, but the gesture felt right and made her feel a more normal.
She would tell him. Openness and honesty was always the best policy and would likely save her some hassle in the long run if she tried to keep it a secret. Seeing no sense it putting it off further, Applejack approached her elder brother, during which she tried to make her actions as obvious and noisy as possible (a generally futile effort) so she wouldn't startle him.
When she got to his side, he still had not noticed her. Frustrated at her inability to be obvious she stomped on a twig. Much to her surprise, it actually broke and Big Mac whirled around at the sudden noise. His pupils shrank and his sweat seemed to freeze at the unholy sight before him. Applejack scuffed a hoof through the ground as she came to the abrupt realization that she hadn't thought to figure out how to handle this conversation.
"Howdy Big Mac," she tried with a wave that accidentally clipped through her hat. "Ah'm home."
Her brother stared back, wide-eyed and wordless.
"Okay, yer not panicking and that's good." Applejack said soothingly and started to place a comforting hoof on his shoulder before he shied away and she thought better of it. "It's really me, Applejack. Ah'm alright. Things just... went a mite south on the trip and Ah ended up in right more pieces than a body ought to be."
"Ahuh."
"But don't worry! Twilight says she can fix it. She's got a magic... Uh..." Ghostly gears spun uselessly in her brain for a moment before she shrugged and gave up. "A magic something-or-other that should put me right as rain."
Silence fell between them. Neither moved nor spoke as ghostly glowing eyes met narrowed living ones. After a long moment, Big Mac nodded, turned, and went back to his bucking.
It was so anticlimactic, it took Applejack another few seconds to process. That was it? A nod, and right back to work? Frankly, she was a little disappointed. Even from her iconically laconic brother she'd expected something . Shock? Grief? Not that she wanted him to feel bad, but still, a little display of emotion might have been nice. Just to validate that her death held some weight.
Could it be disbelief? Was that it? Had her brother, unable to cope with the loss of his sister, chosen to just ignore and not believe in such a grim circumstance? Not that she blamed him. The idea of her being a ghost was, honestly, pretty unbelievable.
"Uh, it is really me, ya know? You ain't dreamin' or seein' things. It's me. Yer sister. A spooky ghost."
"Ah heard ya," he adjusted a basket and bucked again.
Applejack frowned. "Well you sure are takin' this mighty well, aincha?"
He stopped and turned to meet her gaze. "You're here. Y'seem fine, mostly. Ya'll've come back a lot worse before."
Applejack took a moment to consider that before shrugging and smiling. There had never been any need to have been worried; Apples were made of sterner stuff than that. "Well, can't argue with that Ah suppose. Ah'm headin' back to the house to let Granny and Applebloom know. Holler if you need me. Ah've got to find somethin' to make me a body out of till Twilight can fix mine."
"Check the barn," Big Mac commented as she started to leave.
Applejack dipped her hat in thanks and continued her way to the main house.
After finding her worries with her first family member unfounded, Applejack was almost excited to present herself to her grandmother. Not to be unfilial, but the mare was old . She'd dealt with death countless times and probably wouldn't even bat an eye at her granddaughter's early ghost.
What Applejack did not expect was for her sweet, beloved grandmother to level a pitchfork at her the moment she reached the porch.
"So, it's come to this then," the old mare said levelly. "You come to take me away, Pear? The Pale Mare tired of getting whupped so she sent you instead to convince me to go? Well I'll tell you the same thing I always tell her; I ain't leavin'! There's life in these old bones yet an' I got too much left to do! I'll fight ya if I have to, Pear. I ain't ready to go but I'm more than ready to rumble. Come on, let's go, put em up!"
"Granny, what in Tartarus are you on about?"
"Mind yer language, Applejack," Granny Smith chided reflexively before she froze as the implication of her words dawned on her. "Applejack? "
"Yes'm," the ghost nodded, "Who's this 'Pear' you thought Ah was?"
"Never you mind." Granny Smith snapped before immediately changing the subject. "So... Yer dead then?"
"Nnnn... Well yes and no," she wavered, unsure how to explain the magical process that even she didn't understand to a mare who thought a unicorn using anything beyond levitation was intentionally showing off. "But it's close enough. "
The older mare snorted and tossed away the pitchfork as she settled back into her porch-side rocker. "Feh, smells like alicorn shenanigans."
"Well... yeah," Applejack admitted. "But it weren't Twilight's fault and she's promised to patch me up quick as she can."
The elderly mare shook her head. "That friend of yours has more smarts than sense. What she needs is a good stallion to tie her down, keep her grounded. You make sure she knows yer brother is still on the market."
Applejack winced at her grandmother's bluntness, thankful at least that they were alone. "Er, Granny, Ah'm pretty sure Big Mac already has a mare he's mighty sweet on."
"An until they get hitched, he's fair game," Granny retorted, "He could do worse than a princess. Even if she is the Princess of book-learnin' and headology."
"Ahuh. Well," Applejack's eyes darted around, exceedingly uncomfortable with the subject of her brother's love life. Luckily, inspiration struck in the form of the the barn Big Mac had recommended for building supplies. "Anyhow, Ah still plan to pull my weight around the farm. Just have to go make a body first."
"You do that." Applejack began to float away, but her granny had one last comment. "An keep yer eyes peeled fer Applebloom. I sent that filly off to feed the chickens durn near an hour ago and ain't seen hide ner hair of her since!"
The big double doors of the barn were unlocked and partially open, much to Applejack's relief. She hadn't been looking forward to figuring out what she'd have to do otherwise.
Like most barns, this one was primarily storage for things that were too big and ungainly to fit in the house or too numerous or weather-sensitive to store in the sheds. Effectively the junk drawer, taken to new heights. Thus, it was a veritable banquet of potential golem building materials. From overflow crops to the ill-fated remains of failed cutie mark crusades, there was little that could not be found in the barn, if one only had the time to look.
However, given she still had chores to do (and a lunch date with the girls after), time was not something Applejack had a considerable abundance of. The farm mare considered her options, as she did with most things, on a scale of practicality and ease of use.
The first, and most obvious, option was a barrel of apples. Very small, tart, and more than a little under-ripe. The result of an unexpected cold snap thanks to the nearby Everfree. They were no good for eating, but could make a nice vinegar. They certainly wouldn't go amiss if she were to repurpose them. Applejack tried to picture what such an apple golem might look like... and quickly banished the image from her imagination as a cold shudder passed through her. It was far, far too similar to her first encounter with Discord. She had no desire to revisit the memory of how it had taken him only a few minutes to break her of her most closely held principles. Besides, Twilight had instructed her to make something discreet, and a shambling pile of loose apples was probably not the best way to go about doing that.
In another part of the barn there was an upper loft filled with straw. Well aged and dry, it made excellent filler for whenever a mattress or seat cushion needed restuffing. She could probably make a decent golem out of that. It'd be lightweight, easy to move in, and with all the small fibers she could probably make it look decently like fur. When viewed from a distance. Even though it was the wrong color. Still, not a bad option.
There was also a pile of sticks tossed against a far wall. Old branches and roots, mostly. Ones too small for the log pile and too big for kindling but perfect for whittling into handles and hat racks and crochet hooks. They too might make a good golem. A lot sturdier than the straw, for sure, if at the cost of looking a lot less discreet and a lot more pony-made.
To her right by the door sat a pile of bricks. Probably leftovers from a repair job or possibly a failed venture for masonry cutie marks. They were certainly the most traditional golem material available, seeing how they were clay, in a sense. And bricks would make for the sturdiest golem. But, under the other hoof, the bricks were not without problems. For one thing, there was their rigid shape. Could she break them into smaller pieces? Or would she have to settle for a very blocky, cubic golem? That sounded difficult to move in. Not to mention very conspicuous, even moreso than the sticks.
But then again reconsidering the sticks, a golem made from those would undoubtedly bear an uncanny likeness to a timberwolf. Which, again, would be very conspicuous. Not to even bring up the potential panic she could cause when going into town.
And so Applejack turned back to the straw as she reevaluated her options. All in all, it wasn't a disagreeable option. And besides, even if the result turned out poorly, there was no reason she couldn't abandon the form and try again with something else.
Her mind made up, she headed for the straw.
The ladder provided a brief obstacle before she remembered that flying was now an option available to her. With a small burst of willpower, the ground fell away as she began to rise.
Applejack stared intently at the straw. Now that she was there, she realized she had really no idea how to start. Moving objects with sheer willpower was hard enough, let alone trying to build anything complex. As she gazed into the straw, studying it, scrutinizing it, willing it to reveal its secrets, she noticed something beginning to change. It was as though the straw was glowing, though without any light. Like the memory of a sensation, the lingering feeling the moment after an embrace has ended. She leaned in, focusing on the feeling. It was warm too. She took a step forward. Another one. Ano-
*VWORP!!*
And without so much as a warning, she found herself suddenly pulled deeper in. The straw was... warm. Surprisingly so. Then again, maybe it had been silly to assume what possessing straw felt like. But beyond that, all sensations felt muted. Though she could feel things now, so she assumed something must have worked.
Putting aside her pride at this minor success, Applejack set to tackle the next and bigger issue. Being just a big ol' pile of straw was not going to help things. She needed something more compact and pony-shaped. She tried to take a step forward and found some of the straw moving with her. It felt rather like walking through through seaweed, how it clung and held for a moment before breaking off or coming with her. A few more steps and she was out of the pile... aside from the part of the pile that was now her. Rather than a giant pile, she had become a roughly pony-sized pile of straw. She even had a vague sense of limbs, random and messy though they were.
She lifted what felt like a foreleg and a messy column of straw moved with her. Once she figured out where each limb was, she made an effort to try and get herself in a more equine shape. Applejack quickly found that modelling with the straw was surprisingly easy. If she pushed in an overextending strand or brushed a patch flat, the straw stayed where she put it. Working slowly but with the patience borne of years spent getting plants to line up in neat coordinated rows, she soon found herself with a pair of passable forelegs.
Her hind legs came next. Though trickier in design, her tree-bucker's instincts made it easy to tell if the shape was beginning to go wrong. The longer she worked, the easier the work became and the more naturally the straw flowed with her intent. When one leg began to buckle under the weight of her torso, Applejack got creative. She gathered stout roots from the wood scrap pile and added them to her legs, fixing them in the center to act as bracing bones. When she found her legs still too light to properly grip the ground, she buried a brick in the end of each hoof. After all, no one ever said she had to use only one material. Or so she hoped. Some, if not most, of Twilight's golem-making lecture had gone in one ear and out the other, though not for lack of trying on the apple farmer's part.
By the time she got to her torso, sculpting the straw was almost second nature. She sent a bristling wave down her body, something like a shiver if she were flesh, and all the bristly parts of her barrel smoothed themselves out into proper coordinated lines. She could still feel a dense disorganized mass at her core, but the insides didn't really matter so she let it alone.
All that was left was her head, a task for which she needed a mirror.
Applejack descended from the loft slowly, carefully putting a little weight at a time on each hoof before committing to the step. Her legs started wobbly and unfamiliar, but grew steadier with every step as the farm mare found her balance and new center of gravity. By the time she reached the ground floor, she could almost trot naturally.
Luckily for her, the barn did have a mirror. An old gaudy thing from before Applejack had been born, relegated to the barn after an errant cutie mark crusade had left a large crack in it. Broken through it was, it still reflected just fine, and was stored away just in case any member of the extended family ever had a need of a big gaudy mirror (and also happened to be friends with a pony who wielded a mirror repairing cutie mark).
Applejack approached the dusty old thing with a small degree of trepidation. Though she could feel her shape, in truth she couldn't say for certain how she looked. What would she in the mirror? A mess? A pony? A monster?
When she reached it, she took a deep breath, her chest expanding reflexively even in absence of air intake. In one swift motion she swiped away the dust that shielded her from her reflection.
She froze... and then laughed.
"Well ain't that a sight?" she managed between chuckles. "Ah look like some poor scarecrow whose head got blown off by a pegasus banking too low."
It was indeed an accurate comparison. While her body was a remarkably good replica of the one she had lost, everything above the shoulders was a chaotic mass of orange-yellow fibers without a hint of form or shape.
"Let's see what we can do about that then."
She focused her will on one of the most outstanding strands and slowly, like a retreating snake, it began to pull itself back into the central mass. She tried another, then two, then three at once. As her skill increased, more and more pieces of straw began to move, and soon her entire head resembled a writhing gordian knot made from live snakes, weaving and twisting and flexing themselves into shape. In time, order emerged from the chaos. Strands of straw lined up into an arced and supportive neck. Finer strands twisted and knotted into a familiar manestyle. Straw pulled back to form a pair of gaping cavities for eyes and a deeper one for a mouth. Like an explosion in reverse, the disorder sucked into itself, leaving behind a familiar face.
"Much better," Applejack nodded as she finished and the last strands tucked themselves away. "Though Ah do still look more scarecrow than pony. Actually... that gives me an idea."
Leaving the mirror, Applejack sought out an old trunk in which the family stored seasonal clothing. After some digging, she returned to the mirror with her prize. It was an old lump of sackcloth, patched with scrap fabric of various colors, which had for many years served as her de facto Nightmare Night costume. With a bit of wriggling, she pulled it on. Now she truly did look like a scarecrow, which was fitting since, prior to its life as a costume, the sackcloth had indeed been stuffed with straw to keep birds out of a field until one fateful day where it had become intimately acquainted with Rainbow Dash at high speed.
Applejack took in her new form and grinned, which was slightly unsettling with her hollow eyes. She grabbed a pair of apples from the nearby barrel and popped them into the sockets. With a little tightening of the surrounding straw, they fit perfectly. The stems even moved where she looked, like pointy pupils. Running with the idea, she grabbed six more and nestled them into her flanks, thus restoring her cutie mark.
"Not too shabby, if Ah do say so myself." She gave her new legs a stretch. They flexed with strength and easy, the individual strands rustling slightly as them scritched and scratched against each other.
"As fun as that was, Ah reckon Ah'd best be gettin' to work. Chores ain't gonna get done if nobody's around to do them. Heh, no body . Ah'll remember that one for Rainbow Dash."
She grabbed her working stetson from it's rack by the door and flipped it onto her head with a practiced ease. It was a tad smaller than her adventuring stetson (which had been unfortunately lost alongside her body), with a wider brim better suited to blocking the sun throughout a hard day's labor. She'd have to replace the adventuring stetson eventually, once the travelling stetson salespony was back in town.
She was just about to leave when something caught her eye. The hook on which her hat so often spent its night on. She'd seen it so many times, day after day, that she'd almost stopped recognizing it as anything other than just a hook. But it was much more than that.
Tacked to the wall at hat-hanging height was a horseshoe. A pair really. Her father's horseshoes. Too small tor Big Mac and too big for anyone else, they'd been put to use as best they could.
A strange idea came to her then. It was a small thing, a trivial act. And yet it also could mean so much. With a tug, she unhooked the pair from their hanging nail and held them up. The metal was old, but in good condition, and the edge had been polished to a shine but the daily rubbing of her hat against the metal.
Applejack could not say exactly why she did what she did next. There was just something about the shoes, something that felt right.
She lifted a back hoof and stared into the fibrous frog, curious but cautious. With a bit of willpower, the strands of straw shifted and loosened, easily widening the base of her leg. She set the shoes down and stepped onto them. Bits of fetlock-like straw strands curled around the shoes' edges, tightening down and securing them in place. When she lifted her leg, the shoes came right along with it. A perfect fit.
With a smile on her face and a bit more spring to her step, Applejack left the barn behind to break in her new body with some refreshing morning chores.
Better Living Through Golemancy
Recycled Origami and Upcycled Scales
Twilight Sparkle had to admit. Her home was stunningly beautiful. Each dewy leaf shone like silver, catching the moonlight its tender grasp and holding it for the barest of moments before letting it go. At night, the added architecture faded away to only the barest hints of substance, a suggestion to those with curious minds to ponder at what secrets those shadowy shapes could mean.
It was like something out of a foal's picture book. She thought this was rather fitting, in something of an ironic sense, that such a book-like place would house so many books within itself.
Though she had only lived there for a short time (compared to the Sparkle Manor or her tower on CSGU campus) it had already become her immediate thought tagged to the word 'home' and she doubted she could design a more perfect place if she tried.
The only problem... was that she was currently locked outside of it.
"Come on now, there's no reason to be difficult," she reasoned. The Treebrary did not respond to her plea. "I'm not asking for much. Just... unlock yourself. Or reveal a secret passage. Please? I'll redo the varnish on the stairwells like I've been promising."
The latch clicked and the door swung open before her. Just as she was about to congratulate herself on a job well done the door finished opening to reveal Spike's grinning ghost standing on the other side.
"Hey! I nearly had it!" she pouted.
"Twilight. You were bargaining. With a tree . I don't think being outside your own head for so long is good for you."
Stifling her embarrassment, she followed him inside where the dragon had already lit a few candles.
"How did you get inside?"
"Flew up to the balcony while you were checking every inch of the door for a crack big enough to slide through. I left Owlicious's bird door unlatched so he could come and go while we were out."
Flying. Of course. Despite having had the option for some time now, Twilight still often found her thinking stuck frustratingly two-dimensionally. Out of the dozens of methods she'd approached to try and enter her house, 'up' had simply never occurred to her as an option. "Good thinking Spike. Who knows how long we could have been stuck out there."
"Only until it stopped being funny," he said with a cheeky smile. Twilight mustered enough solidity to give him a playful shove.
"Being like this has been..." He searched for the right word, twisting his arm in a way that would have pulverized any mortal joint. "Not exactly fun. Interesting, I guess. But I think I'd like to be solid again."
"Me too," she agreed. "Guess I'd better get started. You want to help make your golem?"
"In a bit. I wanna check on something upstairs first."
She nodded. "Suit yourself. I'll be in the basement with the Styxian mud when you're ready."
Much to Twilight's relief, the large gap at the bottom of the basement door that always let the cold air up was finally good for something! She slid easily through the gap, popping out in the lower stairwell without an ounce of pageantry or presentation. She was on a mission, after all, and besides, who was there to see it?
Gathering up her spirit, she collected enough ghostly presence to flip the wall switch. Lights flickered one one-by-one, illuminating the basement as she knew it; one-quarter scientific equipment and lab, three-quarters miscellaneous storage.
While the lab area was clean and clear, as any good lab should be, the storage left something to be desired. Boxes and trunks and cloth-covered furniture competed for space in a silent struggle between Twilight's possessions from Canterlot and those belonging to the previous owners stretching back through who knows how many librarians.
Twilight frowned at the mess. "Great. Now how am I supposed to find the Styxian mud in all this mess?"
Twilight took a step closer, straining her neck to try and see above the clutter. As she did, she slowly rose up until she hovered above it all.
"Oh," she remarked, "Right. Flying. That makes things easy."
Having conquered the third dimension of movement, Twilight set to search the room from above. She crossed off the farthest reaches immediately. Some of that rubbish was so old, she half-considered if the tree had been grown around it. Thankfully, most anything that belonged to her was stacked near the innermost edges which limited her search area considerably.
All seemed to be going swimmingly until she rounded a rather tall piece of covered furniture that formed a small alcove against the wall. It was there that she found monsters.
They were small, hideous things with squat fat bodies, long spindly arms, and gaping maws. Twilight shrieked and shot up into the roots above. She clung for dear life before she risked a glance back down at the gremlins.
They hadn't moved.
"Twilight?" Spike called from the top of the stairs. "I heard a scream. You okay?"
"I'm fine!" she called back as she returned to the floor. "Just got a little spooked."
"Remember, you're a ghost. You're basically invincible."
"Well, technically no ..." Twilight mused, but let it slide. She pulled back the blanket, revealing the creatures to the world.
"They're stone," she remarked, then went to poke one. It deformed a little even under her minimal pressure. "Mud?"
A worrisome thought flitted through her mind. That would be bad, yes, but also incredibly improbable.
Twilight then noticed a slightly smudged piece of paper tucked beneath one creature. With a little careful prying she pulled it free. Her eyes scanned the loopy script and when she was done, she let out a low groan.
"Spike!" she yelled, "I have good news and bad news."
"What's the good news?"
"I found the Styxian mud."
"That's great! And the bad?"
"The Crusaders used it all making pottery in a cutie marks attempt."
There was a brief pause before he replied. "Is it good pottery?"
Twilight suppressed a small smile. Spike always knew how to lighten to mood, no matter how grim. "Not good enough to wear around town for a week. I'll have to order more from Canterlot."
"How long will that take?"
"Too long. I doubt it'll arrive before the new bodies finish growing."
"What are we supposed to do until then?"
"We'll have to find a substitute.” It wasn't ideal, but better a poor temporary solution than putting off the whole project. “You start looking around up there for viable materials and I'll start down here."
"I'm way ahead of you!"
That was... concerning, but Twilight had bigger things to worry about. Such as finding a suitably thaumic-neutral material in a room filled with science and antiques.
Her gaze drifted through the room appraisingly. What had a low magical energy coefficient? What would provide good mobility? What could she stand to part with if it got damaged or destroyed as she wore it?
And then her eyes alighted on the pile .
It came to pass at some point or another in the life of every librarian where they encountered a book that could not be saved. A misbegotten novel that some pony dropped in the bathtub, or a reference tome cracked and crumbling from years of mistreatment. Books could always be repaired to an extent; pages dried, covers rebound, spines restitched, but there was always a breaking point. Eventually, the kindest thing to do was to buy a new copy (or in the case of some specialized mages, create a magical duplicate from scratch) and retire the old one from service.
As the sole librarian for a small yet remarkably accident-prone town, Twilight had quite a pile of such books in her basement. Though they had long since been marked 'Void' and replaced, she still could not bring herself to throw them out. A few she had tried to preserve by recycling them into bookmarks, but had found her crafting skills somewhat lacking. And so the pile sat, growing by a new volume every couple of weeks (faster if school was out), with no hope for the future save the junkyard or incinerator.
But now Twilight saw them in a new light. Not just as what they had been, but what they yet could be. Trees and wood were generally poor material to hold a spell due to their strong magic signatures and relative high akashic values, but books were different. The procedures and processes of manufacturing wood into paper left their inherent magic so jumbled that it essentially became white noise. Books were fantastic at holding enchantments, and what was she at the moment if not one very complex spell?
"It's crazy." She shook her head. "Plausible, but completely ridiculous. Even if I managed it I wouldn't be able to move. Well, unless I... hm... that could actually... no." Her ghostly essence began to pace out of instinct as concepts and diagrams drafted and scrapped themselves in her mind. "But wait, if I...oh. Oh, that could work. That could really do it."
She eyed the pile of books again. They seemed practically inviting now. "Use us!" she almost thought she could hear them plead. "Give us a purpose! Let us be useful again, if only one last time."
There were... risks, involved, of course. After all, who knew what odd traces of magic the books may have picked up over the course of their lives, let alone how that could impact her spell. But then again, no spell was ever truly free from risk. Even simple levitation could backfire if the caster lost focus.
Twilight took a deep breath. Or tried to. Even without lungs the gesture was still calming. Closing her eyes to trick her mind into forgetting that stacks of books were usually impassable, she stepped forward.
Despite her lost vision, she still knew the instant her forehoof passed into the books. She could feel every page, every layer, more clearly than she had ever felt with hooves or flesh. The crisp feeling of dry paper and vellum was transmuted to a cloud-like sensation. She was feeling a book from the inside ! Three more steps and she was fully inside. She could count every layer, thousands and thousands of them as they passed through her spirit, bisecting without pain. There was a strange warmth as well, not so much a feeling of touch, but more like if light itself could be touched and could invite one to touch it. She leaned into the sensation, a sense of rightness guiding her decisions, as her mind seemed to spiral inward deeper and deeper until suddenly-
*VWORP!*
Twilight blinked. Or tried to. Her eyes felt oddly grainy.
Wait, eyes? Felt? She could feel ?
The unicorn expanded her awareness and took in the familiar sensation of sensation. Touch, texture, how she had missed it so! Even if everything felt a little dry and rough.
She wondered if her proprioception was back yet and tried to focus on where her 'body' was in relation to itself to get a sense of her new shape.
She was... a pile of books.
Not exactly a pony, but it was a step in the right direction.
But a stationary pile of books wasn't going to be of much help to her friends. For that, some editing was in order. She felt around for where she reasoned her back hoof should be and found chapter three of Daring Do and the Jade Amulet . With barely a thought, the pages shifted and rifled. She prodded further as the scientist within her chomped at the bit to explore and document and push the boundaries of this new state of being. A flex here and a page folded. A shrug there and some stitching came undone. This was going to take time, but she was a quick learner.
Time passed, but she did not perceive it, lost in her world of words and pages and folds. The longer she worked, the more skilled she became as pages began to whirl and flap and bend around her. After what could have been either hours or minutes, the cacophony of rustling paper settled down. Two columns of books moved aside like a parting stage curtain and a very Twilight-like creature emerged into the basement proper.
Testing her weight on white and yellow hooves, she made a tentative foray into the world. However the moment she was clear, the unused books in the pile collapsed around the void she had left. Startled, Twilight yelped and leapt into the air. She descended slowly, her lightweight body drifting in a slow spiral as she fell.
"Well that's interesting." She angled her hooves to glide herself towards a tall standing mirror she'd never found room to put in the library. "Let's see how I turned out." She alighted easily on the ground, barely noticing the perfect landing as she was already absorbed in studying her temporary form. It was one thing to understand and feel it as she'd been crafting, but another entirely to see it from the outside.
Her body was made of paper. Countless pages of white and yellowed texts overlapping in a complex pattern of interlocking folds, creases, and pockets. A crop of purple and pink bookmarks recreated her mane and tail of a degree that was far from perfect, but was at least recognizable. Her cutie mark was, thankfully, spot on having been pulled from the covers of some old monogrammed notebooks.
She nodded, complex folds sliding across each other with the sound of turning pages. "Not bad. Not bad at all." She tried a few experimental stretches, finding her body surprisingly limber. "Better than I expected, even. I think I could get used to this. For a few days, at least."
Twilight's papery ears perked up at the sound of familiar footsteps clicking their way around upstairs.
"Sounds like Spike found himself something to use."
She made her way up the stairs, slowly getting used to walking with such a lighter frame. And then she encountered the door. Or, more specifically, the doorknob. "Hrm. Right. Can't use magic. That's going to get old fast."
With a little tricky folding, she managed to hook a hoof around the doorknob and twist it just enough to let the door swing free. She stepped into the library proper and was surprised to find sunlight streaming through the windows. How long had she been working?
"Finally done?" a voice asked to her right. "Geez, I thought you were going to spend all day down there."
Twilight turned and found, much to her surprise... Spike. A completely normal-looking dragon, munching on a bowl of gems.
"Spike?" she asked, just to be sure.
"That's me," he replied, thumbing to himself.
"What in Celestia’s name did you use to make a body that realistic?" Seriously, how had he done this? Was this some sort of dragon ability her books hadn't covered or was her assistant secretly some kind of genius sculptor?
He scratched his frills, which seemed stiffer than usual. "You remember that growth spurt I had a few weeks back?"
Twilight nodded. "I do, but I don't see what that has-" And then it hit her like a dictionary to the head. She flinched and recoiled away from him in disgust, her pages crumpling and crinkling. "Oh Spike that is disgusting !"
"No it's not!" he protested, "It's literally just me!"
It was obvious when she looked closer. His scales were dull and chipped in places and he almost seemed translucent where the light struck him just right. His frills lacked their usual flexibility and suck out stiffly.
And he never blinked.
"Still it's... ugh. Why did you even keep it?"
"I never had a molt that clean before. I thought maybe I could, y'know, stuff it or something. Maybe use it to pull some pranks."
"You wanted to stuff, no, taxidermize your own shed skin," Twilight said stiffly.
"Well yeah it's going to sound bad when you put it like that ."
The papercraft-icorn sighed and shook her head. It was still gross, but admittedly a very creative solution she would have never considered. "I'll give you points for cleverness. It's actually a rather ideal material since you don't risk any thaumic cross-contamination because it's already perfectly attuned to your magical signature.”
"Yeah, and check this out!"
He clenched his fists and hunched up his shoulders, a pose Twilight easily recognized as him revving up his fire breath. She took a few alarmed steps back and ducked behind the door.
"Spike! Careful! Paper body!"
But much to her surprise, no flames left his mouth. Rather, a small gout of green flame burst from the end of his tail where its tip was missing. He slowly rotated his body until he was practically sitting on his tail, then with a sudden surge of fire, he shot into the air! After a quick lap of the room he leveled off, hovering at about three times his normal height like some strange draconic genie.
"I can fly!"
"So you can," she marveled. "I guess this proves true Earnest Drake's theory about spirits and a dragon's Inner Fire."
He bobbed up and down like a buoy and something in his body jingled. "I can even store gems inside to use as ballast. Took me a while to find the right amount, but I had plenty of time."
Spike made another lap around the room, making Twilight flinch back as the flames got uncomfortably close. "Argh! Spike! Again, paper body."
He came in for a landing and turned around with an embarrassed expression. "Sorry, I wasn't thinking." He snapped his claws, which made a disturbingly hollow sound. "Hey, why don't you cast a fireproofing spell on yourself?"
"I can't." She tapped her paper horn. "No magic."
"Oh." Returning to his bowl of gems, he rummaged for a moment before producing a large, if slightly misshapen, amethyst. "How about this? It'd probably work for magic medium."
Twilight pushed it away. "It would, but it's probably for the best that the temptation is gone. It'd be really bad if I used too much magic in this form."
Spike nodded in understanding and tossed the gem into his mouth. It clattered as it landed on the others. Now that her initial disgust had passed, Twilight's scientific curiosity took the wheel. "How did you do the eyes? Shouldn't they be open holes?"
"They are." Spike opened his eyes and Twilight immediately wished he hadn't. She'd never thought about what a dragon looked like from the inside and regretted now having that knowledge. To her relief, Sike noticed her distress and shut them again. "I just floured my eyelids. I can see fine either open or shut, which is weird but, eh, what isn't today?"
"And the teeth?" She almost didn't want to know.
"Also mine." He opened his jaw like she was his dentist. If she were, she likely would have retired on the spot. Teeth should not come in so many varying sizes. "I've been saving them up in case I ever need an emergency army."
"Come again?"
"You know." He made a leading gesture. Twilight still didn't get it so he continued. "If you plant dragon's teeth in fertile soil they'll spring up into fully geared warriors. It's pretty common knowledge, Twilight."
Twilight was no expert on dragon biology, but having lived with one for the majority of her life, she felt she had a pretty good handle on what to expect. This did not make the cut. "And where did you hear this?"
Spike shrugged. "Shining Armor."
Now it clicked. Twilight vaguely remembered a foal's story her BBBFF used to read to her (and, at the time, infant Spike) where the hero had pulled such a trick. "Spike, that's just an old fairy tale."
"So was Nightmare Moon, and look how that turned out."
He had her there. Chuckling, Twilight decided that it was time to move on. She stretched her body and smoothed out a few crinkles. "You know, despite the lack of proper materials, I think we've done well for ourselves. I think these bodies should do us well."
He nodded, grimaced, then swapped the placement of two of his teeth. "Yeah, though I wonder why the Crusaders used our mud in the first place."
A faint patch of red ink relocated to Twilight's cheeks. "I may have told them that, in lieu of Twilight Time, they were free to use anything in the basement that wasn't scientific equipment or personal belongings. I can see how they thought a tub of grey mud was fine."
Outside, the town clock tower bell began to chime. Once, twice... the echoing bongs continued until eleven solid notes shook the air.
"Eleven already?" Twilight asked, "Is that right?"
"Yeah," Spike said, "You were down there working all morning. I checked in a few times, but I don't think you even noticed. What are you doing?"
As he answered, Twilight had begun to move about the room, collecting various books and placing them by the door. "Double-checking my biomancy references. I don't want to give any of the girls a botched body." She stared at a shelf for a long moment. "Where's Pinpoint Primary's Tenth Edition Illustrated Guide to Pegasi Wing Structure and Musculature ? It should be on this shelf."
"Primary's? I don't remember that one. You sure it's in your collection?"
"Yes. We brought it from Canterlot. I remember studying it for Princess Celestia's test on the magical mechanics of pegasi flight. Though I still wonder why she was so insistent I learn about that particular topic."
Spike snapped his claws. "Oh! Right, I remember it now." His expression dissolved into irritated bemusement. "Twi, that was a library book. You returned it when we moved."
She pulled out her head from between two volumes. "We did?"
"I did," he corrected. "You forgot, you were so stressed about the move."
"Alright. That's... a problem," she said with a heavy breath, "but not a terrible one. I'll just have to go to Canterot and get it."
"Do you really need that book? "
"Imagine what will happen if Rainbow Dash's wings end up even slightly subpar."
"Oh. Yeah, you need that book."
She glanced at the clock again and took a sharp breath. "This is going to be tight. I'll have to miss the lunch meet-up with the girls, so you make sure to go and make sure they all found something to work with. In the meantime, I'll prime the gestation tanks so they can start generating proto-bodies while I'm gone. Then I can take the one o'clock train to Canterlot. I'll get there by this evening, swing by the library before it closes, get the book, then catch the red-eye train back here." She blew out a puff of stress. "It's a good thing this body doesn't need to eat or sleep."
Twilight looked up as she felt a small claw on her shoulder. "Hey," Spike said with a smile smile. "There's nothing to worry about. We all know you'll have us back in our bodies in no time." He offered her a closed fist. "You got this."
She smiled, ever thankful for his unconditional support, and returned the hoofbump. "Thanks, Spike."
True, this was a crazy situation but that didn't mean it was out of control. Just a few days of making do, then everything would be back to normal like it never happened. The worst of it was past. So long as her friends used basic common sense, there'd be no way anything could go wrong.
Author's Note
Well... that took a while, didn't it? Sorry about that.
Better Living Through Golemancy
Failing to Not Make an Impact
Ponyville was, at it's best, a very weird place. It hadn't always been that way; the process was slow, gradual. One incident at a time the weirdness seemed to have integrated itself into the town like some kind of fungus or creeping vine. It was the kind of weirdness that the denizens could grow accustomed to—much like a frog sitting in slowly boiling water—until even extraordinary events became normal and mundane.
Explosions in the distance? Time to check the Crusader betting pool.
Rogue magical portals rending the sky? Better bar the windows and pull out the board games.
Rampaging monster climbing town hall? Must be a Tuesday.
It was a truly odd state of existence, one which would make for a fine focus of any number of magi-scientific papers. At least it would if the ponies who came to investigate didn't usually end up themselves becoming inured to the chaos and eventually moving in.
Which is all a very long-winded way of saying that the gossip in Ponyville was perhaps the juiciest and most outlandish anywhere in Equestria.
On the patio of a small café, near where the line between businesses and houses started to blur, a mare glanced up from her cup of more-sugar-than-coffee as something colorful tickled her peripheral vision.
"Whoa." She let her glasses slide down her muzzle as she took a second look. "Well there's something you don't see everyday." She elbowed her companion. "Hey Tavi." No response. "Tavi. Tavi!"
"Just a moment."
She did not relent. "Tavi. Yo. Tavi. Tavi. Ta-"
"Oh for the love of- what is it Vinyl?" The other mare finally glanced up, irritation coloring her expression. "What is so important it cannot wait five seconds until I finish this page of my novel?"
Vinyl grinned. "You owe me twenty bits."
"What? How so?"
She indicated her head across the street. Octavia squinted until she finally noticed the patchwork figure and her eyes shot wide.
"Good heavens! What is that ?"
"That..." The smugness dripping from her voice was thick as syrup. "is Fluttershy."
"What? No ."
"Yup." She popped her 'p', for extra smugness.
"Fluttershy? Certainly not."
"Get the crumpets out of your eyes and look closer."
Ignoring the jab, she did. The figure was strange, with an odd mishmash of body pats. But there was rather a lot of yellow fur on its barrel, and their mane was just the right color and length and there was something about how it cowered in on itself like-
"By Jove it is Fluttershy!"
"Told ya."
Octavia shook her head. "It's certainly strange, yes, but I fail to see how Fluttershy looking like... that means I suddenly owe you any bits."
Vinyl's grin failed to diminish. "Oh I bet you do, you just aren't putting the pieces together. You remember last Hearts and Hooves day? We made a few bets on which of our single friends might couple up by next year's...?"
"Vinyl just speak plainly. It's too early for guessing games."
"Fine." She rolled her eyes. "Spoilsport. I think she and Discord just made it official."
"What?!" Octavia had chosen a poor moment to take a sip of her tea, resulting in it being splattered over the adjacent table from the force of that casual bombshell. "Discord ? Since when were they an item?"
"Based on that," she gestured again to Fluttershy, "since now."
"...No. No I don't believe it. It's too impossible. She's probably just wearing a costume."
"Oh yeah?"
The pair watched as Fluttershy approached a wide puddle in the road. They watched as she appraised it, squatted down, squared up her haunches, and leapt with the full force of her frog leg, her massive wings flaring for just a moment to dazzle the street with their kaleidoscopic display. They continued to watch as she cleared not only the puddle, but the rest of the block as well.
Octavia could sense Vinyl's smirk without even looking. "Pretty good costume."
"Alright, fine. Perhaps there is something going on there."
Vinyl leaned back in her chair, balancing it precariously on two legs. "I always said she and Discord were more than just friends." She tapped her nose. "Mare's intuition."
Octavia scoffed. "Poppycock. You don't have enough 'mare's intuition' to guide you from one side of Rarity's shop to the other. You'd get lost midway through the formalwear and end up raiding her icebox."
"Hey, I resemble that remark!"
"Indeed you do."
"Do you think her new look was intentional or some kind of side effect?"
"What kind of thing would cause a side effect like that?"
Vinyl wiggled her eyebrows meaningfully.
"Oh. Oh! You mean they-"
"Can you think of another reason?"
"I presumed that was the chaos equivalent of a mare dyeing her mane as to not clash with her coltfriend's colors."
"Huh. Yeah, I guess that could be it. I figured she did some kinda crazy ritual to partake of his power and now she's his queen and some kind of junior chaos goddess."
Octavia let that thought sink in. She then made a mental note to stock up on birdseed. It wouldn't hurt to have the favor of the local animals, just in case.
"Either way, I wouldn't have thought a pony as self-conscious as Fluttershy would ever go as far as that."
"Eh, I can see it. Be honest, did Fluttershy ever look that comfortable as a pony? Besides," she took an intentionally long slurp of her drink, letting the sentence dangle, "when's the last time you saw her with a smile like that?"
That was true enough. Fluttershy was smiling. Widely, at that, despite being in town with the most spotlight-grabbing style possible. And yet she was smiling like she'd received some grand and wonderful gift.
Octavia found herself without a counterargument.
"I suppose you're right. Funny, I never would have imagined her and Discord. Or anypony and Discord, really. I would've put bits on her and Applejack though."
"Applejack? Really?"
"A farmer and a rancher. Of sorts. One's rugged determination complimenting the other's quiet temerity. It seemed a perfect match."
"Huh. I guess I can see that. Anyway," Vinyl stood up and let her chair clatter back onto all four legs. "Come on. Let's get going."
"Going? Where?"
"Gotta find Rose and her sisters. They gave me fifteen-to-one odds on Fluttercord panning out. Then another few visits to make after that."
"Just how many ponies did you make bets with?"
Vinyl flashed a devilish grin. "Let's just say I'll be taking you out to dinner tonight. One of those fancy places where they don't even let you in unless you're wearing clothes."
Octavia shook her head, a small smile on her face. Meanwhile he distant figure of Fluttershy made her way deeper into town, unaware of the ripples cast in her wake.
Of all the duties required of the Ponyville Volunteer Weather team, it was generally agreed that cloud busting was the worst. Other jobs were harder, certainly. There were no shortage of weather disasters when you lived right next door to Equestria's largest patch of wild weather. No, the problem with cloud busting was that it was boring .
Spot a cloud not on the day's roster. Approach it. Buck it into vapor. Repeat ad nauseum for however many wild clouds had decided to drift in from the Everfree overnight, which on a bad day could take hours.
It was a job usually given to the greenest members as busywork or, if she was available, Rainbow Dash, whose technical flying skills were so well honed that the task barely registered as an inconvenience for her. What took others hours she could do in minutes -- and somehow always a little faster every time.
However, Rainbow Dash was not available, so the task fell to Flitter, who out of all the Weather Team members minded it the least. She found the simple yet repetitive motions of cloud busting meditative. A simple way to work out the kinks in her muscles and square away her thoughts before getting on with her morning.
It helped that she had her own personal white noise machine.
"...and that made the other ladder fall down. So then Amber --you remember Amber. Amber Gaze, from that one party? She was the one with the necklace-- well anyways she was there too and she said I needed to go put the first one back up, but I was all 'How am I supposed to do that if I'm holding this one?'. Meanwhile Rivet's still trapped up there and yelling about --ooh look! A crested swallowtail. You don't usually see them about this early. Didn't there used to be a nest of those outside mom and dad's house? Maybe. It might not be one. I'd know if it sang something. They kinda sound like whippoorwills except for..."
Cloud Chaser was something of an acquired taste, like licorice, craft cider, or Pinkie Pie. Best handled in small doses until you got accustomed to it. As her fraternal twin (older by a whole minute), Flitter had a lifetime's worth of experience parsing her chatterbox monologues down to important information. The trick was to allot her only a quarter of her attention while letting the rest of the words slide way. Trying to take all of it in would only result in headache.
"...so anyway he totally misunderstood me and got really mad and I as like 'Well what do you want me to do about it?' and he was like 'Fix it!' and I was all 'That's what I called you for..."
She let the words wash over her as she busted another cloud, sound without meaning, like waves on a beach.
"...but in the end we ordered a new cake and it all worked out in the end. Which reminds me, did I ever finish that story about carrots the other day? So I'd just finished settling things with Notary when-- Oh hey, it's Rainbow Dash! Wow she got fat-- So he and I were on Cypress street-"
It was generally a bad idea to interrupt her mid-stream, but sometimes her comments came so far out of left field that they demanded immediate follow-ups. "Wait, what was that about Rainbow Dash?"
Cloud Chaser blinked and went silent for a second as she refocused. "Huh? Oh, she got fat. Down there, in the alley behind Quills & Sofas. See for yourself."
Flitter did see for herself, and for once her sister hadn't been exaggerating. It was definitely Rainbow Dash, recognizable even at a distance with her rare mane color that all but made her a walking 'notice me!' sign. It also didn't hurt that she was clearing wearing her Wonderbolt's flight suit. No one else in town was a member, and anyone who was enough of a fan to own a replica suit certainly wouldn't be wearing it out and about the town. Foals nonwithstanding, of course.
But what almost threw her was the most important point of Cloud Chaser's observation. Rainbow Dash, poster foal for personal fitness, was looking pretty out of shape. Her legs a little blobby and uneven, her neck scrunched weird. But the most obvious of all was her barrel. The stomach panels of her suit, usually hugging tight against her abs, were now visibly distended and lumpy. But it didn't look like fat. Flitter knew fat; her aunt hadn't been able to so much as lift herself off the ground in years. No, it wasn't distributed right for fat. If anything, it almost looked like...
"Oh Celestia's cankles ," she swore.
"I know right?" Cloud Chaser continued in a tone that clearly conveyed that she hadn't put it together yet. "No wonder she works out all the time if all it takes is one long weekend out of town to end up looking like that."
"No, you- she's- ugh." Flitter rolled her eyes. Sometimes her sister could be so oblivious. "She's not fat."
"Yes she is. Look."
"I did . That's not fat."
"Well what else could it be?"
"Stop for a minute and think. Why else would a mare look like she's put on weight?"
"I dunno. I guess maybe if they were-" Flitter could actually see the precise moment she got it. Cloud Chaser froze so fully she forgot to flap for a moment. She managed to drop nearly fifty feet before she recovered and zoomed back up, a wild smile on her face. "No way !"
Flitter shrugged. "It sure looks like it."
"But how? She's only been gone for like a week! Isn't it supposed to be, like, a few months before you can see anything?"
She shrugged again and bucked another cloud that had drifted into her strike zone. "It's Rainbow Dash. She does everything fast." There was probably more to it than that, but so much weird stuff happened around Rainbow Dash's little posse that it was a fool's errand to bother wondering about the details. If it came down to it, she'd probably accept 'A unicorn did it' as a solid explanation for basically anything. Her sister didn't even need that much.
Cloud Chaser nodded along in complete acceptance. "That makes sense. She wouldn't want something like that slowing her down for long." She sighed. "So I guess she's spoken for now. Probably one of the Wonderbolts. Soarin maybe? I think he might be gay though. Maybe one of the reserves?"
Flitter arched an eyebrow. "What, were you waiting for a chance?"
"Not really, but, y'know, she's Rainbow Dash . I'd give it a shot if the opportunity presented itself. But actually I did have some bits riding on her eventually getting together with Fluttershy."
"Fluttershy? Really?"
"Why does everypony always say that!?" Cloud Chaser demanded, throwing her hooves in the air. "You sound just like Roseluck. They're foalhood friends! It could happen!"
"If you say so." It really wasn't any business of hers how her sister chose to waste her money. Even if it was in gambling on something impossible. That's why she'd put her bits on a much safer investment; that of Fluttershy and Rarity getting together. A model and her designer was miles more plausible than foalhood friends, anyone could see it. Which was why she'd only been given three-to-one odds on it, but any small safe profit was better than a risky gamble in her book.
"So I guess we need to throw her a shower or something?" Cloud Chaser asked, "I've never really done this before."
"Won't Pinkie Pie have that covered?"
"I'd think so, yeah, but I haven't actually seen her around lately. I think she might be on a trip. I remember she was saying something a few weeks ago--It was before that thing with the ladders but after I bought that new dress. With the trim? I really should go back to that shop. See if I can find some matching ribbons..."
Flitter let herself tune out the noise as she detected the conversation receding back into one of her sister's tangent-filled spiels. Even if Pinkie was out, they could probably manage to host one surprise party without her. No doubt Amethyst Star would jump at the chance to organize one. And maybe she could take the opportunity to convince Rainbow Dash to stop trying to hide it with her uniform. The form-hugging material was making it more obvious than she would haven been without. Every pony she met on the street would probably be able to figure it out.
When she was just getting into the business, one of the most oft repeated warnings Roseluck received about running a food stand was how hard the morning prep-work would be. How she'd never get any sleep and come to fear waking up third only to tax season and irate customers.
But in the six years since she and her sisters had opened their stall, she still couldn't see what the big deal was.
Sure there was still perp work to be done; flowers tasted best freshly cut and the displays needed tasteful arranging to entice buyers, but beyond that all she really needed was to restock regularly and make sure the goods were bug-free.
Honestly she pitied the poor bakers that had to get up before the crack of dawn so all their wares would be hot and ready when the first ponies started to arrive with empty tummies. Not to mention the tragedy of having to throw away everything they didn't sell at the end of the day. Compared to that, flowers were way easier.
Admittedly a part of it was just good teamwork. With one sister running the till, one assembling orders—all their dishes were custom crafted on the spot, which was a very salesmare way of saying they combined the correct ratio of flower types together in a wrap—and the third taking care of certain other tasks and record-keeping, running the stand was a breeze.
It also wasn't exactly what one would call "profitable". She couldn't risk charging too much for something any pony could just go and get from the forest themselves if they had the time. Roseluck stayed in the red thanks to rarer breeds she and her sisters cultivated themselves, but not nearly enough for three mares to live on.
Which was fine because, despite what they said on their tax statements, the flower gig really wasn't their main source of income.
"Morning, Roseluck."
"Good morning Bookend, Flightsong. What'll it be today?"
"I'll take the daisy and azalea blend."
"Wildflower special for me."
"Really?"
"What?"
"Wildflowers again ?"
"It's my cheat week."
"Awfully long week. You're going to get fat."
"Pfft. Pegasi don't get fat ."
"Try telling that to Rarity when you suddenly need your good suit let out."
"Bookie, if I ever need a suit let out, it'll be because I'm getting too ripped for it to contain me. Check these pecs."
"I would if I could see through that rat's nest you call a chest fluff. And stop posing!"
"I'll just go ahead and pass your order on to the back. Shouldn't be but a minute. It'll be seven bits when it's ready." Roseluck gave the bickering stallions a genial smile and made for the curtained off back of the stand. Behind the curtain was a quieter world, soundscaped only by two mares counting under their breath. "Order up. One DZ mix and one leftovers." She cleared her throat, catching her sisters' attention. "And boost the BookSong score another fifteen points."
"Fifteen ?" Lily frowned as she set down her half-finished order of rose and crocus. "That's pretty outside the projections."
"You didn't see them. They're like an old married couple already."
"Your call." She turned to her other sister. "How does that affect the rankings?"
"Hold on. Let me recalculate." Daisy said as she turned, eyes already glazed over with internal math, to her Wall.
Daisy's Wall was a marvel to behold. A feat of engineering and scrapbooking ingenuity several years in the making. Conspiracy theorists and hardboiled noir detectives alike would gaze in slack jawed awe upon her work, overcome by feelings of impotent inadequacy. That is, if the mares ever allowed anyone outside their sisterhood to see it.
Photographs of dozens of ponies, most taken from clandestine angles, warred for space with pages of notes and scribbled calculations. Colored tacks like a field of wildflowers held everything in place, the lot of them webbed together with enough red string of fate to knit a whole winter ensemble. At the heart of the chaos, the eye of the storm of numbers and notes, sat a large framed chalkboard with a massive painted grid. Ponies names ran down two axes while pairs of numbers filled the intersection middle cells.
"Fifteen points in compatibility moves them to 4.5 to 1 for. BookQuill also drops by 1.7, WillowEnd by 0.3, and RiverSong by 3.3."
"Does anypony even have wagers on those?" Lily asked.
"Only one each. Two of Bookend's neighbors and also Flight's mother."
"All of which are practically guaranteed losses anyway," Roseluck added. Despite Flightsong's mother's insistence, River Rapids had practically no interest in her son. Her eye was firmly set on Fairy Circle, and they were such a perfect match that Roseluck would only accept fool's bets against them. But who was she to prevent a fool from parting with their bits? Somepony had to pay to keep the lights on. "Mark it down anyway. They're not exactly hot-ticket items."
Daisy nodded and took to the board to modify her odds.
"And the orders?"
"R&C is done," Lily said, passing it over the table. "Give me two minutes and I'll have the others."
Nodding, Roseluck took the order and returned to the public facing portion of their stand. "Pickup for number forty-three," she called.
As odd a pair of careers as it may have seemed, being both flower vendors and a bookies was surprisingly symbiotic. Ponies coming to sell gossip or place a bet could buy a few flowers as a pretense, and the rapid turnover of goods made it foals play to disguise illicit profits as as "custom orders", "consultancy fees", and "tips". The popularity of their flowers with even the non-gambling crowd let them keep a hoof on the pulse of the city, and the success of their data analysis and predictions on prospective couples helped them get a leg up on other wedding caterers.
Matchmaking was a skill that required a keen eye to spot the difference between good friendship and budding romance, the ability to read ponies at a glance, and a hefty knowledge of probabilities to appraise their chances. While no one had actually needed a matchmaker in over a generation, that hadn't stopped Granny Bouquet Toss from teaching her three granddaughters everything she knew. With a bit of ingenuity and modernization, Roseluck and her sisters had turned that knowledge into the most successful underground gambling ring east of Las Pegasus.
Bits collected and with no new customers waiting, Roseluck cast her gaze to the meandering crowd and settled in for a little bit of pony-watching. The peak of the midday rush had passed, but the plaza was still a wealth of information, open to anypony who desired to glean it.
Off to her left she could hear the sound of a friendly argument between Golden Harvest and Strawberry Surprise. Close friends, definitely, but nothing more than that. Golden was too focused on her career to date, and Strawberry preferred pegasi anyway.
Across the way, two ponies laughed over some joke she hadn't caught. Spice Rack and some out-of-town stallion. They looked platonic... for the moment. But if his body language was any indicator, she'd have to keep an eye on them.
And over near the fountain was...
"Huh."
Roseluck blinked and did a double take.
Her eyes had not deceived her and a second look showed as much as the first. There was a paper pony. A pony made of paper sprinting through the plaza like her tail was on fire. A costume? No, there was tightness to her movements, a quickness to her turns that flesh and blood was just too heavy to pull off. Even far away she could make out the thin strings of inky text that crisscrossed her body like someone's strange idea of a zebra. Her mane of thick purple strands flapped less like hair and more like ribbons on a kite. Funny, it almost reminded her of-
"Sorry!" it yelped as it crashed into and over Hayseed's wagon, knocking off a few loose watermelons. "I'll pay you back later! I promise! Just send the bill to the library!" Stumbling past a few more ponies with the grace of a windswept leaf, the figure vanished around a corner.
"...huh." Roseluck repeated, as the memory continued to fail to fit into any of her nice little mental compartments of pony behavior, and was eventually unceremoniously dumped into the junk drawer labeled 'Miscellaneous Ponyville Weirdness'.
"Order up, Rose!" came the siren song from behind the curtain. Following its call, she shook away the cobwebs from her thoughts and stepped back inside.
"The DZ and the mix?" she asked. Getting a nod, she grabbed the wrapped bundles on the counter. "I think we might need to adjust Twilight's odds."
Lily perked up an ear. "Oh? She's back from her trip?"
"And finally giving us something we can work with?" Daisy groused. Despite her local fame, or perhaps because of it, Twilight's relationship potential was a tough nut to crack. The mare seemed almost universally platonic, which of course had lead to a lot of speculative wagers with no pairing having a clear advantage. For someone who liked her calculated results clear and unambiguous, Twilight was something of a sore spot for her.
"Maybe." Roseluck pursed her lips in thought. "Still no sign of Twilight herself, but I think I just saw her daughter."
"What? Her daughter?! "
"Since when has that been a factor?!" Daisy cried as several pins popped off her wall and fell to the ground.
"I don't know," Roseluck admitted. "I didn't exactly flag the mare down and interview her. I know we used to joke about Twilight loving books more than ponies, but I swear if you asked an artist 'what would happen if Twilight and her favorite book had a kid' she'd give you a drawing of the pony I just saw run through the plaza."
Daisy's eyes went wide. "A book?! No way!"
"Way. Paper fur. Bookmark mane. But her face was the spitting image of Twilight's."
Neither noticed how Lily had frozen stock still.
"You're joking," Lily said. "That's impossible."
Roseluck shrugged. "You'd think so, but if anypony could find a way, you know it'd be Twilight, wouldn't it?"
Lily considered that for a moment before blowing out a noise halfway between a raspberry and a sigh. "Well that's just great ." She turned to her Wall with a forlorn expression. "This changes a lot. I'd going to have to redo so many calculations from scratch. A shame it came out of left field. And just when Fluttershy was starting to gain a lead on the others."
"Fluttershy? She was leading?"
"By a narrow margin, but yeah. I suppose we count this as a win for the asexual wagers." She chuckled. "I guess it's a good thing no on placed a bet on her being a literal bibliophile!" Roseluck giggled along with her.
Then they noticed Lily wasn't laughing. Her mouth opened and closed with a rigid hesitancy, but no sound came out.
"Lily? Talk to us. Use your words."
"...I thought it was a joke." Her voice was strange and distant, unsettlingly disconnected.
"What?"
"I thought she was just being funny..."
Dread welled in the pit of Roseluck's stomach. "You thought who was being funny?"
"Pinkie Pie. We laughed about it. About Twilight being more likely to marry a book than a pony." She turned her glassy thousand-league stare to Daisy. "I had one of your betting forms in my apron."
Daisy's face went a ghastly pale. "Lily... what odds did you give her?"
"I just... I just made some up. It was so ridiculous..."
"Lily!? What were the odds?!"
"...million to one."
A moment of incredulous silence passed as the information sank in.
"We're ruined! " Someone shrieked, though no one could have said who it was, and three mares collapsed in a dead faint.
Silence briefly reigned, though it was swiftly dethroned by the trill of a bell dinging from outside.
"Uh... are you okay in there?" Bookend asked, "Are our orders almost ready? We're kind of running late."
Author's Note
You know, I've now written chapters of this at three different jobs.
Better Living Through Golemancy
Twilight Sparkle and her friends were dead. There was no refuting that.
In a last ditch effort to halt the machinations of the wretched Plague King, Twilight overloaded her magic. Combining the primal magical forces within her with the power of the reforged Scepter of the Broken Moon, Twilight drew out the power which lay dormant in the bonds forged between her and her friends, and through sheer force of will, focused it into one final attack.
The resultant explosion wiped out not only the Plague King, but his altar, his throne room, his temple, and a large portion of the surrounding jungle. All that remained was a large smoking crater, and a distant rumble as the sound of the explosion echoed off the distant Akhal-Teke Mountains, but even that soon dissipated.
Silence reigned in the crater. Small wisps of smoke arose here and there, behaving like ephemeral headstones for wherever there had been some particularly dense cluster of organic material before the blast.
No birds or insects chirped. Even the wind stopped, as if in respect for the passing of the greatest heroes in Equestria's long history.
And then, like a parson sneezing in church, a voice broke the memorial silence.
"Oh dear... Well that certainly could have gone better."
One particular wisp of smoke stopped rising. It continued moving, but rather than head skyward like an ashen angel, it swirled and coiled about itself. The cluster of smoke grew in size rapidly, like a ball of yarn being wound up, and before too long a vaguely equinneous shape began to emerge. A head soon distinguished itself from a torso, as did a pair of forelegs. One long curling strand of smoke emerged from the head like a snake and coiffed itself in a perfect spiral. Two pinpricks of blue light shone from an unclear source from within the smoke, giving the feeling of a pair of eyes. Though any idea of a lower body remained wispy and ill-defined, it would be hard not to recognize the upper half of the form that had emerged.
The smoke-pony which could only be Rarity, Element of Generosity, rotated on the spot as she took in the large crater in which she found herself. She clicked her tongue in annoyance. "All those tapestries, gone. Not even a stich left to use as a reference." She shook her head. "Such a pity. Alas, I suppose I'll have to try and recreate those beautiful designs from memory."
"Ya mean the ones with all the pictures of ponies bein' sacrificed?" A twangy voice cut in.
Another plume of smoke began to solidify off to Rarity's left. Rather than coiling, the smoke gathered itself into a single mass which slowly began bulging out. Like a tree affected by a growth acceleration spell, bits of smoke began to push their way up and out, gaining definition as they did so. Two legs quickly formed, as did a head, followed by a wide flat area of smoke which promptly snapped into the shape of a classic Stetson. Two glowing green points peaked out from under the brim.
"I ain't no expert," Applejack continued, "But I don't rightly think ponies'll be linin' up to wear that."
Rarity sniffed haughtily, as she brushed aside a lock of mane with a hoof, either uncaring or unaware of how both hoof and mane passed through each other. "Well obviously I was going to work around those parts. Some parts were salvageable, such as those lovely geometric patterns around the border."
"How can you two talk fashion at a time like this?" Another voice joined the party.
This wisp of smoke shot from the ground like a geyser. Almost immediately, it changed direction on a hairpin turn and started moving level to the ground. The wisp shot across the crater like a badly angled firework, completing a rapid series of victory laps before returning to where Rarity and Applejack waited patiently. By the time it did, the smoke had already formed itself into a winged equine whose mane tips dissolved and reformed with every motion, and whose whole face was lit from inside by vibrant magenta lights.
"I assure you, Rainbow Dash," Rarity returned smoothly, "There is never a bad time to talk about fashion."
"Yeah yeah, whatever." Dash performed a couple of lazy backflips. "But who cares! We did it! We took down the Plague King and kicked his sorry flank all the way back to Tartarus!"
"Did he even have a flank?" Applejack mused, "As I recollect, he was more tentacle than anythin' else."
"Doesn't matter. Whatever he had, we busted it up! And you know what that means-"
"Post-Baddie-Celebration-Party!" Yet another voice chimed in with a small explosion of smoke.
Pinkie Pie didn't waste any time in fancy theatrics. One moment she wasn't there, then after a sudden puff oddly sweet smelling smoke, she was. Although, being composed of smoke, her normally bouncy hair did not behave quite how it usually did. Instead of springing and shaking with every movement, it tended to sway and shift as though she was underwater. Her bright blue eyes were alight with just as much joy and liveliness as ever, despite her less-than-alive condition.
Despite being composed of mostly hot air, Pinkie still somehow managed to hop across the scorched landscape as if everything was normal. On one particular hop, she chanced to pass right through another burst of smoke which erupted suddenly like a flame.
"Hey! Watch where you're going Pinkie!" Spike's voice called forth from the quickly recoalescing smoke.
"Sorry Spike!" she called back without ceasing her hopping.
He small dragon grumbled as his various bits reconnected themselves to the main mass of his body. A mirthful chuckle rose from behind, startling him.
"Oh Spike, you know how she can be at times. Let her have her fun. It seems we did succeed in our quest, after all."
Rather than rise from the ground, the smoke already airborne in the area began to collapse into a small area. Like a figure dissolving in reverse, the smoke quickly grew to the form of a unicorn mare with a pleased smile. Just as quickly however, her expression devolved into a critical analytical gaze as she surveyed the damage around her.
"Hmph. Seems as though that was a bit too much power after all. Spike, take a note: While interweaving the spell matrices did magnify the overall output as hypothesized, it would seem that the Scepter-"
"What do you expect me to take a note on?" he interrupted, "In case you haven't noticed, there's not exactly a stationary store around here."
"Ooh! I saw one!" Pinkie interjected, waving her hoof like a foal in class. "There was a cultist selling some in the temple gift shop by the entrance. Over... thereabouts." She waved her hoof in the general area to her left, which was filled with more crater and little else. "If we hurry, I bet we could take advantage of the fire sale they're sure to be having!"
Twilight snorted slightly at Pinkie's joke while Spike just rolled his eyes. "In any case," Twilight continued, "I suppose the point is somewhat moot. It's not like I can recreate the experiment anyway since we don't have the Scepter anymore."
"Um, excuse me?" A small voice piped up from behind the group of smoggy friends who had all been chatting quietly about cultist fashion, stationary, and/or partying. "But I think we may have a little bit of a problem."
The foggy form of Fluttershy rose up from the ground, where she'd apparently reformed in a dense, low-lying smoke-puddle. She hid slightly behind her mane, a completely futile effort since everyone could see straight through it. "I don't wan to cause a panic or anything but..." Her voice faltered as she struggled to find the words. She shook her head slightly in determination, swallowed her fears, and finally asked: "...I think we may be dead."
Silence once more reigned in the crater.
Just as before, Rarity was the first to break it.
"I do suppose we are." She passed one hoof through the other experimentally. "Or at least I certainly don't recall being quite this diaphanous before." She grimaced as a lock of mane fell in front of her eyes. "Or such a drab shade of gray."
"Iffn' we are, I'm surprised how well we're takin' it." Applejack said, also experimentally swishing her mane through her torso. "I expected I'd be more upset."
"Well I don't feel dead." Pinkie performed a series of cartwheels as if to prove a point, finishing up with a somersault that left her grasping her wispy lower half. "Though that would explain where my legs went."
Twilight chuckled, drawing everyone's attention to herself. "Don't worry girls, you're all fine. Well, technically yes, you are all dead. But you're also fine."
"Somethin' tells me you've got a pretty decent idea of just what's goin' on, so hows about you go ahead an' explain it to the rest of us already." Applejack said, uneasily eyeing the area where her livelihood-dependent apple-bucking legs used to be.
"Yeah, like why I can fly now." Pinkie added from a few feet up in the air. "And why I can do this." She rolled her eyes back (somehow, despite them being dots of light) until they disappeared, only to reappear a moment later like a pair of grapes on her tongue. Rarity swooned at the sight and began to fall backward. Fluttershy instinctively reached out to catch her, only for Rarity to slip through her hooves like water and finish her fall into the ground where she vanished. She poked her head up a moment later with a slightly embarrassed expression, and attempted to nonchalantly return to where she had been standing a moment earlier.
Twilight sighed. "This may take a bit of time to explain, and there are going to be some parts you may not like. I suggest you make yourselves comfortable." The group looked around for a moment at the practically featureless crater before returning their attention to Twilight without moving from where they had been standing/floating prior. With a sigh, Twilight began.
"It all started with Chrysalis. Things got very dangerous during that wedding, and really, we only barely won. If Chrysalis hadn't sent me to the same place she send Candace, or if things had gone slightly different during the fight, or even if I had been less suspicious of her odd behavior, we might not have won. And that got me worried. So I started looking into spells and enchantments which could give us an edge. It wasn't a serious project, just preparation. Just in case."
"And then Sombra happened." Twilight hung her head. "Again, things only worked out for the best by the skin of my teeth. Between him, Chrysalis, and Discord, we seemed to be solving interpersonal problems less and less, and fighting for our lives against world-threatening monsters more and more often. And so, I began to look into more... fringe methods of providing assurance. In fact, it was partially thanks to Sombra that we're standing here now. I- I'm ashamed to admit it, but I... I..." She took a deep breath. "I stole several books from Sombra's personal study!"
Twilight flinched and looked away, ready and expecting a tirade of scolding from her friends. When none came, she open one eye curiously. Applejack, Spike, and Rarity were giving her deadpan looks, while Rainbow Dash and Pinkie seemed to be trying to hold in giggles. Fluttershy just looked on with knowing sympathy.
"Girls? This is the part where you berate me for stealing. Stealing a book ."
Applejack sighed and began speaking in an exaggerated monotone. "Oh Twilight. How could you. Not a book. The horror. Oh the horror. This is the worst possible thing." Before finishing with an unimpressed frown.
Rainbow Dash chuckled. "I think we can forgive you for taking stuff from a dead guy. Plus, he was evil, and since you beat him I think that counts as spoils of war. Or at least a loot drop or something."
"If I may interrupt," Rarity politely interrupted their exchange, "If I understand correctly, do you mean to say that, in order to save our souls as it were, you used some sort of dark magic in this spell of yours?"
"No! No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no." Twilight quickly refused with a frantic wave of her hooves. "Well, yes, but no. Necromancy has technically been considered a sort of magical grey area since the 503rd meeting of the Council of Magical Accords and Thaumaturgical Designations."
"Oh yeah, weren't you a keynote speaker at that conference?" Spike recalled, tapping a claw against (and occasionally through) his chin in thought. "I remember writing down your speech as you dictated. Something about Practical and Beneficial Applications of... of... something, I think? Right?" He looked up for confirmation, only to have his gaze met by a frustrated glare from Twilight. "Got it. Being quiet now."
"Anyway ," Twilight continued, "You could hardly even call it the same spell at all after I got through with it. I completely reworked the internal arcane structure, upgraded its mana consumption processes with modern techniques, and heavily modified the way the spell interacts with both the caster and the castee. It's only necromancy in the strictest, most technical sense."
An awkward silence settled amongst the group, as some of the less magically inclined members shot each other confused expressions, hoping one of them might have a clearer understanding. Finally, it was Pinkie who spoke first.
"Sooo... what did you do? Or what did the spell do, I mean. And do I have to be evil now? Because I may need a few days to practice if I'm going to be able to be all evil and scary at my best." She gave a sample cackle, which was actually quite impressive, all things considered.
"No Pinkie, you don't have to be evil. You're still you, in all the ways that count at least." Twilight said with a smile. "Originally, when cast, the spell would rend a pony's soul from their body and bound it to the will of the caster, creating a useful and obedient servant. With my alterations, however, the 'soul-rending' only happens under very specific circumstances, and the spell is recursively designed to accept the 'victim', as it were, as the dominant will." She stopped, before recalling one final point. "Oh, and I removed any and all alignment-altering magic or complete obedience geases from the spell matrix."
Everyone turned to Spike, hoping he would be able to translate. It took a moment of confused glancing from face to face for him to realize what they were expecting from him. "Oh!" He began counting off on his claws. "It only triggers if you die, you're not under anypony else's control, and it won't mess your head to make you evil or anything." Luckily he was well versed in translating "Twi-speak."
A collective "Oh..." chorused from the group of ghostly friends.
"So what do we do now?" Rainbow Dash asked with interest. "I mean, yeah thanks for saving us and everything, but now what? I don't think the Wonderbolts'll be too happy about having a ghost on the team. And Applejack can't buck apples without legs."
"I was wonderin' about that too," Applejack acknowledged, "Ain't exactly much to life iffin' you can't do what's important to you. Plus, what about my family? Applebloom's too young yet to take over my share of the work." She gasped. "Will- can they even see us? Or are we gonna be forced to watch from a distance, cut off from love an' life as our kin grows old and goes on without us?"
Rainbow Dash snerked. "Jeez, who died and made you Rarity?"
"Rarity, apparently." Pinkie replied, giggling.
Applejack rolled her eyes and huffed. "So bein' dead makes me a bit more reflective and maybe a touch melodramatic. Still an important question."
Twilight tapped a hoof on the ground to regain some order and attention. When this failed to make any sort of noise, she settled for noisily clearing her nonexistent throat. She smiled as they returned their attention. "Don't worry AJ, saving our souls is one thing, but growing us new bodies is Biomancy 101."
"She's right, and luckily for us she's really good at it too." Spike added, turning to Twilight. "You remember back in your seventh year learning under Celestia? When you made the Blueblood duplicate?"
"How could I forget?" Twilight laughed nostalgically, "My big midterm project, and you and Minuette 'borrowed' it to go play pranks around the castle. It's a good thing Professor Beetle was so understanding. He even accepted the guards report of your exploits as evidence of it's durability and genetic authenticity. I wonder whatever happened to it..."
Shaking her head, Twilight returned herself to the present. "Anyways, my point is making us all new bodies will be a piece of cake." There was a collective sigh of relief from the group. "It'll just take about a week."
"A- a week?!" Fluttershy exclaimed (that is to say she spoke through a larger than average panicked gasp), "But... my animals! They can't go for a week on their own. And I only set out three days worth of food for this trip. On no, this is terrible again!"
"I'm with Fluttershy," Pinkie agreed, putting a comforting arm around hyperventilating fried, "I have four birthdays, two anniversaries, and a cute-cenera to plan for. I can't be out of the party game for a whole week!"
"Not to mention we got an early crop of young cider apples comin' in, and the family's going to need some kind of help to get it all before it starts to spoil." Applejack added.
"Girls, girls!" Twilight again struggled to regain the focus of her friends, all of whom suddenly began remembering very important tasks they had to do within the next week, also showing a remarkable ability to overlook the fact that Twilight had just reduced an eternity of inability to a mere week. Eventually, the ghostly unicorn was forced to raise her voice well above all others to make herself known. "Girls! " Finally, they ceased their clamoring. "Do you forget who you're talking to?" She grinned slyly, "Of course I planned ahead for this. With all the work you do for your families and friends, I knew you wouldn't stand even a day's inactivity. That's why I added one more buff to the spell. " She held her head high, not bothering to hide her pride. "Although it was a difficult process, I successfully managed to reroute the aetheric flow through the contract portion of the spell, giving special attention to flux of course, thus allowing a much higher morphogenic field in the subject than would normally be present. At least two hundred thaums by my calculations."
Again they turned to Spike for clarification. He complied readily. "She rigged it so instead of being just wispy normal ghosts, we'll have a lot more substance, probably more like wraiths or thralls. And if it really is as much as two hundred thaums strong, we should have no problem interacting with physical stuff. Might even be able to possess things."
"Exactly. Top marks, Spike." Twilight said with a smug grin, "And you said you never paid attention to my lectures."
He shrugged. "I pick stuff up."
Rarity politely raised a hoof. "Question, Twilight dear. I'm not entirely comfortable with the idea of having to possess somepony, especially against their will."
"Oh, there's no need for that," Twilight assured, "Once we get back to Ponyville, I'll give you all a crash course in golem making."
"Golems?" Rainbow Dash asked in surprise.
"Any object or collection of objects powered and controlled by an animating essence." Spike recited.
"Yeah thanks, I know what golems are. They were pretty important in Daring Do and the Guardians of Heptoria after all." Rainbow Dash rebuked, "I'm just surprised. In the book, Daring Do said that golemancy was an ancient lost art."
"Not so much 'lost' as 'outdated' and 'sadly neglected'." Twilight clarified, "You know how Yearling tends to exaggerate at times. It was a very common practice in the centuries just after the Unification of the tribes, but common uses for golems were slowly replaced with specialized spells or advancing technology."
"Then how do you know it?" Applejack asked before realizing her mistake. "Wait, nevermind I shou-"
"It was an elective course!" Twilight interrupted cheerily. "Spike and I were practically the only students in the class."
"Oh, this is going to be so much fun!" Pinkie jumped back and forth as though playing invisible double-dutch. "It'll be like arts and crafts but then you get to wear what you made home! I'm gonna make a golem that looks just like me, except pink !"
"Aren't you pink enough already?"
"Not pink, Dashie, pink . It's a very important difference."
"Pinkie's design choices aside," Rarity segued, "How are we going to go about getting back to Ponyville?"
"Easily enough," Twilight said, "Same way we got here." She paused for a moment as a look of concentration overtook her face. She glanced up at her horn, or rather the ashen air that composed it and her face fell. "Oh, right... no magic until I rebuild our bodies."
She turned towards the east, where the sun was just beginning to rise. It's golden-orange glow lit up the desolate crater and left the seven figures at the center somewhat more transparent than they had been before. Twilight turned back to her friends. "Welp, looks like we're walking home," she glanced at the tail-like wisp which made up her lower half, "Or floating. Whatever, you get my point."
As she began to drift eastward, one by one the others fell into line behind her. As the small procession made it's way to the edge of the crater, Applejack piped up. "Well, since we got no better way to pass the time and this is lookin' to be a mighty long journey, why don't you start telling us about this golemancy business, Twilight?"
Her face fell in a remarkable inverse reaction of Twilight's lighting up. "Great idea Applejack! I was going to trim it down to just the basics, but now I can recount the full rich history and detailed inner magical processes! In fact, I bet I can recall most of Professor Beetle's lectures near verbatim!"
A collective (but respectfully repressed), groan echoed across the landscape, sounding for all the world like the tormented moaning of lost souls.
Better Living Through Golemancy
Not Quite a Mechsuit, But Close Enough
By most accounts, Rainbow Dash had a rather large house. From the perspective of just Ponyville, it was the second-largest residence in town, smaller only than the Rich manor. For a brief time, it had been the largest in town, but that only lasted until the cloud house had been spotted by Mrs. Rich, who, by sheer coincidence, suddenly felt it very important to convince her husband that their home absolutely needed a new solarium and indoor pool.
But Rainbow Dash's house was not large due to vanity or wealth, but simply because it could be. When you have three dimensions to build in, a near limitless supply of building material, and a town whose earth pony zoning laws had never been updated with cloud houses in mind, you had the perfect recipe for unregulated architectural expression.
She was very proud of her house. Having been spoiled by her doting parents for most of her life, building her house was the first real substantial thing she'd done on her own. That being said, it was a little impractical. There were many more rooms than she actually used and a good portion of the exterior designs were, at best, extraneous whimsy. Though she did not regret the miniature rainbow fountains. They'd cost her a pretty bit (as well as a favor from an old flight school buddy who now worked in the weather factory) but they looked awesome . The way they caught the sunlight and cast rainbow refractions on the surrounding landscape was better than any mailbox or nameplate. A pony could guess who lived there at two hundred paces.
It was to such a beacon that she now headed. The one downside of her home, as she was now realizing, was just how far into the outskirts of town it was. Normally, when she could outfly the wind itself, this was no problem. But it was a different story when her max speed seemed to be capped at a steady trot; a practically glacial pace for the speedster. At first Rainbow Dash had thought that shedding so much weight (that is, all of it) would have allowed her to fly infinitely faster. Much to her dismay, this had been proven false rather quickly.
But still, her home beckoned her from a distance; a glowing rainbow beacon from the porchlight she'd forgotten to turn off before leaving over a week before. Yet despite flapping her wings quick enough to make a hummingbird envious, they failed to push any air, leaving her sailing along at no quicker a pace.
Finally, after what felt like months of laborious travel (though in reality was half an hour at best) she at least reached her house's anchor.
"Ah, home sweet home," she sighed as she approached it. Never before had it looked so inviting. Ignoring the door entirely, she gave a few instinctive (but ultimately ineffectual) flaps and began to rise up straight through the floor without a second thought or moment of hesitation.
Due to lingering traces of a primitive flock instinct, compared to ponies of the other tribes, the average pegasus has a rather underdeveloped sense of personal space and private property. A pegasus wouldn't think twice about flying through the walls of several cloud houses in their way to a destination. This was doubly true if they actually intended to visit the house they were passing through. Though it annoyed the few unicorn and earth pony immigrants to no end, pegasi just took it for granted that doors were really more of a recommendation than a requirement.
It is because of this that Rainbow Dash had absolutely no problem getting into her house, straight up through the floor.
As predicted, she'd risen roughly in her living room. Continuing to rise, she ascended through the ceiling there to arrive in her bedroom. The room was what one might charitably call 'disorganized'. Ponies who aren't Rarity, however, would probably just call it messy. Though the Wonderbolts was a quasi-military institution, one thing which they did not put as much emphasis on was drilling into their recruits the importance of neatness and keeping an organized living space.
Dash took a deep inhale and let it out with a satisfied sigh and a smile. She couldn't smell anything, but she could imagine it. The acrid tang of open tins of wing balm scattered on the dresser. The pungent scent of sweat soaked into every surface. The slightly musty undertones beholden of any house with a pet in it. It smelt of hard work and hard play.
It smelt of home.
The first thing Rainbow Dash did, as was usual after coming home from a long adventure-and-or-friendship-quest, was to take a running jump onto her bed. The second thing she did was realize why this was a bad idea. She caught herself halfway through the living room floor and sheepishly flew back up to the bedroom.
"Right," she muttered, "Can't touch stuff. Gonna have to remember that one."
Suddenly, she found her brief introspection interrupted by a movement in the corner of her eye.
"Oh hey Tank!" she greeted eagerly, "Sorry, did I wake you up?"
The tortoise blinked slowly and smiled. He was a solid fellow and it was going to take more than the ghost of his owner to shake him. He closed his eyes and began to retract his head, comforted that Rainbow Dash was finally home and also more than thankful for the additional peaceful sleep that such knowledge would provide.
Smiling back for a moment, Rainbow Dash backed out through the door into the hallway. Her recent fall had reminded her of the next step in the plan, and though she didn't know how loud golem-making was supposed to be, there were plenty of other rooms in which Tank wasn't sleeping.
It wasn't until she reached the main foyer that she encountered a problem. Through the whole journey down the hall from her room, she'd racked her brains to remember what Twilight had said about golem-making. Much to her concern, she realized she had nothing. Apparently, her innate skill at absorbing information while flying didn't cover boring lectures heard while floating. In fact, she was pretty sure she'd even fallen asleep at one point and it was only thanks to Fluttershy's occasional nudges that she's stayed with the group!
"You've gotta be kidding me!" she cried as she began to circle the room. "I have to remember something ! There was... there was... something about mud, I think? Or was it clay? Were those optional? Cause they really don't sound like I'd be able to fly. What about Spike? There was that thing he said, something about... a personal connection? Essence whatchamacallits?"
She groaned and slumped into a puddle. "Well now what am I supposed to do? I can't show up later and be the only pony without a body. But it's not like there's anywhere else I can learn about golems-"
She shot bolted upright. "That's it!" With a speed limited only by her current form, she raced into a formerly unused room that had started to grow into a small library. And as with most private libraries, there was one particular stack on books placed closer to the reading chair than the others.
"Once again, Daring Doo comes in to save the day!" Rainbow Dash laughed. "Daring Doo and the Guardians of Heptoria should tell me everything I want to know!"
It did not. Though she found the book easily enough, finding the exact chapter and passage she wanted was much harder. On the upside, turning pages was good practice for manipulating things without a physical form. Over an hour later, and having practically read the whole book again, she shut it with a disappointed sigh.
"Well, that was a bust. I should have remembered; she never makes any golems. She just fights them. But if I ever need to destroy a golem, I guess I'm pretty set."
With a heavy heart, she floated back to the living room, the irony of which was lost on her.
"This sucks. I want to go fast again." She gazed across the room to her Wonderbolts flight suit. It was exactly where she'd left it; hanging off the back of the cloud sofa where she'd thrown it the moment after peeling it off at the end of her last practice session. Would she ever be able to wear it again? And even if she made a golem which could, would she be able to fly? Or would her lifelong dreams be snatched away such a short time after having finally accomplished them?
Death makes a pony wax poetic, even a pony like Rainbow Dash.
She ran a hoof across the material. She knew she wouldn't be able to feel it, no more than she could feel anything else, and it hurt to be so close yet so far from it and everything which the suit represented.
Much to her surprise, she could feel it. Not in the normal sense; it felt... crackly. Jittery. Like a cloud filled to bursting with lightning. And it felt familiar. Moreso than it should have. It was an intoxicating sensation, and one which Rainbow Dash quickly felt herself falling into. It felt of speed . The raw sensation of acceleration captured and imbued into a fabric. Images passed through her mind. Arcing twists and steep banks. Aileron rolls and barrel rolls. It was like the suit remembered every trick she'd ever pulled in it... and it wanted her to remember .
What was she doing ?
Moping about? Just because some book didn't have the answer she needed? She was Rainbow Danger Miriam Dash ! And something as small and slow as not having a body could never stand in her way of being the absolute best at everything she wanted to!
Her spirits rose with her determination as she felt the suit begin to grow warmer in her grip. She lifted it to her chest, pulling it closer... closer... within her...
*VWORP!! *
Rainbow Dash blinked woozily. She felt like she'd just stepped off the Dizzitron at high speed. She blinked a few more times to settle the shakiness of the room.
Wait. Blinked?
Confused but hopeful, she lifted a hoof. The front leg of her flight suit moved into her vision. She twisted her foreleg and it turned.
"Aw yeah!" She fist-pumped, the sudden motion throwing off her unfamiliar balance. "I knew I could do it! I invented a new kind of golem: a living flight suit! I bet that wasn't in Twilight's snorefest of a book. Oh! I gotta check myself out!"
Suddenly filled with excitement, she turned to go and view her new body in the hall mirror... and promptly tripped over her own hooves. She stood up with some difficulty and made her way to a mirror at a frustratingly slow speed.
Finally, at long last, she reached the hall mirror, turned to see herself and...
It was, to put it mildly, pretty horrifying.
While the suit did give her a generally pony-esque shape, it was far from perfect. Even animated by her spirit, the suit didn't want to stand up under its own weight. There were creases and bends where none should be and the whole torso just looked hollow. The overall aesthetic was also not helped by the giant gaping holes where her eyes and muzzle should have been, which were at the moment three pits gazing into a void. 'Nightmarish' might have been a better description.
She grabbed her flight goggles from around her neck (with some difficulty) and strapped them on. This fixed one problem but made her gaping maw all the more noticeable.
"Well," she said, her voice coming out flat and dead like a wet sock, "This is pretty lame." She grimaced a little as the muzzle hole moved when she spoke. Not unlike a giant pair of fish lips or maybe a particularly unsettling sock puppet. The motions only broadly correlated to what she was saying, and the disconnect between the sound and the movement added a whole other layer to her creepy factor.
This... was not going to work.
Walking slowly to avoid tangling her floppy legs, Rainbow Dash trudged back and collapsed onto the couch in a heap. She'd solved one problem but found another.
Idly, she picked at a corner of the couch that was coming loose and a small ball of cloudstuff came off in her hoof. She rolled it back and forth as she strained her brain for more ideas.
"Okay, so the suit's a good start, but I need something to fill it out. I don't want to weigh myself down, so it has to be something light. Paper maybe? I think I might have some old receipts somewhere." She shook her head. "Nah, it'd get crushed down too easily. Plus I'd crinkle all the time. So it also has to be stiff enough to hold me up and won't get squished down when I move."
Her concentration broke as the ball of couch escaped her hooves. She glanced down to find it had gotten caught on the zipper of her suit/stomach. An idea dawned like a new day. Curious, she pushed it in the rest of the way. It weighed practically nothing, and yet it held its shape under the weight of the fabric.
Rainbow Dash grinned. So long couch! She'd been meaning to get a new one anyway.
Twenty minutes later, Rainbow Dash flew in giddy circles around her atrium. The dismembered remains of her couch lay in pieces across the floor, along with the casings of two pillows she'd cannibalized for feathers (all her own, thanks to laziness masquerading as thriftiness). She coasted in for a landing, skidding along and bouncing off the floor as though she were on the moon. Though still not perfect, her newly stuffed body evoked much less of a sense of horror than before. The cloud filled out the suit well and let it stand up and bend naturally, though a general lack of stuffing skill had left a few places overpacked and a little stiff. Though her wings looked a bit scruffy and beat up (due to being made of old, discarded feathers) the raw pegasus magic flowing through them was enough to manage basic flight. The only real problems remaining with her look were her lack of a muzzle (temporarily hidden by a well-placed bandana) and her missing mane and tail.
But now that she could fly and finally felt somewhat like herself again, she could really get down to serious thinking. In fact, she already knew where she could score some rainbow hairpieces.
Scootaloo was soundly asleep in her bed.
Tick!
This was not unusual, as she'd had a late night of crusading the day before and even under normal circumstances often didn't wake up until either the advent of school or the arrival of her friends forced her hoof.
Tick!
But the fact that she preferred to sleep in did not, in and of itself, mean that she was a particularly sound sleeper. Like most pegasi, she could go from deep delta wave sleep to full alert wakefulness in under a minute with the right stimulus. Such stimulus included the house being on fire, the schoolhouse bell ringing its five-minute warning, and anything involving the magical words "Rainbow Dash".
Tick!
What it did not include was the sound of pebbles hitting her window.
Thokk!
But it did include pebbles hitting her in the head.
"What-Who-Hey-What?!" she blurted incoherently, pegasus instincts not quite reacting fast enough to form a sentence. She tried to jump out of bed but got her hooves and wings tangled in sheets and hit the deck hard.
As she lay on the floor, thoroughly shook brains scrambling to remember which way was up, another small rock sailed through the tiny opening in her window and rapped her on the noggin.
Grumbling, but with her frustration tempered by curiosity, she untangled herself and opened the window fully.
The world outside her window was little more than a lumpy mass of shapes. The dark of night (or possibly morning?) muted all colors and blurred edges into one another.
"Applebloom? Sweetie Belle?" she whispered as loud as she dared, "Is that you?"
"Nah, it's me," a familiar raspy voice whispered back.
Scootaloo rocketed to full wakefulness. There was no mistaking that voice. Even if it did sound oddly muffled; like if she had put a ski mask on backward again. Which was a perfectly fine thing to do. As far as Scootaloo was concerned, her idol had the best eyesight in all Equestria and could see just fine whether or not her eyes were covered.
Still, the question remained. What was Rainbow Dash doing outside her house at super-early-o'clock in the morning? Early morning training? A secret mission that she could only accomplish with the help of her faithful follower Scootaloo? Or maybe, just maybe she'd come to invite her to a secret group of flyers, so good they made the Wonderbolts look like flight camp cadets, whose sole identifying mark of a potential member is stunted abilities during fillyhood!
"Scoots? You still there?" Rainbow Dash's voice carried through the shadows, "You went all quiet on me."
Scootaloo mentally slapped herself. She had to pull it together! You couldn't just zone out around Rainbow Dash ; you might miss something awesome. "Yeah, I'm still here. Just... uh... just sleepy."
"Oh," came Dash's voice again, sounding both surprised and apologetic, "Sorry. I didn't think about waking you up."
Fool! Scootaloo again chastised herself. Now she'd gone and made Rainbow Dash feel bad! "No! No, it's okay! I was getting up anyway."
"Really? Okay then." She sounded upbeat again, thankfully. "Anyway, I need a favor."
So no secret, elite group of pegasi then. Her expression dropped, but only a little. The rational part of her brain admitted that it had been a long shot to start with. "What do you need?"
"You still have those fake Rainbow Dash manes and tails that you made for the fan club?"
"In four sizes from infant to adult, why?" She gasped. "Oh no! Did you lose your mane while fighting some horrible monster?"
There was a pause before she got a response. "Well... you're half right. Bit more than just the mane though. Can we talk inside?"
"So you're saying that your whole body just..."
"Yep. Poof."
"Even your wings?"
"Yes. That would be part of my whole body."
"And now you're a ghost."
Rainbow Dash's flightsuit shrugged. "More or less. Twilight's working on it, but I guess growing new bodies from scratch takes a while, even for an egghead like her."
Scootaloo found herself conflicted. On one hoof, her idol had died. On the other, her idol was also in her house, asking her for a personal favor. The conflict of emotions left her somewhere between distraught and giddy. She thought about thinking up a combination word for the emotion, but gave up. Wordplay was more Sweetie Belle's area of expertise anyway.
Still, seeing Rainbow Dash like this was quite a shock. It was clearly her, everything from her posture to her tone, and yet also not her in such a weird way. She doubted she'd ever be able to get used to seeing clouds inside somepony's mouth. Or in their eyesockets.
"So you need a new mane and tail for now?" Better to keep the conversation flowing before she got caught up in introspection again. She walked over to the closet where she kept her Rainbow Dash Fan Club supplies.
"Yeah, it feels super weird walking around without one."
"Weirder than everything else?"
Rainbow Dash laughed at the joke and Scootaloo's whole world lit up. "Yeah, I guess that's true," she replied as the filly returned with a mane and tail in adult size. "Thanks."
"N-No problem." Thanks. Genuine words of appreciation. This was the day she'd tell her grandfoals about.
With the mane attached, Rainbow Dash gave her head a swish. "Hey this thing is perfect! I feel twenty percent more like my old self!"
Scootaloo nodded proudly. "It should be. It's your hair after all." Immediately she bit her tongue at the unintentional slip, but luckily Rainbow Dash seemed to not have noticed and was too focused attaching her tail.
Rainbow Dash, looking much more herself than when she'd arrived, gave a few turns and a quick flight around the room. "Aw yeah! They're both perfect!" She landed alongside Scootaloo and mussed her mane. "Thanks squirt, you really helped me out of a jam here. You ever need anything, you just let me know, alright?"
And Scootaloo ceased to function. Could it really be true? Such an incredible opportunity...Her dream, this could be it! All the stars had aligned and the most impossible of circumstances come together. If this wasn't a message from the universe telling her to go for it, then she didn't know what was!
Though she still had to build up the courage to actually ask the question first.
"Actually... there is something."
Rainbow Dash's mouth hole attempted to make a grin. "Sure. Hit me."
Scootaloo took a deep breath. Could she really do this? Before her tiny shred of courage could escape she blurted: "Can... can I go inside you?"
Immediately after speaking she regretted the choice and backpedaled, shaking her head as if to rid her mind of the idea. "Nevermind, it was a stupid question. Forget I even said anything."
She found her vigorous head shaking stopped by a concerned hoof. She looked up to see Rainbow Dash looking at her with... well, emotions didn't come easy to her current face, but she didn't look angry. "No... no. I mean, yeah, that's not something you hear every day, but... explain."
Scootaloo's embarrassed blush deepened and her mouth moved uselessly for a moment. She sat down hard on the wooden floor. Her hooves tracing the edges of the floorboards as a heavy conflict of emotions warred across her face. Finally, like a monster rising from a well, a confession crawled out of her throat.
"It's just... You see..." She took a deep breath and tried again. "I've wanted to be like you for so long. You're the coolest, fastest, and bestest flyer in the whole world and I'm just... none of those things. I try, but it's never good enough. And I thought that, since you're hollow now, that this might be my one chance to really see what it's like to be Rainbow Dash. To see the world how you see it. To be the closest thing to actually being Rainbow Dash that I can possibly be."
Her heart poured out, she winced and waited for the coming rebuke. The verbal hurricane of how weird she was, how crazy, and what a terrible filly she was for even thinking she could ask something so personal of the fast and amazing Rainbow Da-
"Yeah I get that."
Scootaloo opened one eye and looked up. Surely her ears had misheard that.
"I mean, who wouldn't want to be me?"
Her mouth fell open in shock. It couldn't be. She actually agreed?! Impossible! And yet there Rainbow Dash stood, or rather, there she lay, unzipping the hole in her stomach like the gates of paradise.
"Alright," she beckoned, "Come on inside."
This had to be a dream. "R-really?"
"Yeah, it's cool. Just for a bit though. So you can get the full Rainbow Dash experience."
It wasn't a dream. It wasn't a dream ! With a gleeful squeal, Scootaloo dived headfirst into Rainbow Dash's stomach, kicking out bits of cloud stuffing like a diamond dog burrowing through loamy soil.
"Oof, easy there kiddo." Rainbow Dash grunted as she was repeatedly kicked from the inside. "You're getting really ah- aaaah- aaaaaaaaah-"
"-Aaaaaw yeah! I'm in!" Scootaloo cheered as her muzzle pushed forward through the mouth hole. She lifted the goggles to give her purple eyes a clear view of the room. "I- I did it!" She broke into giggles. "I'm Rainbow Dash. I'm Rainbow Dash."
"Uh, sorry," said a voice that came out from around her face, "You're currently in Rainbow Dash. But you do have the best seat in the house."
Scootaloo felt the stuffing around her legs tense and shift as they walked her towards the nearby mirrored dresser. She gasped as her reflection came into view. She was Rainbow Dash. Well, Rainbow Dash with an orange muzzle and slightly miscolored eyes, but still . Luckily, Rainbow Dash herself was still there to stop her from falling too far into a Narcissus-like hypnosis.
"This feels so weird," Rainbow Dash said. Scootaloo noticed that when she wasn't actively resisting, Rainbow Dash's muzzle hole tended to move her jaw and lips in just about to right way to mimic whatever Rainbow Dash said. "You're so warm. It's like I swallowed a hot water bottle."
"And you're so soft inside," Scootaloo commented back, locking up what she really wanted to say deep inside. "I've never been this tall before."
"I'll bet. You know, if it weren't for your coat color, I bet no one would even know that you weren't me."
Was the universe sending her another signal? The last one had worked, so Scootaloo decided to take a chance on this as well. "Bring me a little closer to the drawer. The left one."
When she did, Scootaloo wriggled and squished and pulled until her whole body up to the waist hung from Rainbow Dash's mouth. She tried not to think about how much it looked like she was being eaten.
"Ha. It almost looks like I'm eating you."
Ignoring it, Scootaloo opened the drawer. Within it was a small notebook, a quill, and a few odds and ends. She took out the notebook and quill, setting the book aside on the table. The quill she then inserted, point first, into the underside of the drawer. With a small *click!* , a false bottom was revealed. Beneath it was a strange contraption with a series of wires, a fire gem, and a bag of clearish liquid. What sat atop them, however, was the object of her search.
Several small jars, all tightly sealed, and a thicker and much more well-handled notebook. Scootaloo carefully extracted one jar and restored the false-bottomed drawer to its original state.
"Is that.. colored fur powder?"
"Coral blue No. 2," Scootaloo replied, "Your exact shade."
"Why do you have this?
"I-" Scootaloo's voice hitched as she remembered just who she was talking to. "...personal reasons."
Rainbow Dash nodded. So what if the filly played dress-up as her? It wasn't any of her business. You could even call it a compliment. A testament to just how much she wanted to be like her idol. And when it came to ponies wanting to be more awesome... what kind of Rainbow Dash would she be if she were to call them out on it?
While Rainbow Dash mused on whether the knowledge that Scootaloo dressed up as her was a step up or step down in strangeness compared to the fact that the filly was now inside of her like a baby kangaroo, Scootaloo got to work.
With an expert hoof, she popped the canister of dye open and removed the power puff within. She applied it delicately to her face with a technique that not even Rarity could have found flaw in. With a skill borne of clearly more practice than she had let on, she delicately applied the blue powder across her muzzle and face. Even her eyelids and the sensitive inner portions of her ears she dusted without hesitation.
Only when there was no longer a trace of orange from the neck up was she satisfied. "There!"
"You're surprisingly good at that," Dash observed.
"Thanks!" Scootaloo beamed. "Now I just wiggle back in and..." She squirmed back inside and after a bit of fiddling, realigned the mouth, eye, and ear holes. And suddenly, a completely normal-looking Rainbow Dash stood in the room alone without a trace of Scootaloo to be seen.
"Whoa," Rainbow Dash muttered, her mouth moving perfectly with the words. "It's like you're not even there."
"I know.." Scootaloo's reply came quietly yet with a sense of incredible awe. "Now, we are Rainbow Dash."
"Hey.. this gives me a great idea for a prank! You mind riding along a little longer?"
"Always!" came the giddy reply.
"Good." Rainbow Dash walked over to the window. "Then let's fly!"
And (with a little help) Scootaloo flew .
Author's Note
For those who may say that Scootaloo is a little ... too much in this chapter, remember that this is very early seasons Scootaloo (and maybe just a tiny bit AU-ish to justify her excessive fangirling for future story purposes).
Also, should one slightly dirty joke merit bumping it up to a Teen rating? If you don't know what I'm referring to then clearly it's suitably subtle.