Compatī

July 27th.

A Thursday and nothing more, in the grand scheme of things. Sunset had spent the day finishing up that research article on geostrophic winds, as insignificant of a timestamp as that may be. But in hindsight, the day itself was pivotal enough to back-mark on her calendar.

It began a series of X’s marching their way toward a large red circle around August 26th: the next full moon.

She often stared at that date long after having turned off the lights for bed. It was a countdown, a timer getting the better of her. Without knowing when the last 30th full moon came and went, Sunset had to operate under the assumption that it would be the one coming up, and she had much to prepare.

She had spent a good four days crafting a proper mount for the mirror: a dais of crystal the color of port wine, about a meter in diameter, buffed and rebuffed and smoothed out and polished to a shine, and all of it done by hoof. Even the faintest traces of residual magics could contaminate the base and ruin everything, were she to use her horn.

She hated the soreness in her legs that the endless motion brought, but the base had to be as perfect as a quiet pond—the more imperfections, the more discordant energy, and that, more than residual magics, could spell disaster.

“As shiny as a sorcerer’s silver,” as Professor Wizened Reed often joked when rambling on the subject of arcane conductors, and damn did it look fit for a king. Or a princess, actually. The thing could have passed for its own mirror.

Speaking of, the mirror itself needed its own laborious care and attention. She’d invested nearly a week of steady, careful polish, making sure it was even more perfect than the base—so much that it seemed to have its own auric glow when she turned off the lights.

She often stared at it for hours, long after String had gone home. The sun could have set and the birds already been up at their chirpiest, and Sunset would still be there, staring.

Something about the mirror’s magic changed her reflection. Her eyes shimmered brighter than in her bedroom vanity or the odd window-shop display. Her mane seemed to have a bit more wave to it, the way she wished it would stay while out and about. And if the guilty pleasure of admiring this better version of herself wasn’t enough, her reflection didn’t appear alone.

Nocturne stood beside her every time she stared long enough into the mirror. She pitched her nose downward and her ears forward in greeting, and Sunset could feel the happiness radiating from Nocturne’s smile, her silent cheers and, and… admiration for what Sunset accomplished here and now.

Sunset wasn’t just doing research. She was doing a good deed. She was saving somepony’s life. She was the hero of this story and in the heart and mind of the one staring back at her from the other side of the glass.

She brought a hoof up and gently brushed her lips to remember that sensation, that cold wintergreen chill, light as the season’s first snowfall. It gave her the confidence to smile, to see herself as more than a nopony, as more than Copper’s shadow, as more than a passing thought.

It made her feel… worthwhile.

Sometimes, she’d reach out and touch the glass, press against it with the faint hope that she could break through and pull her friend—her maybe-more—out of her nightmares and into the real world.

But against her deepest wishes, the glass was merely glass, and Sunset’s hoof stayed on this side.

For now, that is.

And so her daydreaming would continue, until the sound of a broken beaker or the whir of some magical spell in a nearby lab pulled her from her thoughts. She’d remember to blink and realize she sat alone with her reflection and nothing more.

“I’ll get you out” were her parting words to the room; “I’ll get you out” her mantra that followed her home, each and every night; “I’ll get you out” her dying thought as sleep took her, the sensation of wintergreen lingering upon her lips.

• • •

Damn it! Damn this whole thing to Tartarus.

Sunset stared at the remains of yet another mirror frame. She kicked a piece and watched it skid into the far corner of the room.

Like the mirror’s base, the frame had to be designed just so in order to contain the mirror’s latent magic when it activated. A well-made base ensured proper magic flow through the system, but a proper frame kept things from getting explodey. And that’s where things weren’t going as planned.

She had built a simple magic inducer to simulate how the mirror would react upon activation. If the fragments embedded in her blast shield were any indication, she had some modifications to make.

Why didn’t the frame hold up to the power surge? She made it from the same crystal as the base. Hell, it was the same crystal the other research ponies used in their containment fields for whatever the hay those glowing rocks were. “Industrial grade” was supposed to mean something, but apparently all it really meant was “big freaking disappointment.” Unnecessary setback after unnecessary setback. She was running out of time for no good reason.

It didn’t help that Copper had moved back into their dorm. Not that she wasn’t a welcome sight at the end of a long day, but the questions… so many questions about “all that sciency shit” Sunset was working on, and not being able to tell her made everything that much more stressful.

Sunset had promised Celestia. Confidentiality was absolute. Not even her best friend could know. But Copper being Copper, that didn’t stop her from prying.

“Hey, you,” Copper said the moment Sunset walked through the door that night. She sat looking over the back of the couch, wearing a roguish smile that banished any notion of innocence that little red hairclip of hers could front. “How’s the sciency shit goin’?”

Sunset resisted the urge to roll her eyes and tossed her saddlebags on the table. She did smile a little, though. No matter how exhausted she felt, just seeing Copper could get that much out of her. But tired is as tired does, and she flopped onto the couch next to Copper with all the gusto of a beached whale.

“It’s alright,” Sunset said.

“You sound like you got hit by a stagecoach. If that’s your definition of ‘alright,’ then I don’t wanna know what you consider ‘bad.’”

Well, truth be told, Sunset did consider this bad. She just didn’t want to admit it. Admitting this was bad meant admitting to this power containment issue and her constant failure to surmount it.

And Sunset Shimmer didn’t fail at anything.

In her slump, she noticed a vase of daffodils on the coffee table.

“You’ve been having a rough week,” Copper said, watching Sunset eye the vase. She dug the point of her hoof into the cushion, looked down at it, and shrugged. “I know they’re your favorite, so I figured I’d, y’know…”

That got Sunset smiling in earnest. She picked them up and brought them to her nose. They smelled like happiness.

“You’re the best, Copper,” Sunset said.

“I learn from the worst!” Copper said from somewhere off in the kitchen area. When did she even move? She was like a freakin’ ninja. “And I know what else will make you feel better.”

Not that she intended to look, but Sunset didn’t need to, as Copper floated a letter in front of her nose, dangling it by the corner like a carrot on a string. “What’s that?” Sunset said, not bothering to swat it away.

“You know what it is…” Copper put on the sultriest voice she could muster, which was saying something. Sunset could see the horny schoolmare look on Copper’s face without looking. “Or more importantly, who it is.”

The envelope did a little jig on Sunset’s nose. It was sealed with a little sticker in the shape of an acorn, and she caught the familiar scraggly cursive addressed to her.

Oh. Doppler. Sunset sighed and laid her head down on her forehoof.

“I know you’ve been thinking about him non-stop,” Copper said. She made the envelope do a little pirouette in front of Sunset.

Sunset slanted her mouth. She… really hadn’t thought about him in a while. Honestly, when her thoughts weren’t on the mirror or planting her face firmly into her pillow, they were on Nocturne.

Nocturne… alone in the dreamscape. No Star Swirl, no family or friends. Only Sunset to keep her company.

“Well guess what?” Copper said. “I’ve been thinking about him, too.”

Sunset picked her head up off her forehoof. “What?”

“Hah! I knew that’d get you out of your head for two seconds. But you know what will really get your attention?” She seductively bit her lip and waggled her eyebrow. “I read your letter, too.”

Yeah. That got Sunset’s attention alright. Even if she had fallen out with Doppler, invasions of privacy were just that. She snatched the envelope out of Copper’s magic and sat up.

“You read my mail? What the crap, Copper.”

Copper took a step back and put a hoof up defensively. “Hey now, with how much of a bum you’ve been these last few weeks, I knew you wouldn’t read it. But it’s from Doppler, and you know what month it is.”

“August…?”

Copper threw on the biggest grin Sunset had seen all week and said in a sing-song voice, “He’s on his way baaaack.”

For all that statement should have excited her, Sunset couldn’t find the will for it. She knew she should feel something, but didn’t. She was too tired to feel anything, too tired to care. For all that she had wanted to hold Doppler in her hooves before, the mirror had taken over every facet of her life.

Nocturne needed her. And if Sunset were honest with herself, she needed Nocturne. She brushed her lips with a hoof. Was it wrong to have a crush on a 1000-year-old ghost pony? The thought of leaving her stranded in the Dreamscape for even one more minute got her heart doing that squirmy, anxious, impossible-to-sit-still feeling.

Copper’s grin drooped into a frown. “Hey. You okay? You’ve been spacing out a lot lately. And you’ve been doing that lip-brushing thing a lot, too. You know nervous tics like that are a sign you’re going bonkers, right?”

Sunset stared at the envelope. That acorn sticker was probably Copper’s. Doppler would have sealed it with something silly, like a pencil or a paper with an A+ on it. She sighed and set it on the coffee table next to a messy stack of cosmetology magazines.

“It’s this research thing you’ve thrown yourself headlong at, isn’t it?” Copper said. “Why are you so dead set on this deadline, anyway? I thought Princess Celestia told you this was supposed to be a year-long thing or whatever.”

Sunset glared at Copper and had half a mind to tell her off, but she sighed and laid her head on the table. “She did, but there’s more to it than just what Celestia said.”

Copper perked up at that. “Something more important than what the princess told you? Oh, man. This I have to know. What is it?”

“I didn’t say it was more important.” That phrase left a sour taste in Sunset’s mouth. Wasn’t it, though?

“But there is something else that’s important about it.” Copper bit the tip of her tongue and leaned in farther and sweet Celestia, she could be the most adorable and simultaneously aggravating pony in the world.

“I can’t tell you,” Sunset said, rolling her eyes. “The whole thing’s confidential. I can’t say a word.”

Copper smirked. “You sound like me when I had to keep Doppler’s secret from you in Manehattan.”

Oh yeah. That thing. Sunset let out a sigh. Yeah, she didn’t really care about that anymore, either. Kinda went with the whole falling out with Doppler thing. Man, that was going to be an awkward conversation when he finally got back. She… still hadn’t told him she’d lost interest.

“Wow, not even that’s getting a rise out of you? You really are in the dumps about whatever this is.”

That was putting it lightly. August 26th was less than a week away, and she still hadn’t figured out why the frame kept failing. At this rate, Nocturne might be stuck in the Dreamscape for another two and a half years. That got her heart all can’t-sit-still squirmy-like all over again.

“You know you can always talk to me about it, right?” Copper brushed Sunset’s shoulder, gently smoothing down the little hairs that never liked to lie flat. A sober yet hopeful smile threaded across her face, the kind that always sort of unsettled Sunset, given the perfect, happy pony Copper was. “And I know it’s confidential. I get that. But I just… You look so unhappy, and I know talking about it’ll help.”

Copper flattened her ears back, and the way she clenched her jaw made her look beyond worried. She held up her right hoof in oath. “You can… you can sew my mouth shut with literal string if I blab. I swear.”

“I…”

Sunset looked away. She didn’t like this line of thinking. True, talking about problems was a surefire way of coping with them, and talking to String about it didn’t help. All he ever said was “just gotta keep at it” or other annoyingly motivational phrases.

But she knew Copper. And that meant entrusting what amounted to a state secret to the blabbiest pony in Equestria.

But she knew Copper, and Copper knew her. They were best friends. And that look on Copper’s face… If there was ever a time Copper was being serious and willing to keep her mouth shut, this was it.

Even if Copper couldn’t help her with the research itself, talking about it might help. Just having that shoulder to lean on would make things easier.

Celestia didn’t have to know.

“Okay, fine. But I will sew your mouth shut if you blab.”

The unsettlingly sober frown on Copper’s face got swept away in the torrent of a massive, infectious smile. “I swear on life and lips!”

She leaned in uncomfortably close to add: “And you know which lips I mean.”

“Of course I do.” Sunset rolled her eyes.

“I was talking about my—”

“Copper!”

She laughed. “Okay, okay. I’m just kidding. Talk to me. Really. I’m here for you.”

Sunset hooked her lip into a frown. Talking would help, but Copper wouldn’t understand anything she would say. She’d smile and “mhm” in all the right places, maybe put a hoof on Sunset’s shoulder when needed, but she wouldn’t get it. And, really, Sunset needed her to understand, not just listen.

It’d be better to just show her.

She threw her saddlebags back on. “Come on.”

“What?” Copper gasped. “You’re gonna show me!? Ohh, this is even better!”

“Hey,” Sunset snapped. “This is serious. I mean it. I’m trusting you big time with this.”

Copper’s excitement simmered down to a frighteningly serious smile. “I know. Really.”

Sunset held her gaze for a moment longer before setting out. “Okay.”

With some effort, Sunset managed to get her lazy butt off the couch and back out the door, Copper right beside her, more bubbly than the first time they met. They made good time back down through the quiet CSGU campus and into the castle. Past a few curious but well-wishing guardsponies, and down they went into the depths of the research facilities.

“This is so cool,” Copper whispered. Her eyes roved the high ceiling, the glow quartz sconces, and the many branching laboratories. She turned to Sunset after seeing one of the night crews at work. “Are we gonna get in trouble with me being here?”

Sunset shook her head. “They’re all busy with their own stuff. They won’t bother us.”

Copper ribbed her. “Look at you, all professional and big and stuff. ‘They won’t bother us.’ Hah!”

Yeah. This was already starting to feel like a bad idea. She had learned a thing or two about gut feelings, and that not acting on them usually ended up making things worse.

But this was how Copper always acted around new things. She… No. This was a bad idea. Things like this always ended badly. Sunset would get in so much trouble. She could lose everything.

“Copper,” Sunset said. “I think we should turn around. I don’t think this is a good idea anymore.”

Copper’s jaw dropped. “What? But we just got here. You can’t renege on me now.”

“I just… wait, what’s that? Shit, someone’s coming. In here!”

Sunset grabbed Copper in her magic and all but launched her through the nearest door. To say that Sunset was surprised Copper didn’t yelp would have been the understatement of the century.

Thankfully, the room lay dark as the hallway, and when Sunset shut the door behind her, everything fell silent. She cast a Hush Spell just to be safe. Unfortunately, she didn’t know any listening spells off the top of her head, so all she could do was strain her ear against the door for their hoofsteps.

“I thought nopony would bother us walking around down here?” Copper whispered.

Sunset barely heard her, thanks to the Hush Spell, but glared daggers at her all the same. It earned a skeptical but acquiescent frown from Copper, and she said nothing more.

Sunset pressed her ear back to the door. Two ponies walked by, talking about something or other to do with thermodynamics and coefficients of friction, until they faded away. She heaved a sigh of relief.

“For real, though,” Copper said quietly, muffled as she was by the spell. “What’s with the sneaking? You’re Princess Celestia’s personal student. I thought you were allowed down here.”

“Yeah, I am,” Sunset said. Her voice came out as a whisper, too. She didn’t feel comfortable lifting the Hush Spell quite yet. “But you’re not. And I really can’t risk losing my privileges.”

“Not even to show me this awesome amazing thing you’re sworn to secrecy about?” Copper batted her eyes, and for once, that definitely wasn’t going to fly.

“No!” Even under the effects of a Hush Spell, that came out loud enough to echo in this unfurnished room. Sunset flinched and grabbed Copper by the scruff of her neck with a pinch of magic before hightailing it out of there.

“Fuck, ow! Sunset, let go!” She struggled in Sunset’s magic until Sunset released her halfway down the hall. She rolled her shoulders to work out the kinks and fixed Sunset with a disbelieving stare. “Chill the fuck out, holy shit.”

“No, I’m not going to chill out. I could have gotten in trouble for that.” Sunset turned and looked up at the ceiling. “Why did I think this was a good idea?”

“Sunset, you have no idea who those ponies were. They could have been just some dorky research students for all we know. And if they even remotely knew who you were, they wouldn’t have fucked with you. But I would have definitely fucked with them.” She waggled her eyebrows. “Maybe even left out the ‘with.’”

“Copper, seriously. This is why I can’t show you stuff like this. All you do is joke around.”

“Well… yeah.” She broke eye contact for a second. “I always joke around. When am I not joking around?”

“Exactly!”

“It’s not like I can’t be serious and joke around at the same time. Come on, Sunset. Let’s go back down there. I want to know what it is.”

“Why?” It came out harsher than Sunset meant, but maybe that was a good thing.

Copper blinked. Her ears stood straight up, as if this were the first time she had actually taken a good look at Sunset.

“W-what?” she said.

“Why? Why are you so insistent on this? I changed my mind. Why can’t you respect that? This is why showing you is a bad idea. I could lose everything I have with Celestia and Noc—” She cleared her throat. “Why do you want to know so badly?”

Copper wilted beneath Sunset’s glare. Her ears fell back, and from the way her mouth hung slightly open Sunset realized she had stumbled upon a moment where, for once in her life, Copper didn’t know what to say.

“Because this is tearing you apart from the inside, Sunset.”

“I’m fine.”

“No. No you’re not. You’re tired all the time. You snap at me and everypony else—”

“Well maybe you deserve to be snapped at once in a while, especially when you pry like this. Not everything is meant for you to stick your nose in like it’s your business.”

Copper’s jaw dropped, and she reared back. She pointed a hoof at Sunset.

“That. That right there. What the hell is getting to you? Why is this getting to you? You’ve never acted like this before.”

“Yeah. That’s because…”

Because what? Because Nocturne, that’s what. Nocturne needed her, and Sunset was the only pony who could save her.

But Copper wouldn’t get that. If Sunset told her about Nocturne, she’d think Sunset was crazy, and there went best-friend confidentiality. She’d tell String, who’d take it right to Celestia. And when that happened, goodbye mirror, goodbye star pupil status, goodbye Nocturne.

“Because I’m under a lot of pressure,” Sunset said. “And I can’t tell you about it.”

“Yes,” Copper said, taking a step forward. “Yes you can. You don’t have to tell me anything about the project, but you can at least tell me how you feel. And I want to know, because…”

Copper lowered her gaze to the floor, and her eyes danced back and forth as if searching for the right words. She looked back up with folded ears and misty eyes.

“You know how much I care about you…”

Maybe it was the shameless prying. Maybe it was the earlier smartass comments. Maybe it was the lack of sleep. It didn’t matter. Something about the tone of Copper’s voice set off a fuse in Sunset’s head. All the flip-flopping emotions she played at had tested Sunset’s patience enough for one day.

“Yeah,” Sunset said flatly. “Thanks for your concern. I appreciate it.”

“S-Sunset?” Copper stared at her, alarmed. She had raised her front hoof as if ready to step back.

“You heard me.”

“Wha— I don’t—”

“Copper, what is… you know what? Never mind. I’m going to bed. I’ll see you back at the dorm.” And with that, Sunset slunk out of the lab.

Copper called out to her, but she didn’t bother looking back.

Sunset took the long way home, through the nice part of the trade district that butted up against the white walls of Canterlot Castle. Sadly, there wasn’t much out this late at night to keep her mind off their little argument, and she wound up face-first in her pillow with nothing to show for her aching hooves but a head full of Coppertone.

Well, fuck if that didn’t go as horribly as it possibly could. What was she thinking, bringing Copper to see the mirror? She knew Copper wouldn’t get it. And now all it did was piss her off. Piss herself off. Just… ugh!

The birds weren’t going at it outside just yet, but Sunset surely had less than a few hours before they would, and it was too hot to shut the window. She rolled over and covered her head with her other pillow, for whenever they inevitably started.

Screw this night. Screw showing Copper the mirror. Screw Copper’s prying.

What the hell did she know? She hadn’t met Nocturne. She didn’t know how important this was, how narrow a window Sunset had.

Right now, all that mattered was figuring out this mirror. Nocturne counted on her.

Sunset idly ran her hoof along her lips. She had to get Nocturne out.

She had to…

• • •

Princess Celestia stood on her balcony overlooking Canterlot and the whole of Equestria beyond. The evening sun was an avid painter of golds and oranges and pinks, and it made a canvas of city and scattered cloud and distant snow-capped mountain alike. She allowed herself an extra moment to bask in it. But only a moment.

Ephemeral beauty begets ephemeral beauty, as was its nature; the day giveth unto the night, and so goes life as it was, is, and will be. In with a breath, out with a sigh.

Moments like this she cherished most. Moments like this she regretted most.

Celestia closed her eyes and threw her magic around the still slumbering moon. Like a lasso tossed beyond the horizon, she felt it grip and pull taut. Though it had come to heed her command over the centuries, the moon never quite obeyed her the way the sun did—ever mistrusting, ever resentful—and it took more than her fair share of effort to coax it above the horizon.

With the moon high above, Celestia watched as, ah yes, there the stars were, slowly creeping out to dapple the sky like children coming out to play. She took a moment to smile and breathed in the first quiet breath of night.

Her job done, she turned in to ready herself for bed. Peytral on its hook, tiara on the nightstand, she settled into her bedsheets with a contented sigh and closed her eyes.

There was a knock at her bedroom door. Celestia sat up and rubbed her eyes. Did she fall asleep?

The moon cast a dim light through the balcony doors. Judging by the angle of the moonlight, it was somewhere around two o’clock. Philomena snoozed in her cage with her head under her wing.

The knock came again.

“What is it, Stone Wall?” Celestia said.

“Your Highness,” came Stone Wall’s bassy voice through the door. “Copper is here. She wants to speak with you. It sounds important.”

Copper…? Copper who? She rubbed her face, trying to wake up.

Ah, yes. Coppertone. Sunset’s friend.

Celestia got out of bed and cleared her throat. “Yes, Stone Wall. Send her in.”

A pause, and the door latch clicked to herald a hesitant set of hoofsteps. “Princess Celestia?”

She sounded… worried.

Celestia smiled, despite knowing Copper couldn’t see her in the darkness. To remedy that, she lit the candelabra on the reading desk by the door. The candlelight illuminated Copper’s left half, but that perhaps made the look on her face all the more concerning.

“Yes, Coppertone? What do you need?”

Copper stepped inside the doorway, her hooves clip-clopping on the marble floor. She stopped just short of the carpet.

“I know it’s late. And, by late I mean early. But…”

The sign of a thousand thoughts and fears warred on her face. And Celestia watched her heart break with every word she spoke.

“It’s about Sunset…”