Like A Broken Record

Chapters

Chapter I - Watch Where You're Going
Chapter II - Lunch, Why did It Have to be Lunch
Chapter III - Preliminary Survey On the Bioavailability of Ethanol
Chapter IV - What Shall We Do with a Drunken Unicorn?
Chapter V - On the Inevitability of Parties

Chapter I - Watch Where You're Going

She woke up at nine again. Each morning, she could not help but feel a little sorry for ponies who weren't unicorns; she simply walked out the door, and all her things assembled themselves in mid air. Her saddlebags filled themselves, library books on the right, books from her personal collection, quills, an inkbottle, parchment, and a sandwich on the left. Like always.

The sun was shining outside, and the streets busy. She tuned out all the conversations around her, listening only to the clinking of her shoes. She preferred the city by night. There were fewer ponies around then.

At least libraries were alright, despite being public places. There were ponies around, yes, but they didn't try to talk to her, which was a blessing. And of course the books made up for the inconvenience of their presence.

She arrived at the library after the too-long walk there. She was greeted by the librarian at the front desk whose name she did not know, but whose face she did, with a "hey" as she walked in. Her favorite spot was open, so she claimed it, spreading notebooks and scrolls across the desk, and hanging her bags—it was a relief to have the weight off her back—on the chair. Having staked her claim, she set out wandering the stacks.

Though she had a list with her, ostensibly to remind her what books she was looking for, she did not read it. She kept those lists only out of habit; had she left it behind it would have made no difference. Especially since only half the books she pulled were on the list.

Then back to the desk, back through the thick air, full of that old, sweet smell of dusty paper, carried in the currents almost palpably convecting away from the bars of hot sunlight that walled off shelves from each other.

Inevitably she would find a reason to go back looking for additional books once she had settled in. The argument building in her notes would come to depend on a passage referencing something she had not read, and a nagging suspicion would tell her to go look it up, make sure everything was sound; even worse was when the allusion was to something she had read but did not have to hoof. Many times she was content to trust the author that he knew his subject, but when things fell in the scope of her own knowledge she did not extend the same trust to her memory.

And so the day went by, the heavens turning above, and the pages turning below.

Moondancer was lost to that world. She was in a realm of ideas; it was a much better state than what most of life was, when you could simply abstract over all the messiness of words, sentences, paragraphs, and even the pens and ponies that had produced them. Moondancer was in a realm of ideas, pure and plain, where her troubles could not reach her. But more important than her troubles were what the books (distantly) had to say to her. Great chains of argument and logic unfolded before her, and not one link did she leave unexamined, but one after one after one——

"Miss Moondancer? The library is closed. You really have to go this time," the soft voice of the librarian said.

It was a soft voice, but to Moondancer it rang out like a trumpet, bringing all her thoughts crashing down. The nib of her quill snapped as she tried capture the dissolving wisps her ideas had suddenly been reduced to.

Her face met the desk; she groaned loudly. She did not bother to argue with the librarian. It had never worked before, and she was suddenly exhausted. She sluggishly lifted her head. The library was mostly dark now. Her desk lamp was a dim island. She stuffed her notes into her bags, along with a few choice books, left her desk, head hanging low, and plodded out of the library.

The street outside was actually brighter than where she had squirreled herself away for her research. But she did not notice that; she was barely aware she was walking. She was right back up in her head, trying to recreate the thoughts of a few minutes ago. In vain. She had lost the trail she had followed to get there, and her tiredness threw shade over everything she could see.

She walked the streets of Canterlot, her hooves moving automatically. She had tread the path between her house and the library so many times she could have done it in her sleep—which was good, because that was more or less what she was doing. But even though she knew the route so well that it had been worn into her brain as much as it had into the pavement, it had always been about the destination and not the journey, so that she couldn't have told you a single thing about anything on the way.

So she didn't notice the nightclub she passed, and she certainly did not notice the unicorn trotting out through the doors and directly into her path.

For the second time that night, Moondancer was violently dragged out of her head and into reality. She collided with the unicorn, knocking them both to the ground.

"Hey watch where you're going!" the other mare said.

"S-sorry," Moondancer said. As she stood up, she felt something crunch under her hoof.

"Aw man!" the mare said, pushing her back to examine whatever it was she had stepped on.

Moondancer craned her head to look. She felt her cheeks burning. The mare was cradling a pair of violet sunglasses, one lens of which was now spiderwebbed with cracks. "Oh Luna, I'm so sorry!" she stammered, cowering.

Her face must have been pitiful to look at, because the Unicorn's glare softened instantly when their eyes met. Or when she tried to meet Moondancer's eyes: the poor mare kept turning her head, like their gazes were like poles of a magnet.

"Whoa, hey there, it's okay," the mare said, reaching out her hoof. Her tone was softer now.

Moondancer's breathing finally started to slow down. She stood up, though her legs were still shaky.

"You gonna be okay?" Moondancer nodded. The mare lifted her sunglasses in her magic, examining them. She sighed. "These are really busted, huh?" She added: "My name's Vinyl, by the way."

In sequence, Moondancer squeaked, blurted out a "sorry!", and then, composing herself, said "I can fix it."

"What was that?" Vinyl said, "I didn't quite hear you."

"I can fix your glasses. I know a spell for it."

"Well cool! Isn't that convenient. The one mare I run into out here is the one mare who can fix these things." Vinyl chuckled. "Go right ahead."

Moondancer closed her eyes and focused. It had been a while since she had broken her own glasses, so it took a moment to remember the spell. Even if it was an easy one. It was easy. The kind of spell you could cast ten times without breaking a sweat. The only problem with reading as much as she did was that there were so many things in her head that it was sometimes hard to recall specific little facts. This would be so much easier if Vinyl would just stop staring at her. She was sure she was staring at her. It had been a long time, at least a minute, and she hadn't done a thing. She was probably getting impatient. Or thinking that she had just been bragging or looking for an excuse. She wasn't. She knew the spell. She had it written down right at the beginning of her favorite notebook. All she had to do was visualize the page. The page. Not the mare staring at her. The mare whose glasses she had broken. The mare who was saying:

"Uh, are you sure you're okay? Because if this is a hard spell, I can just go get them repaired tomorrow."

"No!" Moondancer said. "I just—I can't remember the spell right now." Her ears were pressed flat against her head. The heat that had been burning in her face swelled. She attempted a smile, "But that doesn't matter! My house is really close. Just come with me and I'll have these as good as new." Her voice was a wobbling thing.

"Come back to your place? Hey, at least buy me dinner first." Vinyl smirked as she sidled up alongside Moondancer.

"Sure, I guess if you wan—" Moondancer froze as she realized what she had said. The impulse to curl into a ball became ever stronger. She could feel herself sweating.

Vinyl slapped her on the shoulder, "I'm just kidding, don't worry."

Moondancer nodded and swallowed. She led Vinyl on, not trusting her self to talk anymore. As they walked anxiety grew alongside her embarrassment. What was she doing? She was leading a complete stranger to her house. She stole a glance at Vinyl, who had her broken glasses, the cause of all this, perched on her forehead above her horn. She was humming something to herself.

As much as Moondancer wanted to stop, she didn't see how she could. What would that mare think if she just ran away? She was probably laughing at her already. What was she thinking about her, the way those red eyes were flashing in the streetlights. There was no turning back.

Vinyl wasn't saying anything to her. Moondancer was grateful for that much. Things were awkward enough as it was without small talk. Whether the reason Vinyl wasn't talking was because she sensed that, or because she thought Moondancer was that much of a weirdo and wanted to avoid interacting with her more than necessary, she didn't know. She really hoped it was the first one.

Even though it seemed like the blocks had stretched out to be miles long, and each step only an inch forward, they reached Moondancer's house. The presence of somepony who wasn't already a close acquaintance made Moondancer acutely aware that "hovel" was an unfortunately accurate description of the place. She thanked Luna that it was night. In the dark Vinyl wouldn't be able to see it properly.

Her horn lit up, and she drew the key from inside her sweater. The door clicked open, and she stood aside to let Vinyl in. The mare had made it no more than two steps inside the dark house before she suddenly stumbled and fell. By the sound of it, she wasn't the only thing that fell. Moondancer leaped through her door, her stomach fairly hanging out of her belly.

Vinyl didn't seem to be hurt. She shook herself off and stood back up. "Whew, what do you have all over the floor here?" Her own horn lit up and a bright light filled the room, revealing books and books and books.

Vinyl whistled. "You didn't tell me you lived at the library."

"Actually, I was coming back from the library—I mean, yeah, it is a lot of books, isn't it," Moondancer said. She righted the pile Vinyl had knocked over.

"Ah, I know where I've got that spell written down. Wait just a second." She vanished into her bedroom. The familiar walls were comforting around her. But they did not protect her from the sense of intrusion that her consciousness of Vinyl's presence conjured. She quickly found the notebook that had her favorite spells in it and, clutching it to her chest, trotted out of the safety of her keep.

It was stupidly simple after that. She had remembered most of the spell before she even reached the page it was written on. At least it was good to double check she laughed weakly to herself. "I'm ready," she mumbled.

Vinyl took the glasses off their perch and proffered them to Moondancer. She took them in her magic. Her horn pulsed faintly, and a few light sparks burst out of it and landed on the glasses. They danced across the surface of the shattered lens, following the cracks and sealing them up as they went. It took a few seconds.

Vinyl took them back and inspected them as well as she could in the dim light. "Neat! You've got to teach me that spell sometime. These are always a pain to get fixed when they break. Thanks." She turned and, Oh thank you sweet Celestia, headed for the door. She halted: "Oh hey, I didn't catch your name?"

"M-Moondancer."

"Moondancer, huh? Not a bad name. Tell you what, I'm in Canterlot a lot. I'm a musician, you know." She gestured at her cutie mark. "You oughta come to one of my shows. I do a lot of gigs at the Galloping Gelding. You should come sometime. I'll buy you a drink.

"Anyway, thanks Moondancer." She stepped out into the night and was gone.

Moondancer closed the door, pressing it firmly into the frame and driving the bolt home. She slumped down and let out a deep, deep breath.

Chapter II - Lunch, Why did It Have to be Lunch

She only lasted a minute. The tears rolling down her face did nothing to quench the fire in her cheeks. What was wrong with her? She couldn't even walk down the street without making a complete fool of herself in front of a stranger—worse than that she had nearly hurt somepony. She was glad to be by herself again, but Vinyl must have been even happier to be able to get away from such a weird mare as she must have seemed. She was just lucky she had been able to fix the glasses. What would have happened if she hadn't been? Probably she would have had the guards called on her.

How did she manage to keep the friends she had around? Did they just hang out with her so they could laugh at her later? She asked many questions, but the floor did not answer her. It only pressed her ear painfully against her head. She did not stand up. That ear was the only thing keeping her grounded. It was something real. It was a rock she could cling to amidst the tempest in her mind. That she was battered and beaten against it (she could get so dramatic sometimes) did not lessen its value in the least. As time went on she pressed her head even harder against the ground. The pinching sharpened to a point.

She did not remember getting up, but at some point she ended up in bed. She did not stop crying; she was sure of that.She saw that mare, Vinyl looking at her through the window with a concerned expression, but that might have been a dream. She remembered it as dimly as a dream, at any rate.

Her eyes were still puffy when she woke up, and the fur around them was crusty with sleep. She brushed it away with her magic as she lurched out of bed.

Nighttime incidents aside, that day went just the same way as the day before. And the day before that, and so on. But this day's variation on the endlessly repeating theme of her life, came in the form of a letter waiting for her when she arrived home from the library. It was less of an intrusion than the night before, but still an intrusion; she did not get much mail. Which was good, because when ponies write to you, they usually expect you to write back, which was something she did not have time for at all—especially for strangers.

This letter did not come from a stranger. It had a royal seal on it. Not of a sun or moon, but a six pointed star, pressed in purple wax. The shape of it was unmistakable to her.

Twilight Sparkle. She almost would have preferred a letter from a stranger. Strangers were not so complicated. She could just ignore a stranger if she really needed to. But Twilight? Twilight would be showing up at her door soon if she did not reply to whatever was in this. The tricky part, was whether that was a good or a bad thing.

The dreams of the previous night came floating back up in the corners of her mind. Twilight Sparkle, that nag. Who did she think she was. yanking Moondancer around like this. She may have been a princess but so what. That didn't give her the right to play with ponies' feelings however she wanted. She might have been cute once but she blew it. Moondancer didn't hate her anymore, but there was no going back to what they had been before.

Not that she wanted to.

She read the letter over and over. The ink was black. Her lights were dim, and the dark lines seemed to recede: deep, winding chasms in the parchment. It was worse than she feared. Twilight was not announcing a visit—it must be awfully nice to be a princess and just invite yourself wherever you want—no, instead of intruding on her space, Twilight was inviting her to come to Ponyville. And make no mistake, this was more than just a friendly request.

Moondancer admitted that she did not know much about what Twilight was like as a princess, but the Twilight she had known was not in the habit of sending frivolous letters. When she wrote something she expected results. Moondancer was much the same way. That was the kicker. But that was what happened when you only wrote letters because there was absolutely no alternative—except actually talking to somepony—: you needed the response as badly as you had needed to send the message.

And here Twilight had sent her a message. "Come down and visit me in Ponyville." As if that was a simple thing. Maybe for her it was, but not for everypony. Twilight knew exactly who she was writing to. Twilight knew exactly what she was asking of Moondancer—except she didn't, did she? Moondancer stared sternly ahead. She breathed in and she breathed out and she did not say anything. There were no words in her mind, only the image of a purple unicorn, of that beautiful, brilliant alicorn.

She had to know, right? Moondancer had made her feelings very clear. It had certainly been obvious enough to the others, for all the good that did her. She could almost hear Twinkleshine teasing her in the distance.

And now she was going to see Twilight again, under better circumstances. Maybe she could—no. When she thought of Twilight other thoughts appeared too. Twilight had come back for her, but she could not forget where Twilight had left her. It still hurt to look at her. Even if she felt other things too, they could not outweigh the hurt.

She read the letter again. Next weekend she was wanted. Next weekend, down in Ponyville. She only hoped she would have enough time to work out what she wanted to say. She searched her stacks, and pulled out a book on rhetoric. There was nothing to lose by brushing up.

Moondancer had been worried that she would not be able to find Twilight's castle when she arrived in Ponyville. It was a moot point since Twilight was waiting for her at the station. She had fully expected that, after all, what were the chances that Twilight wouldn't show? She would never do anything like that. But supposing she had, her castle towered over everything else, and it would have been nothing at all for Moondancer to make her way there herself and—greet her.

Twilight had a beaming smile on her face as Moondancer stepped onto the platform. "Hey there! I'm so glad to see you. Ever since we got caught up again, I've been wanting to invite you to Ponyville." She pulled Moondancer into a hug.

"Yeah. Well, I'm here, I guess?" Moondancer put her face into a smile too.

"Well come along now. I hope you had a relaxing train ride, because there's a lot I want to show you," Twilight said. She spun about, and trotted away. Moondancer followed her closely.

For a long time she had wondered what could possibly be so great about Ponyville to keep Twilight there. Now, seeing it for herself, actually walking the streets, she understood even less. She did not try to compare it to Canterlot, tally up the advantages and disadvantages of life in the two places. There was no use trying; they were in two different categories altogether.

She just could not see what Twilight saw in the place. That was compounded by what she could see, which was that the Twilight walking beside her was not at all the Twilight she had grown up with. Moondancer hardly recognized her. Their circle of friends had been tight knit back in their school days, here it seemed like everypony they passed was another of Twilight's friends. They could hardly go two steps without Twilight calling out to somepony, or else somepony greeted her. Thankfully they did not pay too much attention to Moondancer. Twilight may have decided she wanted to be a popular mare, but she still had no interest in such things.

"So where are we going first?" she asked. The streets here were dirt. Dirt! She suddenly realized how much she had taken the well paved streets of Canterlot for granted. She could feel the grit working its way between her shoes and hooves. She did her best to ignore the sensation as she listened to Twilight's answer.

"Well," Twilight said, producing a scroll which unfurled itself in front of her, "first on our itinerary is to visit Lyra."

Moondancer remembered that Lyra had moved to Ponyville too. She had forgotten that. She liked her well enough, but she frankly didn't know her too well. For her, her friends had been Twilight and the others.

She remembered that Lyra liked music. She tried to recall the last thing she had listened to. Her cutie mark did not have anything to do with music, but even beyond that, she had never really been interested in music. It sounded nice, she supposed, but she could not see what Lyra and so many other ponies did in it. So what was she going to talk about? Was it just going to end up like those unbearable moments when she was a foal and one of her parents stopped to talk with some friend for ages. About what she had never cared: it could not possibly be as important as whatever book she wanted to keep reading at that time. And while she still didn't care, she regretted not paying any attention because it had left her clueless as to what she was supposed to talk about.

"We're here!" Twilight chirped, jarring Moondancer out of her reverie. A cottage came into focus in front of her. Is it still a cottage if it's in the middle of a town? Or only in the country. Have to look it up. Regardless of terminology, it was a plain building, comparatively speaking. Twilight opened the door and walked in without even knocking. Moondancer looked all around as she followed. Wasn't that weird? Just walking into somepony's house.

As usual, it went better than she had feared. But that was just luck. Lyra did not end up questioning her too much. And time did not drag on like it always seemed to. It helped that most of the conversation was between the other two. Even if she did not have much to say, there was something nice about just listening to their voices.

But Twilight still liked her lists, and when she had satisfied herself that they had checked that first item off, they were gone. Back down the street they went. In short order up another. They had walked across the whole town (not very far, admittedly) two or three times before The List said it was time for lunch.

Moondancer did not normally have much of a lunch. She was much too busy. Moondancer also did not usually spend all day walking around, so she was famished nevertheless. So she was grateful when Twilight led her on a short distance to a small cafe.

They sat down outside. Moondancer noticed, now that she was still and away form books (a rare thing), how nice the day was. A gentle breeze slid across her fur, the coolness in perfect balance to the warmth of the sun. She looked up, as she had read ponies often did. The sky was a clear deep blue; the pegasi had ornamented it with a few scraps of cloud, a white almost glaringly bright.

Twilight ordered two cups of tea for them, as they waited for their food. Moondancer was grateful. Both because she was thirsty and because it gave her an excuse not to talk as she sipped it. That became less of an aspect as the minutes passed. Now she was alone with Twilight, and she remembered how to be comfortable with that. They talked about books, sharing what they were reading at the moment. Moondancer was always happy to discuss those.

A familiar feeling pervaded the atmosphere. Many a lunch spent like this in their school days came to Moondancer's mind. It was just like old times. So, of course, she could not but remember that it was not old times. Dis-ease wormed its way back into her mind. Twilight's wings seemed to bulge from her sides; they were reminders that things would never be the same.

But no. Back to her face. Back to the books. She's still into Daring Do? I mean, they were good when we were fillies but getting a little old now. Maybe have to reread.

Moondancer was enjoying herself.

Then she stretched. She looked around as she did, and she froze in her stretch.

For sitting at the other side of the terrace they were on was Vinyl Scratch. Their eyes met. Oh Celestia, she's waving. Moondancer quickly looked somewhere else.

"Are you alright there?" Twilight said.

"Yeah. Fine," Moondancer said more quickly than she would have liked. Just ignore her. It'll be okay. She tried to focus on the book they had been talking about.

She had almost succeeded when a hoof slapped her on the back. "Hey there. You didn't say you knew Twilight," Vinyl's voice said from behind her.

Twilight seemed surprised. "Wow. I had no idea you two knew each other. How'd you meet?" She cocked an eyebrow at Moondancer.

"Ummmm," Moondancer said. Thankfully Vinyl quickly launched into an explanation. The shame of that night returned in a roaring flame licking at her skin. But it was still better than telling the story herself. She felt like she should add something, but she could not think of anything to say, so she simply nodded along occasionally making affirmative sounds.

When Vinyl finished she turned on Moondancer again. "So what are doing here in Ponyville, girl?"

Moondancer hesitated for a moment. When Twilight did not answer for her, she spoke, "It's kind of a long story. We—Twilight and I—used to be friends in school. So Twilight invited me to catch up."

Finally, Twilight decided she wanted to contribute. You would think she would have done so earlier, being the only one to actually know everypony involved here. "That's right. Moondancer was one of my closest friends back before I came to Ponyville. I, uh, kind of lost touch with her when I moved." Her ears flopped down, and her eyes darted around, looking all over the place except at Moondancer, who, for her part, was counting the hairs on Twilight's muzzle.

"Which was a shame. She and I really have a lot in common. She's just about the only pony I've ever met who likes books as much as me."

"Oh yeah?" Vinyl said. She turned to Moondancer, "So what kind of stuff do you like?"

Moondancer had, the past few days, been working her way through a treatise on agriculture, and the indirect effects of earth pony magic on the quality of crops. But she felt suddenly embarrassed to talk about it. She dispelled even quicker thoughts of mentioning the article she had been composing on it, soon to join the others, safe in a special niche. "Oh, pretty much everything, I guess," she said. It was the truth, even if a vague one.

"Pretty cool," said Vinyl. "I'm—"she threw a glance at Twilight"—hoping Twilight won't banish me for this, but I've never been able to get through a book without falling asleep."

"But not for lack of trying!" she added, grinning at Twilight. "Just ain't my thing, so good on you." She bent down to Moondancer's ear and whispered, just loud enough for Twilight to hear: "Get out while you still can. She's gone mad with power, everypony who doesn't read enough is getting sent to the book camps—ow!"

Twilight swatted her. Rolling her eyes, she said, "And you've already met her, but this is the second best Vinyl Scratch around—it's a long story—and she is a musician."

"Pfft. That's all?" Vinyl interrupted, "you're not going to mention how I'm the best DJ in Equestria. Come on, Twilight." She turned to Moondancer, "I don't mean to brag, but I'm kind of a big deal."

Moondancer giggled. For some reason the faux grandstanding—and the good natured gleam in Vinyl's eye said plainly that it was only bluster—was suddenly endearing.

Vinyl continued, "Yeah, I play gigs all over the place. I'm up in Canterlot all the time. I'd just got done at one of my favorite places when I ran into you the other night. 'The Galloping Gelding.' The name could use some work, but, hey, they've got a good atmosphere. You should come sometime. I meant it when I invited you the other night."

"Umm, I'll think about it," Moondancer said.

"Anyway, I should probably get going, I think I just saw my food get here. You two have a good time," Vinyl said. Then, louder, "Settle down, Tavi, I'm coming!" She trotted away.

Moondancer watched her. She saw another pony at Vinyl's table, who she had not noticed earlier. A gray mare, 'Tavi,' was sitting there, looking impatient. Vinyl sat down and started talking to her. She had never been one for ponywatching, or the eavesdropping that she admitted she would have done if she were closer, but that conversation was just so much more interesting than her sandwich.

At least Vinyl had left before too long. There were few things that Moondancer disliked more than chatting with strangers. She had never got the hang of how to do it without embarrassing herself.

Either way, it was over now. Now she was laughing at something the gray mare said. She had been like that with Twilight, too. Joking around. It must have been something she did with everypony.

She heard Twilight's voice in the distance. "That's so funny that you two ran into each other. It reminds me of the first time I saw Pinkie Pie."

"Yeah, I guess," Moondancer said, even though it most definitely had not been funny. It was even less funny now in her view. If she had know at the time that Vinyl was as big a deal as she apparently was, she probably would have caught fire from the embarrassment.

They were laughing again at the other table. Probably Vinyl joking about her, about the loser she ran into on the street. Or how she was stalking her. She wasn't! Really she wasn't. It was all a coincidence. She was invited here; she had a letter. If anypony accused her of stalking she would just show them that. It was proof.

No, no, no. That wasn't what was happening (though she did have the letter). Vinyl was a jokester, sure, but not that kind of jokester. If she did say anything about her it would be like that line about Twilight, not anything you could take serious. Besides, if anything she liked her. She was the one who had come over here.

She continued to chat with Twilight. While she remained distracted, over time this quieted. There were books to discuss, after all. And books were one thing that had not changed about Twilight—she still as much a bibliophile as she had ever been. Before long they were talking what sounded like nonsense to anypony listening in, having long left behind the titles that most ponies had heard of; they sailed away over a vast sea of ink.

Chapter III - Preliminary Survey On the Bioavailability of Ethanol

All in all, Moondancer's little trip down to Ponyville had not been that bad. Her relations with Twilight were not back to what they had been. No, the trip had confirmed that they never could be; both of them had changed too much. But she did feel that she could look on Twilight as a friend again.

And though she had seen many interesting things in Ponyville, she was glad to be home. For the trip, however pleasant, was at its heart an aberration. Now normalcy could be restored. Now she could return to her studies without distraction.

She picked up a quill, and began outlining the topics for tomorrow's research; she did so every night. It took longer than usual, though. She felt distracted, but did not quite know what by. Residual effects of the trip, probably.

When she was done, she climbed into bed. A sudden tiredness washed over her, and sleep, which normally came only timidly, embraced her as the blankets did.

She went back to the library.

She did not attain such a state as she had managed a week before (only a week? why did it feel like so much longer?). Those episodes were rare, to her sadness. It was a unique pleasure when all the world contracted down to a single point of whatever problem she was trying to solve, and she could feel or at least remembered after the fact the whole resources of her mind racing to solve it—it was a singular pleasure. And a unique agony, too, to be interrupted, wrenched down to earth, to a world of petty concerns and unimportant details.

The day slid by. On a high tower, Celestia's horn gleamed as the sun sank below the horizon. Moondancer went home.

The next day was similar.

The next day she went home early.

There was... something distracting her. Something that made her attention keep sliding away from her books. Every few paragraphs she found herself looking somewhere else; her notes were becoming terse and bare. She recognized this: burnout. It terrified her. The last few times it had happened had been agonizing. The one thing she was good at had become boring, distasteful. She nearly ran out of the library as soon as that horrible word hissed in her head.

It was only a partial solution, running. She still needed to pass the time somehow. She would see how she felt in the morning, but that still left a whole evening to get through, and she was not in the habit of going to bed early.

After pacing around in her room for a while, she felt the walls closing in on her. she was something in her telling her to move. She had to move. She went out into the street. It was so much better out at night. She walked; she did not care which way she was going, she just let her hooves carry her along through the humid air.

Street after street passed her by. Moondancer really was not paying attention, because she soon wandered into a part of the city that was active even at night. She kept moving, not looking at anypony. Bad enough in the day. The shadow-distorted forms of the ponies around her were almost grotesque.

She looked up, to try to get her bearings. The buildings here all had bright signs on them. The one she was standing in front of proclaimed itself in neon green to be "The Galloping Gelding." She grimaced at the name, but, there was something familiar about it, as if she had heard it before.

Moondancer was not an impulsive pony. She rarely did anything without carefully turning it over in her mind. But she was in a strange mood that night. She had hardly been in control of her hooves all the way there, so it was somehow less of a surprise when she found herself walking inside.

There was music playing. She felt it more than heard it at the volume it was going. A rumbling in her chest accompanied each pulse of the beat. Despite the obvious loudness, it did not crash in her ears—it sounded almost distant.

Heat, too, came with the wall of sound. She could see in the middle of the building a sea of bodies. They were dancing and thrashing wildly. Their energy was palpable. Not just in the heat and sound, there was something else radiating from those ponies. Moondancer could feel it stirring something in her. Her hooves knew what to do, even if she didn't.

But she could not let herself approach just yet. After all, she was a stranger here, what if it was some kind of exclusive club that you were supposed to be a member of? She just needed to sit down for a minute, work things out.

She was interrupted by a voice that somehow sounded perfectly clear despite the noise. "What can I get for you?" said the stallion she saw as she turned around. He (the bartender, she realized) was looking at her expectantly.

"Uuum," she said, "Uh, this is my first time here. What's good?" At the end of the sentence her voice rose high, as if to emphasize the ignorance behind the question.

He chuckled and grinned from behind his mustache. "Well in that case, I know just the thing. One moment." He turned, and pulled down bottles with his magic—it seemed like there was a chandelier's worth of glass flying down from the shelves—pouring and mixing some concoction in front of him. He paused every few moments to inspect his work, sniffing at it carefully. At last he was done. He set down two shot glasses in front of her. "That," he said, pointing at the right one, "is The Galloper, our specialty." It was glowing softly. Moondancer was pretty sure drinks weren't supposed to glow. "Well, one of our specialties. But if you're new here I ain't letting within a mile of The Gelder." Moondancer wasn't a stallion, but she still could not help but wince at that name. "And this," he continued, pointing at the other glass, "is water. You'll need it. Drink up." He smiled.

Moondancer didn't see any other way out of the conversation than to obey. She raised the glass to nervous lips, she looked at the bartender, hesitating.

He nodded. "One gulp."

"One gulp," she whispered to herself. She closed her eyes—

"Hold on," the stallion said. "Tilt yer head farther back. It'll go down easier that way. Less time to think about it." He demonstrated.

Moondancer tilted her head back, and tipped the glass. It felt like somepony dropped a hot rock down her throat. She gagged and sputtered, but everything had slid down without her even needing to swallow. She fell off her seat, staggering. She groaned, her voice came out hoarse through the burning in her throat, "What was that!"

The bartender just laughed, the son of a nag. "Just gallops right through ya, don't it."

Moondancer grumbled and walked away. She certainly wasn't going to spending any more time around disgusting things like that "drink". Why'd she even let him give it to her, Celestia dammit. But hey, she didn't mind the music so much anymore. It was getting louder, though. And the lights seemed brighter. The air seemed hotter. She wandered onto the dance floor because why not. It felt different than normal having all those ponies around. She felt herself moving to the beat, dancing with everypony. It was easy. The lights seemed brighter. She felt almost weightless as she moved. There were so many other ponies around. She was moving with them. It was good that she could feel the music in her bones, because it was hard to hear it. The lights seemed brighter. The lights were getting brighter. The lights were getting whiter.

Chapter IV - What Shall We Do with a Drunken Unicorn?

She rushed forward, towards the lights, dim and high on the ceiling, as she came to. There was somepony at her side. Why? She was lying on the ground.

"You okay?" somepony said, the pony at her side, the pony she knew. Vinyl Scratch was standing over her, a concerned expression visible even through her shades. They were in the middle of a clear circle of floor, ringed tightly by other clubgoers.

Moondancer's mouth was dry and her head ached, "What happened?" A burning rose in her as she noticed all the gazes focused on her.

"You passed out and collapsed. Right in the middle of the dance floor"—the tips of Moondancer's ears at that point were only a few degrees short of incandescence—"Have you been feeling sick? Did you drink anything weird?" Vinyl, who had remained conscious and so was really the one who ought to know more about the situation than Moondancer continued to ask questions.

Moondancer moaned, her headache multiplying in strength, "Something called a...galloper?"

Vinyl swore under her breath and cast a glare towards the bar. She looked cute when she was mad, Moondancer realized.

She let out a big sigh. "Fine. You're gonna be fine, just—Celestia dammit." She put her hoof to her face. "Alright, let's get you home."

"Why?" Moondancer smiled, "You said I'm fiine."

Vinyl looked her in the eye. "You ever been really drunk before?"

The way Vinyl was talking it sounded like there was a problem. Moondancer didn't feel like there was a problem. She felt great. Why would anypony think there was a problem? Problems were for—they were for—ponies who didn't feel great like her. She began lecturing, explaining this to Vinyl.

"I'll take that as a no," Vinyl said, "Seriously, though, There's no way you know what you're getting into. Imma get you out of here before you do something you regret." She extended a hoof and pulled Moondancer up.

Moondancer stood, but it seemed that somepony had made the floor all wobbly while she was out. She stepped and staggered forward. It was as if she was weightless, and her hooves hadn't realized it yet. It was kind of fun. She took another big step, but was checked by Vinyl's hoof.

"Easy there, girl. Just come with me. We're gonna have a great time," she said.

Vinyl was a cool pony, so Moondancer listened to her. She was, Moondancer was sure, an expert on having a good time. She had clearly done lots more research on it than Moondancer had. She started to say so.

Vinyl led her outside. It was nice out there; it was cooler and there was something different—her head wasn't pounding so much. Vinyl turned and yelled something inside the club. Then she return to Moondancer's side.

"I'm a grown mare!" Moondancer said, "I know how to walk." She took a few steps forward, proudly keeping her eyes fixed on Vinyl. Her back hoof had barely left the ground when she stumbled. She caught herself, but only just, and Vinyl did not give her a chance to try again.

Oh well. Moondancer continued to talk about how much better Vinyl was at this sort of thing than she was. Like, was that a party she was at in there? Moondancer hadn't been to a party in ages. Couldn't even remember the last time there had been one without birthday cake, or that somepony she knew from school hadn't invited her to.

So it was pretty cool that Vinyl was there. Did she go to those things often? Oh wait, yeah, of course. She had said that that was her job so obviously. Plus that cutie mark. Wow Moondancer was silly. Not silly but out of it. Was this what being drunk was like? She had never drunk anything before. Well obviously she'd drunk things before but not like drunk drunk. But anyway being drunk was weird.

Now where was she? Parties. The cool kind, not the other kind. Were there other kinds? Political. Like she said, the cool kind of party. So as parties went, was that a good party she had been at? Surely some parties were better than others. Oh, she really knew nothing about the topic. What were the elements of a good party? Or at least, what were the major camps? Moondancer supposed that, even if she didn't know much about partying, it was a pretty safe bet that the ponies who did didn't all agree. She would definitely have to research this, but for now what could Vinyl tell her about the subject?

All the while as they walked, the night air moved around them. It was cool compared to the confined atmosphere of the club, but soon its own warmth became apparent—it was summer. The cobblestones, which had been baking in the sun all the day, were like gentle coals, heating the city now that there was nothing else to do it.

Moondancer's rambling voice carried easily through the calm air. Under the influence of the alcohol, she fell into lecturing, and a stream of thoughts that had previously only found an outlet in ink (and that carefully hidden from the eyes of ponies) was given voice. She would regret it in the morning, not because there was anything regrettable in it, but simply because it had happened. If ponies had been meant to share their thoughts, they would have been given the ability to see and hear them directly, instead of the clumsy methods that were available. A part of her remembered that, but only a small part, so she kept pontificating.

As for Vinyl, she just walked on silently. She just listened to Moondancer. If she minded, any of it, being dragged out of the club to escort Moondancer home (even if that had been her own initiative), the current rambling, or simply having to support the pony leaning against her, Moondancer did not notice. She hummed something but was otherwise quiet. Nopony was asking any questions here.

Between her and Vinyl's fortuitous meeting, and Moondancer knowing her neighborhood well enough that her intoxication could not obscure the way, they soon arrived at her house.

"You know," Vinyl said, looking up at Moondancer's house, "normally I'd say a pony like you should get out more, but man, maybe that's bad advice after all. I could see you were about to charge horn-first into trouble."

"What are you talking about? What was I gonna do? Lecture somepony's leg off? Besides, with a pretty unicorn like you around, what could've happened?" Moondancer said, slurring her words ever so slightly.

"Do you not remember the part where you passed out like ten minutes after walking through the freaking door? In the middle of the place." Vinyl shook her head. She paused. "Wait, what was that last part?"

Moondancer walked up to her front door. "Well we're here." The cheer that had been in her voice the whole way suddenly evaporated. She unlocked the door aggressively.

"You don't sound very happy about that..."

"Why wouldn't I be?" Moondancer said, snorting—almost snarling—, "I'm back home, aren't I? Back in the one place that doesn't make me want to scream—you know, how normal ponies feel everywhere."

"Whoa, hey, calm down." Vinyl said.

"Easy for you to say. You didn't make a fool of yourself in front of a bunch of strangers!"

"Make a fool—. Moonie, it's a club, ponies pass out there all the time. You think you’re the first one who's ended up in over her head in booze there? Nah, they might be annoyed that I left, but I let 'em know they could thank Shot Glass for that. So don't even worry about it."

This mare, she just didn't get it. "It wasn't that. I mean, it wasn't just that. It was everything. Just freaking being there was bad enough. You don't understand. You wouldn't."

Vinyl stepped into the doorway with Moondancer and put a hoof around her shoulders. "I get it, Moonie. So you're shy, there's nothing wrong with that, nothing to be asham—"

Moondancer rolled her shoulders, throwing Vinyl's hoof off. Her teeth clamped flat together, to push off firmly into: "Don't call me 'Moonie.'" She shook her head. "I just told you you don't understand. Didn't you hear me? Do I need to explain everything to you? Do I need to explain to you how it feels not to even be able to go outside without feeling like everypony is looking at you and judging. So I hide, here, in the library. I hide in my books; they don't judge me."

Moondancer shuffled inside, and Vinyl followed. She lay down in the middle of the floor, amidst a pile of books. After a moment's hesitation, Vinyl sat herself down next to her. A pulse of magic from one of their horns—Moondancer could not remember whose—closed the door. "I have friends," she said after a while. Lonely silence she could handle; the silence of two ponies felt almost malevolent. "At least, I think I do. There are ponies I know, that I knew from school, and they say they're my friends. I'm not sure if they really are. Sometimes they come over, but never for very long. There's just something—I'm always glad when they leave, not because they do anything they're just there. But I kinda wish they would come over more often. It's lonely here. I'm lonely.

Vinyl did something weird then. She raised her head and looked around the room, as if searching for something. "You got a record player?" she asked.

“Uhh,” Moondancer had to think for a second. That was weird, she knew what she had. But, “no, I don’t think so. Why?”

“So we can put some music on, of course! Dang though. It always helps me unwind.”

Vinyl lay back down. She was quiet for a few more long moments. But somehow it wasn’t so bad. Moondancer had feared the silence, but her dread was never able to latch on to anything and retreated, to wait for a more vulnerable moment. But for the time being…

“You know, I’m kind of jealous of you, from what you’ve said,” Vinyl said,

Now that was just ridiculous. Moondancer may not have been talkative or argumentative, by Celestia help her if she was going to stand by and let somepony be jealous of her. “What are you talking about? You just—you don’t know me.I’m the saddest pony ever. I have no friends. I have no job. I just read books all day, and then write about the things I read. And nopony but me cares, or even knows…” Moondancer covered her face with her hooves. “I’m just—oh Celestia.”

“And what, you’re jealous of me with all the ponies cheering for me?” Vinyl snorted. “I ain’t exactly in a great place myself, not gonna lie. Like, I dunno. A marefriend would be nice to have, but everypony’s all like “I’m not ready for this right now” and “I don’t think this is going to work out.” I’m seriously tired of it.

That was surprising to hear. “I would have thought getting a marefriend would be easy for you,” Moondancer said.

“Me too! In my work I oughta be up to my horn in creeps, at least, but somehow I don’t even get that. I mean, guess I’m not really complaining about that, but, somepony!”

“Who was that mare you were with the other day then? When I saw you in Ponyville.”

“You remember that?”

Moondancer waved her hoof. “Look at this place. Does it look like I get out much.”

“Guess not. Anyway, that was Octavia. She’s my roommate. She’s cool and all—she’s in the Royal Orchestra and everything—we’re good friends. She’s just not, you know, gay.” Vinyl glanced over at Moondancer. “You gay, Moonie?”

Moondancer let out a long sigh. As lightheaded and bouncy as the alcohol was making her feel, a heaviness came over her. “Yeah. For the longest time I had a crush on “Princess” Twilight. But that… well it didn’t work out.”

“Dang, sorry to hear that. But yeah, the annoying thing with Octy is that ponies see us hanging out together and think she’s my marefriend.”

Suddenly she yawned loudly. “Oof, what time is it?” Moondancer didn’t keep a clock in her living room, so Vinyl found nothing as she looked around. She shook her head. Yeah, I don’t think I’ll be doing much more tonight. Mind if I crash here?”

Moondancer was feeling pretty sleepy herself, watching Vinyl. Between that and her intoxication, she didn’t see any reason to say no. “Sure.”

“Awesome. Thanks,” Vinyl said as she curled up right on Moondancer’s floor. “Don’t worry,” she muttered, drifting off, “you’ll find a special somepony, cute mare like you…”

Even drunk, Moondancer’s habits were deeply ingrained, and she stumbled off to her bed. Or, that is what she must have done, because that is where she woke up.

Moondancer regretted waking up. Her head was pounding, and malaise filled her body. It was well past noon when she managed to get herself out of bed. Unsurprisingly, Vinyl was gone by then.

Chapter V - On the Inevitability of Parties

It was the second longest summer of Moondancer's life. Her little break from studying having been quite enough, she returned to her studies. She was a mare of ink and paper as much as flesh and blood, and any departure had to be temporary. Fate had decreed that by the mark on her flank, and even if it had not, she would have done so herself.

But the contentment she felt knowing that this was the work of her life did not stop her from wondering if there was anything more. Lucky for her, then, that if there was one thing she was good at it was asking questions and looking for their answers. This, she reasoned, was merely another subject to study.

She roamed ever farther across the sea of Equestrian knowledge, into regions previously unknown to her. Her first expedition was into the realm of music. And there she was grateful for those few friends she had; she had a guide instead of setting out blindly like usual. Letters flitted from her house down the mountain to Ponyville, to Lyra, bearing questions. Lyra's responses carried answers, and those exquisite treats: book recommendations.

She could not really say where the sudden interest in music came from, but that did not lessen her dedication to its study. By August she had read most of a degree's worth of textbooks. There was one point of dissatisfaction in that her self made program did not include much actual listening to music. But that was a necessary casualty. Time and again the books told how it was like a language of its own; it would slow her down far too much to sit trying to detect all the intricacies. Also, she did not have a record player, or the ability to play any instruments herself. Given her past experience with live performances, she was not eager to try those. So she stuck to pure theory, and the silent words on the page. It wouldn't be that bad, she had learned Old Ponish like this, surely that was harder.

And so the summer passed. In autumn her research moved on, as ever, to new subjects. Study, study, study, that was her life. Study, study study, that was Moondancer. The weather schedule, she noticed, was strange that year. The city had ordered a lot more gray skies than usual. But it did not really make a difference to her: she spent all her time inside anyway.

But something restless remained in her. There were a number of times when she wandered and ended up in front of Minuette's house. She thought about knocking. But no, how would she even react? It had been months since they had seen each other last, sure she had said they were friends, but they had still just fallen out of touch. Could you really be friends with somepony you hadn't seen for months? No it would just be weird. After that whole thing where they had all gotten together again, only for her to immediately lose touch again. No, it'd be hard for Minuette to get excited about seeing her.

She kept walking.

She had the same internal conversation in front of her other classmate's houses. At least, their fillyhood houses. She did not know if any of them had moved and if so, where to.

She always hoped one of the girls would see her from a window, and come out to talk, invite her to hang out sometime... Moondancer was not a lucky mare, and they never did.

So she did the only things she could: she studied and she thought.

All she had to do was knock she told herself time and again. But every time she found she could not, or even breathe. Her hoofsteps were so loud; the clanging of knocking would be an unbearable noise; she could not knock. Every time her hoof froze as if there were a forcefield between her and the door, or some puppetmaster were yanking her strings back. Oh she hated that "as if." Damn analogies. It was not a spell or curse preventing her, she knew magic, she could have dealt with that. Either of those scenarios she could have handled with ease; it could be so simple, it could be something she could wave away with a flick of her horn. It could be somepony else's fault.

Because that was the worst part. That it wasn't really them: it was her. The barrier was in her. The only real barrier, invisible, but impenetrable. She passed evilly long hours lying in bed thinking about that. She, she knew how to analyze, her mind had a sharpness scalpels could only dream of. And she lay there in the dark and opened herself up wide. And she saw the truth as ugly as a tumor: if her wishes were fulfilled, and all those ponies she knew came to her, lined up at her door, "Sorry for ignoring you Moondancer," "Do you want to come hang out with us Moondancer," "What do you think of this book Moondancer," even if they did all that for her and laid themselves down at her hooves, she would still end up right where she was now.

Moondancer was a smart mare, she could see that what she needed to do was do. She could see that she was the one who needed to reach her hoof out, that unless she did so she would be alone forever.

So what was there to do but study?

Winter came. Cold came. But she did not notice. No meteorologist, Moondancer. Why would she notice? What did it matter what was in the sky as she trod the path from home to library to home to perhaps bookstore. It rained all year and that was easily prepared for.

She did not notice the cold, and tried not to notice the season's other attendants. She tried very hard, until they at last took notice of her (often in poems she had read of ponies being compared to seasons; this was one avenue in which she wished they were less similar).

A letter came. A twin of the one that had arrived in summer. While the image of Twilight's royal seal no longer incensed her so much, it was still—she searched for the right word—perturbing.

It was another invitation; Twilight was asking Moondancer to come to Ponyville again, to a Hearthswarming party she was organizing. All her other friends, the letter told Moondancer, were coming, and she should too.

No. Too busy, she was. And what was there to say to the others? Hey, how are you doing? Sorry for disappearing for a year again. It's not like I've been avoiding you—nope! been hanging around outside your houses. Not in a creepy way, though. At least you know them: haven't been lurking around stranger's houses.

She decided, after some thought, that she would not go. There was no real reason to. She was not a party pony. It would simply be an awkward and uncomfortable night standing on the sidelines watching everypony else. It even occurred to her that it might be unhealthy: she would not want to seem like she was just standing around with nothing to do (even though that would be the case), so she would want to look occupied. There was sure to be a lot of food at the party, so she would probably spend a lot of time eating, so as to look busy. If the night wore on long it could get excessive. Not to mention the effects of drinking. So really it was a health concern if you thought about it right.

She marked the details on her calendar—so she would know when it had passed, and she could stop worrying about it.

A whirl of steam and snowflakes greeted Moondancer as she stepped off the train. Despite everything, she had not been able to shake the feeling that she would be missing out on something. After all, wasn't this the excuse she had been looking for? Another chance at that blessed thing, Somepony Else, coming down from on high to help her?

As if it will make a difference. It's just going to be the same old thing ag—NO. She was going to have a good time, and she was not going to regret anything. Confirmation bias: go in there expecting it to be terrible, you'll find something. Let's try the other way around for a change.

She crunched her way through the snow to Twilight's castle. It was warmer in Ponyville, or felt like it, a completely unlike the high mountain air of Canterlot.

Some kind of meteorological phenomenon? Certainly; you were crazy if you expected the weather to behave exactly the same way up on a mountain as down in the plains. But... It wasn't anything she could see about the weather. It wasn't really that the temperature was different, or that the clouds were so much higher up. It was just—cozier. How the hay was she supposed to quantify that?

Ahh, there was nothing to make the time pass like a good question. Moondancer considered the problem of the weather, and soon nearly ran straight into the side of Castle Friendship.

The doors were wide open next to her. She took a deep breath, and before she could think about it, walked in.

It was warm. It was loud. Ponies milled and mingled everywhere. She still could not quite believe that ponies really enjoyed talking with strangers, but, like the warmth outside, there was something in the air that made her feel... She didn't know what. Excited? Happy? It wasn't a bad feeling, just strange.

She took a good look around. She did not know most of the ponies there, which was to be expected. She looked for Twilight, hoping she could introduce her to some of them. The prospect didn't thrill her, but it was better than spending the whole night standing in a corner alone and bored, which is what undoubtedly would happen were she left to her own devices. She wasn't proud of it, but it was a fact of who she was.

She also looked for the buffet. Having a glass of punch to hold and sip occasionally went a long way toward not looking out of place. Even she could appreciate that.

Predictably, the food was indeed easier to find than friends. While she was primarily looking for Twilight, there were a few other ponies she knew and counted on being there. In fact, she had already seen Lyra. Unfortunately, she was deep in a circle of ponies she did not know at all, and she had not succeeded in catching her attention.

The search continued. Bravely armed with her glass of punch and napkin-wrapped cookie, she set out into the pastel miasma.

She did see the other girls here and there, but only in glimpses. Two ponies would step apart to make room for a third, and in the momentary gap she would see a familiar cutie mark. But never a way to actually get to her.

She sighed, but managed to avoid letting her head hang down. See, a little self-consciousness is good: everypony who writes about body language says the same thing about what that means—af if they need to. Just need to find something to do with the rest.

The world was too big, she thought. Too spread out. Old was fine with her. Old fit well on a page. Enough of them and could follow a pony as closely as you liked; get to know her like family. But add a second pony, add a third and everything was far more difficult. Books could handle deep, not wide. Ponies were wide. Even a small roomful had enough history and relationships to dilute your attention to just about nothing. Moondancer's point was, a roomful of ponies—like this party—was necessarily a roomful of strangers.

She sipped her punch. The problem was that however sound her arguments wre, she couldn't help feeling like she was the strange one. Equus abnormalis.

She had not been invited to many parties in school. This was why she hadn't minded. At least the music was good.

It was funny though, she really didn't know much music, but there was something about the beat, something in the pulses of sound that was familiar. What was it, what was it, what was it. She had never heard this song before, she was sure of that. It was catchy, but as it burrowed its way into her memory, it did not uncover any long lost ancestors. And yet.

The anxieties generated by the ponies around her faded a little as she absorbed herself in this question. She just closed her eyes and let the music fill her so she could examine it more closely. She moved with it without noticing. Had she known she was dancing, she would have been mortified, of course. But she did not know it, and so she danced on.

And so she moved, mistakeable for a normal pony.

And then she saw her. She kicked herself: the answer to her question was so obvious. Vinyl stood at the front of the room like a high priestess at an altar.

See? She should have known; there was only one musician in the genre of dance music she had had any exposure to.

She was slipping. Oh Celestia, she was slipping. Was this the start of some disease? Her family didn't have any history of dementia—that she knew of. If some uncle or aunt had lost their minds in their youth would she even have heard of it?

What did they do with ponies like her these days? Asylums like she'd read about couldn't be a thing anymore, ponies wouldn't stand for it besides medicine was so much better more likely the closest thing was a home right along with the old ponies who'd lost their minds when they were actually old and that's still sad unthinkable but better than her going to spend the next 60? 70? 80?? years drooling unable to remember her own name much less read.

Deep breaths, Moondancer, forgetting a song doesn't mean you're getting dementia. We've got issues, but since when was hypochondria one of them? She remembered the crowd around her. Stick to worrying about them.

She—well, there was nothing else she was particularly worried about doing and nopony else she could see that she knew—made her way to the front of the room. Only, she got there and realized that she had no idea what to do there. Vinyl was of course occupied entertaining the whole party. She couldn't just go and chat with her. She didn't even know her all that well.

She might as well have been up on that stage for how she felt; in addition to the usual six senses Moondancer had always been "gifted" with a seventh: a sense of conspicuousness. It was not a keen sense, and mainly served to make her aware of exactly how many ponies’ gazes were on her.

For lack of any ideas she stood there, enduring the groping eyes of the ponies facing her; and the flicks of saccades against her hide.. Her sweater was hot and suffocating as if it were summer.

Sip.

How long had she been here?

Sip.

How long was she going to make herself stay?

Sip.

It occurred to her that she had not checked the train schedule for rides back to Canterlot. She wasn't sure where she would spend the night; she began composing a petition for Twilight so she could stay in the castle, or was there anypony else from out of of town here? What were they doing—

"Hey there Moony. Long time no see." Vinyl Scratch was suddenly standing next to her.

She jumped at the unexpected voice. "Oh, uh, hi. I noticed you were doing the music. It sounds great, but aren't you busy?"

She shrugged. "Nah, it's pretty chill as parties go. Besides, I saw you hanging out down here and I thought I'd take a little break.

So, how ya been?"

Moondancer stammered—that was weird, she didn't usually do that: her usual reaction to social interaction was complete silence. "Oh-well, you know, this and that. Studying, the usual."

"Oh yeah? Whatcha been studying? What was it"—she tapped her head, thinking—"farming or something that you were doing last time?"

Moondancer was surprised. Really honestly surprised. She had long dropped any expectations of ponies closer to her than Vinyl (few as they were) making any attempt to keep track of what she was studying. "Uh, yeah, pretty much. Then I actually got into music for a little while. And now it's, um, architecture."

"Hey music, nice."

"It's actually more interesting than I had realized."

Vinyl laughed and swung her flank around to show her cutie mark. "You don't need to tell me twice."

"Hah hah, I guess so," Moondancer said, wanting to die.

And then Vinyl took her turn regaling Moondancer with her exploits of the last six months. She'd been here, she'd been there, she'd been to Fillydelphia, and Baltimare, Las Pegasus—she had not been back to Canterlot, which was kinda weird since usually she was pretty popular up there, and also it was a shame for the same reason and also she liked it there, and sometimes she thought about moving up there but it wasn't like she didn't like it in Ponyville she did just in a different way, you know.

Moondancer nodded along, each moment expecting to cringe, always anticipating pangs of regret at what she said. But the words just flowed as if from a pen. It was like ow it used to be with Twilight.

They talked for a while and then Vinyl said: "Hey, I'm gonna go grab a drink. I'll be right back." She turned and started walking to the tables of food.

Instantly, Moondancer felt all the cold of the winter night outside biting at her. She watched Vinyl go. She had said she was coming back, but there were so many ponies between her and the buffet; they seemed like a river and Moondancer wondered if the currents would not pull Vinyl away. She felt sick suddenly, like she had swallowed a stone. Suddenly she was overwhelmed with the feeling that she would not see Vinyl again. And yet who had glued her hooves to the floor?

"Calm down," she told herself. It was just a feeling, and divination was decidedly not one of her talents. And even if, hypothetically, the feeling as accurate, how would it be different than with all the other ponies she had met? That was just her lot in life, her destiny.

She followed. She caught up with Vinyl, but found that the spell had broken and she didn't know what to say. It was all she could do to remember how to walk—and you can forget about breathing!

But her anxiety did not relent; it only intensified.

Vinyl noticed her approach. "Hey, you gonna get some punch too?" But Moondancer's distress was plain. She put her hoof on her shoulder. "You alright there? I know parties aren't really your thing."

Moondancer assured her that she was fine:" I...Um..."

Vinyl changed course and led Moondancer off to the side. Each step was full of nails that raked her belly. How many times had Vinyl helped her like this? How many embarrassments had she been saved from now because this mare stepped in and helped her? It wasn't fair. She ought to—when would she ever give anything back?

Moondancer looked aside at Vinyl. But she did not show any signs of being bothered at having to carry Moondancer's burdens, only mild concern. Hah. Concern. But could she feel the blade hanging over their heads like Moondancer did. It oppressed her. And she had no idea what it was. It was not the normal dread of social interaction, but something heavier, something keener. What was it? she wracked her brains, what was it? she searched her soul. At last she actually looked up to see if she could see it hanging over her.

There was no blade, no weight, no threat up there. But there was a sprig of mistletoe hanging from the ceiling above them.

There is a state in deep study where everything becomes clear. Where words on the pages disappear with all their nuances and shifts of meaning and association and leave behind only crystalline images, or the world and its dizzying, fractalling complexity collapse and all is flat and clear. It is a state beyond language, beyond hesitation, beyond thought.

It is the state that Moondancer entered just long enough to, as Vinyl turned to her and asked if this was better and if she wanted for her to go get a glass of water, lean forward and kiss her.

Moondancer was an anxious, awkward little mare, but she did not feel any regret as she resumed normal being and watched surprise spread over Vinyl's face.

While she did not feel regret, she did feel fear, and a good bit of it. And while she did feel fear, she was no longer haunted by dread as before. That afforded her a measure of calmness that allowed her to form recognizable words as she stammered in desperate explanation: "I—mistletoe——sorry."

She watched carefully for any hint of anger or upset on Vinyl's face. The other mare craned her neck to look up at the ceiling. "Huh," she said as she grinned. She looked back at Moondancer. "No wonder you were so jumpy. You like me too."

Moondancer barely had time to register the "too" before Vinyl pulled her into a kiss of her own. And this one was long and it was wonderful.

They were both breathless when they broke apart.

"Whew, it's been a long time since I've done that," Vinyl said.

"That was my first time doing that at all," Moondancer said.

Vinyl smirked, and pulled Moondancer into another long kiss. "And there's your second."

Moondancer giggled, despite the corniness. But amidst her giddiness, there was a sense that she needed to say something more, only she didn't know what.

"Now what?" she finally settled for.

Vinyl shrugged. "I dunno. These things never go the same way twice... What are your plans for the rest of the night, I guess? Like, where are you staying?"

" don't know," More said. "I never really figured that out."

"Just gonna party all night long then?—That's my girl!" She smacked her lips. "I do still need some punch, actually. C'mon."

They walked back into the party, side by side. Somehow, it didn't feel so overwhelming anymore. For the first time in her life Moondancer actually enjoyed a party, and she kept on the whole night long.