"A less than ingenious pony would have been able to plan a demolishing job, simply using rudimentary explosives and planted charges with an excessively large team of 'experts' to plan it out would have taken much longer, maybe even several weeks longer! But, as luck would have it, I had better plans-- studying the schematics, it turns out the one supporting structure in the entirety of the building was located in the middle of the main hall. It was practically spelled out, but for some reason the previous demolitions team couldn't figure out the scribblings and diagrams given to them. The previous architect must have been MAD! If anything would have happened to the support, the entire building would have collapsed in on itself in such a perfect little pile in the middle of the hall. Or.. perhaps even that was an intention?

Maybe the architect knew that one day this massive building would have to fall, and made it easier on the future tenants?

To make such a simple and decisive deconstruction method, it's..."

"GENIUS!!"

You wobble in your seat and catch yourself almost falling over backwards, gripping the table with your hooves as you spot the waitress pony standing on the other end, wearing an uneasy look on her face with an mildly entertained smile as she levitates a notepad beside her with a pencil. Specifically your pencil, that she graciously places back onto the table after it fell out of your mouth from your sudden excited outburst. She returns to her normal happy demeanor, asking politely as she levitates her own pencil out of her hair and waits.

"What'll you have hun?"

The question catches you off-guard, after being so enveloped in writing your letter to Fetter, a companion you haven't spoken to in some time. You reply to the waitress pony hurriedly after realizing you're getting caught up in your thoughts again.

"Ehe, sorry, I was caught up in--"

You clear your throat with a brief quiet cough and continue, cutting off the thought process there. "I'll take a plain donut and a cup of coffee, some caramel in the mix, thank you."

The waitress pony graciously nods and places the pencil back in her hair bun, walking away to behind the counter to turn in the order; it seems this familiar waitress has gotten more used to your demeanor than most, yourself being a belated regular. You have the odd feeling she expected more from you, noticing she didn't even write anything down.

Meanwhile, you return to the letter and re-read it, noticing it has much of your 'mannerisms' and 'quips' that Fetter has described you express abundantly.

You make a dissatisfied grimace, dragging the letter and crumpling it into a cozy ball, placing it into your saddlebag sitting beside your chair-- with the other crumpled letters inside, making a cozy pile near the bottom. Lying down with your front laid out onto the table, you attempt to recollect what was last said between you and your companion, failing to remember any worthwhile sentiments besides saying you'll see her after the job had been done and stay in touch.

You forgot to say how you would stay in touch, now that you think about it.

And forgot in general, after getting so enveloped with all the arguing with the previous demo team.

You sigh, being snapped out of your thoughts again by the same waitress pony, her levitating and sliding a plate with a donut and coffee mug beside your head on the table. You look up with a raised brow, picking up you're acting out of place and nervously smile. Again.

"Er, thank you."

She smiles more cheerily than you can manage yourself to act, replying also superiorly than you can muster.

"Good to see you again Blitz, it's been... what? 3 months?" She says, as she turns back to another table, resuming her work without another word, receiving a customer that just came in. You still, however, are glad she remembers you; then start to feel bad if you put across that you don't remember Fetter after not writing back.

You sigh, for the final time, moving your head downward and take a bite of the donut, dually sipping out of the coffee cup with your lip, savoring the meager good feeling that oh-so-sweetly drowns out the rest of what you feel.

'What to do now...' You wonder to yourself, devouring the rest of your donut with guilt-ridden fervor.

You yourself are unsure how to approach Fetter, let alone what to say after saying nothing for so long. Attempting to fix this gap you may have created, you begin to ponder what to perhaps give as a Sorry-For-Not-Catching-Up-Like-I-Promised-I-Would gift. A gift card maybe?

Placing your hoof on your chin in a contemplative pose, you continue to ponder and consider it.

It slowly occurs you that such a card most likely doesn't exist, and even if it does you worry about the looks you'll get if you buy it.

Or if you ask for it and you're told it doesn't exist, the same message would come across just as bad as the first intention.

This worried line of thought is again interrupted by the waitress pony having to wave her notepad in front of you to grab your attention, snapping you out of your belated apology considerations. You stare confusedly, but after a brief stunt of confuddled after-thought, you realize she is ever-so kindly kindly holding the bill, waiting on you as she places it on the table. You apologetically wave at her, despite her standing roughly 3 feet in front of you and not at such a distance to warrant that kind of response, and pick up your saddlebag with your mouth and rummage into a side pocket.

You pay the bill without any further prompts of awkward responses, and simply drink the rest of your coffee, pulling and securing the bag on your back as you begin to exit the donut shop. Funny, you think to yourself, you never got to know the pony that works here. You struggle to remember his name.

It was either Joey or Bobby; an out of place name for sure.

You end up pondering, again, the possibilities and variations of his name, walking through the street with your mind occupied; absentmindedly wandering down into the latter part of town. You read off the names coming to you in your head.

'James, Billy, Jaime, The, Bob, Joseph, Great, Jacob, Rob, Juzef, Talent, Must See--'

You shake your head, making an odd noise, noticing 'the, talent, must see' words popped in your brain.

"Gyehh-wuh.. ?"

You stop yourself mid-thought, not understanding where those words came from, having been thinking only of names.

You stop in place and look around, jumping straight to the most logical result you can think of: someone is playing a trick with your mind using magic!

Fortunately, or unfortunately given your own line of thinking, this mystery is quickly rectified with a glance to a nearby note post that usually has posters and cards of the many various shops and services circulating around town. You catch a view of a run down and faded poster, reading the contents of the page. The edges are glittered with a light blue sparkling sheen that has long since been worn down by the elements, no longer so sparkly.

Something immediately obscures the view, as a Pegasus pony draws downward in flight and pins something atop of it, startling you as he staples it into place with some... stapling device. A stapler, no less. Affixed to his right hoof with a tightened band.

"Wha-- I was reading that!" You abruptly yelp out, irritated by the sudden action. Despite this, the Pegasus looks unfazed, waving his hoof to the side in a shrugging motion and holding a stack of notices and posters in his saddlebag. You assume he's a mail pony of some kind, his cutiemark being a letter with a red arrow pointing sideways. He finishes his job updating the pole board and flies back upward, undoubtedly to his next post; to your slight bemusement.

You briefly take a look at the poster the Pegasus placed atop the one you were reading, reading it out, mumbling.

"Gaze now, upon the brightest fashion shop in all of Canterlot, neigh, Equestria! At Rar--" You purse your lips and blow out air while puffing out your cheek on one side. Uninterested, you grip the bottom of the poster in your teeth and push your head under, reading the one you were originally reading. You read aloud, again.

"The Great and Powerful Trixie and her Unbelievable Talent..."

You stop reading, noticing a big red X mark over the bottom, obscuring the message of what you assume would be the described date of it playing. Seems it's been crossed out some time ago.

'Hm, shame.' You briefly think to yourself, before letting go of the poster and pulling away, thinking whatever it was sounded a bit interesting; though it's unclear who this Trixie is. Your attention is grabbed by someone yelling out loud, a very audible angered groan. You look into the direction, along with other miscellaneous ponies around about their usual business, to spot a blue unicorn hauling a cart with an escort of a policepony. The blue unicorn looks displeased, and audibly yells at the policepony to express it even further.

She looks dressed like a wizard.

"Ugh!! I know the parking laws, I'm allowed to park my cart there!" The unicorn blurts out, none the less complying with the policepony and hauling the rather jagged and very splintery assemblage of a cart, balanced precariously on 3 wheels, only half intact and the majority in disrepair. In actuality though, it looks like the cart had been smashed and very haphazardly put back together, a sight that does not look pleasing to the eye; it seems the rest of the ponies on the area agree on this sentiment and have either subtly vacated or ignore the scene. You however, curiously inspect the cart and spot the many broken and damaged components, including a large part of the axle as you dip and tilt your head downward to get a better look.

The unicorn wizard with the cart passes closeby between an alley entrance that is between two clothing stores, one looks closed and the other is under renovations with white tarps layered outside the windows, this street being an old district and the businesses not being as successful as the richer parts of town.

The policepony speaks to her, her accent oddly reminiscent of a Manehattanite you bickered with on your job outing.

"Here is fine, kid." The policepony states calmly without a change of expression. The blue unicorn however does not look pleased, and continues to argue after unclasping herself from an also makeshift pulley on the front of the cart, confronting her.

"An alley?? You want me to park my cart here?! The hay are you trying to say!" She blurts aloud at her, the policepony looks less patient now and replies more harshly; a sight you can recognize too well.

"That ain't no cart missy, at this level it's an eyesore."

The blue unicorn suddenly widens her eyes, the anger having left in an instant.

The policepony raises her eyebrow with a very heavy denote of discontent that communicates overly well, and she continues.

"Either get it fixed, or dump it; it's a public hazard." The policepony turns around dismissively and walks around the corner down the street, the blue unicorn shakes in place with what could only be described as seething anger with a hint of something else.

She doesn't look angry, she looks shocked.

"It's my..Ghh-- I-I didn't even--!!.. Grrr.. t-this is my home.." She chokes up and looks angry again, clearly holding back yelling and turning back to her defiled cart with a hastened scoff with a twitching muscle along her lip from stress.

You however, don't hear what she was about to say and look over curiously, eyeing the patched together framework and outer walling as you ponder the making of the cart and it's many damages that may have compromised the structural integrity as a whole; as well as denoting a 'momento' somepony has left on the yoke strap in the front.

You weren't even sure that could be worded in such a demeaning way, but you must admit the graffiti is clever as it is insulting.

Making many mental notes, barring that particular curse scribbled on the strap, you focus on the roof and sideboards; which looks to have been crushed and caved in at various places, mostly physical damage than actual wear and tear. A large part of the damage you can't even assess properly due to the absurdity of it. It was either intentionally organized chaos, or very unorganized chaos.

Your mind goes numb trying to put together what the differences of chaos that could even be measured as.

Subconsciously, you approach the cart to inspect closer, but catch the gaze of the blue unicorn, which looks just as surprised as you when you freeze like a deer in the spotlights of a train.

"....."

The blue unicorn looks at you with a surprised expression, then grits her teeth and yells at you.

"What are you looking at, huh?! Stop your incessant gawking! There's nothing to see here, leave me be!" She turns her head dismissively as the policepony that did the same to her, mimicking the mannerism as well, though you don't pick up on this.

You continue to stay frozen, your mind trying to process what she just said at you while you empty your previous collection of thoughts and focus on the ones being shoved at you audibly. You respond in the most sensible way you can muster.

"Your axle looks broken along the lateral of the yoke, the wagon tongue is fractured and is borderline compromising the underside framework of your wheels, the boot looks to have been forcibly yanked off the double tree and the strap on your yoke has been vandalized saying something rather unsightly about your mane and how it compliments your coat."

You nervously smile, to no response from the blue unicorn, looking to the side to see if there's a handily close-by pony to ease the tension. Sadly, and obviously, there isn't one. That response was probably too sensible, but you can't be sure.

"...."

You are quite sure now, as she does not respond, making a concerned expression.

"O--.. kay then." She shifts to an uncomfortable expression even raising a cheek muscle and her hoof, but quickly returns to her previous annoyed stance and turns her head up again and circling her way back to her cart; stepping her hoof back onto the ground hard.

"I told you to stop gawking, so don't even try to insult me further and--"

Emoting immediate concern as she steps onto the wagon tongue you just described as being fractured and compromising the integrity of the wheels, you step forward and bark in concern.

"Uhm-- wait! Stop!"

An audible wooden crack reverberates within the walls of the alley, your warning too late as it snaps off with the yoke strap, herself falling onto her stomach with a meaty--

*Oomf*

She lies there unmoving, your mind racing with lots of things; not the least of which screaming at you as much as she did:

'Ah are you alright??'

You quickly realize that was an internal sentence and not an external one, shaking your head and trotting on over to her still unmoving self.

"A-Are you alright??" You move your head around and over her body, stepping to the side to observe her face, herself groaning silently.

"Nnnggh..." She grunts, making a pained expression with her eyes closed, the wind having been knocked out of her from the abrupt fall onto her chest-- and from what you can tell, chin. She looks to have taken a shock to the system. You frantically try to remember what Fetter said to do if someone was unconscious or had a concussion, hurriedly you essentially yelp out at her the first thing that comes to mind.

"How many digits am I holding up??" You lift your hoof, pausing.

Slowly backtracking what you said in your mind, you notice an illogical discrepancy: You don't have digits.

'Wait, that's dragons...'

You think to yourself with a matching visible expression, wondering where that particular question came from. You're also standing behind her, which doesn't help her to count them even if she could.

Thankfully, your mind doesn't wander for long and you return your attention to the unicorn wizard lying beside you.

You look back down to her, which has dozily opened her eyes with a glazed over look, clearly out of it. Eyeing her for anymore minor injuries, you spot her flank as her coat has slid off to the side, a cutie mark that has the design of a star-tipped magic wand and an accompanying magic trail. It looks familiar, the same complimenting decorations on the poster you read earlier, you read off the name.

"Err... Great and Powerful Trixie?" You ask aloud at her with a hint of hesitation, taking a step back as she blinks repeatedly.

"Ngghh.. whaa--" She briefly stretches and shakes her head, straightening out her hat and looking at you confusedly as she stands back up.

"Do I... know you?" She eyes you up and down, trying to piece together any memory, to no avail.

You get the impression she's somewhat judgmental as she continues her line of questioning.

"And you are...?"

You're about to reply when her eyes suddenly widen and she bumps you aside, looking to the broken tongue that she fell from, hastily using her magic to levitate and try to piece the splintered bits back together.

"Grrrrrr--raaaghh!!" She suddenly yells out loud angrily and plops down on the floor, sitting upward, her magic dissipating and the pieces falling back apart. She looks... displeased, with a twitching eye, her gaze then averts to you which reflexively freezes you in place again.

"...."

Her cheek quivers and her eyes start to close pained, looking sad as she lowers her head. Trixie doesn't try to look at you as she mutters to herself, and you presumably.

"I don't even care anymore, if you're gonna insult how pathetic I look, then--" She stands up and musters up enough emotional distress to yell at you again.

"--then just do it, okay!?"

You wonder what to do or say, if anything at all, to this wizard named Trixie.

Author's Note

Edit: Whoops, forgot to put up the cover art :T Fixed now and resubmitting, cover is from Btedge116 over on dA, I just edited a big red X on the bottom to match to the story.

https://btedge116.deviantart.com/art/The-Great-And-Powerful-Trixie-320521074