Chapters The Bizarre Adventure of Three Fillies
Chapter 1: Goldie's House, Golden Arrow.
Author's Note
While this is not my first story, this is the first one I have posted on this wonderful site. Enjoy.
Chapter 1: Goldie's House, Golden Arrow.
”Glad to see ya Applejack., though Ah'm surprised ya made it. Ah'd thought the harvest would've left ya too busy to help.”
”Ah shucks, Goldie. Ah can't well ignore an ol' mare in need of help, especially when they're family. Besides, we could always just double down on the farm after this.”
While the statement soothed the old mare's worries, for a certain light green filly all it did was spell out the rest of her weekend. Work wasn't something Applebloom was unfamiliar with, nor was it something unexpected; growing up on a farm certainly gave her more than a few chores, and as she got older more and more responsibilities were hoisted upon her. The problem wasn't that this excursion cut into her free time, nor that she didn't really have a say in it. The problem was the meager amount of free time she already had! The entire week for her was just one massive test of endurance, both mental and physical. First she spent hours upon hours studying for the final test of the school year, and while her the rest of the Crusaders were a great help it was still a pain in the flank. Speaking of, her friends and her also had their 'Cutie Mark Consultations' as they called them, which were pretty much a job in and of themselves. All that on top of what she was expected to do on the farm; bucking trees, carrying baskets, making applesauce, apple pie, apple fritters, apple apple apple! Applebloom considered herself a filly strong of body and will, but she was still just a filly, not Rockhoof!
She and the other Crusaders were hoping to just spend today by the lake, swimming and relaxing in its pristine waters. A nice, lazy day after two weeks of constant work. You even worked extra hard at the orchard to get everything done on time. Then all of a sudden Applejack goes and announces that the two of them and Big Mac were going to help Goldie Delicious clean up her house. Apparently her hoarder great aunt decided now was the best time to start organizing and disposing of her belongings.
Naturally, Applebloom wasn't enthused about this arrangement, but any complaining she did would have only resulted in more work. Didn't matter if it was it cleaning up a sock or a mountain of garbage; if Applejack heard any noise from her sister, the best she could hope for was a telling off. Still, if it was any consolation the announcement came at lunch, so afterwards Applebloom took the opportunity to tell her friends. She expected disappointed understanding. What she got instead was far better
“How's the closet Sweetie Belle?” Asked Scootaloo.
“I can actually see the floor, so I'd say we're doing alright!”
It appears her friends were so distraught with the predicament that they couldn't let her suffer it alone. Thus with their guardian's permission they came along to assist her. It may not be the lake, but the three found working together better than working alone. Either they finished the job earlier or they spent the day with friends, so they didn't really have anything to lose, did they? At least, that's what they thought at first.
“We've been at this for hours and we're only now reaching the floor?” Scootaloo turned to Applebloom “How much junk does she have?”
“Hey! It ain't junk! Most of it is heirlooms and family treasures!”
“If that is the case, then why did she ask your sister to help her get rid of a lot, if not most of them?” Sweetie Belle interjected.
Applebloom had to think on that for a moment. “Okay, maybe not everythin' here has family history. Maybe over the years she brought in a few things that weren't worth nothin'. But there are still things of value hidden in these mountains of mess, and we're here to sort it out! To prevent Apple family history from being lost forever!”
“Yeah, that's 'bout the gist of it.”
At the sound of a new voice behind them, the trio nearly jumped out of their skins. Fortunately, as they turned around, they were relieved to see it was just Goldie Delicious, standing there with a wistful smile. “Well, that and Ah figure there's no point in havin' so many of dese 'eirlooms if Ah can't pass them down the family tree. Been meaning to bring a few of 'em to the next Apple Family Reunion, make sure their in good hooves.”
“Ya sure, Goldie?” Asked Applebloom. “Ah know how much pride ya take in 'em.”
“Kid, Ah won't mince words; Ah'm older than dirt. Eventually I'll be buried in it. Now don't give me dat der look. Ah'll still be alive an' kickin' for a mite stretch longer; the pale pony ain' getting' me that easily, I can tell ya fer sure. Still, the point of family 'eirlooms is to share them with the family.” She turned to a pile of stuff in the main room. “Now, Ah ain't givin' it away all at once, but Ah figured it was time to pass some of 'em on.”
For a while, nothing was said as the Crusaders were enthralled with her speech. Applejack, who had heard Goldie's spiel and was standing by the doorway to hear it clear as day, was at a loss for words. Eventually Scootaloo broke the silence. “Wait. Since we're helping right now, can Applebloom take one home to her family? You are giving them away to the Apple family, after all.”
“Now hol' on a sec.” an irate Applejack began.
“Oh settle down.” Mrs. Delicious interrupted. “The youngin' has a point; y'all are doin' all this work, so ya deserve the pick of the litter. Hehe...”
Applejack looked like she was about to make continue the argument but kept choking on how to say it just right before finally letting go of the issue. “Alright, but Big Mac and Ah get the final say on whether we take it home.”
“Fair 'nough.” replied Goldie, and the two of them left to continue their part of the cleaning; sorting through the copious piles that accumulated and separating trash from treasure.
The trio of fillies were ecstatic. This was like a treasure hunt; traveling to lands that nopony had seen for years in search of relics and other tidbits. The only difference was the worst monsters they had to face were dust bunnies. With vigor restored they returned to work with gusto, only slowing down briefly to analyze the odd item that piqued their interest. An stuffed manticore head may have looked 'so awesome' as Scootaloo put it, but the others argued a stuffed corpse head wasn't something that inspired that much awe. Not to mention it was a surefire way to keep Fluttershy from ever visiting again. A photo album that looked like it contained unique family memories turned out to contain many of the same pictures as ones the Apple family already had. When Sweetie Belle found something that almost looked like an object of immense, arcane power, wielded by some ancient hedge mage or warlock, she nearly jumped for joy. A quick examination from Goldie confirmed that it was literally just a stick. Oak, to be exact.
“Still can't believe you thought it was some wizard's wand, Sweetie.” said Applebloom, fur and mane dusty from all of the cleaning they did. “You sure you don't need any fresh air? Maybe some water or somethin'?”
If the grumpy scowl she was giving was any indication, Sweetie Belle didn't appreciate the accusations regarding her mental stability. Still, a water break was long overdue by about an hour, and her throat felt like burnt toast. She was just about to suggest taking one when the corner of her eye caught something shiny. Naturally, her attention gravitated toward the shiny; drinks would have to wait.
“Hold on a second. What's that?” she said, pointing her hoof to a shelf up high. The eyes of the other Crusaders followed it, and what they saw enraptured them. It was the head of an arrow, carved with intricate, swirling engravings arranged with impeccable symmetry. What mad smith would spend days, weeks even crafting such a work of art just to let it loose on the enemy? Of course, that wasn't the only interesting quality the artifact posessed, as Scootaloo was more than eager to point out.
“Is that...gold? I think its gold, guys!”
“Maybe it is, maybe it's foal's gold.” Applebloom said “Doesn' matter either way; none of us are desperate enough to sell a family heirloom like that.”
“Who said anything about selling?” Asked Scootaloo, offended. Her tiny wings buzzing with excited energy and indignation. “It's still cool looking either way! Plus, I'm pretty sure Applejack won't have a problem with you choosing it; you are getting all of these additional responsibilities after all.”
Applebloom didn't see the connection between those two facts, but decided arguing the point would be fruitless. Besides, the more she looked at the gilded object in front of her the more enraptured she became. Even if Applejack vetoed this as their heirloom of choice, she decided getting a closer look at the object was reward enough. “Alright, we'll try.” she declared, her two compatriots jumping for joy in response. “Sweetie Belle, you've been takin' to your magic lessons, right?” Sweetie pawed the ground nervously.
“Sort of? I have a firm grasp on telekinesis now, but most advanced spells...well the understand... well the process is... It's “slippery” for lack of a better word.”
“It's alright, Sweetie; we just need telekinesis anyways.” Applebloom pointed her hoof at the arrow. “Can you just pull it out?” she said. Nodding in reply, Sweetie Belle began casting her spell, horn lighting up in a grassy aura, with an identical one surrounding the arrow. First she gave a gentle tug, just to see how loose it was. She scowled when she realized how tightly it was wedged in place, though to what from her current height she couldn't tell. Never one to be dissuaded, the ivory filly pulled with even greater force, pumping more magical might into the spell. From an outsider's perspective it would seem nothing was happening, yet through her magic Sweetie could feel subtle movements of the arrow.
“I'm getting there... Just need... a few more sec...minutes.”
Her calls for patience were ignored by Scootaloo who, while happy to help her friends, was less inclined towards waiting as she just spent the better part of her day moving all manner of junk. Looking for a way to expedite the process, she noticed a stack of boxes that haven't been moved yet; too heavy for their small frames. They climbed up to the topmost shelf, and had small ledges and footholds an enterprising filly could use to reach the top. Sure, it looked like it could fall down with a strong shove, but risk-taker was her middle name. Without a word she trotted over to the stack and gave it an experimental tap on one of the exposed corners. Finding its satisfactorily stable, Scootaloo began her upward ascension to the shelf, unnoticed by the other Crusaders.
While her friends were busy their separate acquisitions of the arrow, Applebloom went back to cleaning. It wouldn't do to have Applejack come in and berate them for 'slackin' off like a penned pig in the middle of summer' or something like that. After taking out and dropping off several more loads of assorted memories and treasured junk, she chanced a glance at her Sweetie's efforts to see what progress she made. Whatever she was doing when she never did find out, for that moment all of her focus was immediately directed towards Scootaloo acting out some kind of Daring Do fantasy, climbing to the top of a rather unstable pile of boxes. In that moment, instincts honed over years of Crusading for Cuties Marks took over. “Scootaloo!” she shouted, and fate forever changed.
Her focus and balance disrupted, Scootaloo and the cardboard tower began to sway. She knew it would fall soon, and her with it. But she was so close to the edge, if she could jump at the right moment, she could use the shelf as a landing pad. How she was going to get down after that was a train of thought she didn't have time to board; in that moment, all that mattered was getting somewhere safe. As soon as it swayed close enough for her, she made the leap. Fortunately she made it to the shelf safely, only knocking over a few items in the process; the very things keeping the arrow in place no less.
Unfortunately, Sweeite Belle was a little to focused on her telekinesis and hadn't paid attention to anything else. The minute the arrow got a bit loose, it shot forward and-
'SPLRT'
Applebloom wasn't immediately aware of where the arrow hit, and it took a few seconds for her to process the what the heck happened. It took only slightly longer for her to become aware of the jutting mass in her front left leg and the steady stream of crimson dripping from the wound. Luckily the head was only partway in, so at least she wasn't crippled. Her response was thus appropriately calm and analytical.
“AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH! GETITOUT!GETITOUT!GETITOUT!”
Immediately her companions tried to help by removing the arrow. The reasons this helpful action wasn't so were two-fold. First, the presence of the arrow in the wound helped stem the bleeding, and removing it would turn the trickle into a bloody stream. The second reason is a direct result of their actions; as Scootaloo was pulling on the protruding projectile with her mouth, Sweetie was doing the same with magic while standing right behind her. With a mighty tug from the both of them the arrow flew out of one leg right into another.
Surprisingly, Sweetie Belle didn't scream and shout at being stabbed with an arrow. Rather her gaze grew distant, her lips silent, the subtle shaking of her body the only thing that betraying any sort of emotion. Scootaloo, seeing her friend's relative stillness, decided to pull out the arrow out yet again. With the haft of the arrow firmly gripped in her mouth, a firm yank was all that was needed to pull it out. With the arrow muffling her speech and fear racing through her veins, she began to ask. 'Now, where are the banda-'.
“What in Tarnation?”
Startled, the three turned their heads towards the door frame to three familiar figures standing in it. They all looked worried, but each one expressed other emotions as well. Big Mac looked terrified, pupils shrunk to pinpricks and pacing in place. He even brought a first aid kit, and rushed to administer treatment. Contrasting the eldest brother was the elder sister of the Apple family, for while her brow was knitted in concern for her charge her eyes betrayed the irritation she n doubt felt. At that moment Applebloom knew a grounding was the least of her worries. Most peculiar of all was Goldie's expression, for it also contained an air of puzzlement and curiosity. Her eyes were focusing on something, and her mouth and eyelids were contorted as though she were deep in contemplation, trying to dredge up some ancient memory.
“OW!”
It seems in the process of assessing their situation, the arrow began to slip out of Scotaloo's mouth. She fumbled about trying to catch it, and she did, but in the process the head went into her mouth, piercing her tongue.. Sweetie Belle winced at this, having received enough tongue damage from more cooking disasters than she cared to recall. Fortunately Big Mac was already on the scene, pulling out and applying the bandages and disinfectant.
“Seems Scoots is a bit tongue tied at the moment” stated Applejack, her voice firm and stern. “So it looks like it falls on you, sis, to explain what in tarnation happened here? And why do y'all have blood on your hooves?” Her face twisted into the kind of scowl a parent gives when they find their child doing or about to do something incredibly, impossibly stupid. Applebloom tried to figure out how to best word the situation to minimize punishment, but between the stink-eye her sister was giving her and the barely concealed rage she spoke with, the task was proving impossible. She knew keeping quite would only worsen the rage, so she needed to say something. Anything!
“It was my fault!” shouted Sweetie bell, endeavoring to save them from Applejack's ire, or at the very least redirect it. Sure enough Applejack's head turned from her sister to focus on Sweetie belle, her confidence dropping as their eyes met. Still, she continued. “We were cleaning and saw this golden arrow and I thought it looked neat so I tried levitating it down and I guess I pulled a little too hard and...”
As she babbled, Scootaloo struggled against Big Mac's attempts to apply aid to her tongue, eventually breaking away from his iron grip. “NO!” She thundered. “It's my fault. If I didn't climb the boxes, if I just found a more stable way up, if I didn't notice the golden tip...”
Applejack had heard enough. “Now hol' on there!” she shouted, and the room silenced in response. Seeing all were at attention, she calmly continued. “Ah jus' wanted to know what happened here, not hear three fillies play 'whose fault is it?'. There's too much to do and not enough daylight as is. Understand?” The Crusaders nodded their heads in affirmation. Applejack, satisfied her point was made clear, calmed down. “Now, what's this about an arrow?”
“Ah think this is it.” Said Big Mac, standing over the arrow. As had been the case for the fillies, it had immediately caught her attention, and as she inspected the item of intrigue, looking at every carved curve, every inch of gilded beauty, she only became more enraptured.
“Well now, I see why somethin' like this would attract you three. Where'd you get somethin' like this, Goldie?”
“Hm? Ah! That? Sorry sugarcube, couldn' tell you; thing was old when mah granny was young. Been in the family for generations.”
“Really?” Asked Applebloom. “There's nothin' you can tell us 'bout it?”
“Well, the arrow head isn't gold...”
“Dang it!”
“Don't interrupt, Scootaloo!”
“...And it's old, but Ah already said that... Hmm, could've sworn there was somthin' else...” She said, losing her train of thought. The tracks weren't hard to relocate and follow, it just took some time for the elderly mare to catch up. “Ah yes. Y'all can have it.”
“Well, it's certainly some...Ah'm sorry, WHAT?!?”
“No need to yell.” Cringed Goldie Delicious.
Applejack, Big Mac, really everyone present couldn't believe what they heard. Not a couple of minutes ago three youngsters were pierced by the arrow. Now, calling upon the depth of wisdom she acquired over her extensive life, Goldie Delicious decided the best path forward was to give them the offending weapon.
“Ah just...Ah don't think its a good idea to have the arrow in the same household as these accident prone fillies.”
“Hey!”
“Y'all know its true! Ah'm honored, really, but Ah can't help but think this is a bad idea.”
“Now don' think like that, young missie!” Goldie said as she moved towards the arrow. As she grew closer, the Crusaders looked upon her face. Characteristically she expressed nostalgia as she inspected the relic, an emotion as familiar to her as the expression of it was to those who spent enough time around her. Yet there was something else, some imperfection or subtle difference between the pure nostalgia or even that tinted with joy or sorrow and the one the Crusaders were now witness to. A shame their inexperience blocked them from further analysis.
Scootaloo would later say it was something with her eyes, for what it's worth.
Continuing her earlier statement, Goldie Delicious said “Ah would be lyin' if Ah said Ah didn' have no doubt no how. Yer darn right it's dangerous, Applejack.” mumbling under her breathe, she added “More than yah know.” She took the arrow's shaft in her mouth and turned to Applejack, who was now quite curious about where this was going. “But Ah just have this feeling that it should go to you, and Ah ain't takin' no for an answer.”
Raising an eyebrow in skepticism, Applejack replied “Just a feelin'?”
“Let's jus' say an ol' friend had given me wisdom on the matter.”
Applejack didn't want to accept, something about that arrow just screamed bad luck, that was how she felt. She knew she didn't have too as well; all she had to do was say no, say she will not take the arrow, Goldie would have to oblige. It would likely break the mare's heart, but that was something she'll just have to live... to live... Oh, who was she kidding? She couldn't deny Goldie this, not in good conscious. Slumping in resignation, the farmpony conceded to the elder mare.
“Fine, Ah'll take it. But Ah want a friend to look at it before takin' it in the house, see if she can find out anythin' 'bout it. That okay?” 'At the very least, that would keep it out of mah house for a spell.' she thought.
If Goldie Delicious had a problem with it, she did not express it. “Fine by me!” she said. “Just make sure she's careful with it.” At this, Applejack chuckled.
“Granny, Ah doubt Twilight Sparkle could ruin somethin' like this if she wanted to.”
Twas mid afternoon when the Apple family and company finished packing up the cart, filling it with all manner of knickknacks, doohickeys, and what-not. The sun blazed overhead, yet the nearby trees provided shade as they loaded up. With the last of the cargo was packed away and the whole bundle tied together with rope, the Apple family were ready to say their farewells. “We'll be leavin' now, Goldie. If you need anythin' else from us, just let me know.” said Applejack.
“That's kind of you, dear.” replied Goldie Delicious, smiling. “but Ah don' think Ah'll be askin' anythin' of any of y'all for a while. Y'all cleaned out quite a bit today, and Ah just can't ask more of y'all so soon.” She turned her to face Applebloom, and her smile fell just a little. “Besides, y'all have enough on yer plate as is. Ain't my place to ask for more.”
“Well, if you change your mind, you know where to find us.” she approached the elderly mare and embraced her in a hug. “See ya 'round, Goldie.”
“Eyeuup”
“Goodbye Mrs. Delicious!”
“Nice meeting you! Bye!”
“Hope to see you soon!”
“Ahll see ya 'round too! And don't worry girls, they're quite friendly!”
Silence reigned for a while before the Apples chalked it up to Goldie's occasional elderly rambling. She was just at that age, and her isolated abode didn't do her any favors. Eventually Applejack said “Alright girls, let's get a move on! We're burnin' daylight.” and they began boarding their ride home. The females of the family all climbed into the back of the wagon, while Big Mac took up the daunting task of pulling the heavy load. Well, daunting for any other pony, save perhaps the Formerly Royal Sisters.
As the wheels slowly began to roll on their journey home, the Cutie Mark Crusaders couldn't help but watch and wave towards the old house and its older occupant. Yet right before Goldie Delicious was too far away to see clearly, Applebloom saw something bizarre. Maybe it was a trick of the light, the heat of day warping it into shapes alien yet familiar. She was tired, so perhaps it was just her overworked mind seeing something not there. Of course, she was a proud resident of Ponyville, where every week there was a new oddity about town, so she would be foolish to rule out the possibility that here eyes spoke true, that there was some faint apparition floating beside Mrs. Delicious, cloaked in ghostly ripples.
She would have confided with her friends, ask them if they saw it as well. She would have, but her throat chose then to let out a mighty yawn. It was too long and hard of a day to expend such energy now; she'll nap now and ask her friends when she awakens. Judging by their lidded expressions and lethargic movements, it appears they had the same idea.
And so they take the opportunity to catch a moment's respite. Rest well, Crusaders, for you haven't a clue what awaits you down the stream of time.
The Bizarre Adventure of Three Fillies
Chapter 2: A Curious Night.
Something has gone wrong. We don't seem to have an archived copy of that chapter. The Bizarre Adventure of Three Fillies
Chapter 3: Off on the Wrong Foot
In spite of her youth, Scootaloo thought she saw more oddities than most foals. Living in Ponyville all her life, she was at ground zero for the return of Discord. During his brief reign apples ripened from the ground and rose on their branches, colors that shouldn't exist danced across the land, and pig sprouted wings to fly towards the moonset, much to Scootaloo's irritation. Before today, if asked what the weirdest thing she ever saw was, she would confidently say the time chaos itself reigned in Ponyville.
Now though, she was reconsidering.
Floating in front of her was... something. Resembling a falcon with a round head, large eyes, and hooked yellow beak tipped in black. Yet it was around Scootaloo's size if not larger, too big to be a falcon. Its body was cloaked with scarlet feathers, while its wings expressed greater variety. Red, Blue, Green, Yellow, and more hues than Scootaloo cared to identify, like it stole a rainbow and forged from it wings. It was beautiful, mesmerizing, and unfortunately for Scootaloo, not the avian's most distinguishing feature.
Its legs were thin and wiry like any other bird, if as long as an ostrich or flamingo. The obvious multiple joints on the legs were another matter entirely. Scootaloo wasn't the best at biology, but she knew leg joints weren't supposed to bend in such locations or at such angles. Just as the thought crossed her mind, the bird gave her an apt demonstration, twisting and turning to scratch the back of its neck with a claw. Only the lack of breakfast kept Scootaloo from losing her lunch. She'd almost claim it was one of Discord's pets, but this was too subtle for him; you just had to glance at anything from Discord to know it didn't belong. Compared to checkerboard fields and clouds of cotton candy, prehensile legs weren't obvious.
“What are you?” Scootaloo asked, yet the bird only silently floated in place, not even flapping its wings. The sun's rays glistened on its feathers, creating an aura of color that would've awed and inspired her were she not trying to get the avian to react. She waved her hoof in front of it's face, yet still it stared stoically. She threw a towel over it's head, yet it just shrugged it off and continued as it were. In a fit of rage, she punched the thing in the leg and received only shock and pain when the only thing she hit was bathroom floor.
“GAAH!” She yelped in pain before up-righting herself and backing away from the bird. Once her heart calmed from the adrenaline, she figured she had only one option left. “Please, just tell me what you are already!” She begged. At this, the being finally responded, lifting its leg and pointing its talon at Scootaloo. Was it trying to attack her? Did she push her luck too far? No, if it wanted filly fillet for lunch it would've attacked sooner. Perhaps it was just answering her question the only way it could. An inability to speak would explain the past few minutes. Still, it was pointing at her...what could it mean?
Her thoughts were interrupted by a knocking on the door “Scootaloo? I heard shouting? Is something wrong?”
“Aunt Holiday, you're not going to believe my answer, so please open the door to see it.”
“Uhh...Okay?” the door handle wiggled. “Could you please...”
“Right. Heh, sorry.” As soon as Scootaloo unlocked the door, she looked back towards the avian in place. Content that it hadn't flown the coop, she opened the door.
“Now then, what did you need to show me?” Holiday asked a rather confused Scootaloo. Wasn't it obvious?
“Very funny Aunt Holiday, but you can cut it out now.”
“I don't...what do you mean?”
“What do I...It's right there! Can't you see it?”
Holiday's eyes followed Scootaloo's hoof, drifting ever closer towards the curious falcon. She made eye contact with the bird of prey when she at last responded.“Scoots, there's nothing here.”
That was a response Scootaloo neither expected nor accepted. The bird's poly chromatic coat stood out in the monochromatic white bathroom. She turned to her Aunt, hoping to find a tell in her face, a break in the facade, something to show this whole thing was a prank. She found none. “So you don't see any bird? Any at all?”
Holiday's brow furrowed, her eyes meeting Scootaloo's. “No. Scoots, are you feeling alright?”
“Never better.”
“Still, if you're seeing things, we need to take you to Ponyville Hospital.”
Scootaloo seized up; just as she looked forward to a day of freedom, a welcome turn of luck given what by Twilight said, it had been blown from her grasp. “NO!” She shouted, her Aunt flinching at the desperation that laced the declaration. Scootaloo looked at the bird and, desperate for a way out, pleaded with it. “Show her your real! Do something! Please...Please...”
Holiday looked upon her with soft eyes of maternal worry, hoof covering mouth. “Scootaloo...” she began, her mind set in its intended course as she took a step back. “Wait right here, I'll...”
*PECK *
“Gah!”
Unfortunately, her step back was not enough to get out of pecking range.
*PECK **PECK *
“What the-”
*PECK **PECK **PECK *
“That's enough!” commanded Scootaloo. The avian ceased it's assault immediately, resuming it's stoic vigil. The filly investigated her aunt for damages; aside from a few small bruises and a little blood, there wasn't any physical damage. If Holiday's mostly vacant, somewhat fear stricken expression was any indication, her mind was a different story. “Aunt Holiday? Are you okay?”
“...Yeah. I think I am.” She wasn't, given her monotone voice. “I...I'm going to speak with Lofty. Don't leave the house until I come back.”
“I'm not in trouble, am I?” Her question was answered with naught but silence. “Aunt Holiday?”
“Hmm? Oh, no! You're not in trouble! I just-” The sentence was never finished, as Holiday choose that time to start leaving the room. That and her thoughts were such a jumbled mess she couldn't find the proper words to finish it. That left Scootaloo alone in the room, lightly confused and heavily worried. Her aunt obviously noticed the bird; speaking from experience even her thick skull wouldn't protect her. Since she wasn't at risk of being sent to Ponyville Hospital in a straight jacket, she relaxed her posture. When she remembered what that poly-chromatic parakeet did to get Holiday's attention, Scootaloo immediately tensed up again. That darn thing had been nothing but a pain in the flank all morning. All ten minutes of it.
“Alright you dumb rooster, listen-”she turned around to find herself alone. “-up?” The bird thing was nowhere to be found? It was finally gone? “It's finally gone!” Scootaloo wanted to shout with joy, but that would interrupt her aunt's conversation, so she settled for bouncing on the tiled floor in excitement. Did it leave on it's own volition after causing such chaos? Did it see the damage it caused and flew the coop? Scootaloo didn't have the answers at the time, and frankly didn't care. She was finally free of the bird, just herself, her injured Aunt Holiday, and Aunt Lofty who saw nothing.
Never let it be said, by teachers or peers or grades, that Scootaloo was dumb, for before her thoughts were finished she realized the pickle she was in. One Aunt was hurt, the other didn't see what caused it, the culprit was gone, and she was the only one in the room where it happened.
“Aw horsefeathers.”
Didn't take long for panic to start taking hold, but it would be a while before she lost all higher cognition in a flurry of fear. Taking this opportunity she tried to formulate a plan to get out of this mess. “Okay, Scootaloo; all you have to do is explain the bird went away. She knows I wouldn't hurt her! Right?” She shook her head. “No no no, I can't do that. Maybe I should just take the blame myself, call it an accident and deal with the consequences. Certainly beats risking Lofty seeing me as a monster. But then Holiday would claim I didn't do it and honesty is the best policy and I JUST WISH THAT STUPID BIRD WAS BACK!”
Scootaloo would've flinched at how loud she was, but she was distracted from her feelings on the matter by other feelings. A particular sensation she hadn't the vocabulary for radiated from every fiber of her being, like a part of her she didn't knew existed separating from the rest of her. Looking down at her forehooves to see what was happening, she could see the faint outline of a familiar pair of legs superimposed upon her own. Quickly these images leaped off of her, taking the familiar shape in front of her, vigilant and proud, as though it never left.
It took a moment before Scootaloo regained her faculties, yet she it was difficult to make sense of what happened. The bird...came from her.
She recalled how, when inquired what it was, it merely pointed its talon at her.
“You're...me?”
It did not respond, so Scootaloo assumed that was a yes; not much else to go on. Frankly though it just raised more questions. Though as she heard the clip-clop of hooves outside, she knew she wouldn't get answers anytime soon.
'This is my fourth weirdest day.' she thought to herself.
“Are you certain?” Lofty asked her partner. When Holiday came downstairs, bloody forehead and thousand yard stare, she grabbed the first aid kit from the kitchen. As she treated her love's wound, her love treated her to the story of happenings upstairs.
“I know it sounds crazy, but something poked me when I went upstairs. Something I couldn't see.” replied Holdiay.
“But Scootaloo, said it was some kind of bird, right?”
“I didn't see anything Lofty; It could've been a tree for all I know!” she shook her head “No, couldn't be; trees don't draw blood without walking into them.” Unconsciously Holiday ran her hoof through her bangs, wincing as it grazed her forehead. She could feel the wound through the bandage, evidence against the bathroom incident being a hallucination, the piercing pain proof of possession or poltergeist or phantasmal poultry. Why was Scootaloo the only one who could see it? “But your right, for some reason our niece saw what we couldn't. What do you think it is?”
“I don't know, Honey.” Lofty replied, voice steady and monotone, turning towards her beloved slowly and deliberately. “Consider what happened these past few years in Ponyville, in Equestira. I cannot think of a feasable explanation because the line between possible and impossible has been blurred, stretched, and diluted repeatedly.” For a moment, nothing was said between the two mares. They just silently sat in each other's presence. What else could be said?
“You think a doctor would help, Holiday?”
“No. Doctors don't deal with ghosts.”
“How do you know it's a ghost?”
“What else could it be? Even if it isn't, at this point it's mostly a matter of semantics. Invisible phantasm that is haunting Scootaloo and bringing misfortune. We need somepony who knows how to deal with supernatural beings and creatures from beyond the veil.”
“Are you sure, because it could be a hallu-” Lofty never finished that sentience, for as soon as the first syllable left her mouth, Holiday stared her in the eyes, irate of face and hoof pointed at her forehead. The stained bandage a blunt reminder their niece was not sick in the head. “Right. Sorry.”
Holiday's face relaxed at her apology. “It's alright, sweetie. But the doctors of Ponyville can't help us here. They're not trained extensively in spiritual affairs. No, there's only one professional of supernatural persuasion anywhere near Ponyville.”
“She does owe us for the apple cores and fish...”
“Then it's settled!” Holiday stood up at the declaration. “I'll go to the Everfree and get her, you stay here and make sure nothing bad happens to Scootaloo.”
“No!” Lofty shouted “You've been through enough this morning; You stay, I'll go.”
Holiday wanted to argue she would be the one to brave the forest, not wanting her partner to risk herself in the eldritch woods. Yet she knew the chance of infection was too great. Staying home would be best for her health and Scootaloo. “Alright. Be careful and return soon. I doubt ghosts polite house guests.”
“Hey, if it proves too much my cousin always said ghosts were weak to salt. Just throw a shaker at them and they should stop.” Lofty paused as she reached the door. “Be careful as well.” she muttered before she opened the door and ventured towards the Everfree Forest.
Sweet Apple Acres, 6:00 am
A life dedicated to agriculture is filled with labor; to succeed in the business, one needs to plant, nourish, and harvest enough crop to feed their family and generate enough additional revenue to keep the lights on and the house fixed at least. To do this, numerous tools are used; carts, shovels, wheels, buckets, hoes, ovens, ledgers, marketing, and many more. For a large and successful orchard like Sweet Apple Acres, this meant nearly ever day from dawn to dusk is filled with work. The sizzle of pans making breakfast and hoofsteps on the wooden floor echoed through the house as the ponies within prepared for the day. Yet one room stayed silent.
Applebloom sat on top of the sheets of her bed, head tilted downward. To an outside observer, it looked like she was either still waking up or deep in thought. In truth she was wide awake, she was deep in thought, but her head tilted to focused on something.
Joining her on her bed were four small bipeds, each roughly twelve inches tall, each wearing long sleeved brown t shirts, red five-clawed gloves, and blue overalls. On there heads were yellow hardhats, each side etched with esoteric runes that Applebloom knew she'd never understand. Gas masks adorned their faces, deep purple with large light blue eye pieces; upon closer look, faint spectral light radiated from the lenses. At the base of each mask was a tube connected to a canister on the right hip of each worker, both the same purple as the masks. The tiny workers were standing at attention, hands folded behind their erect backs, as though awaiting orders from their forepony.
“Now what the hay are y'all?” Asked Applebloom, “and why're y'all in mah room?” No response. Applebloom groaned in frustration and hopped off her bed, her trek to the kitchen blocked by more of the small creatures in front of the door. “Could y'all please get out of the way?” Applebloom asked, and they complied without delay, intriguing the filly. Breakfast could wait, she had an experiment to do.
“Alright Y'all, stand in the center of this here room.” Applebloom expected the guys on the bed to . From every corner of the room they came; under the bed, in the closet, behind the curtains. A swarm of little workers leaking from every corner in the room. When the flow stopped and all were front and center, the green filly was in awe at the size of the assembly. She tried counting them but lost track after fifty-four. “There sure are a lot of you, aren't there?”
Like before, they didn't verbally respond. Was that something they just couldn't do? “Jump,” commanded Applebloom, and so they jumped. Perfectly in sync with each other at that. She flinched at the resulting loud thud and pretended not to notice the wood creaking afterwards. “Step forward,” she said, and so they stepped forward, perfectly in sync once again. 'Step back,' she thought, and they did before she could speak.
Spurred on by this discovery, her next few commands went unspoken. 'Take off your hat.' 'Raise your right arm.' 'Place your left arm here.' Each instruction they performed flawlessly, barring the removal of their hardhats, only starring blankly at Applebloom when asked. 'Maybe they're self-conscious,' she thought, 'Ah well, nothin' wrong with that!' After all, if what she saw so far held true, she had her own servants!
As the possibilities the tiny critters opened flooded her mind, there was a knock at her door. “Applebloom!” Applejack knocked again. “You alright in there?”
“Yeah, sis!” replied Applebloom, “Just getting ready is all.”
“So you're well enough to help us in the Orchard, right?”
'Dang it!' Applebloom thought, 'Walked right into that one.' She considered just saying no, that she was still a bit tired from yesterday's ordeal and needed a restful morning. Then she remembered her sister was the Element of Honesty and lying to her was like waking a sleeping dragon; all you get is a tanned hide and yelled at. “Yeah, I'll be down in a couple of minutes.”
She listened carefully as Applejack walked away, hoofsteps getting fainter and fainter. When she could no longer hear her sister, Applebloom turned back to the small workers, only to find an empty room. This confounded the poor filly, but she already knew how to deal with it. 'Come on out, y'all.' Applebloom expected them to crawl out from under her bed or out of her closet, maybe a few from behind the curtains like before. She wasn't expecting them to appear from absolutely nothing, since frankly no sane pony would've expected. that
In spite of this demonstration of either invisibility or teleportation - Applebloom knew neither which was true nor how to figure it out – she quickly recovered. After storing the fact for later in the recesses of her memory, she was about to dismiss them when she realized they needed a name. She wasn't going to give one to each individual, but calling them 'her workers' or 'her servants' or 'the little guys that she controlled' all the time didn't sound right and didn't quite roll off the tongue. Several ideas bounced around in her head, but none really clicked. She looked at the colts before her.
They weren't colts though, were they? No they looked...bipedal. That's the word Twilight used when describing minotaurs and diamond dogs, right? There was a synonym for that word, but She couldn't... humanoid! The word was humanoid, as in like those strange creatures Mrs. Heartstrings keeps obsessing over. Applebloom didn't know if these even looked like humans, but they were certainly strange.
“Alright Y'all! From now on Ah'm callin' this here group [MEN AT WORK]. That okay with Y'all?” As they nodded their heads in response, Applebloom smiled and turned towards the door. It wasn't the most romantic name, but it was apt. “C'mon! It's time to start the day and we have a ton of work to do.”
Carousel Boutique, 8:43 am.
“Sweetie, I know we ended last night on harsh terms, and I cannot deny my incessant prodding did not contribute.” Rairty spread blackberry jam on a piece of toast, meticulously covering every inch in an even layer. “However, today is a new day! So please, do tell what happened yesterday.”
“Well,” Sweetie Belle began, “it all started when Scootaloo saw something shiny tucked away in the shelf...”
“Well, go on.”
“Ah, right. Well, what she saw was the tip of some kind of ancient arrow. Like it was older than Granny Smith. Scootaloo thought the tip was gold, I thought it looked pretty, so we convinced Applebloom we should get it down and take it home with her. Oh! I forgot to mention, Mrs. Goldie Delicious allowed Applebloom's family to take an 'heirloom' of their choice for helping her clean up and...clean up and stuff.”
“Are you alright, Sweetie?” Rarity was worried for her sister; while she was talking about yesterday, a step up from last night, it was obvious her focus was elsewhere. Sweetie was tired when she came home last night, so it blaming it on lingering exhaustion would've made since had she not slept for over ten hours. Combined with the lack of any other symptoms, and Rarity knew something wasn't right.
While she worried about her sister, Sweetie Belle worried about her sister's apparent blindness. When she came down the stairs Rarity said nothing of the guardian trailing behind her. When the dishes were being set out Rarity only commented on her magical growth, oblivious to the lack of horn glow. Most irritating of all, and proof of either invisibility, blindness, or Rarity's composure, when Sweetie mentally commanded the being to wave a claw – Lyra would say it was a hand, but the tips were too sharp – over her sister's face, she didn't even flinch.
Speaking of, Sweetie looked at it again. Superficially it looked like a unicorn, yet there were several details that betrayed its nature as something alien. Light blue metal covered what should've been fur, and Sweetie knew it was metal from the occasional bolt and screw heads that peaked through. It wore a light pink sweater and a medium length silver skirt. Eerily enough, its mane possessed the same color scheme as her own, but was wild and unkempt in contrast to her meticulously maintained mane. The eyes glowed a solid green, but it didn't seem to be blind.
Of course there were also razor sharp claws where there should've been forehooves, but that went without saying.
Sweetie Belle's investigations didn't stop at mere observation; she knew it obeyed her, as she asked it to make her bed and it did almost perfectly with its claws. A task which would've taken minutes to accomplish with her magic the sentinel finished in one. When she asked it to organize her closet, it...well, it tried its best but she had to step in and tell it where to put everything. Perhaps it was just bad at organizing: Sweetie couldn't blame it, she had issues doing so before.
She had results, therefore it wasn't giving someone else her chores; Sweetie was doing science.
Like now, as she half listened to Rarity's discussion, trying instead to get her sister to notice the foal like machine floating in front of her face. Having it in plain sight and waving its claws in front of her sister's face weren't working, so either Rarity pretended not to notice to mess with her or she truly couldn't see it. Since Rarity often scoffed at the pranks of Rainbow Dash and Pinkie Pie, Sweetie Belle knew it was the latter.
'Ah well,' she thought, 'there's no helping it.' She munched on her eggs; scrambled with cheddar cheese, with only a dash of salt and pepper. Just the way she liked it.
“Sweetie?” Rarity asked, interrupting Sweetie's meal.
“Hmm?”
“You never answered my question.” Rarity put down her toast and gave Sweetie a worried look.”Which does answer my question; something's on your mind, isn't it?”
“No...Well, yes,” Sweetie responded, “It's just - when leaving Goldie's house, Applebloom and I saw...something.” She fidgeted in her chair. “It looked yellow, and it's hard to explain.” She wanted to ask a question, but she couldn't find the words for a time. “Rarity, are ghosts real?”
That was a question Rarity didn't expect, nor was she qualified to give an answer to. “Ghosts? Darling, don't be silly. Where did you get such an idea?”
“It's not silly!” Sweetie's spine straightened and face hardened. “We've both met the spirit of chaos, aren't ghosts and spirits the same thing?”
“They actually aren't. Funny story, Rainbow asked Twilight the same question and...”
“And what about the Ghosts of Hearthswarming?” Sweetie interrupted.
“That's just a Heathswarming story, Sweetie. Not a historical account.” Rarity's voice gained an edge.
“And speaking of Discord? Wasn't he a ghost for a while?”
“Enough!” Rarity shouted, “Sweetie, I don't know if ghosts exist. Given my experience over the past few years, I wouldn't be surprised if they did.” Her face drained of rage, morphing from absolutely livid to mildly peeved, while adopting just a touch of sisterly worry and utter bafflement. “I just need to know why you're asking. Do you think you've seen one as of late?”
“Well, maybe,” Sweetie replied. Before Rarity could inquire further, a strange knocking sound came from the wall. Rarity stiffened in place, face frozen in fear. As one sister's face adopted terror, the other grew more smug. There was no way this plan could fail. “What about that? If that isn't the sound of a ghost, then I don't know what is.”
When Sweetie didn't get a response, she looked at her sister. The smile on her face melted away, every ounce of victory evaporated, upon seeing the look of horror. “Rarity, are you alright?”
“R-R-R..”
“Rarity?”
“RAT!” Rarity, having regained the ability to move her legs, rapidly backed away from the wall the knocking came from. “THERE'S A RAT IN MY BOUTIQUE!” That some rodent was in her place of business, in her house! The damage it could bring upon the food, the furniture, the fabric; she went into hysterics at the thought. As her breakdown escalated, Sweetie watched from the sidelines, meditating on what just happened.
'Maybe asking Miss Ghost to knock on the wall wasn't a good idea.' This wasn't what Sweetie Belle wanted, though given her sister's history of dramatics, she should've seen this coming. At worst Sweetie only expected her sister to attribute the sound to her own imagination or some other mundane excuse, an acceptable risk if it meant proving her spectral house-guest's existence. But this?
'I should probably stop her before she has a heart attack,' Sweetie thought, having followed Rarity into the workroom. Since her breakfast wasn't finished and the dishes were unwashed, Rarity must've thought solving the rat issue was urgent. Since the truth of the matter wouldn't involve rat exterminators – Sweetie didn't think rat poison would do anything and the ghost, weird as it was, proved helpful, making her reluctant to get it out of here – Sweetie grabbed onto her sisters leg to save her the trouble. Or rather, she thought about grabbing it and the ghost did it before she could start.
“Sweetie Belle, now's not the time to practice your telekinesis, and there's never a good time to practice on your sister. So please, let go of me! I have to get an exterminator.”
“First of all, I'm not using my magic; no horn glow, see?” Her sister didn't see, didn't even look, but Sweetie continued. “Secondly, I can say without a doubt a rat didn't knock on the wall, it was...”
“It was what?” Rarity barked, causing Sweetie Belle to flinch, “Let me guess, a ghost?” Quickly realizing her temper, she closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and counted to ten. When she opened them again, the rage was gone yet the firmness remained. “I understand you think you know the problem, but without evidence to the contrary I'm going with the most reasonable answer.”
'Evidence is what I've provided all morning.' Sweetie Belle thought bitterly. If what she provided so far wasn't good enough to convince her sister, then she didn't know what would. Sure, she could just pretend Rarity was right and there was no ghost, but Sweetie knew pest control was expensive; she wasn't going to let her sister throw away bits because of something Sweetie did. 'Should've kept it to myself.' she thought.
As her sister stepped towards the door, Sweetie Belle frantically searched for something, anything to prove to her sister she wasn't crazy. Could she put some spare cloth on the ghost? Could be blamed on telekinesis and was it really worth messing with Rarity's fabrics? She couldn't get Twilight, that would take to long. By the time Equestria's sovereign analyzed her – a process likely filled with needles and standing still, Sweetie reminded herself – Rarity would've already put down the deposit and scheduled an appointment, assuming the service wasn't done by then.
When she heard the familiar hum of magic and the door's tumblers clicking, she knew she was out of time, and so resorted to instinct. After all, it got her out of several jams while crusading. Granted,it got her into most of them, but she hadn't a better option.
“NO!”
Sweetie's declaration was followed by the horrid sound of metal twisting, morphing, and compressing. Seeing her sister jump back from the door with her eyes still locked on it told her enough. While whatever she did was enough to convince her sister to stay put, the terror painted on Rarity's face was not part of the plan; she was trying to calm her down, dang it! Walking closer to comfort her sister, she saw her handiwork for herself and winced; the doorknob was crushed, and though it likely still worked, shopping for a replacement was in her future.
“Rarity, I'm sorry! I wasn't thinking and I-”
“Stop.” Sweetie would've been annoyed at the interruption, but right now she was relieved her sister's voice was free of terrible rage and raging terror. “Just give me a moment,” Rarity said. 'Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out.' As she calmed down she looked at her sister, saying nothing for a minute. When at last she spoke, her voice was as calm, collected, and composed as it normally was. “Alright Sweetie. I believe you now.” She looked over to the mangled door knob. “You've weren't that strong with magic before.”
“Good to hear,” Sweetie replied, ignoring the potential insult within her sister's answer.
“Do you know where this... spirit came from?”
“No. I don't know for sure. I have a hunch though.”
“The arrow?”
“That was my hunch, yes.”
“Then what about your friends?”
Sweetie was silent for a moment, but her face betrayed her innermost thoughts, twisting from relaxed to alarmed in a matter of seconds. Bolting upright, she ran towards the door. “We need to check, come on!”
“And if this 'ghost' thing becomes a problem?” Rarity asked.
“Twilight has the arrow. Gave it to her yesterday. She gave Applejack a way to let her know something went wrong.” Sweetie fired off at a pace even Rainbow Dash would envy. “Best bet is to go to Sweet Apple Acres and send the message to Twilight. C'mon! We were supposed to let her know if anything odd came up. ”
Were it not whiplash or urgency the past two minutes provided, Rarity would've chuckled at Sweetie's youthful excitability. Right now, all she could do was stand up and briskly trot out the house with her sister, a single question in the forefront of her mind.
'What have I gotten into?'
Author's Note
Stand Name: [MEN AT WORK]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SECVGN4Bsgg&ab_channel=MenAtWorkVEVO
Thank you all for your patience. It's been a while, so if anything's wrong with my writing please let me know.
The Bizarre Adventure of Three Fillies
Chapter 4: The Kids Aren't Alright
Few dare to ask the question, but if Applejack were asked what the best time too work was, she would say few things could beat a bright sunny day. Sure, a cloudy overcast would've cooled her down and kept the sun out of her eyes, but those were the only benefits that sprung to mind. The bright light reflecting off of her family's ruby red and emerald green bounty, dangling on the branches, tantalizing her with flavors unbound. The rays of the sun energizing her, warming her bones and readying her for the day to come. The occasional light breeze drifting over the trees, rustling branches in a quiet choir and cooling her when overheated. Yes on days like today, Applejack was grateful she could enjoy this blessing while working.
'Now, if only a certain somepony could see that.'
Applejack shook her head; really, she was glad Applebloom even came out at all; after yesterday's fiasco, she expected to see neither hair or hide of her. The rapid recovery was a itself miracle, and though 'grumpy and distracted' summed up her sister's attitude, Applejack understood why. Applebloom could sulk all day today if she wanted, just so long as she did her work and didn't ruin Applejack's.
Despite having told herself this several times today, Applejack kept investigating her sister. No matter how often she told herself her sister acted normal, she noticed her talking to herself a few times, eyes aimed at the ground as though there was something far more interesting in the grass than work. Normal behavior for foals, but even the angle of her stare screamed 'somethin's on my mind, somethin' huge and massive and dangerous.'
Applejack shook her head. 'Maybe Granny Smith was onto somethin' with that maternal instincts spiel. Ah'm worryin' more than Rarity about gray hairs.' As she bucked a few more trees, she realized her instincts hadn't led her astray yet, so ignoring them wasn't a wise idea.
As Applejack drew closer to Applebloom, she realized her sister wasn't just staring at the ground; her eyes moving to and fro, back and forth, fast without the desperate speed you get when you've lost something important that you know you left somewhere around here. This was the opposite of boredom; something had her sister enraptured. Exactly what Applejack couldn't see even at three paces behind her sister, yet the fact she got this close without alerting her proved how much it held Applebloom's focus.
Realizing she wouldn't get an answer spying on her little sis, coupled by the realization she was spying on her little sis, Applejack was about to make her presence known before Applebloom spun around on her own volition, breathing a startled gasp. 'How did she know to turn? Ah didn' even breathe yet.' She shook the thought out of her head. “You sure you ain't too tired to work, Applebloom? Yer actin' a bit spacey today.”
“Ah ain't tired now that you've scared the daylights out of me!” an indignant Applebloom replied, taking a moment to catch her breathe. “An' Ah jus' woke up, so of course Ah'd look a bit spacey.” On this point Applejack had to concede if only because experience wouldn't shut up about her own past with sleep deprevation. Still, that experience was what drove her to warn Applebloom.
“If you say so, just be sure to let me know when-”
CRACK
Applejack turned towards the noise and groaned in frustration at its source. “Ah knew this would happen soon, but Ah hoped to get just another day's use out of it.” On the right side of the cart Applejack used to haul bushels upon bushels of apples lay a shattered wheel. Spokes strewn across the grass, the very rim bent and splintered beyond repair. It served the Apple family well for many moons, but clearly its journey was at an end. The scene would've almost been tragic, but with the mass of chores still ringing in the back of her mind, Applejack was more frustrated than sad. “Good thing Big Mac's out gettin' another. Sis, Ah'm headin' to store some apples for cider season. Jus' keep doin' what you're doin' and let me know when Big Mac's here, 'kay?”
Applebloom nodded and as her sister walked away she returned to her true project. “It's official, Ah don' think she can see y'all,” she said to Men at Work. If they heard anything Applebloom couldn't tell; without instruction they tended to just muck about. Some seemed as invested in understanding the strange pony they obeyed as much as she was invested in them, while others gazed at such wonderful natural marvels as sticks, rocks, and exceptionally tall pieces of grass. All were standing, and Applebloom noted they've been doing so since she saw them this morning. Didn't they need something to sit down in? Maybe some kind of tiny chairs? And was she really taking time out of her day to think about whether tiny ghosts need to sit?
“Maybe Ah should've stayed in bed.” While Applebloom didn't feel physically tired, the mild boredom gnawing at her mind made her want to just lie down and stare at the ceiling. Having now sat on the ground, she focused on a random drone and wished more than anything for something to happen. Seconds later as the Sun poked through the trees, she wished instead for something to keep it out of her eyes.
Immediately, Men at Work started moving about. 'Right. They can respond to my thoughts. It's nice of them to grab somethin' for me, but Ah should probably stop them from causin' a ruckus.' To her confusion, they didn't march to the house or barn, instead some fanned out through the orchard while others gathered before her and waited patiently. Those who left cut down blades of grass, each one thick and strong, and piled them in front of her. Those who stayed behind took the grass and weaved them together, individual strands turned to thick, sturdy sheets, and those sturdy sheets merged together to form a single mass.
The entire ordeal was fascinating to Applebloom, yet what interested her most was the speed at which they worked. No more than ten seconds had passed before a the pile of lawn trimmings became a hat, its brim wide and firm, perfect for blocking the Sun's rays. They were holding it out patiently, and it took Applebloom a moment to realize they made it as a gift to her.
“Oh, uh. Thanks, Y'all.” She accepted the hat and tentatively placed it upon her head. To her surprise it didn't feel hot and stuffy like her own attempts at making head wear. Indeed, when the wind blew slightly she could feel it through the hat. They answered her silent plea for protection from the Sun, but how did they know to weave a hat? They couldn't have gotten the info from Applebloom; she and the other crusaders had tried their hooves at both hat making and basket weaving. Though they received valuable insight from their failures, they were failures all the same, nowhere near the quality of Men at Work. They must have acquired the knowledge somewhere else, but if that was the case what else did they know? What else could they build? Glancing at the wagon, Applebloom found her perfect test.
“Alright, Men at Work,” she spoke firmly, “See that broken wheel over there? Can y'all fix it?” As soon as the question left Applebloom's mouth they raced towards the wheel. Some flew off in different directions, heading towards the woods and barn - 'Likely getting supplies,' Applebloom thought - but most stuck together.. When they arrived they wasted no time; they moved the pieces into better positions, gathered supplies in the immediate area, and...
'Is that a saw?' Applebloom thought, and indeed one of the Men at Work held a tiny saw where once its hands were empty. 'Now where did he get a saw? And where did that one get a hammer? And...' Applebloom realized she'd give herself a headache the more she thought about it, and it wasn't even the strangest thing about them, so she just stopped thinking about it.
While she pondered the mystery of the tools, Men at Work gathered grass, sticks, and mud in piles beside the wheel. Some used saws, axes, and tools Applebloom didn't know the names of and worked on the sticks, shaving off the bark and sawing them into smaller, more useful forms. Others took the scrap from this refinement, mixed them with mud, and filled the breaks in the wheel with it. The rest Applebloom lost track of, such was their speed of industry. When at last they stopped, on the ground laid the fixed wheel.
It didn't look brand new; the grass wrappings around the breaks and the trace amounts of mud were visible signs of make shift repair. Yet as Men at Work fastened it in place on the side of the wagon, the wheel remained stable. Nothing fell off. Nothing splintered, cracked, or even bent. 'That couldn' have been more than thirty seconds,' Applebloom thought, “Y'all sure work fast. Wonder what else needs fixin' round here?”
THUNK
Her musings were cut short when something hit the ground. Turning towards the noise's source she found another wheel, bought straight from the store. Big Mac stood right beside it, mouth agape and eyes wide with confused astonishment. Or was it astonishing confusion? 'Nah, definitely the former,' Applebloom thought.
“Heh. Ah'm guessin' you saw that, didn' you?”
“Eyeup.”
“What exactly did you see?”
“The wheel plum fixed itself.”
“Ah see.” So he didn't see them either? Were they invisible to everypony but her? A shame, she really wanted to show the other Crusaders. Oh! Their clubhouse could use a few renovations; that would be show enough.
“Now what in tarnation is goin' on here?” Having gotten lost in riveting conversation, neither Applebloom nor Big Mac noticed their sibling's approach. To Applejack, this stank of shenanigans; She was only gone for couple of minutes, but Applebloom had gotten into more trouble in less time before. At least there was no tree sap this time. Upon closer inspection, she realized there was some on the wheel, right under the grass bands would around it. “Huh. Applebloom, did you fix the wheel?”
“N-nyes?” she replied with hesitation.
“Nnyes means there's a story here. What exactly happened, 'Bloom?”
No. No. No. She was supposed to have more time, dang it! She could barely wrap her head around what happened and struggled to explain it to herself, and she was the only one who could see the little fellers. How could she explain the concept of 'invisible tiny guys' without being dismissed out of hoof or sent to the loony bin? Maybe if she had a couple more days to find the words or had another broken wheel...
That's it! Her eyes darted to the wheel, and before her mouth opened the Men at Work were at it again. “Yer not in trouble, if that's what's riling y-” The impossibility that occurred before Applejack cut off her sentence. Something was breaking the fixed wheel. No, not breaking, it was too orderly and systematic, this was disassembly, Applebloom disassembled the wheel she fixed and did it without laying a hoof on it.
If facing down the greatest threats to Equestria brought any benefit to the farmer, it would be the ability to quickly get herself together upon witnessing something unusual.“Applebloom. Please, tell the truth. What's goin' on?”
The filly turned away slightly, reluctant to give any answer. “If Ah tell the truth, will you believe me?”
Her eyes widened for a moment. “It's nothing bad, if that's what you're thinkin'. It's just out there.”
“Ah like to think Ah'd know if you tried to pull one over on me,” replied Applejack, “but first, just to save us some trouble, does this have anythin' to do with the arrow yesterday?”
“Probably, but Ah don' know for sure.” Applebloom's pupils shrunk to pinpricks “Oh no. Oh no! Scoots and Sweetie!” She trotted in place with fearful vigor before she dashed towards the orchard's exit. “Ah have to see if they're alright!”
Applejack followed suit. “Slow down girl! What the hay's goin' on? You still haven' told me!”
“Ghosts! Tiny Ghosts! Arrow! Fix wheel! Talk latter!” The response only raised more questions for Applejack, and though it would've been responsible to chase Applebloom down for clarification, the moment the word 'arrow' was uttered she knew she had another duty.
“Big Mac, please catch up with Applebloom and deal with whatever her problem is. Ah need to send a letter to Twi.” Seeing her brother's confused grimace, she added “You heard her say arrow? That's what made her all sick yesterday. Twi gave us a way to write to her last evening, and Ah'm not surprised Ah need it already. So, will you help her?”
After a moment of silence Big Mac let out a single, concerned “Eeeyup” and trotted out of the orchard. Not fast enough for Applejack's liking, since Applebloom already had some distance on them, but there were only a few destinations the filly could go to. As she trotted to her house, Applejack looked up at the sky once more.
“Sure is an awful day to spend writing letters inside.”
“Hmm. How about Twisted Sister? No, no. Rarity might get jealous. Maybe Iron Maiden. Nah, sounds to formal. Oh! How about-”
“Sweetie Belle? Pardon my intrusion, but what are you doing?”
The question wasn't asked without reason; the two were currently trotting through the very heart of Ponyville, where commerce of all varieties occurred. This route was usually not to crowded, which made it an ideal shortcut to Sweet Apple Acres. However it was crowed enough to listening to Sweetie Belle a bit difficult, and what little she could make out sounded like nonsense.
As a sister she was responsible for ensuring her sibling's health and safety, and though she had abundant evidence that Sweetie wasn't lying about the ghost this morning, the knowledge was of little comfort. Was it possessing her right now, and was that why she mumbled?
“Just trying to figure out what to name the, well, you know.” Sweetie nudged her head off to the side, gesturing to what Rarity could only assume was the ghost.“I can't just keep calling it 'Ghost', it doesn't feel right.”
“You're naming it,” Rarity spoke flatly. “You're actually naming it.” She ignored the implications for the sake of her mental health. “ Aren't we trying to get rid of it?”
“I know Twilight hasn't mishandled the arrow yet, and since it has been less than a day I doubt something had happened already, but as one of her friends I can tell you-”
“Sorry to interrupt, but I wasn't talking about Twilight.”
“Please tell me you aren't referring to the you-know-what. Oh who am I kidding!” Rarity's head sagged. “That's exactly what you were talking about earlier, right.”
“It looks like a filly.” Sweetie's innocent reply was met with a frustrated groan.
“Has it really come to this?” Rarity asked. “My dear sister, possessed by a phantasmal filly that she decided to not only put her full trust in, but also name?”
“You're just looking for things to complain about, aren't you?”
For a while, Rarity said nothing. Only when she stopped and turned around did she speak in a hushed, muted voice. “Yes Sweetie, I am. Forgive me, but I find nothing sane, desirable, or optimistic about this situation. It sounds like the start of yet another grand adventure, of which I've had my fill.” She gestured to her luxurious purple mane. “Any more treks into the world to stop ancient evils or spirits of chaos and I'll have gray hairs before thirty. Now, let's hurry to Applejack. The sooner we notify Twilight, the sooner she can fix – sorry, solve – this issue, the less opportunity for disaster.”
As much as she wanted to object, to believe her sister was letting her prior experience color her opinion, Sweetie couldn't deny the experience only made said opinion more valid. “Alright,” she said, closing her eyes. “though I'm still going to name her.”
“If that's what you want, fi -oof!” Stepping back for a second, Rarity saw it was a pony she blindly walked into. Indeed, the entire street was filled from one side to the next with ponies; customers purchased from the stalls of vendors, buying all manner of ingredients and treats. Only years of proper decorum and ladylike behavior kept her from screaming her head off. “Drats! Of all the days for the market to be busy, why did it have to be today?”
“I'm guessing it's not your day, is it?”
“Sweetie. Please. Not now.” Rarity's reply was bitter and sharp. “Okay, this can be salvaged. We just need to take a route around.”
The ghost, having floated beside the sisters all this time, began to hum.
Sweetie's brow furrowed. “What do you mean 'not now'? It was a joke, I thought you liked them.”
“I like jokes when they are funny, Sweetie.” The last word was spoken with vitriol.
The humming morphed into the sound of violins.
“Keep it down, Will ya.” A stallion in the crowd said.
“I beg you're pardon!” Rarity replied. “Do you know who I am?”
“I know what you are; loud and irritating, like a rash that screams.”
“Shut up over there!” A mare replied.
Soon the entire crowd was embroiled in a massive argument, exchanging rude comments and ear-ringing shouts. The sheer disharmony on display made one wonder if they were still in Ponyville or some horrible satire. All the while Sweetie Belle sat to the side, the only one not filled with rage in the whole block. As the crowd grew louder and louder, spewing words and phrases that a filly shouldn't hear, she wondered what possessed them to act on such rage.
'Wait. Possessed.' On that thought, she glanced up to the spectre, expecting it being behind the rather poor display. What she saw betrayed no intentions, but what she heard was another matter.
Up to this point the specter had been a silent sentinel, content to float about and observe. Now through what passed for its mouth came sound. Not words or speech, but instead a manic musical melody within which Sweetie Belle identified violins, cellos, even a piano. As the crowd fed their rage, the music sped up and became more frantic. 'No, it's the other way around!' She was certain. How? She wasn't certain, but she just knew. To test her theory, she tried to will the song to stop.
To her suprise, the ghost was silenced with little effort. In spite of this, the ponies before her were still being mean to one another, bickering and yelling, merchant and customer, mare and stallion. The cacophony of verbal violence did not cease with it's source silenced. Some started shoving one another, and Sweetie swore she saw hooves flying.
Though they usually got along, Sweetie had been in enough fights with the Crusaders to know the ponies before her would remain riled for a while longer. But they never got into a fight like this! How much damage will be done? 'No. I can't let it happen. I have to stop this, but how?' Sweetie knew she had only one real chance to defuse the situation and sent a mental message to the ghost, telling it to somehow calm down the crowd
Sweetie Belle had low hopes for her plan's success, and when she heard music once again her heart seized. Yet this music was different than before, less energized and far more subdued. As Sweetie listened she felt all stress and fear melt away, and she wasn't the only one affected. The crowd had quieted and stilled, the inferno of rage extinguished. Apologies were exchanged in place of arguments, hooves that not long ago were pushing ponies on the ground were lifting those very ponies up. Some briskly trotted away, worried about what they did, but most ponies returned to their tasks embarrassed they would Behave like that.
Once everyone was back to normal, Sweetie Belle stopped the music and went looking for her sister. She wasn't hard to find, though she looked like she needed a few moments to her self as she stared into the distance, body unnervingly still. “Are you alright Rarity?” As much as she felt her sister needed a minute, Sweetie now understood why her sister wanted her to hurry up.
“Hmm? Oh, yes Sweetie I'm fine. I feel a bit confused and silly given what happened, but I only need a couple of seconds to reorient myself. We need to get going if we're going to get that letter sent before the end of the day.” The duo took their detour in silence, unsure what to say to one another. Rarity was the first to break it. “I'm sorry for what I said earlier. I don't know what came over me.”
“I'm sorry, what did you say?”
“The ghost. She played some kind of music that made everypony angry.” Sweetie investigate the ghost further. “She also played music that calmed them down when I told her to, so I can't be too mad at her.”
“...We really need to hurry along to Applejack,” Rarity's pace picked up.
“You don't believe me?” Sweetie Asked incredulously.
“Of course I do, that's why we need to hurry along.” Though she knew it was fruitless, Rarity wished Sweetie would accept that answer and move on with her. The sooner they arrived, the sooner they could fix this, the less she'd have to worry about all of this. She took no pleasure in being right.
“Quiet Riot.”
“Pardon?”
“The ghost, I'm naming her [QUIET RIOT]. It's a fitting name, wouldn't you agree.”
For a minute, the only response Sweetie received was a disbelieving stare. After wich, her sister's expression deflated to a resigned frown. “I suppose.”
While her friends were out and about, Scootaloo was sadly more stagnant. It wasn't like she wanted to spend a nice summer's day cooped up in the house, and if it weren't for the stupid ghost bird she would've spent the day hanging out with her friends. Heck, she'd take cleaning up Goldie Delicious's house again if it gave her something to do other than lay around and stare at the ceiling or look at that darn bird all day.
“Gaaahh!”
“Now Scootaloo, there's no need for that.” Aunt Holiday was sitting on the couch with her, forehead bandaged from the earlier pecking. Had the bird been less violent, Scootaloo might've been willing to talk to her aunt. As it stood, however, it would've been too awkward and would've raised questions she couldn't answer. Now that the alternative was death by boredom, she figured it couldn't hurt to try.
“I know, I know. I'm just trying to find something to do until Aunt Lofty returns.”
“You could always read a book.”
“Already read everything I have, and I don't feel like re-reading any of it.” For a moment, there was naught but silence. “Are you alright?”
“Hmm. Oh, you mean this?” Holiday pointed her hoof at the mass of bandages on her forehead, already dyed red in spots. “It was quite a shock, but believe it or not I've taken worse knocks in my day. It stings, but I'll be fine.”
“Oh dear, there's no need for you to go apologizing.”
“But I'm the one who told it to make itself known. If I had just been more clear in my instructions...”
“If, if, if,” Holiday interrupted. “I won't sit here and say you did the best you can, for there's always room for improvement. Nor will I tell you to stop thinking too hard about it because looking back at our mistakes is how we grow as ponies. Beating yourself up over it, on the other hoof, isn't a healthy part of anything. You didn't mean to cause trouble and the deed's been done, what will worrying endlessly do to fix it?”
Unable to argue her point further, Scootaloo only nodded in response. The conversation, though enlightening, was all too brief. Thus Scootaloo was bored again in short order, and suffered in silence for a moment before Holiday noticed and smiled. “So, can you tell me what this spirit looks like?”
“Bird.”
“I know that, silly! I mean, you know, what color is it? Does it look like an eagle? A pigeon? A chicken?”
“It's head kind of looks like a falcon.” Scootaloo ignored the chicken suggestion out of habit. “And it's main coat is red but under the wing is a rainbow of feathers. Actually, I'll draw it for you. Would make things go by faster.” 'And give me something fun to do,' was the unspoken addendum. Without waiting for her aunt's response she rushed to her room and brought back a notebook and a box of crayons.
Drawing the creature and getting every detail drawn on paper challenged Scootaloo. On the one hoof, this made it more fun. On the other, she wasn't able to get all the everything down on the first try. The vibrant sheen of the primaries were muted on the canvas, as she knew not how to capture their shine. The unnatural leg joints no sane artist had experience with, so even if what she drew matched reality it still looked wrong. Several times she had to scrap one piece and start on another, though she always gave them to Holiday to give her a good idea on what the creature looked like. Well, the creature did, but from her understanding there wasn't really any difference.
That brought up several questions that Scootaloo would rather not consider, yet though she tried she couldn't keep them away. Was it really just a ghost? Why did it point at her this morning when she asked what it was? Was this that astral projection thing Twilight mentioned that one time? She hoped so, it meant she had some cool unicorn magic. Not as cool as flying, but better than noth-.
“Gah!” The crayon she was holding in her mouth suddenly broke, smudging the drawing she spent the last few minutes working on.
'This would be a lot easier if she could see it,' Scootaloo thought. 'Heck, I'd be out with Applebloom And Sweetie if she could see it.' She looked towards the bird once again. 'Why can't she see it? Can Aunt Lofty? She didn't react to it at all when I last saw her, and I know she has no reason to not tell me. They can feel it, they can see it's moving paper, so why can't they see it. Maybe if I poured paint on it, they'd see it.'
The more Scootaloo thought about it, the more she found how little she knew about it. She knew Lofty was getting somepony to help, and Scootaloo knew it was some kind of ghost, but that was it. Maybe if she looked at the facts she would find something. She knew it only came up today, so were there any bizarre events yesterday that would've-
Right. The arrow. There really wasn't anything else it could be, was there?
Okay, so the arrow was involved in this somehow. Twilight was studying the arrow, so more answers will come forth. Until then, she could only speculate; a useless task, but it could be fun. Maybe the arrow was cursed somehow, or some spirit locked away for a thousand years had entered into her through the arrow. Scootaloo rolled her tongue, nervous at the prospect. It wasn't the most unlikely scenario, and what a town Ponyville was where she could honestly say that.
“Alright Scoots, what's got you worried this time?” The tone was normal, but Holiday's face betrayed her maternal worry.
“Just realized how much weird stuff happens in this town.”
“Thinking this might be the next headline for Equestria Today? 'Breaking News: Ponyville Foal Possessed by Poltergeist Poultry – End of the World Imminent.'” Hearing the absurdity of the situation out loud, Scootaloo couldn't help but chuckle.
“Heh. Yeah, it does sound dumb when you say it like that.”
Holiday stood up from her couch and hugged Scootaloo. “Don't fret, dear. Lofty should be back any minute now and this will soon be behind us.” Her face lit up “Oh! We could get ice cream after this. How does that sound.”
She was shaken out of he thoughts by the sound of the door opening. Two familiar ponies walked in; one was of course her Aunt Lofty, but the familiar striped mare besides her was a surprise, though in hindsight it shouldn't have been.
“Zecora! How's it going!” Scootaloo excitedly spoke.
“Scootaloo, my day has been swell. Baring your problem, all is well.”
“Oh, sorry.”
“There is no need to apologize, I'm glad to be of aid.” She turned to the other mare. “And worry not of the price, for you have already paid.”
That sounded ominous to Scootaloo, but looking at her Aunts' calm expressions and aware of how nice a pony Zecora was, said price was likely something mundane. “I'll bring it over.” Scootaloo said, only for the bird to materialize right beside her. She did feel something within her as it emerged, but it was too imperceptible to tell what she felt.
More surprising was Zecora's reaction, in that she had one. Raised eyebrows and a step back, to be exact. 'Finally, somepony else sees it,' Scootaloo thought.
“When I walked out my home today, I did not expect things to go this way.”
“You know what it is?” Asked Scootaloo. Zecora just nodded. 'Yes!' Scootaloo thought, 'I admit I'm a little curious to know what it is
“With what your aunt said, the thought rested in my head. Now that I have seen with eyes true, I know what it is and what to do.” Something rose from behind Zecora, rising through her flesh in ways that should be impossible. It left no mark and didn't appear painful in the slightest, yet still Scootaloo took a step back. She had seen this before, this morning in the bathroom when she called out the bird.
“Wh-What is that?” Scootaloo asked.
“An expression of my very soul, one I've had since I was a foal.” The gasps of Holiday and Lofty went unheard “The being and the bird the same, to see it myself makes me glad I came. I expected revenants, ghosts, and spirits of rot. To see another stand, I expected not.”
Near the peak of the Canterhorn, the city of Canterlot was bustling with activity. The business owners and their employees were hard at work. Even the nobles, despite what stereotypes would tell you, worked on their speeches and pleas to the royal court for whatever they felt was necessary. Indeed, some nobles were already doing so.
“So you see Princess Twilight Sparkle, if Equestira placed tariffs on all products from Griffonstone, we could generate enough additional revenue to...”
Twilight had already made up her mind on the noble's proposal and was kindly, patiently waiting for him to finish up Day court had been open for two hours and this one noble had taken up all of it. She knew nobles had a tendency to be windbags and planned to include a limit to how long they could speak, but she deemed it a lower priority than other tasks. She was so going to amend this mistake before the end of the day.
“Thank you, Mr. Copper. I will consider your proposal.” She hated being dishonest like that, it felt like she was ignoring the very lessons that lead her to her position. Still, she wasn't lying per say; she will consider the proposal for a few more seconds after he left.
Her canned answer satisfied the stallion, and as soon as he bowed and bowed out of the room, Twilight turned to the closest guard. “Please tell the guests the day court adjourned for lunch and will be back in half an hour.” The guard saluted his sovereign and left the great hall.
Twilight soon followed with a quick teleportation, landing in her private office. It was a room modest yet large, the walls adorned with a clock, a portrait of the Royal Sisters, and numerous bookshelves and filing cabinets. Organized on the shelves were countless books on law, governance, economy, and everything else a novice regent would need to most effectively govern and rule a nation. At the very center of the room was a large rectangular desk, designed to hold all manner of paperwork and it showed, much to Twilight's irritation. At a desk perpendicular to hers, her trusted assistant for many years looked up from his paper work.
“That rough, eh Twi?”
“That obvious, is it?” Twilight's asked weakly.
“You're slumping a little in the back, you sound like you just ran a marathon, and you're taking your break thirty minutes early.”
Twilight looked worried at the thought of breaking schedule, but soon her face returned to how it was before. “I know, but right now I really don't care.”
“Oh dear! Little Mrs. Schedule Freak breaking schedule? I see you finally had that stick clawed out of your-”
“Discord!” She hadn't noticed him standing by the side of a bookshelf as he flipped through a law book. He didn't read it, just flipped through the pages. “Care to explain why you're here?”
“Oh Twilight! You wound me. I'm just here to check out my cookbook; Fluttershy is having a tea party next Sunday, and I wouldn't be caught dead bringing the same old thing. I'm thinking lemon asparagus cooked over an open fire with a side of bleu cheese, does that sound good?” He continued before Twilight could respond. “Oh, who am I kidding, I know it'll be too die for. So, could you get it for me?”
“Discord, I don't run a library anymore, you can't just- wait, sorry, I forgot you lent it to me.” In a bright flash of light the book appeared in his hands. “Here you go. Now, can you please leave?”
“Day court rougher than you thought? Would it make you feel better to know Celly had a tough time some days too?”
Twilight nodded: knowing her mentor had days like this reduced her stress. It meant she didn't have an impossible standard to live up to.
“Glad to help. As for your other question, as much as I'd like to leave, walking all the way here was such a pain. My legs ache and I'm completely exhausted. I'd rather stay here for a bit longer and recuperate. I would teleport out of here but, you know.” Discord lifted his arms up. Around each wrist was a cuff, every inch etched in runes.
“It's your own fault for what you did behind our backs. Yes, you're intentions were noble, but anypony would've been able to see how gathering the worst of our foes together would backfire, you especially. Going without magic for a month is a fair punishment, and you have less than a week left. If it makes you feel any better, you're allowed one teleportation for emergencies.”
Discord lowered his arms in a huff. “I'm guessing this isn't one of those emergencies.” Twilight's smile was the only answer he needed. “Very well then,” continued Discord, “if I cannot use magic then it would just be cruel to make me walk all the way back so soon. I'll stay here for a while, drink a tall glass of water, and then I'll be out of your hair for the rest of the week. Deal?”
Twilight didn't want to agree, but did she really have a choice? “Fine. If you're pouring water, can you make me a glass too?”
Discord was already walking towards the sink. “That's what friends are for.”
“Alright Twi, something's bothering you. What is it?” Spike asked, having long since put down his paperwork to give his undivided attention.
“Mostly it's just what I expected; nobles asking for unreasonable policies that undeniably benefit themselves and no one else. Such drivel is already a slog on a full night's sleep, and there I was with four hours!”
“You expected this, yet still you figured your 'normal' sleep schedule would do?” Discord chimed in. “Honestly, Sparkles, you need to start getting more sleep like dear old Dashie. Has anyone ever tolerated a monarch who sleeps on the throne?” Discord started filling the glasses. “During court hours and important meetings, I mean. I don't doubt Celestia had fallen asleep in the throne on more than one occasion. I don't recommend it, bad for the back.”
“I know I need to fix my sleep schedule, Discord-”
“I never said anything about a schedule~” He interrupted.
“-but I couldn't help myself. I had the most interesting object of study last night, an archaeological find for the ages.”
“She means an arrow.” Spike helpfully interjected. Discord quickly turned off the water.
“Could you describe this arrow?” Twilight would've dismissed Discord's request, were it not for two facts; he was actually expressing interest in one of her conversations, and he almost sounded worried. The possibility he knew anything was slim, but if he was going to be around anyways she might as well milk him for info.
“Just an arrow with an intricate golden head. Most likely for ceremonial use. Not matched to any known culture from my studies. Seems to have some kind of virus on the tip, though it doesn't appear contagious.”
“It didn't pierce anyone did it?” Discord sounded interested, which just screamed 'something's very, very wrong here.' In this case, it also screamed 'I have intimate knowledge of the arrow, and I might be willing to share it with you.' Now Twilight couldn't let him leave.
“Yes. The Cutie Mark Crusaders all sustained injuries from it.” Twilight's tone was steady and cautious. “They were a bit under the weather sick when I last saw them. What do you know about the arrow?”
“Oh, plenty. I just need to figure out if they're still alive. We can walk and talk if you want.”
“Still alive? We? What are you-” A flash of light right in front of Twilight interrupted her. It was a scroll, hastily tied together and bearing a familiar seal. “Hold on, it's from Applejack.”
“Let me guess; Applebloom did something weird and there's some mention of ghosts.”
“Stop it with the sarcasm, Discord,” Twilight sternly said. As she read the contents of the letter, she realized there was no sarcasm.
“Well, Twilight? Was I right?”
She must've gotten something wrong. That must be it, yes! She just had to re-read the letter and she'll see what she missed. 'Alright, Twi. Once more from the top.'
“Twilight.
“Hey, it's Applejack. Sorry for writing on such short notice, but you said to let you know if something happened and well, something did. This morning I was waiting for Big Mac to arrive from the carver with a new wheel for the wagon, since the old one was 'bout to break after so long. Broke this very morning in fact, but I digress.
“Anyways, I notice him staring at Applebloom and talking to her, so I was wondering 'what the hay was going on' and walked over to them. Turns out, Applebloom repaired the broken wheel. Weird part was she didn't use hooves or tools or anything of the like to fix it, but did so with just her mind. I know this sounds crazy, but the only reason I know that much because she took apart the wheel with her mind soon after the same way.
“I know your busy and all, but if you could come down here soon to sort things out, I could use your magical know-how. I'd ask Applebloom, but she ran away yelling about ghosts, the arrow, and the other Crusaders.
“Your pal,
“Applejack
“P.S. Sweetie and Rarity came over as soon as I finished this letter. They claim something about a ghost that possessed Sweetie Belle and that it made music to get ponies angry and calm them down. The arrow was mentioned as a potential culprit, just in case you needed more reason to come down.”
No, she read it right the first time, much to her irritation. “How did you know?” She asked Discord.
“Now see, normally I would just up and tell you, but I know you trust me about as far as you can throw me; a respectable distance, but not quite far enough.” He held up his talon, poised to snap. “ So why should I be the only one to tell you?”
“Discord, I know what you're thinking. Don't-”
“I'm gonna stop you right there, chief,” Discord interrupted. “I know what you're going to threaten me with, but believe me when I say this is one of those emergencies. Or don't, you'll know the truth soon enough.” With a snap of his talon, a bright flash of light filled the room. Where once there was naught but empty space, now stood two imposing figures. Two familiar figures.
“Discord,” spoke Celestia, “I hope there's a good reason for this.”
Author's Note
Stand Name: [QUIET RIOT]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5EbiRRpaYB4&ab_channel=QuietRiot-Topic
Question: Do you want me to continue with these stand descriptions in later chapters, or are they annoying and you would be happier without them?
The Bizarre Adventure of Three Fillies
Chapter 5: Quiet Preludes Chaos
“What is the meaning of this?”
Everypony present thought the same, yet only Luna spoke her mind. The former princesses were confused; one moment they laid on the beach, enjoying their retirement with fine literature and finer drink. The next, they felt the familiar tug of a teleportation spell dragging them all the way to Canterlot Castle. On the plus side, at least their drinks didn't spill in the process. In spite of the interruption, Celestia and Luna remained calm.
Twilight Sparkle did not.
“Princesses! I'm so sorry! I tried to get him to stop but he wouldn't and if I knew he would do this I would've tried harder and-”
“Twilight, it's fine.” Celestia turned towards Discord “I'm certain he has good reason for breaking his punishment.”
“Should they prove insufficient, his punishment shall be extended threefold!” Luna added, taking a sip from her glass. “He knows this, making our summoning all the more worrisome. Also, while I appreciate the formality and I know Celestia would never hold it against you, we are princesses no longer.” Predicting what Twilight would say next, she added “Do not apologize, there isn't a need.”
“Right. Sor-” Twilight caught herself. “Yes, there is a potential issue involving an heirloom of the Apple family I received yesterday. I analyzed it for any magic, but detected none. It did contain traces of a non-contagious pathogen, but protocol was established for the potential infectees.”
“Interesting.” Celestia's attention was stuck on Discord. “That still doesn't explain your actions, Discord. Care to enlighten us?”
“In fairness, you aren't that far down.”
“Damned with faint praise, I see. Anyways!” His paw and claw clapped together. “To make a long story short, Twilight found a Stand Arrow, it pierced three fillies in Ponyville, and given her earlier comment on a late night of passionate research it's somewhere here in Canterlot. Given her ignorance of what it is, it's probably sitting under-supervised somewhere.”
“Nah, she gave it to the Canterlot Institute of Societal Research's virology department this morning,” Spike interjected.
“Still not enough protection~.”
“Stand arrow. Stand arrow,” Twilight repeated. “I'm sorry Discord, but I've never heard the term. Does it go by some other name? Or maybe you have the correct name, but it's in another language? Celestia, what does he mea-.” She never finished that sentence, for one glance at her former mentor derailed Twilight's train of thought.
Normally Celestia wore a calm, optimistic smile that said to the world 'fret not, all is well.' Twilight had seen her angry, sad, sometimes smug, but rarely worried. Her firm maternal smile was gone, replaced with lips that quietly muttered. The eyes that usually held the warmth of the sun were cold and wide like lakes of ice. Twilight dared not look at Luna, for the younger of the two sisters wore her emotions on her sleeve, and both Celestia and Discord's reactions told the tale well enough.
The arrow was dangerous enough to concern them, so Twilight reacted accordingly.
“Celestia. What did I bring upon us?” Try as she might, she couldn't keep the panic out of her sentence.
“Nothing yet, Princess Twilight.” The way Celestia collected herself so quickly never ceased to amaze Twilight. “I'm sure the Canterlot Institute is keeping a close watch on it, ensuring nothing happens.”
“Good, then there's no emergency,” Twilight said cautiously. “Discord. We have a lot to discuss.”
“While I appreciate your vigilance on the matter, punishment is unnecessary. Truth is I requested him to let me know of any news on the arrow.” At this, Celestia turned towards the draconequues. “I'm amazed he followed through; regretting your creations already?”
“I didn't create them and I regret no-.”
“Wait, what?” Luna interrupted.
As the three not quite friends argued, Twilight did what she was wont to do; worries swirled about like a whirlpool in her mind, drowning all rational thought under a tide of improbabilities and possibilities. At the eye of this storm laid a single, immutable fact. 'Celestia made Discord inform her on the arrow, ergo it is important and dangerous.'
“We need to make sure it's alright!” she blurted out.
“Twilight, that's not-” After Luna gave it some more thought, she continued. “Actually, that is the most prudent course of action. Lead the way.”
“Didn't you want to know-” Discord started.
“We'll walk and talk,” Twilight interrupted. “Spike, you know what to do?”
“Tell the guards court is canceled for the rest of today.”
Twilight nodded and in a flash of violet light they jumped from one office to another, a juvenile dragon exchanged for a senior stallion, bright yellow in coat and white of mane.
“P-Princesses! We weren't expecting your return so soon.”
Though it eased her to know she wasn't the only one getting used to the shift in regal power, now wasn't the time to dwell on such details. “Professor Cream. Apologies for my sudden visit, but I just received pertinent data on the artifact I left in your care. May we please see it?”
“Certainly, Princess Twilight! Right this way!” The nervous stallion nearly tripped over himself as he showed the way. The royal entourage followed him and continued their conversation in hushed voices. It was best the information was kept to themselves for the time being, lest the ambitious learn of and seek to exploit the arrow's potential.
“Celestia, Luna, Discord.” Twilight couldn't keep the irritation from her voice at the last word, though not for lack of trying. “This arrow, how dangerous is it? What does it do? I don't doubt your involvement is necessary, but-”
“You wish to be kept in the loop, correct?” Twilight answered Celestia with a nod, which in turn was answered with a smile. “Before I answer, I should clarify the Golden Arrows do not possess any dark magic, nor was their creation tainted with evil itself.” At once, her smile evaporated. “They are still some of the most dangerous artifacts in Equestria, rivaling even the Alicorn Amulet.”
Now it was Twilight's turn to trip over herself. The Alicorn Amulet made even the weakest foal a mighty warlock, a trained wizard the strongest in the land. Anything comparable was to be treated with utmost caution, anything superior shouldn't exist. Something didn't add up. “Wait; I scanned the arrow and it was magically inert, how can it be dangerous unless... unless the virus is the danger.”
“You're correct about the virus, yet misled about the absence of magic.” Celestia would've elaborated why, but she was cut short by the unexpected feeling of wet carpet. A glance downwards calmed whatever fears she had; it was just water. A lot of water given how saturated the carpet felt, and as she looked up the wet carpet continued all the way to the door.
Fear renewed, Celestia burst through without a word. The devastation inside was tragic, though not unexpected. 'No, Twilight said she just found it yesterday. How could anypony-'
“Tia! What's wron-” Luna's interruption was interrupted when her eyes answered her. Everything and everyone was wet, as though a mad Pegasus waltzed in with a hundred storm clouds. Books shoved off of shelves, both warped and ruined by water. Few researchers and students weren't out cold, fewer still were in any state to answer questions, but Luna would not, could not be dissuaded.
“You!” Luna pointed her hoof at the nearest conscious pony, a teal mare who shook even now; whether from cold, fear, or cold fear was irrelevant. Either way, Luna realized her tone was not helping matters and softened her inquiry. “What happened here?”
“H-He just walked through the d-d-door. We didn't – couldn't do anything before he grabbed the – g-grabbed t-the...” What little composure remained soon left the mare, as only panicked sobs left her mouth. What was taken went unsaid, yet there was only one real answer, the one Luna dreaded most. Was it too much to ask, just this once, for the ancient relic of power to be ignored in favor of something mundane like bits or research notes?
“Sister. Did you hear that?”
“I did, and Professor Cream verified our fears.” Celestia replied.
“Wait, you mean...” Twilight began.
“Oh, this will be fun,” Discord snapped his fingers, but nothing happened. His arcane restraints were still in place, and the realization soured his attitude. 'Really wish I could conjure some popcorn.'
“The stand arrow has been stolen!”
“What's a stand?”
“One's spirit and will projected, a stand is a part of you. This claim it's a possession, that simply isn't true.”
“A part of – What are you saying?” Holiday asked. “That Scootaloo was the one who pecked me in the head?” While it brought relief to know where the bandages came from, Zecora knew such misunderstandings are best cleared up quickly.
“I doubt her action was intentional. Learning to use a stand can be unconventional. If a unicorn's horn grew on any of us today, would we master telekinesis by the end of the day?”
Scootaloo looked like she wanted to say something, yet she held her tongue. While Zecora may never know exactly what was on the tip of the filly's tongue, she could guess what the filly was going through. Such an experience wasn't alien at all to the Zebra. Yes, as she looked back at the figure behind her she thought back to her own 'awakening.'
The being behind her, dubbed [IRON-WOOD KID] was small and bipedal, like a chimp or tailless monkey. It's body was coated in dark brown tree bark, an arboreal armor that gave way around the knees and elbows, exposing intricately carved bare wood. Upon it's face was a simple mask of bark, two holes bored in to let a pair of green orbs gaze upon the world. Zecora had never seen behind the mask in her youth, and now that she was wise she knew it was best she never found out.
She first learned of stands from a wandering stallion back in Zebrica, and wasn't much older than Scootaloo at the time. Zecora was curious at their potential and relieved to know something about the phantom that stood by her since before her earliest memory. She expected Scootaloo to react in much the same way, but her face told a different story.
Where her eyes should've been open wide and radiating curiosity, instead her brow was scrunched in confusion and worry. With her tense shoulders and the way her hooves moved on the floor, Zecora knew Scootaloo's mind raced with a thousand thoughts going off every minute. Perhaps Zecora was presumptuous when she assumed others would react the same way. Perhaps the stand did something that colored Scootaloo's view. Or perhaps it was a cultural difference Zecora never thought she would run into. She did just receive her stand, so maybe-.
Her thought cut off, the pieces fell into place. Zecora joined the worrying.
“I'm going to ask a question, Scootaloo. No matter what, answer it true.” Zecora didn't mean to sound so harsh, so firm, and seeing the already nervous wreck flinch made her wish she kept her mouth shut. Nevertheless, she pressed on. “Legends speak of arrows of gold, where they came from no pony was told.”
“We found one,” Scootaloo blurted out. “At least, I think we found one. It looked old, I accidentally stabbed my tongue with it, and not even Twilight could figure out where it came from.” To emphasize her second point, the filly opened her mouth and stuck out her tongue. The wound had almost fully healed at this point, but there was still a faint discoloration, a monument to her recklessness and a reminder to remain cautious. It explained so much, yet made Zecora's visit more vital. The answers only enlightened the zebra on a single, fact; the arrows were no mere legend. Few things made Zecora's stomach cold and heavy.
“-The arrow gave me the stand-thing, didn't it?” Zecora answered with a nod.
“Oh dear! I thought Twilight told you the arrow didn't have any magic on it.” Lofty interrupted.
“Stands are mysterious, and look a lot like magic. That there's little connecting the two is tragic. Remember Tirek's rampage, the magic he consumed? I was affected, but my stand wasn't subsumed.”
“Okay. I know you're busy, but the other crusaders were also hit by the arrow. Accidentally. We were poking around in Goldie Delicious's house clearing it out for her and, yeah.” As much as she wanted to, Scootaloo couldn't find the space in her mind to formulate a conclusion, what with all the revelations she needed to process. “Could you please tell them about stands as well?”
Standing erect, Zecora replied. “I shall endeavor to enlighten you three. Now, where is the arrow? Please tell me!” The last sentence tumbled from her mouth at an uncharacteristically quick pace, reminding Scootaloo of Pinkie Pie for a moment.
“You'll have to bring that up with Twilight. Sorry, but we kind of gave it to her to study. Sorry.” As if it repetition of the word would make the situation any better: Zecora's face was aghast, her eyes wide with shock, a far cry from the epitome of collected calm at her entry. Scootaloo didn't know what the big deal is; Zecora had a stand herself and she said it wasn't possessing her, so why did she worry. 'I'm probably out of the loop here,' she thought.
As soon as the tension came it left Zecora, her body loosened, her posture relaxed. Taking a step back and a deep breathe, she collected herself. “Worry not, you didn't bring forth my ire, and I may be exaggerating when I say the situation is dire. But the arrow and stands are linked, intertwined, and it was something I never thought I would find. I trust Twilight, so there's nothing to fear, though I would like to see the arrow someday, dear.” She walked closer to the other mares in the room. “Mrs. Lofty and Mrs. Holiday, shall the four of us be on our way?”
“I hope you don't mind, but we'll stay here. As unexciting as it is, chores don't do themselves.” Some would say a good guardian would follow their charge and ensure they aren't hurt, but this wasn't even the fifth most dangerous situation Scootaloo and her pals had gotten into. Though their maternal instincts screamed otherwise, the couple knew their niece would be fine.
“Thanks, Zecora.” Scootaloo glanced back at the ghost – no, the stand behind her. “So, if this stand is a part of me, why is it a bird?”
“Why does mine look like wood?” Said stand moved closer to Scootaloo, as if it were showing off. “I would tell you if I could.” The two would've conversed further, discussing the nature of stands and their uses, were they not interrupted by the knocking of the door.
KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK
“Who could it be now?” Lofty asked before opening the door. There stood a big red stallion and a smaller, familiar filly. “Applebloom? Big Macintosh? What are the two of you doing here?”
“Mrs. Lofty, is Scoots here? Ah need to talk to her 'bout somethin'.”
“Does it have anything to do with spirits, ghosts or other fantastic phantasms?”
Lofty had to smirk at Applebloom's reaction, her shock that the mare knew such a thing. It had been too long since she had an opportunity to surprise a foal like that, and with the stress and confusion of the day upon her, you better believe she would indulge in the opportunity.
“H-how?” Applebloom started.
“Hey Applebloom! I was just about to look for you.” Scootaloo skidded to a stop at the door frame, her eyes drawn to the tiny bipeds besides her friend. “Well, that answer's my question; you have a stand too!”
“A wha?” Big mac and Applebloom exclaimed in unison.
“The ghost thingies following you. Zecora was just explaining them.”
“Indeed I was, but for now I must stop. We must find Sweetie Belle; she too must be taught.”
Rushing towards her aunts, Scootaloo embraced Lofty in a hug, followed by Holiday. “When I see you two again, I'll have the answers to this problem, I promise.” With that vow Scootaloo and the others left to find the final member of the Crusaders.
“Alright, that should just 'bout do it.”
It took a few tries to get the wording just right, and Applejack figured she'd still need to explain some things when Twilight arrived, but the letter conveyed the situation well enough. Any more time spent on it would've been a waste. Either way, so long as Twilight understood something had gone down, the letter's purpose was fulfilled.
'Assumin' she doesn't think Ah'm crazy. Heck, this whole situation has me thinkin' the same.' Refusing to dwell on it further, Applejack went outside to continue bucking trees and carting apples. If nothing else, the familiarity of work served as a beacon of stability in the turbulent sea of this morning's events. With each well placed buck on the trees, she felt her stress and worry melt away. Every bucket put on the cart was a weight she was grateful to have removed. Applejack was in the zone now, her mind at last put at ease.
“Applejack!” The farm mare was jostled out of her trance, not expecting the eloquent voice of her dear friend so early. “Oh dear, I didn't mean to startle you.”
“R-Rarity! Give a gal some warnin' before sneakin' up on her like that.”
“I did, but you didn't respond. Apologies.” She took another step towards the farm mare. “You must be very focused on your work today.”
“Ah always am, Rarity.”
“Is Applebloom here?” Looking down Applejack saw it was Sweetie Belle who anxiously posed the question. “I need to ask her something important.”
'Oh dear Celestia, please not again!' It was best to not tempt fate any further than she had, so Applejack held her tounge. “ 'Fraid not, Sweetie; she scampered off the farm this mornin'. Ah asked Big Mac to chase her down, but haven't heard from him since. May Ah ask what's on your mind?”
The anxiousness of Sweetie Belle transmuted to nervousness as she crossed her legs and looked away from Applejack. “You know about the arrow earlier, right?”
“Of course.” Why wouldn't it be the arrow? Why wouldn't the small, otherwise insignificant heirloom be the catalyst for Sweetie's arrival? Why did she even bring the fillies to Goldie's house yesterday? 'Right. I needed the help.' she reminded herself.
“Well, it might've done something to Applebloom, as it had done the same to me.” Sweetie was oblivious to Applejack's tone, but Applejack could see where this was going. As if to further cement her feelings on the matter, Rarity clarified her sister's statement.
“What my sister is trying to say is she believes she is possessed by some kind of ghost, thinks the arrow is the cause, and wants to make sure Applebloom is alright.”
“Ghost.” Applejack's eyes widened; either her and Rarity's sisters both went crazy in the exact same way, or Applebloom spoke the truth earlier. Applejack could usually sense a pony's lies and knew more about her little sister than most anypony, so she was inclined to believe the filly, much as she wanted otherwise. “Yeah, she was screamin' somthin' 'bout ghosts as she ran. Just finished the letter to Twi explainin' everythin'.”Applejack placed a hoof to her forehead. “And Ah just realized Ah forgot to send it. Consarnit!”
All was silent at the revelation. Rarity's hoof moved to cover her mouth her mouth, eyes widened in shock. In the darkest recesses of her mind, where the most dramatic terrors were born, A storm of worry brewed. 'How did this happen? What attached itself to my sister? Is Scootaloo affected as well?' Thus was but a fraction of a fraction of her mental mayhem.
Sweetie Belle arguably took the news worse. Her mouth opened wide enough that an insect could fly in. Eyes so wide with fear they almost popped out of their sockets. Yet opposed to her sister her thoughts were still, singular, and straightforward. 'Ghosts. Applebloom said ghosts. Applebloom is possessed by a ghost like me,' to which one response alone was appropriate.
“We have to find Applebloom and Scootaloo before something bad happens!”
“Now hold on there a minute! We don't know if she's in trouble. Do we?” Applejack asked.
“Sweetie's ghost nearly caused a violent outburst in the town square earlier today through song.” Absurd as it sounded, Rarity said it with a worried frown and a haunted stare. “I would rather air on the side of caution.”
“Wait. This ghost nearly caused a riot by singin'?” Maybe today was the day Applejack broke out the cider early.
“I named her Quiet Riot!” Sweetie replied innocently.
No, Applejack needed something harder.
Her thoughts on a developing drinking problem were halted when she spotted Sweetie sprinting off with surprising speed. It was fortuitous that this time Applejack's reflexes stopped the filly before she got too far. “Now hold on a sec, sugarcube! Runnin' off isn't gonna solve anything! Big Mac's dealin' with Applebloom, so the best option is to just stay put.” Something clicked in Applejack's mind, and when she she couldn't help but chuckle. “Tell you what, you and Rarity can tell me what y'all know 'bout these here ghosts, Ah'll add it to the letter, and we send it to Twi, alright?”
“I guess,” Sweetie said solemnly. “But it doesn't feel right dumping everything on Twilight. Doesn't she have royal duties to attend to?”
“Ah appreciate you're concern, but Twilight did say to keep her informed if anything went wrong. If two or three fillies bein' haunted by ghosts and Ponyville nearly getting a new red paint job doesn't count, Ah don't want to know what does.”
Sweetie wanted to help Applebloom, so clearly was it written on her face that a blind pony could see it a mile away. For Rarity, a mare whose occupation required an eye for detail, it was glaringly obvious. “Sweetie, darling. I know you're worried, but Applejack is right. Besides, you and your friends have gotten out of countless hairy situations before. Are you suggesting Applebloom cannot deal with this on her own?”
Sweetie wanted to say something, anything to refute her sister, yet nothing came. With a dejected sigh she relaxed her muscles, lowered her head, and conceded the argument. The trio trotted into the Apple household, and each pony holding within their hearts both hope and fear.
“Okay Twilight, don't panic. Deep breathes, deep breathes. Yes the arrow is missing, likely stolen by the looks of things. Yes, it is also some kind of dangerous magical artifact despite not having a trace of magic on it, but that's no reason to panic right! Right?”
“Sounds like your old student needed some anxiety training before taking the throne, eh Celly?” Discord's snide comment was ignored by all in the room; by the former royal sisters out of habit, and by the current princess because of her imminent breakdown. Realizing where this would lead if allowed to continue, Celestia put a hoof on her former student's shoulder. Glancing at the sudden unexpected weight upon her, Twilight realized she was being hysterical and broke out of the ramping cycle of over-analysis and mounting terror.
“Apologies Celestia. I just – Well, it's just so – I've been princess for only a month or so, and to make such a massive error so soon, I -”
“You were working with incomplete knowledge. Knowledge I should have provided before abdicating. If anypony deserves blame, it would be me.” Celestia didn't mention Discord being responsible for the arrows' presence in the first place, for while accurate it was inappropriate to point hooves right now. She also didn't mention her own fear, nor how Twilight's reaction, while certainly exaggerated, was more appropriate than she realized. Blind terror paralyzes action, and the sooner the issue was fixed the better.
It appeared Twilight understood as well, for a fierce determination welled up where there was once fear. She turned to address a pair of guards. “Tell the rest of the royal guard to keep an eye out for a golden tipped arrow with runic inscriptions. As a matter of fact,” In a pop of magic a piece of parchment appeared before the guards, marked with an image of the very arrow. “Tell them to look for an arrow with this exact design. When found, attempt to retrieve it. If you cannot, report to Celestia, Luna, or I immediately.” After giving it some thought, she added “If we aren't available, tell Discord instead. From what I was told in the past hour he has intimate knowledge on the target. Do you understand your orders?”
“Yes, your highness!”
“Good. Dismissed.” The guards walked away, and Twilight now faced the three who would shed some light on the situation, including how screwed Equestria was. Especially how screwed Equestria was. However, much as she needed that information, it could wait a moment longer.
“While I'm dying to learn of this 'stand arrow', I need to ask a few questions. Celestia!” Her mentor perked up at hearing her name. “If the arrow pierces a pony would that pony at some point have a ghost like apparition following them around.”
“Assuming they don't die, yes.” Twilight chose to ignore the potential of death as Celestia continued. “In fact, these ghosts are the stands that give the arrow its title.” A frown grew on her face when she realized where Twilight was going. “Discord did mention three fillies were pierced.”
“That letter I received? I gave it to Applejack in case something went wrong. Two of the three fillies had spoken seeing ghosts, and the rest of the letter provides additional evidence for their existence.” Twilight's horn began to glow. “If these are the stands you speak of and if the arrow is a danger to Equestria, then I'm not the only one who needs to be informed. So, are you available for one more lesson, Celestia?”
Celestia, Matron of the Sun for over a millennium, considered the proposition. Sure, she hadn't much else to do today, a stand arrow running amok was a headache just waiting to happen, and their were few in Equestria who could provide the information, none Celestia could immediately think of. On the other hoof – She had nothing. No reason, moral or practical, to not fulfill Twilight's request. “Of course, Twilight. Lead the way.”
“I will stay here for the time being, sister.” Luna's face was hard and determined. “I can help more here than in Ponyville.”
“Well, I'm not staying here, thank you kindly.” Discord slithered over to Twilight, apparently seeing the spell formed of her horn. “Are you really going to have a lesson on stands without he who found the arrows?” Before anypony could answer, Discord added another point. “Besides, I still need this taken care of.” Discord pointed to one of the cuffs, runes now glowing red.
“When this is over Discord, I might just lift your punishment entirely, should you behave.” Twilight received only a thumbs up in response, and a thumbs up was all she needed. And so the chaos avatar chained, the solar regent retired, and the mage student ascendant left the flooded laboratory in a flash of magenta, leaving only Luna and the remaining staff.
“Bit bright, isn't it.” Luna turned to find the stallion Twilight spoke to earlier, Professor Creme, Twilight called him.
“I suppose. Any casualties?”
“That'll be ten bits.” Almost all areas of Canterlot could be considered iconic in one way or another, yet if someone were to say Donut Joe's shop were one of them, those who had never been there would've given that individual dubious, confused looks. Yet those who had tasted the confections knew it made the best doughnuts in Canterlot, in all of Equestria perhaps. Some say they have just the right amount of sweetness, not too overpowering but not to subtle. Others say it's from years of Donut Joe's passion for the art, that the insane quality comes from being insane dedication. Yet still others care less about dissecting the matter and simply enjoy the taste.
It was between the breakfast and lunch rush, where the staff focused less on serving each customer and more on preparing for the customers to come. While there was still some business during this time, it was nowhere near as crowded as it was an hour ago or as it will be an hour from now. For the teal stallion at the register, it was the perfect time for celebration.
“Thank you very much.” He tipped the cashier, grabbed his order - one medium coffee and a single glazed doughnut – and walked to the corner table of the shop. The one right by the window where anypony could watch the citizens of Canterlot scurry about. As he sat and enjoyed his snack, he couldn't help but think about his recent 'acquisition', especially how it was going to make him a whole heap of bits.
'If I play this right, I'll never have to work for the rest of my life.' He thought to himself. 'Especially if I find somepony who knows his stuff. Sad I can't hold onto it for a little longer, but that's just how it is in-.' His thought process was interrupted by some movement he caught out of the corner of his eye. The gleam was familiar, the purple color less so, yet the meaning rang the same.
The guards were out, and the stallion knew what they were after.
As tempting as it was to enjoy his treat, and as much as he wanted to just sit there, experience screamed to get out of town; the risk was too high. Releasing a sigh, he finished his doughnut, grabbed his coffee and was calmly walked towards the door.
“Hey!” Oh, how he hated that word spoken loud. The exclamation always paralyzed his stride, whether directed at him positively, negatively, or not at all. When he mustered the will to turn around, he felt relieved to see it was just the mare at the register.
“There's something slipping out of you're saddlebags, sir!” Realizing what it was he quickly moved to put it away. “Is it an antique or something? It looks beautiful.”
The stallion looked down upon the golden tipped arrow, slipped it back into his bag, and replied “Yes, yes it is.” And so he opened the door and walked far away.
Author's Note
Stand Name: [IRON-WOODKID]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F493NCLqmu0&ab_channel=WOODKIDWOODKIDOfficialArtistChannel
I swear the action will pick up soon, along with my upload schedule.
The Bizarre Adventure of Three Fillies
Chapter 6: A Sleight Problem
The walk to Carousel Boutique was fortunately short and unfortunately fruitless. Zecora, Big Mac, Scootaloo, and Applebloom ascertained that from a glance at the “Closed” sign on the front door. Bad news, the sisters weren't there. Good news, there was only one other place they could reasonably be, and the Apples planned to walk back there anyways. Annoying news for the other Crusaders, as this morning's oddities piqued their curiosity on these specters, these 'stands' as Zecora called them, but unfortunately she didn't want to reveal any more about them until everypony affected was present. Logically the fillies understood the reason why, they too would rather not repeat what was bound to be a lengthy explanation. That didn't mean they had to like it.
“So, Scoots. You mentioned stands when I was standin' in your doorway,” Applebloom started. “Ah'm guessin' Zecora told you a thing or two about these here ghost fellers. Care to share what you know? It ain't fair how you're hoggin' it all.” Anything she could figure out about Men at Work would help.
“Sorry Applebloom, but I don't know much more than you,” Scootaloo replied. “From what I've been told, they're a part of us and are fueled by our will or something.”
“You're telling me these guys,” Applebloom gestured to her side, where Men at Work appeared from the ether, “are me?”
“No, I mean maybe? Told you I didn't know much more than you.”
“Ah guess.” Silence reigned for a time, broken with another question. “So, what does yours look like?”
“Well, like a red bird but it's legs... Actually, why don't I just show you?” And so Scootaloo did, the avian stand materializing in its crimson brilliance. The light reflecting off the rainbow wings, as though the stand itself glowed with the brilliance of the rainbow. It was an image of majesty marred only by the unholy protrusions that were its legs.
“What the hay?” Was Applebloom disgusted by the stands multi-jointed legs? No, she wouldn't describe the emotion as disgust. More like confusion and unexpected surprise at what she saw: Those weren't legs, they were abominations. “Ah think there's somethin' wrong with her.”
“Nah, as weird as they look they're useful for picking up and moving things.” To demonstrate, Scootaloo willed the stand to pick up a rock on the side of the road, legs contorting to grab it. “You see. A bit awkward, but those claws are surprisingly flexible. Also, you said 'her'?”
“Of course! She's part of you, so she's a she!” The logic was sound, Scootaloo had to admit, but does that mean she was the one who held the rock? The sooner they found Sweetie Belle, the sooner they learned what was going on, the sooner that headache could be resolved. “Anyways, what did ya name her?”
“You first.”
“Men at Work.” The tiny stands rose from her back and leaned from beside her hooves and walked beside her. Were they always there or only recently summoned? Scootaloo couldn't answer, she had more pressing concerns to address.
“Men?”
“Yeah, like the humans. You remember that fancy mirror in Twi's old castle, don't you?”
“Bleh. I still don't know how I felt talking to myself.”
“Yeah, Yeah,” Scootaloo said as she rolled the rock in her stand's claw. “Never thought Mrs. Heartstrings would be right about them. You think she entered the portal?”
“With that mare, Ah'd be shocked if she didn't sneak in like us.” With a look forward the fillies realized they were falling behind, and so sprinted towards Big Mac and Zecora. “You never did tell me what you named her.”
“But you did, silly filly!”
“That was just to itimi-imit- scare Diamond Tiara!”
“What is the problem, Scootaloo and Applebloom?” Zecora turned and asked. “You are yelling as though you're meeting your doom.”
“Zecora, you know a lot about stands,” Scootaloo began. “Is it normal to name them?”
Zecora put her hoof under her chin. “The stands I have met are few, but they were named, it is true.”
“Told ya, Scoots.”
“Alright, alright! Give me a moment to think of something.”
“Take your time, there is no need for haste. Think while we walk, there is no time to waste.” As they continued on the path towards Sweet Apple Acres, Scootaloo passed the time by messing around with her stand and the rock in its grasp. As the claws of the stand held it and Scootaloo beheld it, she thought about a suitable name, one that fit her stringent criteria of 'sounds awesome'.She stopped after five seconds of thought, since her mind was already clouded by the revelations of this morning and the long walk ahead was the perfect time to sort her thoughts.
'I don't see what the big deal is with these things.' Scootaloo twisted the small rock in her stand's claws. Its legs may bend in too many ways but at least it could palm a rock like a pro. 'Yeah, most ponies can't see them, but most ponies don't see telekinesis as well. They can sometimes look weird, but again with the invisibility. Certainly, they can't be that ba-' Scootaloo paused for a moment, forehead wrinkled in thought.
'Yeah, how many times did you say before that, Scoots? How many times were you right, and what are your odds of being right now? Here's a hint, it's somewhere between zero and zero.' She let out a breathe she didn't know she was holding. 'Just wait and they'll tell you and don't do anything stupid. And maybe Sweet Apple Acres has a ladder to help me reach an order that tall.' Deciding to call in the stand to prevent any spontaneous catastrophe, Scootaloo gently flicked the small rock away and sent it flying right through somepony's window.
Big Mac just looked resigned to his fate, since he knew it was only a matter of time until someone's property was destroyed or the CMC were covered in something that required a three hour bath to scrape off. Zecora was a little shocked, though not as surprised; like Big Mac, she expected the new stand users to cause some level of havoc. Unlike Big Mac, she was relieved it was only property damage. Applebloom looked excitedly at her friend, mouth paralyzed in a manic smile. Her friend found out what her stand did! And whatever it did, judging by the hole in the house, it was impressive. Scootaloo was just dumbfounded, mind frozen on the last few seconds, not really sure what just happened. The only thing she was sure of was the attention of the other three ponies, their eyes boring into her soul with varying amounts of interest.
“I didn't flick it that hard!” She defended.
Their conversation was interrupted when a teal stallion walked out of the house, wearing a face that radiated rage. Aside from the tangible murderous intent the Crusaders felt, there were only three defining characteristics: the first was his 'hat', a patchwork abomination of brass and cloth that made Scootaloo question the stallion's sanity; the thing even had a small wooden door centered on the front. The second was his cutie mark; a pile of bits haphazardly strewn about. The third was a red bump that swelled from the right side of his forehead. Nopony present needed more than three seconds to figure out what caused that.
“You!” The stallion pointed his hoof at Scootaloo. “I know what you did! Come over here you little-”
“Now hold on.” The mystery stallion's inevitable rage induced verbal crusade was halted when Big Macintosh walked in front of him. “Ah know you're upset, Celestia knows Ah'd probably be too. But if you don't calm yourself down before lecturin' anypony Ah'll buck you into next week. Clear?”
Mr. Weird Hat wanted to respond, but only a look up at Big Mac's stern face made him rethink his actions. Taking deep breathes and counting to ten, the strange stallion's rage cooled and his face looked more reasonable for a disciplinary conversation. “Alright,” he finally said, “I apologize for my rage. Sudden, unexpected pain tends to do that to me. A weakness I'm working on weeding out. Speaking of weeding out,” his eyes drifted to Scootaloo, “I do hope your allowance is enough to cover that window, young lady. Otherwise you'll be working off the damages for the rest of summer!”
Under the stallion's piercing gaze and soon to be in big trouble, Scootaloo resorted to old instincts, like whenever her aunts caught her hoof in the proverbial or literal cookie jar. Looking away from the stallion and his head wear, Scootaloo traced circles in the dirt with her left hoof. “Gee mister, I don't know what you're talking about.” Lying in front of the brother of the Element of Honesty was not the smartest move Scootaloo could've made, but something was off about this stallion, about what he said and what he accused her off. She just had to burn time while she figured out what it was.
“DON'T-” the closed his eyes and took another deep breathe. “There is no use in lying, I saw you flick the darn thing right into the window.” The stallion was calmer than before, but the trace of annoyance was still present in his eyes; Scootaloo could push his buttons until something happened, and push comes to shove she had her friends and stand to help.
At that thought she found what she searched for. She knew it would give herself away, but she couldn't help but grin.
“That does sound like something I'd do; I'm the kind of foal who kicks cans down the road and doesn't finish her homework until the day it's due, a real delinquent. However, there's one thing that ensures I would never flick even the smallest of stones at a pony's property, no matter how much I'd want to.”
The stallion leaned forward slightly, curious to what excuse he'd hear this time. “And what might that be?” In response to this inquiry, Scootaloo raised her front hooves.
“Have you ever tried to flick anything with these things? No matter how hard you try, you can't move anything far that way, much less fast enough to cause property damage.” When the stallion's face started to drop, his frown deepening and eyes widening, Scootaloo knew she struck a nerve.
“Ah, well. Your wing! Yes, I saw you use your wing; much more dexterous and powerful than a hoof.” He was clearly grasping for straws, for one look at Scootaloo's wings to see the impossibility of his claim.
“Did any of you see me flick a rock with my wings ?” Scootaloo received a a resounding no from her traveling compatriots. “Do you think I can flick anything with them?” A more hesitant chorus of nos, one that stung the pegasus, but still proved her point. She would have further grilled the strange stallion, but when she turned to address him again he already trotted into his house.
“Did anypony else find that stallion strange?” Applebloom asked.
“Eeyeup.”
“Absolutely!”
Zecora just nodded, still staring at the stallion's house.
“You think he's a stand user, Zecora?”
“Most certainly, my dear filly. He saw your stand flick the stone, thus the source of his irate tone. Yet to say why would make him look mad, and revealing your stand can be quite bad. Should your trust be misplaced, a dangerous foe you will have to face.” During the explanation, Zecora's eyes never drifted from the front door. There was something amiss when he entered, but she wasn't sure what. “You three go on, I will catch up later. It appears I'll need to play the investigator.”
“Now hol' on a second,” Applebloom protested. “Ah don't know much about stands, but ah know havin' one doesn' mean he's a bad pony. Sure he was angry, but Scootaloo did break his window-”
“It was an accident! How does a rock even fly that far?”
“Meanin' ah understand why he's madder than Applejack when the vampire fruit bats came 'round.”
“That may be true, and I hope to be wrong. But it's best to make sure, I won't take long.” Zecora walked towards a nearby tree, out of sight of the windows of the teal stallion's house. Scootaloo followed close behind, desiring to keep the conversation going.
“What happens if we arrive and you aren't there to explain stands?”
Zecora smiled. “A problem that will not be, on this you can trust me.” Trusting Zecora was something Scootaloo could definitely do, and though she and the Apple siblings wanted to argue further, they couldn't deny it was best to leave the expert to her craft. And so the zebra's three compatriots moved on while she stayed behind. When at last they were out of sight, Zecora turned to the tree and summoned Iron-Wood Kid.
“Best to finish this operation quick, to miss the discussion would make me sick.” When her stand touched the tree it began to shift and twist. Bark that remained static barring overzealous foals was flowing like a whirlpool. The wood beneath moved towards a spot to the right of the stand, forming what looked like the beginnings of another branch. Soon the branch turned stout like a small pear, and other 'branches' started growing out of it. The process of bark and wood growing and shaping itself soon ended, and the final shape of the growth took form.
A pigeon, which would be more underwhelming if it hadn't immediately moved. 'Eyes' were opened and wings unfurled as the construct broke free from the tree and flew towards the teal stallion's house. Zecora provided no instruction; the pine pigeon already knew its destiny was to spy on the local stallion was all it needed to do. Remembering the wisdom of redundancy units, two more aviary constructs quickly emerged and joined the first. Satisfied with her work, Zecora quickly caught up to the rest of the group.
“Well, here we are!” Applebloom declared with voice uncertain. The door before her was one she entered and exited countless times, yet never had she felt as much trepidation she did now. Sure, her sister's wrath was not unfamiliar to the filly, as her cutie mark crusades way back when could attest. However, those memories were a faded candle compared to the ranging inferno she felt in the moment.
She knew what had happened to her, happened to all her friends, and had Zecora around to corroborate. Yet if Applebloom were told the same story she wasn't sure any amount of proof would be enough. How could she expect Applejack to believe her when she could scarcely do so?
'Aw hay, ah shouted somethin' 'bout it while running to Scootaloo's place. She probably already thinks Ah've lost mah marbles. Or she's just worried sick at mah absence. Or both.' Realizing such speculation was asinine and a waste of time, she shook the thoughts out of her head. She had to do this and should've been grateful she had a friend by her side as well. With one assuring glance at Scootaloo, Applebloom opened the door.
“Applejack!” Applebloom declared as she walked into the kitchen. “We're home. Sorry Ah ran out on you. Did Sweetie Belle stop by?” Her answer came when a familiar white filly peaked her smiling head from behind a doorframe.
“Applebloom! Thank goodness you arrived, I worried I'd have to leave before you came back. I just have one question-”
“Do you have a ghost following you?” The three Crusaders asked in unison. Stunned silence rained for a second before they laughter broke out.
“Ah'm taking that as a yes.” In response to Applebloom's statement, Sweetie Belle manifested Quiet Riot.
“I'm taking that as a yes.” Scootaloo's stand manifested in response.
“Uh. Scootaloo.” Sweetie looked unsure how to broach the issue. “Your ghost's legs...”
“I know. They're helpful for picking things up, but I won't deny they're freaky looking.” Scootaloo wasn't even annoyed the question was asked anymore. “They're called stands. Zecora was explaining them a bit earlier.”
Rarity and Applejack joined them in the kitchen, having overheard the name of the spirits that plagued their siblings. With the three fillies gathered, it was the perfect time to speak more clearly and thoroughly of the stands. Were she not interrupted with a flash of magenta light, Zecora would've done just that.
“Applejack!” Twilight rang out. “I got your message! The ghost things are dangerous. I mean, they're potentially a danger, but it's unlikely. Still I think some precautions could be made and the arrow was the cause and st-”
“Twilight. Breathe,” Celestia calmly reminded, and Twilight performed the exercise her former foal sitter and sister-in-law taught her.
“Twilight! Celestia! Ah wasn' expectin' y'all today.” Her excited smile fell when she recalled why she expected not her friend and what was said but a moment ago. “If both Y'all are here,” she noticed the chimeric figure standing beside the royals “along with Discord of all things... Just how big a pile of manure did we all just walk into?”
Back in Ponyville, the three wooden birds were perched around the abode they were assigned to investigate. So far they found nothing out of the ordinary; no one left the house, no one entered, and the building lacked any obvious signs of arcane tampering. A disappointment it would've been were the constructs capable of emotion. In spite of lackluster results, they continued their vigil.
Such patience was soon rewarded when a familiar stallion poked his head out the front door. With a quick swivel he searched the streets, and when he found the coast clear his body finally left the doorway completely. The constructs cautiously followed behind, watching closely for a sign their maker's suspicion held water.
The stallion walked towards the market, not a drop of malice in his stance as he approached one of the stalls. Behind the counter, a pale yellow mare with orange hair placed fresh produce out on display. Golden Harvest was her name; a mare who sold carrots and other assorted produce to almost everypony in town, and a few ponies just outside of it.
“How are you doing today, Mrs. Harvest?” The stallion asked.
“Well, Slight Hoof, business hasn't been the kindest.” The mare frowned as the birds remembered his name. “Sales have been lower than expected given the increased tourism thanks to the friendship school and the old castle. The new old castle, I mean, not the old old one laying in ruins in the Everfree. I ended up giving an older crop away before they went bad, and though giving to charity is good and all, not getting a bit for all that hard work still stings.”
“You're doing fine financially, right?” The stallion, Slight Hoof, asked.
“I've come out of worse seasons just fine. This is just a small bump in the road, annoying but nothing catastrophic.” The mare stood with pride, yet cast a small glance towards the stallion. “But buying some carrots wouldn't hurt.”
Slight Hoof's smile would've practically confirmed Zecora's suspicions were she there, yet Iron-Wood Kid's birds saw nothing suspicious about it. An odd expression was noteworthy, but not what they were created to look for. They continued observing the transaction, bits and produce exchanging hooves, eyes peeled in search of any evidence of the stallion's true nature.
Their patience was soon rewarded. As Golden Harvest and Slight Hoof conversed, phantom limbs burst from his back, reached behind the counter, and pulled up a small bag; A coinpurse, by the look of things. Several coins were removed with deft precision and silently found themselves in the purse of Slight Hoof, dodging Golden Harvest's sight with practiced precision. “Well dear, I'd love to stay and chat but I'm burning daylight at this point. I wish you the best of luck.” As the stallion left richer than he arrived, the constructs left with their mission accomplished.
“Alright. Just to make sure everypony here understands what's going on, I'll repeat the notes I've taken. If anything is wrong, please let me know.” Twilight sat at the kitchen table with most of the Apple family and their guests. Held in her telekinetic grasp were her notes on this stand nonsense. “The arrow that pierced the Cutie Mark Crusaders is a powerful artifact known as a 'Stand Arrow', also called a 'Golden Arrow' or 'Discord's Arrow', since it was Discord who first introduced them to Equestria.”
“Correct so far, Twily!” Discord leaned back in his chair, sipping on a bottle of apple cider through a straw. “Though I don't need to clarify I provided them to more than just ponies, do I?”
“You do not, I have to agree, but they were the most affected by your spree.” Zecora sat to the left of Discord, stealing glances back at the Avatar of Chaos every now and then. Ancient legends spoke of a serpent, terrible and powerful, that brought forth the first stands. It wasn't hard to make the connection, though to have it directly confirmed by Discord himself, to hear his proud tone on the matter...
“When the arrows pierce another living creature, one of two things results. In the first the subject expires from the arrow, a rather fringe case that can usually be attributed to preexisting conditions. Otherwise the subject obtains what is called a stand.” Twilight set her notes down and rubbed a hoof to her temple. “Here's where my first question lies. From what I've gathered, stands are a phantasmal force that the user controls through their will, can affect the world around the user, yet remains invisible to anyone lacking a stand. Would this make stands a subset of astral projection magics? Also, we never did cover what a stand looks like.”
“Ah don' think stands have a set form they take, Twi.” Applebloom was sitting across from Twilight, sandwiched between her fellow Crusaders. It was a bit of a tight fit, since so many regal guests had plopped in unexpectedly, yet she managed. “Sweetie's looks like a metal pony, Scoots's looks like a chicken-”
“No it doesn't! It's more like a falcon.”
“-And mine looks like a bunch of those human fellers you and Lyra mentioned before.”
“An astute observation regarding stands; their forms are as numerous as grains of sand.”
“As for your first question,” Discord started, “there's a fundamental flaw with it; the power in the arrow isn't in the same boat as conventional magic. It isn't even in the same type of transportation.”
Much as Twilight wanted to brush off Discord's claim, her experiences with Pinkie Pie had shown such things were not without precedent, and it would explain why she detected no magic from the arrow. And now she was thinking of Pinkie Pie with a stand and needed to derail that train of thought before she could comprehend anything terrifying with that.
“Right! Continuing with my notes, there are several common trends that stands follow. Not laws, not hard rules, just a general pattern that most stands follow, since Discord claims he hasn't seen a single one of these 'rules' remain unbroken or unbent.” The draconeques gave only a single nod in response. “The most concrete trait is how most creatures with a stand, henceforth to be called 'stand users', only have one stand with one ability. It's similar to how some unicorns develop a limited repertoire of spells for use in their profession, though stands are even narrower and the ability gained is either completely random or reliant on so many variables it might as well be.”
“And if they're invisible, we can't see their effects until it's too late.” Applejack turned to Discord. “Jus' how many stand abilities are there?” He placed his talon under his chin and gave the question a moment's thought before answering.
“How many apples are there? What about spells? Gems?” Discord asked. “Whatever your thinking, you're wrong. There are infinite apples, they just haven't been grown yet. Infinite spells that haven't yet been put to parchment. Infinite gems stuck in a constant cycle of destruction and formation. The range of stand abilities is no different.”The eyes of those who weren't fully enlightened to stands widened in awe and terror.
Surprisingly Celestia was the next to speak up. “To provide a small sample, I have seen stands with simple, familiar powers; pyromancy and cryomancy, restoration and teleportation. I have seen abilities that defy the laws of magic, that contain the power to render space and time a polite suggestion.” A small smile crossed her face. “And yet time and again it's the mare with the power to grow dirt on any surface or the stallion who can turn water – only water – into ice and visa versa or the stand that forces you to cry sand that's the most dangerous.”
“...How?” Scootaloo asked in disbelief. The moment she saw Twilight open her mouth, she regretted opening her's.
“You'd be surprised how somepony could abuse a single, unassuming power. Unstable Bond, unicorn bandit lord of antiquity, had only two spells to his name; wood-stone transmutation and telekinesis. The latter he used like any other unicorn, but the former,” Twilight straightened her back, “well, how would you feel if the fortress you were in suddenly shifted to a more flammable substance? Could your naval assault be salvaged when the boats turn to granite ? And that's just some of the bigger feats; altering the weight of weapons mid combat, marble pillars turning to pine and snapping under the weight they once supported, he even incorporated this tactic into his own armor. Were his goals less distasteful, I'd go as far as to call his methods genius.” She turned to her former mentor. “Celestia, was he a...”
“No, Twilight. He wasn't a stand user, though he demonstrates the danger they pose just as well.”
“Now hold up just a moment, Twi,” Applejack slammed her hoof on the table. “If these things are just fancy spells, then why can' we just put one of them magic inhibitior thingamajigs? If they work on Discord, they should work here as well.”
“Were stands like all other magics, you're plan would be sufficient. But stands are truly alien; our understanding deficient.”
Rarity nearly scoffed at Zecora's declaration, held back only by memories of strange magics that gripped her in the past, some more closely than others. “I'm guessing that has something to do with Discord, since he had a hand in their making.”
“I appreciate praise, but if I had the secret to resisting such metamagic, would I really be held back by this?” Once again Discord held up his talon, showing the metal band, red luminescent runes etched across every square inch. “More importantly, do you really think I would've let my magic get consumed – twice, mind you - if I was behind that little feature? No, our stripped friend here calling the arrow alien is completely right.”
“You did say you weren't behind its creation earlier,” Celestia started.
“How I came upon the arrows is a long story involving a journey across universes, a bit of sightseeing, and a stranger with a glorious blond mane. What is important is he gave me the arrows, a gift for performing a few favors for him.”
“Now why the hay would anypony just give ya somethin' like that?” Applejack queried. Discord shrugged in response.
“All he said was how they weren't what he was looking for. Really, the fellow just didn't seem right in the head, going on about napkins and something about a corpse. I admit I wasn't paying too much attention, I was too busy planning how to enjoy my new playthings.” A nostalgic smile wormed its way on his face before he turned to Celestia. “So no, I didn't make the arrows, ponies just assumed I did and never bothered to check their sources.”
Celestia closed her eyes in contemplation. “That does explain why stands aren't congruent with more conventional magics.” For a time nopony said a word, still digesting the news received. Unsure how they would proceed, what they could say.
“So, what do we do now?” Applebloom broke the silence, tone apprehensive, uncertain even if that was the question to ask. Everypony turned to the former solar diarch, aware she likely had a plan gestating in her mind.
“Regarding the arrow, all we can do is keep our eyes peeled,” she finally responded. “For you three,” Her gaze turned towards the Crusaders. “I suggest you go back to your own lives for the time being. If you desire further information regarding stands, please consult either Discord or Zecora.”
“Well, if there is nothing left to discuss, darlings,” Rarity hopped out of her stool and walked towards to door. “I need to get a new doorknob installed. Applejack, are you available to help this weekend?”
“If you think you'll be too busy, I will schedule an appointment with a repair pony.” Rarity offered as she opened the door. “Just let me know before Wednesday, they just hate-GAH!” Three bird like creatures flew in and perched beside Zecora. As they chirped into her ears, her face lit up with a smile.
“Thank you, little ones. Your service to me is done.” When the wooden birds fell lifeless to the ground, the uninformed of the group reacted appropriately; through yelps and screams about why the birds suddenly dropped dead. Alongside Rarity's panic at their initial entrance and the insatiable curiosity of the Cutie Mark Crusaders, a cacophony of noise was brewing. Before it reached it's zenith, Zecora stood and cleared her throat, silencing the room. “I'm sorry I have to leave, but I have a task to which I must see.”
“Does it have anything to do with stands?” Sweetie Belle asked.
“Is it about that weird stallion we ran into?” Scootaloo pressed.
“Is that weird stallion a stand user?” Applebloom concluded.
“Nothing can hide from you three,” Zecora smiled. “The answer is yes to all of thee. I shall speak with you three when I am done, in the meantime just stay safe and have fun.” With one final look at the assembled group, the Zebra left the building, leaving the rest of the room's occupants to their own devices.
“I suppose that's as good a sign as any to disband this meaning,” Twilight said. “I'll head back to Canterlot in a minute, for that's about the time it'll take me to process all of... everything.”
“Only a minute, Twilight?” Rarity asked with brow raised. “I never took you for a braggart. This morning will take me a week to digest at the least! Right now I'm going to head home, fall into my bed, pass out, and hopefully wake up to this being the result of some expired wine.” Rarity was soon followed by the others, the kitchen soon empty save for three fillies and a lone draconequues. The Cutie Mark Crusaders debated among themselves on what to do now, though in their hearts they knew they had but one choice. Since Discord still lounged in his chair patiently, they knew he knew this.
“Discord,” Applebloom began, “What do you think Zecora's doing?”
“Is she in danger?”
“Depends on the stand and user, but most likely.” The fillies recoiled at the answer, at how nonchalant Discord's tone was when giving it.
“Guys.” Scootaloo stood up from her stool. “I think we should go help her. Want to come along, Discord?” A thoughtful look crossed his face, brows furrowed in concentration before he gave his answer.
“Hmm. Nah, I think you three have it under control.” He leaned back in his chair.
“Such a shame,” Sweetie Belle lamented, her movements towards the door exaggerated. “It sounds exciting to watch two experienced stand users in combat. I know I wouldn't miss it for the world. Plus as our first experience with such combat, wouldn't it be a good learning experience as well?”
“You say that, but... you know, you do have a point. And Twilight always says 'better safe than sorry'.” The beam of pride Sweetie Belle felt at her negotiation skills did not go unnoticed, but since she genuinely piqued his interest Discord figured he'd let the filly have her moment. “Alright! I suppose I could chaperon this little outing, though I sincerely hope you weren't wanting to tele-” A glance at his wrist jostled his memories and jumbled his train of thought. “Oh for crying out lou- she still hasn't fixed this! Some memory that mare has! Ah well, we're not going to let this stop our fun, are we?” Before anypony could answer the rhetorical question, Discord clapped his paw and claw together as he walked towards the door. “What are you waiting for, hurry up or we won't catch up to our striped friend!”
Aside from the window incident this morning, Slight Hoof was having a good day. He did some cleaning that has been on his to do list for a while, bought some needed produce from Golden Harvest, and even managed to get a 'discount' from her. Now he was on his way to the park, smoothie in tow, ready to spend the afternoon getting some well earned sunshine, rest, and relaxation. So caught up was he in anticipation that he was blind to the approach of somepony behind him, only reacting when spoken too.
“Mr. Hoof, I do not mean to cause irritation, but what I was told requires clarification,” Zecora said.
“And what would that be? Did I do something wrong?”
“If what I heard holds true, you stole from a mare money she was due.” His eyes flew open. “From your reaction, I can see I'm right. Yet right now I don't want a fight. Though you know not, another question has been resolved. A stand user you are, this morning's mystery is solved!”
Any joy the stallion felt less than a minute ago had been drained away,a dark frown where once there was contentment. “You know, for all the benefit they provide, I always hated my eyes.” The stallion stepped forward. “No matter what training I took, no matter how much I will them otherwise, they remain my biggest tell. Only once had I tried to play poker, thinking my stand would make it a piece of cake. In an hour's time I had lost six hundred bits and my chances with one of the mares due to these eyes.” Slight Hoof released a humorless chuckle. “Now, these forsaken orbs have given away my greatest secret. I guess it's true what they say about eyes being the window to the soul.”
“I assure you, I mean you no harm. I only sought to-” Something struck Zecora's face.
“Oh no, I've heard that spiel before,” The stallion spat, eyes wide with madness. “Trying to get my guard down so you can go in for the kill, and as a stand user there's no shortage of possible ends for me. I'm not taking any chances!” Slight Hoof took up a defensive stance as his stand formed behind him. It was thin and lanky, like a pony who hadn't eaten in days. Attached through the base of the elongated neck was a silver padlock. Each limb was completely blue and about twice as long as a pony's should be. It's head was covered by a solid black veil, with only a blue circle's outline marring the monochromatic perfection.
Zecora looked upon the stand and knew this pony wouldn't go down without a fight. She didn't want any conflict with the stallion, and from what she observed so far the stallion didn't want conflict with her. Yet fear is a powerful motivator and easily overrides reason in the mentally undisciplined. Preparing to defend herself, Zecora brought forth Iron-Wood Kid and analyzed her current predicament. The park had several living trees around her, thus she had ample material to work with. Good. She currently hadn't the foggiest idea on the capabilities of her foe's stand. Bad, but he didn't seem to have any idea of her power either. Her plan was to stay on the offensive, move the both of them to a nearby tree, and use Iron-Wood Kid to construct wooden beasts, gaining victory through superior numbers.
A shame that plan fell apart when Slight Hoof ceased staring at her with murderous intent to courageously run away.
“Are you really going to run away? Have you not the courage to stay!?” Zecora chased after him, and though he was certainly quick on his hooves, years of living in the Everfree and dealing with the dangers within had done wonders for Zecora's own athleticism. It wasn't long before she cornered Slight Hoof in front of his own house, struggling to open the front door, eyes burning with desperate panic and curses tumbling from his mouth. What he expected from this little outburst Zecora did not know; it wasn't on her mind as she pounced towards him with the intent to constrain and restrain. Since she already launched herself through the air when Slight Hoof finally opened the door, she was physically incapable of stopping her momentum and fell through the doorway. The door slammed behind her before she could her face out of the snow.
'Wait, this isn't right. There shouldn't be snow – and why is it night!?” Her face peeled off of the ground to behold the starst above, the snow around, and the distinctly non-equine inhabitants. For their part the Griffons were reacting with an appropriate level of suspicion, surprise, and sheer confusion at the Zebra who flew out of the door of one of their finest restaurants. Most soon went back on their way, having neither enough time nor energy to ponder the odd occurrence. A few with nothing better to do stuck around, enjoying the rare sight of a zebra in their arctic climate. Fewer still went up to the mare and offered help, a gesture Zecora appreciated in spite of the language barrier. As she stood up she wondered what caused this, though by the time she was back on her hooves she realized she already knew.
“Great. That zebra spilled my smoothie. I paid extra for the kale, you know!” Slight Hoof was outside his house, picking up his spilled drink. Another hoof full of bits down the drain, another peaceful moment ruined by this stand nonsense. This time he was actually confronted by another stand user, making her the fifth or sixth one Slight Hoof met in his life. Just what was with today?
'Maybe I shouldn't have taken that job.' At least the zebra was easily dispatched, all thanks to his third most trusted friend and tool, [ROADHOUSE BLUE]. Sure, he was afraid of him at first, wasn't every foal at some point afraid of the strange shadowy shapes they saw in their rooms in the still of the night? But when Slight Hoof found he could control this phantom, well wasn't he the happiest foal on the block? It was like the monster in his closet had been tamed and made to serve! Since then he used his stand to its fullest potential, taking what he could from who he could when he could get away with it. Even if he never learned of Roadhouse Blue's true power, how it could open any door and make it lead to another he visited, he would've easily prospered.
He looked back to the wooden door that zebra flew through and wondered how it must feel for her up in the Griffin Kingdoms. Probably wasn't even morning there yet, and he knew zebras were more used to warm, humid climates. The discomfort she was now suffering, the chills and snow, was enough to make him smile. “Serves you right for trying to take me in,” he said before walking to Sugarcube Corner for one last attempt at R&R. “Third time's a charm.”
Author's Note
Stand Name: [IRON-WOOD KID]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F493NCLqmu0&ab_channel=Woodkid-Topic
Stand Name: [ROADHOUSE BLUE]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yV9DJwJKWMw&ab_channel=TheDoors-Topic
The Bizarre Adventure of Three Fillies
Outside of Sugarcube Corner three friends sat with the embodiment of chaos. They wanted to find Zecora, but despite their best efforts complications arose. Firstly, none of them knew where she went or would've gone. The CMC thought they would find her where there was a fight – Discord told them that stand users attracted one another, and usually the result wasn't pretty – but that led to their second problem; everything was quiet this afternoon. For a citizen of Ponyville, this was neither unwelcome or unusual. For three of the resident chaos magnets, it would've been a welcome reprieve on any other day. For now they sat on the ground and shared potential resolutions to their issue.
“Arrgh!” Scootaloo exclaimed irritably. “How hard is it to find one stinking fight in this town? We should've found something by now; a pony running away, a crowd gathering, property damage, something! But what do we find instead? A great big pile of nothing!”
“Your right about one thing,” Discord leaned against the wall, “any public spar or brawl usually causes some disarray, stand battles doubly so. Yet all is quiet for once in this town, meaning our striped friend and her hatted foe are either far away from here, in the Everfree Forest perhaps, or the fight is already over and we missed all the fun.”
“Well, at least we have one less stand user to worry about,” Sweetie breathed.
“I never said that,” Discord spoke, eyes half lidded from boredom.
“Now hol' on a sec,” Applebloom started, “are you sayin' Zecora might've lost?”
“Oh, absolutely.” The Cutie Mark Crusaders flinched back at his casual declaration. “Haven't you been paying attention? The powers of stands vary widely, and no one knows what limit they might have. He doesn't even need a strictly more powerful ability than Zecora; just a good counter to Iron-Wood Kid or one unconventional enough to confuse.”
“Aren't... aren't all stand abilities unconventional?” Sweetie Belle asked?
“Only most of them, but otherwise you hit the nail on the head.”
The three fillies silently contemplated the new information before Scootaloo asked the question that was on or would be on everypony's mind. “If that stallion could beat Zecora, what are we supposed to do when we run into him?”
Discord's face lit up at the question. “An excellent point Scootaloo! Given you three have been stand users for less than a day, given only two of you acquired a modicum of control over your powers,” Scootaloo released an annoyed huff, “and given the stallion of the hour's experience, the most responsible course of action would be to go and call the authorities.” He leaned towards the fillies. “Of course, since when have any of us taken the reasonable path?”
The four continued sitting in front of Sugarcube Corner, discussing their next course of action. Applebloom wanted to go this-a-ways, Scootaloo wanted to go that-a-ways, and Sweetie Belle was fine going either way, but wanted to exhaust another avenue first. “Discord,” She asked, “If stand users attract one another, just like you said before, then wouldn't the four of us sticking together draw him out?”
“If it were that easy, we would've tripped over him on the way here,” The door to Sugarcube Corner opened, the bell chimed. “It's just not a something you can just take advantage of, so unfortunately we'll be hunting him for however long it would take and I think that's him right there,” Discord finished, pointing at a teal stallion walking past them, wearing his obnoxious door adorned top hat and carrying a box of pastries on his back. “Huh.”
Unwilling to question their ridiculous luck, the Crusaders approached the stallion. “Excuse me, sir?” Sweetie Belle asked “Do you have a moment? I just need to ask a small question.”
“Hmm. I suppose I have time,” The stallion replied. “Just make it quick; my luck's been poor today and if my treats here get ruined one more time, well, I'm not sure what I'm going to do. Otherwise, ask away.”
“My friends and I have been looking all over Ponyville for another friend of ours, yet we can't find her. Have you seen a zebra mare today? Mohawk mane, tends to speak in rhyme?”
The stallion's face remained almost completely stoic as he gave his answer, his tone cool and inflection casual. His only reaction being a widening of his eyes. “Did she have golden rings around her neck?”
“Yes! Quite a few, in fact.”
The stallion gave it some thought. “Yeah, I think I know who you're talking about. We bumped into each other and had a conversation so engaging that we just had to go somewhere private to fully indulge in it. I mentioned my house since it was fairly close, and only left to grab some snacks. If you want, I could bring you three back with me and you can see your friend again.”
“I don't know, on the one hoof Rarity always said to watch out for strangers. Buuut we really need to speak with Zecora, and we do technically have an adult with us.” As Sweetie Belle gestured to Discord, who casually waved back at the terrified stallion, the other crusaders pitched in their own two cents.
“Ah say we go with him; If he tries anythin' funny it's four 'gainst one.”
“Yeah, I really need to ask Zecora about – about that thing! Lead the way Mr...”
“Hoof.” The stallion replied with calm tone and wide eyes. “Slight Hoof is my name. Remember it when you're filling out the check for my window repair.”
“I saw you throw the stone.”
“Ugh. Can we please get moving already? I have places to be, things to do and standing here still as a statue helps with none of those,” Discord interrupted.
“Case in point aside,” Slight Hoof started, staring at Scootaloo, “we can argue about your debt to me in a more private setting.” He began walking and the CMC plus Discord followed close behind. Privately the four didn't buy a single ounce of the manure Slight Hoof spouted and prepared themselves for the inevitable betrayal. So when they finally arrived at his house, the fillies thought they were ready for everything and Discord knew they weren't. Slight Hoof casually opened the front door and stepped aside. “Ladies first.”
After a second's hesitation Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle started towards the door frame. Before they crossed through they realized one of their party hadn't followed. “Applebloom,” Sweetie Belle asked. “Aren't you coming? I'm sure the nice stallion means no harm.”
“Doesn' that there room look a little dark, gals?” Indeed the hallway before them was more poorly illuminated than the thickest thickets of the Everfree. Lesser foals would sooner run home than enter such a foreboding area. But the Cutie Mark Crusaders were a cut above their peers; one hundred plus dangers faced over the course of a few years does nothing if not instill some measure of courage. “Ah'd feel better if Mr. Hoof turned on a light.” Applebloom's statement was tempered with courage and caution in equal measures, and the other two agreed.
“Yeah,” Scootaloo stated. “Mr. Hoof should at least open the blinds or pull back the curtains. It's the middle of the day, let some light in!”
Slight Hoof tried to stay stoic, though the minute his eyes flung over his failure became apparent. His mouth became a desert and his leg muscles tensed in anticipation. 'Drats! These fillies are smarter than they look! These foals showed no signs of these powers before, no indication they ever saw Roadhouse Blue, so they have to be inexperienced. Wait... aren't these the same fillies with the Cutie Mark Consultation business?' His gaze hardened at the thought. ' Oh dear. I may have underestimated them just a tad.'
Cornered like a rat, Slight Hoof calmly walked through the doorway and gently shut the door. “Oh, that was a close one.” Walking down the ominous, abandoned hallway, passing several pieces of furniture, he continued his indulgent monologue. “Blasted Zebra and her filly friends; couldn't they just leave well enough alone? Ah well, that Zecora character's freezing her flank off in the griffon empire, and I'm several towns away from Ponyville. All I have to do is wait until nightfall, walk back inside my home, get all my stuff, and figure out where to go from there.”
With his stand Slight Hoof grabbed the box of pastries from his back. “At least this time, I can enjoy my sweets in peace.” Unfortunately, the third time wasn't the charm as his package was yanked from his grasp, spilling doughnut and pastry alike unto the dusty, planked floor. Slight Hoof didn't see what caused this slip up, but he knew who caused it. When he looked back and found the door ajar, his suspicions were confirmed.
“You. You...” Rage and disbelief built upon one another. How did they overwhelm Roadhouse Blue?
“We figured you were going to lock the door,” Sweetie Belle started, “So I had Quiet Riot rush in and hold it open.”
“We heard everything, by the way.” Scootaloo's glare burned into Slight Hoof's soul as they strode trough the door. “I kind of hoped you were telling the truth about that chat, but I shouldn't have held out hope.”
Slight Hoof shook violently. “Y-you...”
“Also, when Ah said this here room is ominous, Ah meant no amount of blinds or curtains should keep a room that dark. Given what you said earlier 'bout the griffin empire, Ah reckon you have some kind of teleportin' power, right?” Applebloom's smug visage assaulted Slight Hoof.
“Tch. Spilling important info when talking to yourself; an understandable mistake, but a mistake none the less.” Discord really thought this guy would be better.
“YOU!” The stallion shouted as he rushed towards the door, pushing through the party with Roadhouse Blue and his own mass. “All I wanted was a nice, sweet snack after a job well done like any other pony. But do I get my fifteen minutes of peace? Do I get to casually indulge? No! First the guards start poking around Canterlot, then that Zebra harlot spills my smoothie, and now you four ruined forty bits of good pastry!” Roadhouse Blue grabbed Scootaloo and held her at eye level with Slight Hoof. “And that's not getting into what you did to my window!”
“Y-You never-”
“Do I look retarded? I know you used your stand!”His face hardened, losing some of the fluidity of rage. “If you're so adamant on not paying me back in either money or time, then I'll just have to take my pound of flesh!” As he was speaking, Roadhouse Blue's free hoof slowly crept upwards and would've struck Scootaloo were it not for Quiet Riot. When it slapped the appendage away from her friend, a bruise appeared on Slight Hoof's hoof, congruent to where his stand was struck.
“Thanks for the save, Sweetie Belle.”
“It's fine,” Sweetie turned to Slight Hoof, “I don't know what you had against Zecora, why you made her disappear. What I do know is you have one chance to bring her back peacefully. Refuse and, well, you're outnumbered four to one.”
“So,” Applebloom strode in, “What's it goin' to be?” The CMC stood tall staring at the foalnapping stallion, and Slight Hoof stared back. He had trouble thinking of a solution on account of the inferno of rage blazing through his mind. He tried to snuff it out, contain it at the very least, yet seeing Discord off to the side eating one of his pastries that he bought, it was as though oil and fat were poured on it.
“The future of my career is on the line. I cannot let a trio of fillies and an overgrown furred snake strip my prosperity from me!” Roadhouse Blue strutted towards the Cutie Mark Crusaders, malice evident in every step. “You make threats of violence yet clearly lack the experience to enact them; your posture and sheathed stands make that apparent enough.” The trio summoned their stands as his strut became a sprint, bracing themselves for a strike from Roadhouse Blue.
“Let's see how well you adapt!”
...A strike that never came as he rushed past them towards the dilapidated door they arrived through. 'He's probably makin' a getaway,' Applebloom thought, and her friends thought the same. When they saw him struggle to open the door, they took the opportunity to close the distance. Only when they were seven feet away did they think something might be up. Five feet away and Slight Hoof looked back on his pursuers, a smug smirk on his face that took the fillies two seconds too long to process. By the time the Cutie Mark Crusaders figured out something was amiss, that they might've made a big mistake in their first stand battle, it was too late to stop themselves. Their momentum carried them to the edge of the door as the stallion opened it. They didn't fly too far, and when they saw the landscape before them they thanked the heavens for their fortune.
Just a half a foot from where they stood was a train coupling connecting two cars, the gap between just large enough for an unobservant foal to fall into. On either side the landscape rushed past, the tan ground flowing past like rapids. Coupled with the heat that bore down on their backs and the fillies just knew they were in the middle of a desert, a theory that was cemented further when the occasional cactus or tumbleweed passed by.
'Yes. YES!' Slight Hoof thought as the fillies were distracted by the scenery. 'I admit this was a bit of a gamble, but I'm glad I took it. I'm no stranger to dirty deeds, but foal murder would put the fuzz right on my tail. Dropping them on the route to Appleloosa is the safest bet. Who cares what three stowaways would say about thieves with spirit guardians? Probably lock them up in a loony bin and throw away the keys.' He reached to the side of the door and the hinges started to creak. “Have a nice trip, fillies! I'll be sure to send you a postcard from the beach!” His mild grin evolved to manic glee as he slammed the door on the three fillies.
CLANG
Something was amiss; Slight Hoof had intimately studied all manner of doors in his day, testing the limits of his stand as anyone would in his situation. A wooden door like this one was a solid, sturdy, and simple piece of architecture that remained unchanged through the ages, and in all his travels, no matter how hard he slammed these doors, never had he heard a wooden door go 'clang'. Come to think of it, the door didn't look completely closed. 'Oh no,' Slight Hoof thought as he gently pushed the door, only to find the force applied inadequate. “Oh no,” he verbalized as he saw the shaft wedged between the frame and the door.
'Can't believe he fell for that twice in a row,' Scootaloo thought from the other side. Yes, breaking off a bit of handrail wasn't the most elegant solution, but neither was assaulting foals or abandoning them on trains. She was sure the latter legally counted as child abuse, and certain the former did,. What little sympathy she might've had for the eclectic stallion before was ripped out by the roots, burned to ash, and used to nourish her righteous anger. Fantasies of vengeance could wait, for it was only a matter of time before Slight Hoof shrugged off the shock of being duped and adapted to the change in circumstances. “C'mon fillies, let's head back inside!”
With stand and hoof the three overturned Slight Hoof's feeble defenses and burst through the door. He took a step back, solutions not forthcoming in his mind. 'Calm down Slight. There are plenty of doors in this place, each one a portal out of here. All you need is time; just one unexpected alteration of circumstance will send these inexperienced fillies in a tizzy.' His eyes narrowed as the door shut behind them. 'Hmm, now that I think about it, I might have just the thing.'
“Keeping my portals open like that, I admit I'm a fool for falling for that trick more than once.” The Cutie Mark Crusaders were surprised at his admission, and their shocked faces stayed as the stallion continued. “I will endeavor to not make the same mistake again, the same mistake that had cost countless ponies, griffons, and other creatures their lives. The lesson all must remember, stand users most of all! Do you know what that might be?” Slight Hoof pointed his hoof at the group. “Adaptability! To survive, one must always be vigilant, regard their surroundings and circumstances, and change their plan accordingly. There is an old proverb that the tree that bends with the wind shall not break, yet the tree that remains stubborn and rigid is doomed to splinter!”
The fillies were on edge at his sudden declaration, confused yet well aware he had something prepared. 'Jus' what's this weirdo gonna try?' As Applebloom thought this, Roadhouse Blue reached towards Slight Hoof's hat, towards the tiny door in the middle and the Cutie Mark Crusaders blanched. 'Y'know, maybe that dumb hat ain't so dumb after all. Still, what can he fit through such a tiny-'
Applebloom's thoughts and those of the remaining Crusaders were sliced in twain by the flood that flashed before them. Slight Hoof was standing back, his stand holding tightly onto his hat as it spewed gallons upon gallons of water. “I'd say I did quite a lot with it so far. In only thirty-one years I've been all across the globe! Equestria, Griffonstone, Sequestria, The Badlands, just to name a few places.” He kept his aquatic assault on the fillies as he approached. “On one of my travels I went for a quick dive. Made it all the way to the bottom despite the pressure surrounding me. Can you delinquents guess what I found down there?” His question was answered only with screams of fear and pain.
“Since you're busy now, I'll be kind and answer for you. At the bed of the sea rested a sunken ship! Sadly I couldn't find any treasure down there, no chests of gold and rubies, but I suppose the door to the captain's quarters is prize enough. I admit I don't know how far down I had to go; one hundred meters? Two hundred meters? Five hundred? Eight? It's deep enough that the water bursts through my hat door like a riot hose, and that's all that matters!”
'Ow ow ow why did this have to happen?' Sweetie Belle thought. 'This is bad. Really bad. Worse that usual. We have to shut the door quickly before our flesh peels off. Maybe I can.... no, he'd notice if I reached out with Quiet Riot. He isn't being blinded by a flash flood in front of his face. I can't throw anything strong enough to overpower this stream and I don't think either Applebloom or Scootaloo can either. Right now the only ponies who could cease the current are himself or Discord . 'Wait. Where the hay is Discord!' From Sweetie Belle emerged Quiet Riot. 'Ah screw it, I think I have an idea.'
Seconds later Slight Hoof stopped in his tracks. Where once his mind was filled with self assured victory, now it raced with irrational fear. It had to be irrational, right? Certainly he wouldn't have neglected some detail in his plan? There weren't that many details to overlook! His body shook as each paranoid thought blazed through his mind. Those fillies were planning something; they had to be! The hat door slammed shut, ceasing the cascade of water as he took a step back, followed by another. And then he took another before getting a grip on his emotions. He couldn't run now; his career of crime, his fugitive future, his very life depended on silencing the credibility of these fillies! They must've wanted him to run away as much as they wanted to cease their dousing. A cunning plan if he'd ever heard one! Yes, he was wrong to underestimate those three, so very wrong.
“Is...Is he going to be okay?” Scootaloo wasn't quite sure what she was seeing. Sure, Slight Hoof's twisted face spoke of great worry, and how his eyes darted from one corner to another to a third and back to the first cemented that opinion, and she knew it likely had something to do with Sweetie's stand levitating right behind him, hidden from his jumpy gaze. But the technical details of what's going on? What Sweetie was doing and what she hoped to accomplish, Scootaloo could only guess.
Well, only one way to find out.
“Whatcha doing, Sweetie Belle?”
“I'm buying us some time,” Sweetie whispered. “Quiet Riot can influence and intensify emotions through music. Emotions such as rage and fear, though I suppose paranoia is more appropriate here. Since it nearly turned a market square into a mosh pit from 'singing' at a normal volume and I didn't want us cowering with him, I figured lowering the volume would reduce the effective range.” The filly looked a bit sheepish as she rubbed her forehooves together. “I'll admit, it was a bit of a gamble doing this; It could've easily blown up in our faces, but it was worth it to get the pressure off of us.”
“Well that's swell an' all, but what's the plan from here?” Applebloom asked?
“Honestly, the next step is figuring out the rest of the plan.” The incredulous looks her friends gave her did not go unnoticed. “Look, we had to do something and it's hard thinking with gallons of water barreling towards you. Did either of you think of something at the time?”
“...Not really, no,” Scootaloo admitted.
“Ah've got an idea,” Applebloom pronounced with proud posture. “Ah just need Y'all to buy me some more time. Think you can handle it, Sweetie?”
“I should. Don't know how long Quiet Riot's fear inducing serenade will last, how long we have until this dummy gets his senses back, but it should be long enough.” When she saw Men at Work summoned and sprinting towards across the floor, Sweetie had only one question on her mind. “If I may ask, what exactly is your plan?”
Applebloom smirks as she starts her explanation. “Yer stand makes music? My Men at Work can create jus 'bout everythin' else, so long as there's material to work with nearby. It made a hat of grass and repaired a wheel with mud, so somethin' to tie up Mr. Hoof should be a piece of cake.” Sweetie had to admit, what she heard seemed like a good idea, especially if they could keep him away from any and all doors. “Stands have limited range,” Applebloom said, mirroring Sweetie Belle's thoughts, “an' while we don't know what his is, Ah don't think it can go that far. If it could, why run towards the door in the first place?”
“I KNEW IT!” Slight Hoof suddenly yelled, voice raised as the fillies' faces fell. “I knew you were plotting something. I knew there was some trick you had up your sleeves! It is fortunate you three are nothing but inexperienced little fillies! Rule number four of combat; don't speak your plans in front of your foes.” Suddenly, Roadhouse Blue bucked Quiet Riot right in the face, sending Sweetie Belle flying and silencing the terrifying tune. Remnants of the stand's effects echoed though his thoughts, but pride and victory at his foe's folly aided its alleviation. He ran towards the nearest door, his stand keeping his hat in place, and turned back towards the fillies.
“Normally I would've run away long before our conflict escalated to this point, but you three have proven yourselves troublesome, learned too much, and displayed dedication beyond the norm. A friend I booted out of Ponyville, I will admit. Did I over react? Probably. So let's just forget about this encounter and start again?” Roadhouse Blue grabbed the doorknob beside him. “You want your zebra friend back? I'll open the door to where I left her.”
“No, really I'll do it. Look!” A wide eyed Slight Hoof opened the door, showing a snowy small town beyond its frame. The Crusaders saw a few scattered griffons strolling about, one looking at them in utter bewilderment. “See? Civilization! Citizens! Right there as proof of my sincerity! Even if she isn't there, how hard would it be for you three to get back home?”
“Considering there isn't a settlement primarily populated with griffins with that much snow in Equestria's borders,” Discord interjected dryly, “I'd say it would be almost impossible for three fillies without a passport to return home.” The faint whiff of amusement in his tone died. “I know from experience the 'joys' of international customs.”
In spite of shrinking pupils, the stallion kept his confident stance, kept tempting the fillies to step through the portal. To his surprised relief they stepped closer. 'Yes!' Slight Hoof thought. 'Just a five steps closer, little fillies! Just five steps closer and if you still feel trepidation, my Roadhouse Blue will give you the push you need to cross that threshold.”
Four steps left.
None of the Cutie Mark Crusaders believed the thief for a second, his wavering tone and crooked eyes paralleling his wavering confidence and crooked morals. 'Either he's desperate or we're playing right into his hooves,' Sweetie Belle thought, 'Perhaps both.' He did say he didn't want to kill the three, that it wouldn't sit well with him, but you don't have to kill something to defeat it. Her sister's friends have shown them that lesson plenty. Discord's earlier comment rung through their heads again.
Three steps.
And where was Discord during this fiasco? Leaning against the back wall, confection in hand, enjoying the battle of wits he came along to watch. Sure, he could intervene and save the fillies the trouble; there wasn't much risk to his health if he did, even with his magic suppressed. Magic he didn't need to see this for what it was; a necessary lesson for the trials of the future. That, and he didn't feel like helping.
Two.
Scootaloo stopped her advance and looked around, eyes darting, daring to spot some sign of deception, some indication of Slight Hoof's master plan. Was it instinct that caused her pause, a gift of aviary evolution that aided her ancestors in evading threats? Was it the emergence of a more vigilant nature forged from countless misadventures and dangers? Or was it simple happenstance, a fluke of fate that for her to look around? The cause must be debated later, for the faint form of Roadhouse Blue was in her sights, and with it his intentions laid bare.
“Girls! Don't take another step forward!” Scootaloo's friends obeyed as her shout echoed through the house. “You weren't going to just leave us in a backwards village, were you Mr. Hoof? You wouldn't really leave three fillies to freezing, starvation, or a whole host of other nasty fates, right?” Slight Hoof stayed perfectly still, not even flinching at the accusation before closing his eyes and answering with a single resounding word.
“Yes.”
Before any could react, Applebloom surged forward unprompted, her friends only able to see Roadhouse Blue's legs out of the corner of their eyes. By the time her friends rushed to her aid, she was already beyond the threshold. Only with the combined strength of Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo's stands did they keep the door from being slammed shut. A stroke of fortune for Slight Hoof, who used the opportunity to strike with Roadhouse Blue, hooves bashing against the two remaining Crusaders, taunting them with a cruel choice: save their friend or risk his wrath.
On the other side of the portal Applebloom stood up and rushed towards the door and tried to force her way through. Though some progress was made, the door opening wider and wider, it was too slow for Applebloom. She knew the longer she took, the more likely she would lose her window of opportunity and be trapped in this frozen land. A chill crawled up her spine, and she knew it came not from the climate. How long could she survive out here? Could she survive out here? 'Best not risk it,' she thought, 'now how will Ah deal with... Ah've got it!”
“MEN AT WORK!”
With her shout her stand materialized on the other side of the door, countless tiny bipeds that rose from behind and flung themselves towards Slight Hoof. The tools were not designed for combat, yet getting hit by one was still painful, and Slight Hoof was about to get hit with around forty per second. It wasn't long before Men at Work latched onto him and dug into his flesh. It wasn't until the second cycle of strikes he noticed their presence and tried to shake them off, yet despite his best efforts only a few were dislodged. His gyrations grew more frantic as Men at Work dug deeper and deeper into his flesh. Driven to desperation, Slight Hoof's stand returned to his side and wiped away the nuisances.
Just as Applebloom planned.
When the door was flung open Applebloom stumbled through, crimson streams of blood flowing off of her. It took all of her strength to keep her legs from giving out from under her, to keep standing in spite of the damage both she and her stand received. Locking eyes with her friends, she issued an inspiring command. “C'mon girls! Let's get this creep!”
The Cutie Mark Crusaders' stands rushed towards Slight Hoof, ready to provide a beating for the ages. Their efforts didn't go unnoticed by the stallion, who chose to make a tactical retreat; it's not cowardice to run away when you're so clearly outnumbered, especially when the fight was more difficult than anticipated, the opponents quickly gaining a grip on their powers. As he ran away, he struck one of the walls, kicking up dust and blinding the fillies. With their retreat halted, Slight Hoof continued to the exit unimpeded, but not before witnessing a bird like silhouette toss a piece of debris at his flank.
“Gaah!” Slight Hoof yelped. He thought he had this fight in the bag! How did that orange brat – no, he knew how she got the drop on him. Typical Slight Hoof, you got so caught up in dealing with one nuisance you allowed the other to flank you. 'Whelp!' He thought. 'Guess it's time to cut my losses. I know when I'm beat, and I'd rather have an uncertain future rather than certain imprisonment.' He ran towards the door, grabbing the door handle with Roadhouse Blue. 'Just one portal and I can start again far away from here. I heard Zebrica is nice this time of yea-'
* SLAM *
Slight Hoof's thoughts were rendered moot when the door flew off of its hinges. As it crashed into him, blood gushing from his muzzle and flesh rippling like a pond when a pebble is tossed within, Slight Hoof could only wonder what just happened. When his gaze landed on the edge of the door frame, he got his answer. The bolts that held the hinges together had been removed. Not destroyed, not split in two, removed . He could still see them off to the side of the door frame, lying on their own. He had no doubt the brats did this, but how? HO-
His train of thought crashed to a halt when he crashed into the floor.
“Judgin' by how you haven' picked yourself up yet, Ah'm guessn' you're still processin' what just happened.” Applebloom slowly advanced towards Slight Hoof, Men at Work close to her side “Y'said your stand can turn any door into a portal by opening it. Well, Ah don't know 'bout you, but a door without a frame is just a fancy piece of lumber, and since I see what I expected on the other side of that there frame, so to does your stand.” Indeed, there was nothing on the other side of the door but the inside of a closet that stored cleaning supplies, like the dust covered broom leaning in the corner. “Ah admit getting' Men at Work to screw off the hinge bolts was a gamble, but it would've at least keep you from closin' it and lockin' us out. Now, it's a shame askin' you wasn't as fruitful as we would've liked regardin' our friend Zecora, but what else did we expect from a theivin' low-life like yourself?”
As Applebloom spoke Slight Hoof's eyes widened in a terror his face soon matched, his cares for maintaining a stoic facade thrown out the door the minute it flew off it's hinges. He tired to run out of the room, tried to find another door, a window, something to get away from these fillies! Yet not three steps were taken before the remaining stands backed him into a corner. With flight no longer an option, the only instinct left was to fight. Calling upon Roadhouse Blue one more time, Slight Hoof readied his stance, lowered his center of gravity, and prepared for the coming onslaught.
Sweetie's Quiet Riot was the first to move, clawing at the stallion with the determination and inexperience. The limbs moved too slowly, were too obviously telegraphed, and Roadhouse Blue dodged it easily. Scootaloo's stand was faster by comparison, leg shooting forth like a bolt loosed from a crossbow. If only she had the accuracy to match. Slight Hoof didn't even need to dodge her. His greatest foes in this fight so far had been the tiny figures that dismantled his avenue of escape. As before, Men at Work tore into him bit by bit, slowly rending him into an pile of raw meat.
That wasn't to say he didn't hold his own; for every bruise and scrape he received his stand blocked three. Fluid were Roadhouse Blue's strikes, agile were Slight Hoof's dodges, yet numbers soon overwhelmed the poor stallion. His worn body unable to keep pace with the rampant vigor of youth. Slower and slower did his movements grow, greater and greater were the number of hits taken. Even his accuracy took a dip, his stand striking the floor more frequently than the fillies at times. Something had to give soon, lest he give out. With all the will he could muster, Roadhouse Blue let loose one final punch towards Scootaloo. The filly dodged it with ease, and the stallion soon hit his true target.
On contact the aged, slightly rotted wood the floor broke away. The Cutie Mark Crusaders could not react quickly enough to avoid falling with Slight Hoof. His landing may have been shaky, having to bend knee to maintain balance, yet it was leagues better than the uncomfortable positions the fillies crashed into. At least he didn't get the wind knocked out of him. 'No doubt they'll recover quickly,' thought Slight Hoof as he ran towards the exit. The day could still be salvaged, if he only-
“Now now.” His sprint was stopped by the discordant serpent before him. “You weren't trying to escape so you could fight, steal, and lie another day, now were you? If you were, I'm sorry to say you wouldn't have succeeded,” Discord spoke in his usual smug tone as he leaned on the inside of the doorway. “I admit, you put on a good show there! Oh, how long it has been since I last saw a stand fight. I'd almost forgotten what it was like; the quick thinking, the rush of air as the two psychic forces collide, the mind games. Oh, how I missed it! However, even though you provided a good show, I'm afraid I can't just let you just walk out on us. Why, you'd drop off the face of Equestria, and we'd have to spend the rest of our lives wondering where our friend had gone!”
For a moment neither party moved, yet soon Slight Hoof's stance relaxed and a deep, dark chuckle left his mouth. “You? Keep me from leaving? With that shackle on your power?” A pointed hoof punctuated his point. “I do read the newspaper, you know, and there was nothing in today's issue about your punishment being mitigated. So tell me, Discord ,” Slight Hoof spat, “How can you stop me without your incredible magic? Because right now all that stands between me and freedom is an overgrown snake.”
“You see, you're mostly right.” Discord replied. “I don't have my usual magic, and while I'm far from helpless without it,” Discord chose to ignore Slight Hoof's sarcastic roll of the eyes, “your stand does tilt the odds in your favor.” Discord then stood up straight, no longer leaning on the frame. “Lucky me, mine tilts them right back!”
“W-What?” Slight Hoof stuttered out.
“Oh come now, you've had to have heard of the legends by now; a chimeric serpent who brought forth the golden arrows, those that awoke the chaos within? Did you really think I wasn't curious? That I wouldn't taste the fruits of the arrows for myself?” As he spoke, an aura of sinister power enveloped him, coalescing into some shape too faint to make out.
“Hmm, so you do have a stand. No matter, like all magic it-”
“Stands are not 'like all magic'. As a pickpocket, burglar, and thief you must be either forgetful or very unambitious.”
There were no further words spoken, for Discord's interruption spoke true. Not that he forgot that little factoid, Celestia knows the number of heists that would've been impossible if that were the case. But was it too much to hope that Discord wouldn't connect the dots? Probably, if he was being honest.
Still, fighting one stand user was better than fighting one chaos avatar or three stand users. Adjusting his stance and bringing out Roadhouse Blue once more, Slight Hoof prepared for one final fight. Discord did nothing in response, simply standing as he was. Was he so skilled that he could bring out his stand in an instant? Slight Hoof's eyes widened in fear, his throat dried, yet he still he held fast. And held, and held, and-.
“Well?” Slight Hoof asked. “Aren't you going to fight?”
“Hmm, Nah.” Discord replied.
Slight Hoof took a step back. “What? You're not going – why not?”
“Don't wanna.”
“That doesn't answer anything!”
“You're right. It didn't,” A smile graced Discord's face. “But it did buy some time.”
Slight Hoof didn't connect the dots before a brief flare of pain in the back of his head knocked him out.
“Well, that was... a thing?” Sweetie Belle didn't know what else to say. After she and the other Crusaders dragged themselves off the floor and shook off the dust and splinters, they rushed towards what sounded like Slight Hoof. While they originally thought to simply chase him down and beat him up, when they witnessed Discord engaging him in conversation, they only saw a perfect opportunity to strike. Well, Scootaloo did at least.
“Couldn've put it better myself,” Applebloom replied as she tied the stallion's legs together with rope.
“Yes, everypony's first stand battle is sort of like that.” Discord strolled towards the Crusaders, arms gesticulating as he spoke.. “A puzzling mess one needs to solve with a third of the pieces missing. Speaking of which, how was it?”
Applebloom and Sweetie Belle only gave a blank stare, while Scootaloo calmly walked up to him and bucked his leg.
“Gah!”
“That was for not helping us,” Scootaloo spoke with venom, “despite having every opportunity to do so.”
“Were you really worried of any danger? You guys, the Cutie Mark Crusaders? I could've stopped things from getting out of hand at any time, and if I didn't let events play out and risk them getting out of hand, you three wouldn't really learn. In spite of my personal preferences, most ponies who seek to learn of combat of any type are apprehensive towards 'trial by fire', or as I call it 'the fun way.' And if nothing else trust me when I say this is far from your last stand encounter, and I won't be there to help with them all.” The Cutie Mark Crusaders mulled over his statement, and after much internal debate, Applebloom walked to Discord and gave him her answer.
A swift buck to the leg.
“GAH!!” If Discord's scream to the heavens didn't tell how much his leg hurt, his hopping about on one foot did. “Last time I ever try to help you gals! Ungrateful little...”
“We could've just had a mock battle with you, Sweetie Belle said. “Or Zecora. Or Celestia. Or Luna. Or a scarecrow.”
“Firstly,” Discord started when he could comfortably put his hoof back on the ground, “The notes you three would've taken had I fought him would've robbed you of the full experience of your first fight. Would my assistance really be worth it?”
“Yes,” All three fillies replied in the same tone, with the same inflection, at the same time.
“Oh.” Discord shuffled his legs awkwardly. “Well, what's done is done. What are we going to do with him?” Discord held an arm out towards Slight Hoof, now sufficiently restrained. The response the Cutie Mark Crusaders gave closely mirrored Discord's own not a minute prior.
“We didn't actually plan that far ahead,” Scootaloo admitted. “I personally thought we would just throw him in the castle dungeon, maybe chain him to the wall. That's how it works in stories, right?” Before the last syllable left her mouth, Scootaloo knew her reasons were poor. “Look, I'm no guard,” she said defensively. “You're the one with the most knowledge on these things, Discord.”
“I meant because you're an adult, or due to your thousand plus years of experience. But thanks for the third reason.”
“Couldn't one of us just go get Twilight while the rest of us keep an eye on him?” Sweetie Belle asked.
“That there's probably the best plan we have.” Applebloom summoned Men at Work and tried to carry Slight Hoof. After seven seconds of stubbornly failing, Applebloom instead asked her stand to create a cart to carry him. Men at Work scattered about, scrapping together whatever material they could find; the floorboards were stripped away, nearby furniture become naught but raw material to manufacture wheels, spokes and all.
“Should we contact Twilight about this?” Sweetie Belle asked.
“Can we contact Twi 'bout this?”
“Not us per say, but we could just ask Starlight.”
“What makes you so sure she can do something?” Scootaloo asked.
“Wasn't she Twi's apprentice or something?” Applebloom inquired. “Ah'd bet my life savings she has some fancy magic way to talk to her. Or a way to send a letter to Spike. Y'know, for emergencies and the like.”
The four tried to think of other avenues to pursue, yet as much as they didn't want to bother her, Twilight was the best bet for finding Zecora, and Starlight was the fastest way to talk to Twilight.When at last the cart was fully assembled, if a bit wonky in places where glue and other adhesives weren't fully cured, the fillies loaded up their captive and headed towards the...
“Did anypony ever name that castle?” Scootaloo asked? “I think we usually call it 'The Castle', 'Twilight's Castle', or 'The Friendship Palace', but are any of those actually its name?”
“I... Huh. I don't know. My bits are on 'Friendship Castle', since Twilight was the Princess of Friendship before the Royal Sisters abdicated.”
“Retired, Sweetie,” Applebloom replied. “They said they retired.”
“And I say Equestrian Royalty should know the proper terminology for legal actions they wish to take.”
“You're just being a pedant,” said Scootaloo.
“Oh, and now your usin' the fancy words?”
As the four departed towards the only crystal building for ten miles, arguing with one another over the most inane topics possible, as friends are wont to do they failed to see the pony hidden in the shadow of the house, eavesdropping on their conversation.
Her eyes were protected from prying gazes by a pair of sunglasses. Her fur and cutie mark hidden under layers of bandage, with only small tufts of orange leaking out. On her head was a bright red beanie, and her flank was bereft of a tail. The wrappings couldn't conceal her relaxed, cocksure posture, nor could the glasses hide how she looked at the party as they walked.
“So, Slight had a bit of a trip up, it would seem.” The mare tried to keep her emotions in check, yet a faint hum of glee leaked out. “Such a shame he fell to those three fillies. Where's your years of experience now, idiot?”
The bandaged mare slowly walked away from the wall. “Still, three new stand users awakened so soon? This town truly is as bizarre as I've been told. Nevertheless, I must update them on the news, unpleasant though it may be. Hmm... maybe their rage would burn more dimly when those stand users do.” One of her hooves came down on a patch of grass; when it was lifted, the verdant foliage was stained a burnt black.
Author's Note
I'm really not satisfied with this chapter, but I had to rewrite the fight scene twice. I know this isn't the most intricate of battles, but it is their first fight; can't throw them to the sharks on their first spat, now can I? I promise future confrontations will be more engaging.
The Bizarre Adventure of Three Fillies
Chapter 8: Escape the Fate
Starlight Glimmer had done well for herself in the last year or so. What started with an exile from the town she founded had morphed into nearly ending the world led to an apprenticeship with Equestria's second newest princess, becoming the warden of the crystal castle of Ponyville, and a cozy headmare position at the Ponyville School of Friendship. Had she dreamed of this chain of events as a foal, she would've questioned her choice of tea.
Starlight couldn't complain, though; yes, the hours were long and her duties were numerous, varied, and often stressful. But the castle's purple and blue crystalline rooms were cozy and offered ample room for the study of spellcraft. Thus right now she laid in a small nook by the window, a copy of 'Hard Light for Domestic Use ' open before her. She wasn't sure how it would help more than her current spells already did, but nothing ventured, nothing gained. As she turned another page-.
KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK
“Of course. On my day off, too.” Starlight shut the book and went to answer the door. As she walked, she took the time to appreciate the castle walls. To the average pony every inch looked identical, yet Starlight Glimmer could see the subtle differences; how two segments of wall separated by only a door could have radically different crystal latices, and how the castle's magic flowed through them. When she first leaned this, she was enraptured, now she doesn't think twice about it when going through her daily routines.
Starlight didn't know what was at the front door; students asking for help, somepony with an overdue book maybe. She wasn't expecting a familiar trio of fillies dragging an unconscious stallion, their faces bashful and eyes avoiding her own. Oh, and Discord stood nearby, as if she needed more proof things went pear shaped. Her mouth hung open like a fish's as she grasped for something to say.
“I... what?” That was good enough, right?
“We can explain!” Sweetie Belle squeaked in the suspicious and quick manner of guilty foals. “You see, this stallion teleported Zecora far away from here-”
“Tele-” Starlight looked at the unconscious earth pony. “How?”
“So,” Sweetie ignored Starlight's perplexed tone, “We need to tell Princess Twilight we found a stand user and how one of our friends is freezing her tail off in the middle of who knows where because of him. Since you're her student...” Sweetie trailed off, rubbing her hooves together as she struggled to maintain eye contact.
“Again; what?” Stands, teleportation? Just what did she miss?moved on its own . “Discord can help us explain. It all started with some golden arrows-.”
“Stop, Stop. Stop.” Her horn glowed and with a burst of magic, Starlight summoned a pencil and notepad. “First let's head to the kitchen, then I'll spend the next three minutes sorting my thoughts and listing my questions. Then you can explain everything as I take detailed notes.” When she finished her statement, everyone who was awake stared at her with a curious, almost accusing expression.
“Are you sure you ain't Twi?” Applebloom asked warily. “Cause you sure are takin' notes like her.” Starlight shrugged
“It's a learned habit from dealing with her frequent info dumps. I would have been completely lost otherwise.” Mrs. Glimmer turned around and walked inside. “Now, do any of you want iced tea while we talk?”
“So, golden arrows Discord got from an extra-universal creature grants ghostly guardians and additional abilities to whomever survives its strike. You three were recently pierced by one while Slight Hoof, the stallion, was pierced a while ago, and all of you developed these 'Stands'. Am I getting it right so far?” Starlight Glimmer asked her guests as they sat around the kitchen table, each sipping glasses of tea. The fillies nodded and Discord gave a thumb's up. “And you need my help to get Twilight's help because Zecora needs help?”
“That's pretty much it,” Scootaloo said.
“Okay,” Starlight slowly started, “first question; why don't I just help Zecora directly?” She was a powerful unicorn, so why add the unnecessary steps?
“I'm just following along for the kicks,” Discord shrugged.
“Well, Princess Twilight did tell us to let her know of any further stand related developments, so...” Sweetie's justification was weak. She knew it, Starlight knew it, everyone in the room knew it.
“Of course we knew!” Sweetie squawked. “We weren't thinking about you.” She soon realized her faux pas. “Not that you aren't important enough to be let in the loop! It's just, you weren't there when this was explained and everything else was going crazy and-”
“Sweetie.” The small unicorn looked at her larger counterpart. “You don't have to apologize. Celestia knows I've made enough short sighted decisions with far more disastrous consequences to be allowed to judge you. I will find Zecora and write up a thorough report for Twilight. Does that sound good to you?”
The fillies could not argue with the elder mare's logic, and conceded to her point. “That's great, but can you also help us lock this guy up?” Scootaloo nodded towards their unconscious captive. “He was kind of the one who sent her away.” Starlight knew Scootaloo had a point. She also knew there were logistical issues in keeping a prisoner who could literally walk out of his cell. She weighed her options and made the obvious choice.
“I'll prepare the dungeon,” she deadpanned.
“Wait, this castle has a dungeon?!” Applebloom exclaimed as Discord grabbed the stallion.
“Don't all good castles?”
It was dark and Slight Hoof was in pain. His hooves hurt, his knees were sore, and the back of his head throbbed with pain that lacked a sufficient metaphor. Still, the fact he could feel anything proved he was alive; he would've felt grateful, but his throbbing headache made most higher thought impossible. When he finally cracked open his eyes and adjusted to the searing light, he was surprised to be surrounded by garish purple crystal. The air was cool around him and his mouth, throat, and eyes were dry.
As he struggled to his hooves, it became apparent he was captured. Hopefully there was a guard nearby he could ask for water; he felt hungover, but he knew he didn't drink anything last night.
When he heard the sound of that vital liquid pouring into a glass, he thanked whatever higher powers were up there. When he turned towards the source of the sound and was met with the sight of a lavender pony, he cursed them.
“Glad to see your finally awake.” Her voice sounded muffled and Slight Hoof's vision was blurred, but he knew in his heart who was before him.
“Glaaaa... Twillight.” He wished he could force something wittier from his mouth.
“Uhh, no?” And he also got her name wrong? Wonderful. “Starlight. Princess Sparkle is a bit busy at the moment so I'm here to get some much needed information out of you. Now, I'm guessing you don't want to cooperate; believe me, I've been there before. But you did kind of foalnap one of my friends – well, my friends' friend – and I just can't let that go. So, just answer my questions and we'll be done. Sound good?”
It did not sound good, but he didn't complain. Partly because in an interrogation, it was never a good idea to reply with sarcasm or upset your captor, unless you wanted to stay caged for the rest of your days. Mostly it was because he was really thirsty. He nodded to show Starlight Glimmer slid the glass of water down the table, which he quickly chugged. “Can you speak now?” Starlight asked.
“Yes. Thank you.”
“Wonderful! Now, first question; do you know how you got your stand?” It would have been easy to deny the question and claim he didn't know. Easy, but not the best option; interrogation is a bit like a market transaction, with each party hoping to get what the want at as little cost as possible. What every interrogator wants above even a confession is information. The captor may be innocent, or at least not the most guilty, and any information they are reluctant to part with could be critical. Similarly, the one interrogated, if they are skilled enough, can obtain some concessions, such as a reduced sentence or fewer charges levied against them.
“My wha-”
“Don't play dumb with me,” Starlight deadpanned, “The ponies who brought you in informed me all about your power. Just answer the questions and everything will go just smoothly.” The stallion's brow crinkled in confusion, his lips spewing silent mumbling. 'Does he still not know what's going on? Oh Celestia, he didn't hit his head to hard, did he?' A cold sweat broke out on Starlight's back. 'I hope it's temporary. The fillies don't need that kind of pressure on their minds at their age.'
“I-I think I remember who you are,” Slight Hoof drawled out. “You're the assistant of the Princess Twilight.” His eyes narrowed. “You ain't a guard.”
“Er, no. What does tha-”
“Am I being detained?”
Starlight flinched at his sudden declaration. “I'm sorry?” She replied, tone unsure.
“Am I being detained?” Slight Hoof repeated a little slower, a little more tense.
“Yes, now answer the-”
“On whose authority?” Slight Hoof's interruption was answered when Starlight slammed her hooves on the table between them.
“On royal authority vested into me by Princess Twilight Sparkle, the same authority that will have you locked in a cell for a thousand years if you keep deflecting.” At this, the stallion had the audacity to look perturbed, offended even.
“As far as I know I've been arrested against my will and made to answer questions designed to entrap. The law of the land allows me to verify if the detaining party is entitled to do so, and not just entitled.” Slight Hoof accusingly pointed his hoof at Starlight. “You claim to have the authority, but from what I've gathered you're just a glorified student and desk jokey. Now, if you were to provide the proper paperwork, I'd be more than happy to cooperate. Until that happens...”
“You'll keep your mouth shut,” Starlight finished.
“And I'd be well within my rights to do so,” He cheekily replied.
Starlight hated to admit the thief had even the slightest understanding of law, but she even if she was in her rights to keep him here, even if she had indisputable royal authority to do so, having someone more official would make the process go by smoother.
“This is going to take a while, isn't it?” she asked herself.
Carousel Boutique's vibrant yet cool exterior was only pronounced by the rising sun. Here Applebloom stood, waiting for her friends to arrive. They promised one another to have a day of fun and relaxation out on the town, one without any chores or supernatural complications. If someone told Applebloom a year ago she would be involved in affairs akin to a fantasy story, complete with ancient artifacts and magics, she would've probably believed them, given her sister's own adventures. It's almost funny; three years ago she daydreamed about her life getting shook up, but now that it's happened multiple times she now understands why Granny Smith kept complaining about them making a racket.
“Hey Applebloom! You doing alright?”
“Oh, Scootaloo! Ah didn' see ya there!”
“Figured as much; you were staring at the ground like it offended your family. Something wrong?” Before Applebloom could answer, Scootaloo noticed her friend's stand in front of her, doing nothing but staring at their master. “Oh yeah, those guys.”
“Eh, probably just jealous. I know I am.” The last part was devoid of energy.
“Don't worry Scoots,” Applebloom scooted towards Scootaloo. “Ah'm sure you'll find out what your stand can do soon enough. And when you find out, Ah bet-”
“Okay, stop!” Applebloom recoiled at her friend's interruption. “First of all, you sound like everypony else when we were trying to get our cutie marks. 'Oh, don't rush it, you'll figure it out eventually.'-”
“Ah mean, they were right.”
“Doesn't make it any less annoying.” Applebloom had to agree. Heck, given what their cutie marks were for all those failed attempts were necessary. “Second,” Scootaloo continued, “I'm not jealous that your stand has a power already, but rather a name.”
“A name?” Applebloom deadpanned. “Are we really gonna go on about this now? How hard can it be to name somethin'.” For goodness sake's, they thought of 'Cutie Mark Crusaders' is a couple of minutes and Men at Work just popped into her head. She didn't want to think Scootaloo, the filly who idolized Rainbow Dash, was being indecisive, but it was starting to look that way.
Applebloom did not expect her friend to be offended. “Well, sorry some of us aren't geniuses at naming things! I spent all of last night and this morning trying to find a name, and nothing fit!” As though it could sense it's master's rage, Scootaloo's stand summoned itself beside her, red feathers contrasting against Carousel Boutique. “I mean, I'm sure something fits perfectly, but I sure haven't thought of it.”
“Hmm...” Applebloom pondered, hoof rubbing chin. “Free Bird?” She offered.
“Not really free when I control it with a thought, is it?.”
“King Crimson?”
Scootaloo shuddered. “I feel that one's already taken, and king? Really?” She gestured to the bird as it pecked under it's wing.
“I've got it! Falco!”
Scootaloo shook her head. “Already thought of it, but like all other bird names it didn't really fit; just seems too obvious, you know.” She sighed and laid down on the ground. “You're probably rightin that something will come eventually, and when it does it'll be the most radical stand name ever. It's just annoying calling it 'my stand' or hearing 'Scootaloo's stand' all the time, you feel?”
Applebloom contemplated the thought. “Yeah, Ah see how that might grate on the nerves.” And so the fillies stood outside the building and discussed their plans for the day. Between enjoying some Sweets at Sugar Cube Corner and running about on the outskirts of town, kites in tow, they were confident this would be the best day in weeks. When the door opened and the third member of their party left her abode, their planning already leaked into the following day.
“Alright Rarity, I'm leaving. I'll try to be back before sunset.”
“No, no, no!” Rarity stopped towards the door. “That won't do at all, Sweetie Belle. You will be back before sunset, and you won't go around fighting random ponies.” Sweetie tried to move out the door, but a light blue glow locked her legs. “Do I make myself clear?” Rarity's tone allowed no argument, and Sweetie had no need to argue.
“Yes, Rarity. I will be back before sunset.” The older mare smiled, let go of her sister, and gently closed the door. All three of the Crusaders were together again, and their day of leisure could finally begin. “So,” Sweetie Belle yelped excitedly, “what are we going to do first?”
“Alright.” Starlight Glimmer paced across the holding room, Slight Hoof sat still at one end of the table, and a pegasus guard stood at the other, the light from the lamp in the center of the room gleamed off of his pristine armor. “This is Sweet Pea, member of the Ponyville guard. He has formally agreed to your detainment and the beginning of your questioning. Yes, he does have authorization and yes, he can and will prove it on request.” She spun on her hooves towards the stallion. “Is this assessment accurate?”
Slight Hoof wore a pensive frown as he thought over the guard's words and whether it was worth it to continue this charade. Yes, he could stand to stall for a little more time, try to find some other angle to escape into, but was that worth irritating his captors? 'No,' he decided as he lightly shook his head. “Alright sparkles, shoot.” At least he can take satisfaction in her irritation.
“Firstly,” Starlight forced down her emotions, “We know you have a sta – a particular magic that the Princess of Equestria and several others are currently interested in.” She placed her fore-hooves on the table and leaned forward. “Do you have any idea how you got it?”
“Well, when a stallion and mare get plastered-” Slight Hoof's sentence came to a screeching halt at the scowl Starlight leveled his way and his eyes widened. “Right, not the time for a joke I see.” He composed himself before continuing. “Still, it's the best explanation I have. For as long as I can remember I've had my Roadhouse Blue beside me, its presence a constant comfort on my mind.”
“Really?” Starlight asked unimpressed. “That's it?”
“Why the skepticism?” Slight Hoof asked, brow as still as stone. “Ponies are already born with predispositions towards certain skills, so why would this be any different?” It wasn't. Starlight knew that and was only performing her due diligence. The more questions she asked, the better the read she would have on him, and already she knew of his greatest tell, told directly from the Crusaders last night. To be honest with himself, Slight Hoof would probably be in a jail cell before the day was out.
Yet Slight Hoof didn't become the pickpocket or petty thief he was without a willingness to face danger and risk, nor did he spend his entire career without seeing the inside of a prison cell. It was in the nature of ponies, of all organisms to survive no matter the cost, and it was a feeling Slight Hoof had plenty of tie to get acquainted with
“Alright then, next question.”
“Er, permission to speak, ma'am?” The guard hesitantly asked.
“Is something wrong?”
“What I've heard of this conversation thus far sounds classified. Am I authorized to be a part of this? Should I leave for the time being?” His tone waved a bit, but was otherwise professional and contained neither accusation or irritation. Starlight weighed her options; on the one hoof, having Sweet Pea around could provide the intimidation that causes Slight Hoof to spill. There was no denying it, that pony was built like a brick wall and had a mind disciplined enough to match. On the other hoof, did he have authorization? Should Starlight give authorization? Was she allowed to?
“Yes, Mrs. Shimmer,” Slight Hoof didn't even try with that one, “Whatever should he do?”
The sun shone bright and high in the sky as a gentle wind breezed by in the vast fields on the outskirts of town. The pegasai had cleared the sky of all but a few clouds, yet a gentle breeze blunted the Sun's scorching rays. Overall, it was a comfortable summer day for the residents of Ponyville. For the farmers, it was another ideal day to harvest their crops. For the more well off ponies it was an opportunity to browse the merchant square in search of something exotic. For the Cutie Mark Crusaders, it was a perfect day to fly a kite.
“C'mon Sweetie, you have to run faster to get the kite high up in the air.” Scootaloo lightly jogged beside her unicorn friend, providing words of encouragement and advice. When Applebloom had first suggested their first bit of fun for the day, Sweetie Belle was the most apprehensive. She believed that there wasn't enough wind to keep the kite suspended. Fortunately, Scootaloo was there to provide a brilliant solution; if there wasn't enough wind, they would just have to run fast enough to make some.
There was only one problem, one unexpected complication.
“I'm trying, okay!” Sweetie yelled, short of breathe as she ran at a top speed of not fast enough. They have been going at this for the past hour or so, and though her friends helped teach her and gave advice, none of it worked. Her legs burned, her breathes were deep and frequent, and her heart was doing a convincing imitation of a hummingbird's. “I think I'm too injured from yesterday.”
“How?” Applebloom asked. “Me an' Scoots took the same tumble as you and we're doin' jus' fine.” Indeed, Applebloom breathing was even as she stood tall and proud. while Scootaloo made the marathon Sweetie Belle went through seem like a brisk jog.
“It's just how Sweetie Belle is,” Scootaloo interjected with a faux refined tone, “refined and ladylike, too much for such physical activity we commoners are accustomed too.”
“Or maybe you two are simply a pair of over-muscled brutes,” Sweetie Belle grumpily replied.
“Life on the orchard does have its benefits.” Applebloom struck the ground with her fore-hoof in demonstration, the volume muffled by the dirt yet still well defined. Whether that was due to Applebloom's strength or the adrenaline rushing through Sweetie Belle's veins neither pony could say.
Scootaloo looked at her friend's exhaustion and her mildly bloodshot eyes and gained acute awareness of the growing exhaustion in . “Maybe we have been out here long enough. Anypony want to take a break? We could get some ice cream.” Scootaloo started to walk back towards Ponyville, when she was stopped by Sweetie Belle.
“Hold on,” She breathed out. “I think – I think I've caught my breathe. One more try, then we'll go.” Scootaloo wanted to argue, but just one look at her friend's steely determination kept her criticism and concerns at bay. One nod of her head later and the two of them were off once again. The wind breezing through their manes as they ran through the fields. Sweetie's body still ached, her throat was dry and her legs burned. Yet still she pressed on, and as her pace increased she looked behind her sand saw the kite rise higher and higher. She smiled, Scootaloo smiled, and though neither could see it Applebloom also smiled. At last, she did it! The kite reached its apex, and then-
SNAP
The minute there was the slightest bit of tension on the string, it snapped. The kite slowly floated away as the Cutie Mark Crusaders watched on in disbelief.
“Are you kidding me?!” Sweetie stomped and screamed. “I jut got it working! After all that hard work it just breaks?! I jus – How old was this string?” She grasped the failed spool in her magic and inspected it in a frenzy. Unfortunately, when she pulled on the string it started to fray. Her blood felt like the magma deep beneath a volcano and she was fit to erupt, but instead she took a cooling breathe and calmed her rage. “Alright. That was unfortunate. Let's just go get ice cream. Yeah, that'll work.” There was no verbal answer, yet the three fillies started walking back to Ponyville, unaware of that creeping in the shadows behind them.
“Alright then,” A blue earth pony mare stated from behind an ice cream cart. “One vanilla cone with orange sprinkles, one chocolate cone with chocolate shell and chocolate sprinkles, and one apple sundae in a waffle bowl. That'll be fifteen bits.” A lime green field carried the money to the ice cream mare, grabbed the confections, and distributed them to the appropriate crusaders. The three sat down on a nearby park bench to enjoy their treats. As she slowly shoveled spoonfuls of sundae into her mouth, Applebloom noticed her unicorn friend was still down in the dumps from earlier. Putting her spoon down for a moment, she reached over to pat her on the back.
“It's alright,” she consoled Sweetie. “You were doin' good before the line broke.” She reached to get another spoonful when a realization struck. “Say Scoots, how old was that string? Sweetie asked the same thing, but you never answered.”
“I only bought it about a week ago.” Scootaloo shook her head. “It shouldn't have broken that easily, right?” Of all possible questions, this was the one that knocked Sweetie Belle out of her funk.
“It was probably due to badly spun thread. Rarity suffered their terror before, so I guess I have one more thing .” She licked her ice cream, the cold sweetness soothing her throat and relieving her of the summer heat. “Every time she did, after dramatically bemoaning her poor fortunes, she would march up to whoever sold it to her and demand a refund. You should do the same.” To her friends surprise Scootaloo merely shook her head.
“See, if I was certain that was the case, I would. Heck, if this happened just a week ago I would. But knowing what we know now...” For a while the fillies sat in silence, the statement stewing in the backs of their minds. Eventually the point of her statement clicked in the back of Applebloom's mind, who could scarcely believe her friend's suggestion.
“You're serious. You actually think – not everythin' has ta be the work of an enemy stand!” Applebloom rubbed her forehead. “What's more likely, a second stand user having their sights on us, or some poor quality string.”
“We never actually had a stand user's sights on us,” Sweetie interjected. “Slight Hoof only fought us in reaction to our inquisition.” Her other two friends turned to her with expressions somewhere between disbelief and annoyance. To her credit, Sweetie Belle had the common decency to look a bit bashful at her statement and avert her gaze. “I'm not wrong.” Unfortunately, she hadn't enough decency to hold back her weak defense.
“Look,”Applebloom said calmly, “the point is your just bein' paranoid, Scoots.”
“No I'm not!” Her friends flinched back at the volume of her assertion. Scootaloo took a deep breathe. “Look, I admit it's mostly a gut feeling.” Scootaloo ignored the unamused stares of her friends. “Alright, entirely a gut feeling, but is it really that unlikely? What was it Discord said? 'Stand users attract other stand users?' Whose to say yesterday didn't draw in somepony else?” Again, her friends gave her a deadpan stare. “Alright, maybe I'm a bit on edge. I'll drop it for now, but if something happens that screams 'stand', don't say I didn't warn us.” Scootaloo punctuated her statement by stomping her forehoof on the table.
This proved to be a mistake.
As soon as her hoof touched the table it cracked in two, forcing Sweetie Belle to grip her cone and Applebloom to scramble for her bowl. In the former case, the telekinetic pressure ruptured the cone, spilling vanilla upon the ground below. Seeking to save something from her mistake, Scootaloo brought forth her stand and reached for her friend's waffle bowl. Unfortunately, upon contact cracks appeared, and it soon fell apart. When all was said and done, the fillies could only stare in shock. Again.
“Let me guess,” Applebloom deadpanned. “You didn' mean to hit it that hard.” She thought there would've been more irritation in her voice, but if anything there were only the faint wisps of confusion.
“I didn't hit it that hard,” Scootaloo protested. “I mean, do you think you could've broken it, Applebloom?”
Her friend gave it a moment's thought. “Nah, too sturdy. Er, it was.” Suddenly her head shot up. “Hey, maybe that's your stand power.”
“Breaking stuff?”
“No, there is no way this can be my power. What kind of stand would have such a crummy ability?”
“How many stands did we see so far?” Applebloom proposed. “And how wide was the variety in powers Discord described.”
“Too wide to make any assumptions with our sample size,” Sweetie Belle said. When she saw Scootaloo's face morph from annoyed to distressed, she walked over to her friend and gave her a small hug. “It's alright Scootaloo; even if everything around you breaks like glass, we're still your friends.”
“I don't doubt that, but....” Scootaloo slumped in her seat. “If this is my power, it's sooooooo lame compared to you guys'! I can think of a hundred ways to use Men at Work or Quiet Riot, but this? Nothing useful is coming to mind! I still hope it's just some bad luck that'll run its course by the end of the week and we can all laugh about how silly we were!”
Applebloom and Sweetie Belle looked unsure at their friend's proclamation; there was just too much of panicked desperation in her voice. Yet if there was one thing Scootaloo was right on, it was how they had no real evidence on their own claim. Well, aside from that one that was just mentioned. All they could do now was clean up the mess to the best of their abilities. It might not be the most moral action to throw away public property, but it was the best they could do. It's not like they could just fix the bench.
…
“Hey, wait a second.” Applebloom willed forth Men at Work, which proceeded to scatter far and wide, bringing forth all manner of wood shards and adhesive. In minutes the bench was as good as new. Smiling, she turned to Scootaloo. “Ah guess I can see where you're comin' from; I can't stop thinkin' 'bout all the things men at work can make. A few of those Ah actually want!” Scootaloo could only grumble.
As they discussed the rest of the day's plans, none of them noticed the mare hiding in the shadow of a house, only her sky her legs visible. They didn't see her watch them with the intensity reserved for a predator stalking its prey, one that contradicted her casual stance. And they were far too absorbed in their own conversation, as well as too far away, to hear what she had to say.
“So, more stand users in town, huh?” Her mellow voice was enhanced by her faux aristocratic accent. “Silly fillies, I don't care how young you are. Ponyville is like a pie; only so much to go around, and I refuse to share. Lucky me, my stand is already primed to eliminate you without me lifting a hoof.” She started following the fillies. “Try to run, try to hide, but you won't escape [SLOW RIDE].”
Starlight paced back and forth in the, the only other occupant stuck sitting on the other side of the room bored out of his mind. Starlight decided to ask Sweet Pea to leave for the time being, but to stay close enough to hear any cries of distress. That didn't mean she enjoyed the lack of good company, nor that Slight Hoof qualified as such, though for a career petty thief he was remarkably polite, answering her questions to the best of his abilities, or so he claimed. The only reason she had to doubt him was the lack of information she received.
Despite the numerous hours that passed, Starlight Glimmer was no closer to uncovering the truth. Regarding his past and his stand he was an open book, yet at the slightest hint of inquiry regarding his criminal past, he deflected and obfuscated. Prying what he knew of stands out of him was like pulling teeth; all he would do is claim ignorance until the charade became laughable to keep up, at which point he would provide the bare minimum information to get her of his back. It was starting to wear on her nerves, and like how an axe needs to be sharpened after a day of chopping trees, she needed to take a moment's rest to sharpen her mind.
She knew this, yet she thirsted for answers.
'Just a few more questions,' Starlight thought as she kept pacing. 'Like, three more then I'll take a break.' Her stare met Slight Hoof's, pierced through it even. 'If nothing else, he must be getting worn down too.' The air of the room was stale, and starlight knew she would have her answers soon enough. She just needed to be patient.
Starlight sat at the end of the table, grabbed a quill, and wrote down what she learned on the parchment before her. She knew Slight Hoof was hiding something, the occasional risen eyebrow was proof enough, yet what? What could he know that was worth hiding? No, no her thinking was wrong; it couldn't be some fact about stands only he knew, not with Discord himself on her side. So it had to be something a little less conceptual, perhaps something more physical.
...No. It couldn't be, could it?
The answer snapped into place as soon as it snapped into her mind. It made too much sense, but if he was behind that – She was being honest earlier about letting him go if he cooperated, yet if this proved true she would rescind her promise. And as she steeled herself, she knew what was needed to verify her theory.
“Well, Mr. Hoof, I must admit you answered my questions admirably this morning.” He perked up at this, not quite believing what he was hearing. “You've almost proven to me your innocence. I would let you go right now, but unfortunately there are a few things I need to verify.” His eyes narrowed, as though his delayed freedom was the worst thing in the world. His impotent rage filled Starlight with joy, and it took all her effort to keep a stoic image.
“What's there left to discuss?” His sounded genuinely curious.
“I just feel you might know about something rather important,” Starlight danced around the issue, stretching his patience to its breaking point. When a pony's mind is clear and calm, they can easily adjust their actions as they see fit. Yet set the mind aflame with rage and one becomes blind to their actions. Though Slight Hoof's mouth stayed a smooth line, his furrowed brow gave away his inner rage. It was honestly unnerving how out of place it looked on his otherwise serene face, and that was enough to convince Starlight Glimmer to hurry and deliver her final blow.
“I know you took the arrow,” Starlight stated. “What did you do with it and why?”
For a moment all was silent, neither party so much as twitching. Before Starlight could restate the question, Slight Hoof broke out in uproarious laughter.
“He he. Sorry, dear Glister,” He lied. “I just wasn't expecting such a random question out of you. An arrow? Really? What does that have anything to do with my power?” His tone was a smooth drawl that slid down her ear canals, and for a moment she thought she had made a mistake. Yet it took only a second to verify she hadn't.
“I think you know exactly what I'm talking about. In fact, I'd say you know what I'm talking about.” Starlight placed her fore-hooves on the table and leaned forward. “Do you know how I know?” When Slight Hoof didn't respond for a hot minute, she took answered in his stead. “It's all in your eyes.”
As she predicted, his eyes shot up the moment his most obvious tell was uncovered. To his credit, he made a fast recovery, tempering his expression as soon as it came. Yet his eyes, in that brief second she saw those orbs of raw emotion, fear shone through. Finally, Starlight had a thread she could pull on.
“I have no idea what you're talking about, and I don't think you do either.” Slight Hoof's calm voice held none of the fear Starlight expected. His eyes may have been a dead giveaway, but the rest of him remained stoic. How much practice did it take to achieve such control? Why could he never do the same with his eyes? These were questions Starlight hadn't the time to answer.
“Oh there's no need to be shy.” She slowly trotted towards the stallion with a smile. “Between you and me, I can kind of understand why you would go after it. The raw hunger for power, the desire to become more. I'm intimately familiar with this feeling; its what drives most of my studies, what drove me to some of my more unsavory actions, and satisfying this burning hunger is the greatest feeling in the world, isn't it?” Twilight may have shown her the problems with her town, yet ambition's flame was difficult to douse.
“Look lady,” Slight Hoof spat, “I don't know anything about this arrow, nor why it's so important. What I do know is that you don't have any evidence to back up your wild claim.”
Slight Hoof knew his eyes had flung open like the front door after a long day 's work, yet with the aura of impending doom that had settled over the room, he found himself unable to care. “How did they work so fast?”
“Alright,” Slight Hoof tiredly conceded. “I did come across an arrow recently, and being the enterprising stallion that I am, I went out of my way to grab it.” He wasn't stupid; he was going to admit to as little as possible while still giving the mare what she wanted. The back of his mind was abuzz with ways to get out of his predicament; the only door Roadhouse Blue could use was behind Mrs. Glimmer, close enough that he could taste the tantalizing freedom. Yet the distance between him and there gave him pause. He had about a second to sprint to and open the door before being restrained by sorcery. With only one shot, he had to make it count.
Well, if opportunity wouldn't knock, he'd make it knock.
“I can tell you what I know, but first; can I get some tea?” Starlight tilted her head at the odd request. “I'm parched and bored. Tea would fix both problems while also relaxing me. Wouldn't I be much more cooperative if I was in a calmer state of mind?”
Suspicious of his intent yet seeing nothing wrong with his request, Starlight teleported in a pot of tea and a pair of porcelain cups. Steam emerged from the spout as it was poured, a leafy and slightly floral aroma carried with it. “Thought you'd try to sneak out if left, and I knew you'd ask for another drink at some point, so I came prepared.” She gave Slight Hoof a cup. “I also have coffee, milk, and four different flavors of soda.” She paused and blinked. “Do you think Twilight rubbed off on me?” She asked before returning to the task at hoof. “Never mind, the point is that you aren't just walking out of here.”
Slight Hoof took a sip of his tea, considered Starlight's statement, and threw his steaming hot cup at her face.
“Gah!” Starlight screamed. The attack came too quickly for her to protect herself from the liquid pain. As she wiped it off her face Slight Hoof leaped out of his seat, summoned Roadhouse Blue, and reached for the door. Unfortunately, as he did the chair he was sitting in followed a second latter, locked onto his flank.
'Freaking magic,' Slight Hoof thought as his brow furrowed. 'Lucky me I have some of my own.' He commanded Roadhouse Blue to strike the chair away, shattering it in three. This didn't stop the chair, merely delayed the fragments for half a second, yet it bought him enough time to grab the door handle with his stand and try to fling it open.
Try being the key word here.
“Locked,” Slight Hoof deadpanned. As the debris of the chair slammed into him, he registered not the stinging pain, for his mind was consumed by the ease at which his plans fell apart. He didn't even think it was intentional on his captor's part! Who doesn't lock the door behind them? He tried to force the door handle open, thinking where cunning failed brute force would prevail, but his efforts were stopped before they could begin. A lavender glow enveloped him, and he soon faced an irate Starlight Glimmer.
“You know,” her voice was made of venom and sarcasm, “I thought you were taught better than to throw things at a lady. I was even going to put in a good word and have your sentence reduced. Now though?” She drew him closer and slight hoof could feel the arcane might buzzing beneath her skin. “Now I'm not so sure.”
One needed not to look at Slight Hoof's face to see his fear; the trembling of his body spoke enough. While no Alicorn, the raw magical power in the air and the unicorn before him didn't feel that different. 'Forget prison. This mare will kill me if I don't do something! C'mon, Slight, think. Think!' In his panic, Slight Hoof commanded Roadhouse Blue to strike out at the mare. Apparently, one punch to her horn was enough to knock her out. As her unconscious body lay there, the thief could only stare in confused bemusement. 'That's it? No, no it can't be.' His stand poked her cheek, yet there was no reaction. 'All that magic and she conjure a shield or something?! You know what, it's not worth questioning this good fortune.' Roadhouse Blue grasped the door handle, turned it harder than ever before, and broke the with a resounding click. When the door opened all that could be seen was sand and sea .
When the guards came in to check on the two and saw shattered furniture and Starlight Sprawled unconscious, they knew the worst had happened.
“Ugh. This day has been a bust.”
“Oh quite you're whinin', Scoots. Sure some things didn' pan out, but Ah wouldn't call it a bust.” Applebloom, Scootaloo, and Sweetie Belle were walking through Ponyville, ruminating on the rough day they had. After her friends brought up how things were breaking around her, Scootaloo couldn't help but more examples of the phenomenon. The rung of a ladder broke as she walked by, causing the stallion stepping on it to plummet to the ground. A pie practically exploded when a kind mare placed it on the windowsill, scalding cherry filling splashing on them all. And for what happened in Sugarcube Corner will not be repeated here, for all our sanity's sake.
'Still can't believe they banned us' Applebloom thought. That particular disaster had Scootaloo in a bit of a sour mood, one her friends could not shake her out of. Given all three of them were now denied some of the best confections this side of Ponyville, they couldn't blame her. Right now they were attempting their latest plan lighten her spirits; Sweet Apple Acres had a nice little pond deep within the orchard, one perfect for swimming in. It was a fun activity with few opportunities for things to go pear shaped, perfect for their string of luck.
At that moment, a bird flew into a nearby window, cracking both the window and it's spine.
“Sweet Celestia!” Sweetie Bell yelped.
At seeing such a flagrant violation of reality right before her, Scootaloo felt rage boil up from within. Yet seconds after it started she deflated, and instead felt sorrow and resignation, her frown looking more tired than anything else. “Maybe you're right, Applebloom,.” Her friend turned towards her. “Maybe this is my stand's power.”
In truth, Scootaloo had been thinking this was the case shortly after Applebloom brought it up. Yet the implications of breaking everything around her were just a bit depressing. So much so that Scootaloo rejected it on impulse just to keep herself from feeling guilty for all she inconvenienced just by standing around. Yet faced with more and more evidence, Scootaloo could keep the veil over her eyes no longer, as her friends could clearly see.
“Don't worry, Scootaloo.” Sweetie Belle bumped into her friend. “We will always be your friends, curse or no curse.” As soon as she finished speaking she realized her mistake. “N-not saying your stand is a curse, of course. It's just that it could be seen that way and you seem to think so. I-I mean...”
Sweetie's frantic jumbled mumbles were interrupted by Scootaloo's giggles. “Thanks you guys. It's still a bummer, but you keep it from being a major bummer.” The mood of the party now uplifted, Scootaloo continued to speak what was on her mind. “Still, part of me hopes it's just the work of an enemy stand user.” When Applebloom slowed down and eventually stopped, Scootaloo released a frustrated sigh. “Really? I know it's kind of awful to hope for another one of those fights, but all... this,” she spun her hoof in circles, “is still kind of lame.” When Scootaloo received no reply, she started to worry. “C'mon Bloom, I get I'm the only one who thinks this, but-?”
“It ain't about that.” Applebloom's declaration surprised the pegasus. “When you said somethin' 'bout that the first time 'round, Ah admit Ah didn't buy it. However,” Applebloom said when she saw Scootaloo's face fall, “Ah did see the benefits of keepin' an eye out for such things. Multiple eyes, to be precise.” A wave of movement caught her friends' eyes, and they witnessed Men at Work crawling up and out of their various hiding places. When she turned to the right, Scootaloo could see some through a nearby window. When she turned to the left, she saw some standing right on the snouts of the townsfolk, who were oblivious to their presence.
All except for one.
Surrounded by – seven? Eight? Scootaloo counted eight – of Men at Work was a bright blue pegasus mare with ivory hair braided in a pair of ponytails. Not pigtails on the side of her head, but ponytails behind her head. Her cutie mark was of a broken mirror, and her cross legged stance conveyed aloof superiority. She tried to keep her body Still, yet the occasional twitch of her neck towards Applebloom's stand betrayed her status as a stand user. But none of that was as pronounced, as eye catching, as the piercing yet casual stare she leveled their way: like a parent more bored and disappointed in their delinquent child. When she realized the Cutie Mark Crusaders had their eyes on her, she slowly walked over to them, step by step.
'Didn't know it could feel so bad being right,' Scootaloo thought.
The mare stopped in front of the trio and studied them in disturbing detail. “So,” she started in a slow, haughty drawl, “it would seem you found out what I was. I admit, I expected you to mill around and die from my stand.” The blunt statement chilled the fillies to the bone as the confirmed stand user spat on the ground. “But you couldn't even do that. Now I have to go through the hassle to take you down myself.” Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo summoned their stands as Men at Work returned to Applebloom's side, the three fillies tensing their bodies to flee from this mad mare. They really weren't prepared for another stand fight so soon.
“Of course I won't do it here.” And it looked like they wouldn't get one.
The mare's statement shook the fillies out of their focus. “What do you mean?” Sweetie Belle asked?
“Bah, perhaps I overestimated your intellects.” She ignored the fillies' anger at the insult and nodded towards the gathered crowd. “Do you see all these ponies? One twitch and my [SLOW RIDE] will break their bones or something.” She fixed them with an intensively apathetic glare. “Neither of us want that on our consciences , so we'll take it elsewhere.” To say the fillies were confused was an understatement, and their stunned silence was taken by the mare as an invitation to continue speaking. “To prove my word, lets take this spar to Sweet Apple Acres. It's a source of help for you and far away from the town.” Slowly, she walked away from the Cutie Mark Crusaders, only turning back slightly for one final sentence. “See you at high noon.”
“Hold on a minute there,” Applebloom stepped towards the mare. “How do we know you're not gonna trick us? Heck, we don't even know your name!”
The mare pondered on this for a moment. “Hmm. You're right. Call me Blue Breeze.” The trio of confused foals were left to gape at her retreating form. Sweetie Belle massaged her forehead, Applebloom stood still and stuttered, and Scootaloo was ecstatic.
...Wait.
“Yes! It's not my stand's power!” She jumped for joy, fluttering her wings with such excitement that she actually remained off the ground for a few seconds. “It's something else! I'm not cursed! I'm not cursed!” When she started to laugh in relief, Sweetie Belle knew she had to knock some sense into her friend.
“Calm down Scoots. Until we defeat this Blue Breeze you are still a walking hazard zone.” The reality check was enough to make Scootaloo frown. She knew her friend was right, but did she really have to kill the mood like that? It was the first bit of good news she received all day, for crying out loud!
“Well,” Scootaloo turned towards the direction of the orchard, “guess we better get to Sweet Apple Acres. The sooner we do the sooner we can get back to our summer.” With a pep in their steps, the Cutie Mark Crusaders marched towards their destiny.
It would seem their destiny was held up in traffic.
“I don't get it.” Sweetie Belle paced in front of the barn with Scootaloo, while Applebloom sat nearby. “She said she'd arrive at high noon! It is high noon, right Applebloom?” Her friend looked at the sun and gauged the time.
“Eenope. In fact, it's closer to one by now.” Her bored tone contrasted Scootaloo's fuming face.
“What? WHAT! Why would she say she would be here and not come? Is she that afraid we'd kick her flank?”
“Hmm,” Sweetie Belle pondered. “That would make sense, but perhaps she simply didn't want to fight.”
“Sweetie, what are you – No. No no no no no, you are not saying that , are you?” At least her friend had the decency to look bashful as she failed to look Scootaloo in the eyes.
“Sorry Scootaloo, but I think-”
“Don't say it!”
“-I think she might have ghosted you.”
For a minute there was naught but silence. A cool breeze passed through, yet the earth pony and unicorn felt no relief from the sweltering rage of their winged friend. Her mouth opened, and the two knew what was to happen.
“Oh no,” Sweetie Belle blanched.
“AAAAAAAAAAAAAA-”
Author's Note
New chapter in under two months? I'm on a roll!