Twilight Sparkle and the Stupid Original Pony

Evening closed in around the four princesses as they soaked in companionable company. One princess lowered the sun, a second raised the moon, a third ordered drinks, and for the first time in weeks Twilight felt relaxed.

“Thank you so much for tonight, ladies. I am going to scale back just a bit on my research and try to do less of the super-bitchy thing.”

She finished her third cocktail and leaned back in the tub. By crossing her eyes, which had become very easy to do, she could just see the tip of her horn. She summoned a spark of magic and released it again. For several minutes she blinked on and off, giggling as the fireflies echoed her flashes.

“I wonder what Tangent is doing tonight…”

—

Sitting alone at the small table in her kitchen, Tanna sewed. She paused now and then to listen for any sound that might indicate that little Gloam was awake. The only sound was the toddler’s breathing.

And the occasional small drip blatting on the kitchen floor.

The stitches were even and tiny, sure to hold this time. Not bad work for a lefty using only her right hand. She tied the thread off and snipped it. Before taking up the needle with her more deft left hand she raised a knife to the inner surface of her right arm and gouged another neat incision.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck” she whispered, but there was some measure of solace in the pain. Hot red blood told her that no matter how thin the thread of belief, she really was still alive.

The wound was a close-enough match to the one just stitched closed on the left. The neatness of the new injuries contrasted with older, jagged, scars. Other than a slight, frantic, keening, she sewed it closed again silently.

And the occasional small drip of blood blatted on the kitchen floor.