Dusty Gust knew she should feel more nervous. But, physically, she didn’t think it was possible for her to feel really nervous right now.
It shouldn’t have been the case, things were entirely her fault, and she deserved exactly what was coming to her. But it wasn’t as if she didn’t feel it so much as she couldn’t feel, and it troubled her slightly that said thought didn’t trouble her more.
The guidance counselor’s door opened. Dusty knew that the mare in front of her was rather old, but it struck her as somewhat odd that she didn’t look the part. If anything, she looked as old as the rest of Dusty’s classmates. Either there was some amazing yoga routine that Dusty wasn’t aware of, or the mare was somehow cheating.
Dusty liked the second idea. It made her feel less—
“Ahem.” The guidance counselor slid into her seat, looking as if she’d been arrogant for so long that she didn’t know how to stop. Dusty knew she hadn’t always been a guidance counselor, of course, but was that part of it or—
“Dusty.”
“Oh. Sorry, sorry.” Dusty shook her head and straightened up in her chair, trying not to slouch in front of the mare on the other side of the desk. Arrogance or not, yoga or not… “Didn’t mean to let my mind wander, Mrs. Lulamoon. It won’t happen again.”
“The Great and Powerful Trixie insists that you call her Trixie. We don’t need to be formal.” Trixie smirked. “Unless you want to call Trixie The Great and Powerful Trixie, of course.”
“Noted, uh…Great and—”
Trixie waved a hoof, chuckling. “No, seriously. Trixie is fine. So…you must be Dusty, right?”
“Uh, yeah. That’s me.” Dusty blinked and scooted her chair a bit closer, feeling slightly uncomfortable and utterly unsure of whether that was because of the meeting or because of the chair.
Trixie extended her hoof. “Nice to meet you, Dusty.”
“Thanks.” Dusty shook Trixie’s hoof. Trixie’s grip was surprisingly powerful — perhaps she’d shaken a lot of hooves before? Or maybe her yoga routine gave her amazing grip strength? If it was even yoga at all that—
Trixie pulled her hoof back. “You know, don’t tell anycreature else, but Trixie’s heard a lot about you.”
“Oh.” Dusty shivered. “I’m sorry.”
“About being helpful?” Trixie arched an eyebrow. “Trixie’s heard that plenty of other students come to you for friendship advice, especially when they’re nervous about talking to the teacher. Trixie remembers somecreature who said they were afraid to talk to one of the professors because they worried that they’d make her upset.”
Dusty nodded her head. “Professor Fluttershy. That was…two and a half weeks ago, right?”
“Possibly.”
“Ganymede, right? I imagine she’s had to talk to you a lot. She isn’t…” Dusty paused, clearly thinking about her reply. “...always having an okay time of things.”
“That would be telling.” The corners of Trixie’s lips curled in a smile. “And The Great and Powerful Trixie is also the Great and Discreet Trixie. It does sound like you’ve got a good memory, though.”
“It’s easy to remember some of my classmates.” Dusty’s tail flicked. “They have memorable personalities.”
“Twilight’s School of Friendship has all kinds of students. When you see hundreds upon hundreds of students in your lifetime, even a mare with a memory as acute as The Great and Powerful Trixie struggles to remember them all.” Trixie leaned forward and winked. “But don’t tell Headmare Starlight that Trixie told you that. She might give me a talking-to if The Great and Powerful Trixie admitted that she couldn’t remember everypony.”
Dusty snorted in amusement. “You’re doing that thing where you’re pretending that you’re one with the youth. That a smidge of rebellion makes you just like the rest of the kids.”
Trixie grinned coyly. “Trixie tries.”
“I mean, effective or not, I appreciate it.” Dusty relaxed a little, her scaled back making a soft clacking sound against the chair’s backrest. “I get that grown-ups get busy with work a lot, but if it looks like they don’t care, then why should I?”
“But you do care.”
“I…” Dusty cocked her head. “You’re going somewhere with this, aren’t you.”
“Nowhere that you didn’t already go first.” Trixie opened up a drawer on her side of the desk, pulled out a clear bag and placed it on the table. In it were a large vial of clear liquid and a smaller, dull grey bag. The drawstring on the bag was slightly undone, and a few blue and yellow petals had spilled out, clear as evidence under a spotlight.
Dusty sighed, a little bit of weariness spilling out of her apathy and colouring her senses. “Busted.”
“Does Trixie look like a police officer to you?” Trixie adjusted her magician’s hat, which looked far too jaunty for a mare who, in Dusty’s opinion, probably should have looked the part of a guidance counselor: besuited, bespectacled, austere and thoroughly out of touch.
“You look like you’re about to pull a rabbit out of that hat. Uh…Mrs. Trixie, I mean.”
“Oh, trust me, The Great and Powerful Trixie did far more than pull rabbits out of hats. Try pulling herself out of a manticore’s stomach or a trail of colored scarves long enough to shackle a ravenous changeling like an adventuring archaeologist.” Trixie leaned back in her chair, resting her hindlegs on the desk. “Trixie has earned this hat.”
Dusty quirked an eyebrow. “For real?”
“For real.” Trixie pointed a forehoof at the bag. “Trixie hasn’t seen what sort of trick this does, though.”
“It isn’t a trick.” Dusty’s ears flopped. “Not a fun one.”
Trixie remained silent.
“Not a prank, I mean. I would never…” A trickle of emotion crept back into Dusty’s voice. “This is for me. I’m the only person doing, you know, not-a-trick not-a-prank not…not things you’d like.”
“Trixie can’t pass judgement on it if she doesn’t know what it is, does she?” Trixie gestured at the bag. “And if Trixie acted like everycreature was guilty until proven innocent, she’d find herself thrown out of a job so quickly that she’d wonder what sort of teleportation trick was pulled on her.”
“Doesn’t that mean I can just…not say anything?” Dusty gestured at the bag. “That if you seriously just assumed I was innocent unless I said something, you’d just…let me walk?”
“Perhaps. But Trixie is a guidance counselor, not a guardspony. I’d rather guide ponies, griffons, changelings, dragons…kirins.” Trixie pulled her hindlegs off of the desk and sat up again. “Otherwise Trixie would go back to pulling rabbits out of hats and whatever else you think stage magicians do.”
“You seriously want to do this?”
“I do.”
A shiver ran up Dusty’s spine. “Uh…I think you dropped your speech quirk back there.”
“Trixie addresses herself as Trixie pleases. Trixie is a master of her own fate.” Trixie deliberately eyed the bag again, then looked at Dusty again. “Are you, Dusty?”
“That’s…” Dusty gestured at the bag. “This was supposed to help with that.”
Trixie didn’t say anything.
Abruptly, and to her muted horror, a little flicker of anger flared up in Dusty’s stomach, like a bit of kindling set alight. “What do you think, Mrs. Trixie? You think I’d — you think I’d come here to screw around like some kind of spoiled kirin princess? You think I don’t care about what I’m doing here? About why I’m here?”
“Trixie can’t tell one way or another.”
“Then fine! This…you know what? You’re probably just going to make me wait here until I crack anyway, so why should I wait? What’s the point?” Dusty snapped, leaning toward the bag. “Here, you want to know what a kirin like me would be doing here? Do you know what’s in the bag?”
“Trixie does not know.” Trixie’s voice was carefully neutral.
“This” Dusty said, jabbing her hoof at the flower petals, “Is Foal’s Breath. It’s a flower native to The Peaks of Peril. It’s designed to facilitate communication, sometimes for anxiety relief, but more famously for…”
Dusty hesitated, looking up at Trixie. Trixie, face still impassive, nodded.
“...restoring the voices of those who’ve come into contact with the Stream of Silence. Waded through it, bathed in it…” Dusty sighed, hanging her head. “...drank it.”
Trixie cocked her head to the side. “The Great and Powerful Trixie is guessing that you really, really shouldn’t drink it.”
“Even if you dilute it with normal water. Even if you dilute it a lot.” Dusty’s tail swished anxiously. “And you shouldn’t make like you’re gonna hold it in your stupid bird claw and pour the whole thing in your stupid beak like it’s some kind of sports drink. And you shouldn’t go through someone’s stuff in the first place!”
“And that’s why you grabbed the bottle out of Ganymede’s claw.”
“I was saving her butt.”
“And is that why you punched her out afterward?”
“She’s lucky I didn’t catch on fire! She’s lucky I dosed myself this morning. She’s lucky for a whole lot of things, she’s, she’s…she’s such! An! Idiot!” Dusty felt her coat start to smolder. Part of her tried to will herself to calm down, but part of her simply didn’t care anymore.
Trixie reached into her desk drawer and pulled out a thermos.
Dusty paused. The smoldering in her coat guttered out as she blinked uncomprehendingly at the thermos. Seemingly unfazed, Trixie pulled out a coffee cup with the words “World’s best marefriend” written on it, opened up the thermos, poured something brown into the mug and offered it to Dusty. “Empathy cocoa?”
“What? I…I mean, you’re not gonna…?” Dusty blinked, stared at the mug with wide eyes, then — taking it into her hooves — took a cautious sip.
Trixie waited in silence.
“...Huh.” Dusty set the cup down. “That is…crazy delicious.”
“Secret recipe. And lots of practice.” Trixie reached into her desk drawer again and pulled out a bag of marshmallows. “This may or may not be a secret ingredient.”
Dusty paused, then cracked a small smile as she pushed the mug towards Trixie. “Could I…?”
Trixie’s horn glowed, and a couple of marshmallows floated out of the bag and sunk readily into the cocoa. Smile spreading a little wider, Dusty picked up the cup of cocoa and took another sip. “Mmmm. Yeah, this is really…aren’t you going to have any?”
“Lots of practice on a secret recipe means that it no longer feels like such a secret anymore. Trixie saves it for the holidays.” A small smile flickered onto Trixie’s face. “Plus, Trixie’s trying to watch her weight. Empathy cocoa every day would make her seem like a softie in ways Trixie would not prefer.”
“Fair.” Dusty took another sip, paused, then tipped the rest of the mug’s contents into her mouth, marshmallows and all, pausing only long enough to chew the marshmallows before swallowing the lot. “Still, from those of us who don’t know your secret recipe…thanks.”
Trixie nodded, looking at the bag and saying nothing.
“Oh, right…” Dusty sighed. “That. Yeah, I’m…really in a lot of trouble, aren’t I.”
“Did you come up with this by yourself?” Trixie gestured at the bag. “If so, that’s very clever.”
“The diluted stream water and Foal’s Breath? I did, actually. It was…this was something I worried about before I came here, so I tried to do some research for it, and I…I did a lot of trying to get the chemistry right. I mean, it wasn’t something I wanted to test out a lot, so I…It was kind of fun, y’know, science and…”
“Trixie is impressed.”
“I just like this sort of stuff, y’know?” Dusty gestured at the bottle. “Potions, poultices, elixirs, salves…I used to dream about being an enchantress when I was a teeny tiny kirin, with a bubbling cauldron and spooky robes and everything. I dunno what good that would do, though. Everykirin in my village just seems obsessed with acting and music, like they’re making up for lost time.”
“And why do you think that you couldn’t move someplace else when you graduate?”
“Are you kidding?” Dusty spread her forelegs. “I have a hard enough time fitting in as is. I’m having a hard enough time here! I thought everything would be okay if…”
Trixie remained silent.
“...Everycreature has a name that reflects who they are. I’m…Look, if I had a name like Autumn Blaze, that would be one thing, but I’m not bright and passionate. I’m not warm. I’m not a luminary. I just…” Dusty’s shoulders sagged, and she looked down at the desk. “I’m Dusty. I’m annoying and I get in the way. I’m not what other creatures expect. I’m a buzzkill. So I thought if I just…”
Dusty fell silent.
“Just…?” Trixie prodded.
“If I don’t get in the way, then I’m fine. And if I’m not angry, I don’t get in the way or be annoying. So, like…this…” Dusty gestured at the clear liquid. “I originally just made it so I’d talk less. Get less emotional. Just…kept chill. Be a chill student. And then these…” Dusty gestured at the flower petals. “You’re just supposed to dab a little bit of diluted streamwater on, like, on your hoof or someplace that isn’t super sensitive, but in case the streamwater didn’t wear off fast enough, then you could crush some of these and rub it on and that’d work. They’re a one-time thing, though, so I try to be careful. And I am careful. More careful than…”
Trixie nodded. “Those who don’t know.”
“Which was everycreature. Like I said, careful. I didn’t want to get in trouble. But I guess…my classmates kind of liked that?” Dusty looked up. “It turns out that if you don’t talk much and look spacey, but also really calm, eventually somepony thinks that you don’t talk much because you’re a deep thinker and wise. And if you don’t get emotionally riled up and can think clearly, then ponies think you’re smart when you respond to questions and advice with calm, thoughtful answers. I wasn’t trying to do that from the start, but…I figured that if the winds were blowing that way, then I kind of…could be that kirin.”
“And you needed…” Trixie gestured at the bag.
“You think I can trust myself with my own emotions? Nuh uh.” Dusty shook her head. “I felt ready to combust just a little bit ago, and I made sure to dose up this morning. Not enough, I guess…”
Abruptly, Dusty felt the spark in her gutter out. Sighing, she leaned over the desk and pushed the bag towards Trixie.
“That was very articulate.”
“What good’s being articulate if I end up hurting someone else? I thought talking would be something harmless, but if I punched out a griffon because I wanted to dabble with a makeshift brew and thought I could play at being a therapist, then I’m clearly pretty crummy at talking.” Dusty traced a little circular whorl onto the desk with her hoof. “I guess I’m kind of failing out of school in my own way, huh?”
Trixie straightened up slightly. “And why would you say that?”
“Clearly I’m not learning anything about friendship. I did something dangerous, lied about it, hurt a classmate and got into trouble. That’s not exactly model student behavior.”
Trixie arched an eyebrow. “You realize the purpose of school is to learn things, right?”
“Clearly I haven’t learned anything.”
“Trixie thinks you’ve learned plenty, actually.”
Dusty looked up at Trixie. “What, about how well you make cocoa?”
“You learned how it feels to talk about your feelings with a guidance counselor. You learned what it feels like to be angry, as you said, but you also learned how it feels to keep it together. You learned how to reflect on your actions in the face of things going wrong. And I think…” Trixie leaned back again. “You learned that Trixie isn’t going to rat you out.”
“Huh?”
“Did The Great and Powerful Trixie stutter?” Trixie cracked a wry grin. “Even if The Great and Powerful Trixie could dole out punishments on her own, she wouldn’t feel like it was necessary here.”
“But—”
“You’re learning, which means you clearly aren’t a bad student. You’re open about talking about what’s on your mind, which means you’re good at speaking your mind without getting angry. You feel bad about making dangerous potions behind your teachers’ backs and almost poisoning a student with it—”
“Do I?” Dusty replied, brow furrowing defiantly.
“I don’t know.” Trixie looked utterly calm. “Do you?”
Dusty stared up at Trixie. Abruptly, she dropped her gaze back to the desk. “Yeah. I…really bad, actually. I didn’t want to hurt anycreature.”
“You see?” Trixie took the mug, unscrewed the thermos lid and poured out a second cupful of empathy cocoa. “Students learn plenty of different things when they come to the School of Friendship. Not all the lessons somecreature can learn from here are obvious ones, and it sounds like you just found that out for yourself.”
“I mean, you can say that, but…now what?” Dusty sighed. “Are you just going to kick me out now? Are we done here?”
“We can be if you want.” Trixie pushed the second mug of empathy cocoa toward Dusty and dug out the marshmallows again. “But Trixie has a couple of recommendations for you. If you’re interested in learning more, of course.”
Dusty grabbed the mug handle again. “Try me.”
“First…” Trixie topped off the cocoa mug with a couple of marshmallows and put them away again. “If you’re worried about controlling your emotions while talking, ask Professor Fluttershy if you can take private lessons from her.”
“Really?” Dusty looked unimpressed. “First, she’s super old at this point. I doubt she can relate. Second, she’s scared of her own shadow. Isn’t that the exact opposite of my problem?”
Trixie arched an eyebrow. “You wouldn’t be the first nor the hundredth student she’s given private lessons to: She, the professor who has to struggle with her emotions making her want to break down in public and put up a calm, untroubled face every day.”
Dusty paused. “...Okay, when you put it like that, it sounds less stupid. I’ll…think about it.”
“Trixie thinks Professor Fluttershy should be around for an hour after classes end today. You’ll have time to think about it. Second, though…” Trixie looked Dusty dead in the eyes. “Trixie thinks you might want to apologize to Ganymede in private. Talk things over with her.”
“It…” Dusty’s voice cracked. “It really isn’t that simple.”
Trixie didn’t reply.
Dusty looked down at her second mug of empathy cocoa, took a sip, then grabbed one of the marshmallows with her teeth. Chewing it a little before swallowing, Dusty looked up at Trixie, then down at the mug again. Opened her mouth. Closed it.
Trixie still didn’t reply.
With a sigh, Dusty set down the mug, turned it in Trixie’s direction and pointed at the “World’s best marefriend” written on the mug. “There.”
“Ah.” Trixie tilted her head, and a lock of her mane fell out of place. “Well, then. Perhaps it’s especially important that you talk to her.”
“Look, like I said—”
“If the two of you really love each other, you’ll manage to get through things together. If things don’t work out, perhaps it’s better to find out sooner rather than later. Bottling things up isn’t good for anypony. Trixie’s ex-marefriend had to relearn that lesson a couple of times.”
Dusty looked slightly mortified. “Ex-marefriend? That doesn’t exactly sound reassuring, Mrs. Trixie.”
“This mug is older than you think. Besides…” Trixie affected a catlike grin. “You can’t really call somepony a marefriend after you marry her.”
“Oh.”
“It isn’t like we haven’t fought sometimes throughout the decades, but we’ve managed to work things out. Perhaps you will, too.” Trixie stretched, sighing happily. “Trixie doesn’t snoop on her students’ relationships, though, so Trixie couldn’t tell you one way or another.”
“That figures.” Dusty leaned over the desk a little. “But I guess it’s better that you guys don’t snoop on us. The teachers and everything, I mean. That’d be weird.”
“Friendships are at least somewhat built on trust, aren’t they? Trixie wouldn’t exactly be qualified to be a guidance counselor if she didn’t trust her students to be truthful and stuck her snout in every nook and cranny, no offense.” Trixie chuckled. “And yes, there’s a vulgar comment to be made there, and no, Trixie isn’t going to make it. Trixie doesn’t have particularly high standards, but Trixie has at least some.”
“Noted.” Dusty paused. “So, uh…I’d ask for my stuff back, but that’s probably not going to happen.”
“If that’s okay.” Trixie slid the bag closer to herself. “Trixie’s wife loves weird and dangerous magical stuff. She’d probably love to get a closer look at this, and likely blow up the house while trying to experiment with the contents. Again.” Trixie sighed. “My wife is almost as bad as Princess Twilight Sparkle sometimes, seriously.”
“Gotcha.” Dusty hesitated. “That’s, uh…I mean, I, y’know…”
“If you’re worried about your emotions and need to talk to somecreature about it, Trixie’s door is always open.” Trixie took the bag and slid it into her desk drawer. “And, of course, Professor Fluttershy would probably be happy to help, too. Keep it in mind.”
“Sure. So, uh…can I go then, or…?”
Trixie nodded. Dusty hopped off the chair, arched her back slightly, turned toward the door and placed her hoof on the doorknob.
“Oh, and Dusty?”
Dusty turned around.
The mare at the desk who used to be…no, probably actually was Trixie…was much older. The crow’s feet around her eyes and the soft sagginess around her jowls hinted at that well enough, to say nothing of her withered body or a mane which looked dull and flat, with the sort of thinness that would keep it from looking luxurious again no matter how much its owner tried.
“Trixie knows what it’s like to not want to be completely transparent about everything. Especially when everycreature seems to prefer their stage magicians young and healthy.”
Dusty blinked, jaw dropping slightly. Then she closed her mouth and offered Trixie a small, genuine smile. “I guess Trixie wouldn’t be much of a fitting name if you couldn’t look or act the part of a stage mage anymore.”
“It’s not a fitting name for a guidance counselor, either.” Trixie shrugged, tugged the empathy cocoa mug back to her and took a sip. “But Trixie likes this job, too. Maybe even more than being a showpony.”
Dusty’s smile flickered into a smirk. “That doesn’t sound very tricksy of you.”
“Eh.” The much older unicorn set her mug down and shrugged. “Names, cutie marks, species…they don’t dictate who you are. Do what you want with life, Dusty. Be like the other kirins in your village, mix potions like an eccentric enchantress, be a breath of fresh air in a conversation, do something else entirely — as long as you decide what path you’re walking down, at least you won’t feel like you made a wrong choice.”
“I, uh…noted.” Dusty’s smirk faded, but her smile remained. “Thanks, Trixie.”
“Anytime.”
A brief, comfortable silence settled between the two.
“...You’re not going to tell the other students how old The Great and Powerful Trixie really looks, are you?” Trixie added with a wink.
“I dunno.” Dusty grinned back. “Am I?”
“Are you?”
Dusty chuckled. “Nah. I’ll probably never get empathy cocoa ever again if I do. See ya, Mrs. Great and Powerful Trixie.”
With that, Dusty turned back and left the guidance counselor’s office. Already, emotions were starting to trickle back in alongside her gabbiness; an undercurrent of anxiety, a trickle of fear, a flare-up of anger. It was an internal collage, something Dusty probably could articulate, but very much hoped she wouldn’t have to.
And yet, beneath all of that, Dusty felt a faint twinge of something she hadn’t really felt in a while.
Hope.
Smiling a little wider than before, Dusty Gust took a deep breath and started walking towards Professor Fluttershy’s office.
